My mother’s expression darkened as I spoke. “That’s not right,” she said when I finished. “Not right at all.”
“It’s the way things are,” Rion replied, his tone resigned. “I’ve learned to adapt.”
“By hiding?” My father’s voice was sharp with disapproval, but I could tell it wasn’t directed at Rion. “That’s no way to live, son.”
Son. The casual term of endearment caught us both by surprise. Rion straightened, something vulnerable flickering across his face before he composed himself.
“I agree,” I said, seizing the opening. “That’s what I’ve been telling him. But he’s worried about me—about how I’ll be treated if we’re seen together in public.”
My mother reached across the table to place her hand over Rion’s massive one. “Clara has always been strong-willed,” she said, her eyes kind. “If she’s chosen you, then she’s already considered the consequences. We raised her to stand by her convictions.”
“And we stand by her too,” my father added firmly. “By both of you.”
Emotion welled in my throat. “Thanks, Dad.”
Rion’s hand tightened around mine under the table. “I appreciate that more than I can express, sir. But I don’t want to make Clara’s life difficult.”
“Love is always a little difficult,” my mother said wisely. “But that doesn’t make it any less worthwhile.”
“Besides,” my father added, “hiding just reinforces the idea that there’s something to hide. Something wrong.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, sitting forward eagerly. “That’s what I’ve been saying. If people don’t see non-humans living normal lives, having relationships, being part of the community, how will they ever get past their prejudices?”
My mother nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like when Mrs. Peterson down the street threw a fit about the Joneses moving in—the first Black family in the neighborhood. Remember, Richard?”
My father grunted in acknowledgment. “Woman was convinced they’d lower property values or some such nonsense.”
“And now?” my mother continued. “She and Darlene Jones are in the same book club. Their grandchildren play together. Exposure matters.”
“This is a bit different, Mom,” I said gently. “Rion isn’t just from a different ethnic background. He’s literally another species.”
“The principle is the same,” she insisted. “Fear of the unknown. Once people get to know Rion, they’ll see what we’re beginning to see—that he’s thoughtful and intelligent and clearly adores you.”
Rion looked slightly embarrassed at this assessment, but didn’t deny it.
“The Spring Festival is coming up,” my father said suddenly. “Why don’t we all go together? As a family.”
My heart leapt at the suggestion. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” my mother agreed, warming to the idea. “It would be a statement, certainly, but a positive one. And having us there might make it easier for both of you.”
I turned to Rion, barely containing my excitement. “What do you think? Would you be willing to try?”
He looked uncertain, his gaze moving from my hopeful face to my parents’ determined expressions. “It would be… challenging.”
“We’ll be right there with you,” my father assured him. “Anyone gives you trouble, they’ll have to deal with me.”
The mental image of my mild-mannered, bespectacled father confronting someone on behalf of a seven-foot minotaur was both touching and slightly absurd.
“And me,” my mother added firmly. “I may be retired, but I can still use my teacher voice when necessary.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Rion’s lips. “I can see where Clara gets her determination.”
“Is that a yes?” I pressed, squeezing his hand.
He sighed, but there was affection in his eyes when he looked at me. “I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea. But… yes. If it means that much to you, we can try.”
I resisted the urge to throw my arms around him, settling instead for a beaming smile. “Thank you.”
