“We won’t take up more of your time,” Lydia said after a moment. “We just wanted you to know you’re not alone here. There’s a community, if you’re interested in connecting with it.”
“I… thank you,” Rion said, genuine emotion in his voice. “I would like that.”
They exchanged contact information before the three moved on, melting back into the festival crowd with the practiced ease of those accustomed to not drawing attention.
“Well,” my father said once they’d gone, “this day has certainly been educational.”
“That’s one word for it,” I agreed, still processing everything that had happened. “How are you doing?” I asked Rion, searching his face for signs of stress.
He considered the question seriously. “Overwhelmed,” he admitted. “But not in an entirely negative way. I never expected… any of this.”
“The confrontation or the community?”
“Either. Both.” He gestured vaguely at the festival around us, where non-human beings were cautiously interacting more openly than before. “I’ve spent so long assuming isolation was the only safe option. To find out there were others here all along, living hidden lives parallel to the human population…”
“It changes things,” I suggested.
“It does.” He looked down at me, his dark eyes filled with emotion. “You were right, Clara. Hiding isn’t the answer. Not completely, anyway.”
My heart swelled. “Does that mean you’re ready to be seen with me in public on a regular basis? Even knowing there might be more Danny Pruitts out there?”
“As long as there are more Mrs. Bellweathers to put them in their place,” he said with a small smile.
My mother preened slightly at this. “Count on it.”
“And more children like Jeremy,” my father added. “The next generation often gets right what the current one gets wrong.”
Rion nodded. “It won’t be easy. One festival doesn’t change decades of prejudice. But…”
“But it’s a start,” I finished for him, taking his large hand in both of mine. “A good beginning.”
“A good beginning,” he echoed, and for the first time since we’d arrived, his posture was completely relaxed.
We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the festival with decreasing self-consciousness. My parents drifted off occasionally to greet old friends or examine crafts that caught their interest, always returning to our orbit like moons around a planet.
The stares continued, of course. Change doesn’t happen instantly. But they seemed less hostile, more curious—and in some cases, openly appreciative, as other non-humans recognized Rion for what he was and what his presence represented.
As the sun began to set and the festival lights came on, casting a warm, magical glow over the park, we found ourselves back near the entrance, considering whether to stay for the evening music or call it a day.
“I think we’ve accomplished quite enough for one outing,” my mother declared, looking tired but satisfied. “What do you say we get dinner at that nice Italian place on the way home?”
“I’m in,” my father agreed readily. “Rion? Clara? Up for some pasta?”
Rion glanced at me questioningly. I nodded, equally ready for a quieter setting after the emotional intensity of the day.
“That sounds perfect,” he said. “If they can accommodate us.”
“Oh, I already called ahead this morning and asked for a table that would work for someone of your height,” my mother said casually. “I assumed we’d want dinner after, regardless of how the festival went.”
Rion looked touched by this thoughtful preparation. “Thank you, Mrs. Bellweather.”
“Ellen, please,” she corrected him. “I think we’re well past formalities at this point.”
As we walked towards the exit, a familiar small voice called out.
“Bye, Rion!” Jeremy waved enthusiastically from where he was waiting in line for cotton candy. “See you tomorrow!”
Rion waved back, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “See you tomorrow, Jeremy.”
