Book IV: Avi Dragon

Red Light, Green Light

"I'll say again, I don't expect you to just start spontaneously radiating sunshine. So, instead of covering the same old ground, why don't we take a hike into unknown territory?"
   "What?" he asked, a half smile hovering around his lips.
   "Well, I keep saying we don't know each other. We're married now, so why don't we get to know each other properly?"
   He sat at the end of her bed, baby happily pleating her mother's sheets on her knee between them. "Okay, I'm game. What did you have in mind?"
   "We could play Never Have I Ever, or Truth or Dare. Maybe even Red Light Green Light, but... I'd suggest that wait until a certain someone falls asleep."
   "I don't think you're up to running anyway," he chuckled.
   "No, silly, not that version!" She was blushing, and not meeting his eye. "It's where you talk about things you absolutely love, or loathe, or don't care either way about."
   He cupped her chin, lifted it so she had to look at him. "If it's so simple, why are you embarrassed?"
   Her lashes swept down, then lifted as far as his nose. Her legs shifted under their daughter. "It usually refers to, ah... more intimate affairs, but it can be anything from music taste to foods," she rushed to add.
   His hand dropped from her face. They both watched the baby for a while, uncomfortable silence broken only by the quiet beeping of machinery.
   As usual, it was Angel who broke it. "So... how red is a salad?"
   He laughed, she laughed, the baby gurgled happily. It broke the tension, and opened a real, honest conversation between them. For perhaps the first time in their relationship, they were getting to know each other. There were no constraints on their time, at least for that day. There were no attacks to interrupt them, no schedule to keep. They had as much time as they needed to properly get acquainted.
   They found that their diets were vastly different, but they shared some musical tastes. They both loved the outdoors, and being active. They'd both wanted a family, though the desire arose at different ages. Their familial backgrounds were drastically different, which was what shaped them into the people they were.
   She wept when she told him what happened to her children. He told her stories of her dragon children to cheer her up, but they were tainted by the knowledge of what kind of mother she'd been to them.
   They talked about their childhoods, being bullied in school. The reasons were different, but the effect was similar. They both struggled with anxiety and self-doubt. She showed him her drawings, paintings, and crochet, which occupied the rest of the evening.
   "So you could make her these booties?" he asked, pointing to a cute animal pair she'd made for her cousin's baby.
   "If the pattern hasn't been lost, yes." She was quiet for so long, her phone screen went black. She was worrying about her drawings, dragon scarves, and other irreplaceable items, with an overtone of cat anxiety. Not knowing made her nervous. She'd lost so many things throughout the years; so many pets, and friends. She'd led a nomadic life, which went against her very nature. True, it made her more tolerant of change than most autistic people... Which wound up being a job requirement, she thought. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, until she forced herself to look at the perks of what had begun as a job.
   She hugged her daughter tight, kissed her neck with a loud smack. Menolly Felt her sadness, so she didn't giggle like she usually did. She did her best to hug mama back, and so did papa.
   Her husband leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead firmly, offering mute support. This once, the gesture affected him more than it did her. He was remembering the first time he'd done this very thing, though he didn't follow the memory past their embrace.
   Angel had one arm around their daughter, the other around her husband, when her sister walked in the door.