Chapter 41

forty-one

River

Instead of turning into our bedroom however, she pulls me across the hall. You'd never recognize it as a little boys room today, but it was my room as a small kid. The walls have been painted a lavish purple, deeper than pastel but still soft, feminine and happy.

The color alone reminds me of her, tough and feminine, and I get out, "It's purple."

"Oh! Almost Famous ! We could watch that today if you want."

I stare at her blankly, confused. "Huh?"

She quotes back to me, " Purple. Your aura is purple! Come on, Hendrix, is this because Mateo gave Stef his old movie collection? Anyhow, look, I worked with Alice to make this into a media room since I wanted to put art above the fireplace but I didn't want to deny you a place to watch sports. I also made it into an office, so I hope the color is okay with you." Her anxious change from excitement is palpable and I scoop her into a bear hug.

"Darling." I stroke her hair as I squeeze her hard against me, having done my homework online about neurodiversity I know deep pressure can be calming. So far, it seems to work for her. More importantly anxiety and excitement light up all the same parts of the nervous system, so if she's really excited and something feels off she could quickly worry.

"Don't worry, be happy." I smirk down at her and confirm, "Right? That's what we're doing today? Weed jokes, movies, snacks, snuggling?"

She smiles wide, but it's still a bit shaky. She hugs me back harder than before and exhales.

"Oh, I also went to the dispensary here and got a few edible things too, but you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I don't remember you ever smoking, but that was high school, and in Denver, we didn't discuss if that was a one off. Plus, you said you were pretending to be someone else. I didn't know if this was beyond your comfort zone. Personally, I think it's ridiculous that we've made alcohol legal cross country but continue to hold onto these racist and xenophobic laws which lead to the mass incarceration of young men of color when someone who looks like me is just an adorable hippie for the same recreational activities…" she trails off. "Did I do the side quest thing again?"

I nod and kiss her forehead. "Yes, but my favorite kind. The ones where you get worked up about how people should be treated well."

Giving her another deep squeeze I add, "Sure, someone may look at you and think you're an example of privilege. You know what privileges you've had of course, but you are so quick to care about hypothetical people you've never met. People you may never meet."

I lean forward to kiss her again, but she holds a hand over my mouth and grumpily says, "They aren't hypothetical , these are real people! Maybe you don't know them, or I don't, or we don't know them well, but like, ugh… I'm doing it again." She groans at herself. She drops her hand so I resume the tight hug and kiss her forehead.

This woman is full of so much love and kindness for others, even after her own parents and her ‘ first-husband ' could show her nothing but contempt. It's dumbfounding that anyone was ever anything less than awed by her. I'm smiling like I've already had one of her gummies while I hold her in the middle of a room that absolutely is the color of grape Laffy Taffy, knowing I would give her the moon if I could.

"Alright, darling, my point remains that your ability to care about so many people when the world was not always showing you that kindness in return has me in awe of you."

Grinning so hard my face is starting to hurt, I ask, "Can we move to the ridiculously comfortable couch I see over there? Am I correct, is that velvet? With a million pillows and a TV on the wall across from it? I believe you have plans for us today, correct?"

The couch is velvet. A dark dusty blue with pillows in grays and blues. There are gray and white blankets too, but also charcoal and black metal between. Just like my girl, tough as steel and yet so much gentle softness.

The movie and snack marathon, the snuggles, the periodic breaks to stretch and walk Pete, or to christen the new couch, were perfect.

This isn't the right day, no. There will be the right day to tell her about Grant. It just hasn't happened yet.