Page 89 of Rather: The Therapist

“Barely,” Kofi chuckled.

“Had she not played this knucklehead and your mother, you wouldn’t stand a chance, son. You suck.” My father didn’t sugarcoat things. He said them with his entire chest.

He was right. I couldn’t deny it. Nonetheless, I had won and not for the reasons any of them wanted me to. It was simply because I wanted those legs parted so I could take a swim.

I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I grabbed the bottle of water from the table and loosened the cap. It was one of many Kleigh had brought out in addition to Princeton’s water.

I quenched my thirst while watching every move Rather made. She approached with darkened cheeks and her ponytail much looser than it had been before. My hands wrapped around it as I dug her out from behind was the only vision roaming my thoughts in anticipation of being brought to fruition.

She lowered into one of the oversized, comfy chairs underneath the private cabana our family owned at the country club. I was fixated on her, but her eyes were elsewhere. On the little body I’d played a part in birthing. On my whole heart.

When her hands expanded and she sat up in her chair, my brain refused to advise my lungs to keep working in my best interest.

Rejection, on her behalf and from anyone, was becoming my least favorite experience. Introducing Princeton to people who were accustomed to encountering neurotypical children was at the top of my list. Combined and I wasn’t able to maintain my composure.

“Hi!” She greeted him, trying to entice him with that silky voice of hers. It wouldn’t work.

“I can see you want to come. There’s plenty of room for us both. It’s okay. Can I see your friend there?”

She asked questions with expectations that were simply out of Princeton’s reach. It pained me to hear another one emerge.

“Hmm? Can I?”

“He’s nonverbal,” I explained.

“We’re talking,” Rather said, immediately moving her fingers as she spoke.

Mindblown, I sat up straighter. I planted my arms on my knees and watched as the familiar signs continued.

“In his language and that’s fine with me.”

As her statement concluded, her arms stretched again. This time, Princeton’s legs began moving. Six steps and he was in her space. Her personal space. A place he didn’t visit when it came to strangers. This was his first time meeting Rather. His comfort was baffling.

“Is this your friend?” She asked Princeton, simultaneously signing.

He nodded, drawing gasps from everyone around.

“Oh, he’s handsome. Does he have a name?”

Another nod nearly sent me to an early grave. My father tapped my arm, trying to acquire my attention, but I was unable to divide it. My thoughts were jumbled. My gaze was firm.

“What is it?”

This time, Rather didn’t sign with her hands. Instead, she used one to place it on her ear and angled it in Princeton’s direction.

She was making her expectations known. She was exerting her confidence onto him. She was making him well aware of the response he was capable of. She was encouraging him without trying to force anything out of him.

Princeton’s head dipped slightly, slowly breaking my heart. But, just as quickly, he’d sealed the cracks with the verbalization no one but Rather was expecting. We couldn’t hear him, but we were certain something had come from those lips.

“Hmm? There’s just so much noise around us, I could hardly hear you. What’s his name, again? I’d hate to call your friend the wrong thing. Tell me, again.”

She began leaning in his direction, but before she was able to get too close, the word burst from his small frame.

“Woody!”

It sucked the life out of me. One word. One name. Two syllables.

His excitement was dazzling. His smile, the pride he felt in that moment, was endearing. While we all clenched our chests, the ruckus began.

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