Technically, Grace was part of River’s therapy program. His misspent youth had left him with a few lingering quirks, the inability to recognize hunger cues being one of them. She was sort of a catch-all—a trainer, nutritionist, and therapist in one, with the bonus that she’d been part of the same cult he had, for a few years, as an adult. Exercise for its own sake had been discouraged as an unproductive use of time when one could be working for the benefit of the church instead—cleaning it, tending the gardens, picking up a side job cutting grass so the proceeds could go to the tithing.
The only running and playing River had done as a child had been in gym class and recess, which he’d enjoyed at first and then dreaded as his peers who were allowed to have normal childhoods surpassed him in speed and stamina.
Grace’s literal job was making exercise enjoyable, which he realized was a tall order. But he needed to be able to keep up with his bandmates on stage, therefore—some kind of workout regimen.
“All right, boss lady,” he acquiesced. “What are we trying today?”
“How do you feel about rock climbing?”
How River felt about rock climbing wasooooooh, especially since it took place indoors in a place with air conditioning. He could definitely make this part of his regular exercise rotation, which so far included a Peloton obstacle course and Marco Polo pool sessions with Grace. (Grace called this “healing his inner child.” River wasn’t sure that he had anouter adult, but he appreciated the lengths she went to make stuff fun.)
How River felt about rock climbing after getting home from it wasowwwww.
“You can’t justleave me herelike this,” he complained from the couch where Grace had deposited him.
She handed him a glass of water and a banana. “Don’t be a baby. Maybe Jem will give you a nice massage when he gets home.”
Yeah, that sounded good. River should shower.
But when he tried to get up, Grace put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. “Eat the banana, Casanova. Then you can primp for your man. You have lots of time. Meanwhile I’ll put together some real lunch.”
She gave him the world’s biggest side-eye when he only pushed it around his plate, but she sat down on a chair near him with her own sandwich and addressed the problem in her usual forthright manner. “What are you thinking right now?”
River looked at his plate. “I know I should eat it.” His body didn’t feel hunger, but that didn’t mean it didn’t need to eat.
“But?”
“I don’t know? Eating is boring.”
She nudged him with her toe until he picked up his sandwich and took a bite. It tasted fine. It just didn’t trigger anything in his brain that rewarded him for feeding it, because it didn’t know it was hungry. “But you ate the breakfast Jem made. What were you thinking then?”
That was easy. “Jem would be sad if I didn’t eat it.”
Grace stared at him with the look she got sometimes, when River said something ridiculous and/or trauma-informed and she was trying to work out how to rewire River’s brain tokeep him alive better. Finally she said, “Do you think Jem would be happy if you skipped lunch?”
River finished the sandwich. And the banana. He got a second glass of water too.
At the beginning of March, River finally got to speak to Amanda’s producer friend, Briar. “I’ve got a couple ideas I think could work,” they told him over the phone, “but some of them require specialty instruments. Do you know anyone, or do you want me to invite a session musician for when you come in?”
Right away, River thought of Lara. She’d been touring with the Flat Tires for years and had even earned a couple cowriting credits with the band, and she played more instruments than River, Ward, and Eric combined. Most importantly, she was brilliant and easygoing, which was basically an impossible combination to find in a place like LA.
“I know someone,” he said. “Let me just see when she’s free.”
Lara answered the phone with, “What’s up, flat-ass?”
River never should’ve let the guys meet Grace. “And here I was going to ask if you wanted to be part of a business project,” he said, put-upon. “I guess I’ll have to find someone who respects me.”
She snorted. “Good luck with that. What’s the project?”
Until now, it hadn’t been real. Talking about it with Jem and Ward and Eric and Amanda was just pie-in-the-sky dreaming; nothing River said or did affected anyone other than himself. Telling Lara looped her in with him.
“I’m working on an album.” There. He’d said it. And then, “Maybe more.”
Maybe she sensed the gravity of it, because instead of teasing, she said, “When do you need me?”
And just like that, the plan went into motion. Too late to back out now.
Wednesday theband practiced at River’s.
