Blissville Family Pride Day

**This bonus scene occurs after the Curl Up and Dye series ends.

Gabe

Scanning the park, I couldn’t help but smile at the large gathering of people who showed up to support the first Blissville Family Pride Day. Large groups often spelled trouble for law enforcement, and I’d prepared my small police force as best I could in case bigoted protesters disrupted the happy revelry. So far, so good.

I spotted my darling husband and our daughters at the face painting booth. Josh had his phone out and aimed at the girls, ready to capture every smile and giggle. He didn’t have to wait long because the girls started giggling when the paintbrushes touched their cheeks. I wasn’t close enough to hear Destiny’s deep belly laugh or Rochelle’s melodic giggle, but my brain replayed the happy sounds from memory. The artists paused until the girls stopped laughing, then resumed when they thought it was safe. The girls started laughing again before they could even apply the brushes to their skin. Destiny and Rochelle looked at each other and giggled even harder, sweeping up everyone around them in their merriment.

“You’re a lucky man,” my dad said as he stepped beside me. He slapped my shoulder before resting his hand there.

“The luckiest.”

A few short years ago, I followed a different man to Blissville to save a relationship that had barely been clinging to life support. That relationship hadn’t survived, paving the way for me to meet the love of my life. Together, we adopted five exceptional children who completed our lives in ways we never could’ve predicted. I couldn’t be prouder of the life we built, so when Josh told me he wanted to start a Family Pride Day, I threw my support behind him—as both his husband and a police captain.

I heard Josh shouting my name from the face-painting booth. Well, he was trying to get it out between guffaws. Our little misses were still creating quite a stir.

“Looks like I’m being summoned,” I said.

Dad fell into step beside me. “This reminds me of the mall visits to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.”

I laughed because he wasn’t wrong. The girls refused to sit on either’s lap until I showed them it was safe. I was pretty confident that the girls were well past their aversions, but my sitting on Santa’s or the Easter Bunny’s lap had become a new family tradition. Josh never failed to get pictures and videos.

“Papa! Papa!” the girls cheered. They both pointed to the barest hint of paint on their faces.

Josh slid his arm around my waist and stood on his tiptoes to kiss me. “We’re having a slight problem. The girls can’t sit still long enough to get their faces painted.”

“Tickles,” Rochelle said.

“And it would be the end of the earth if they didn’t get their faces painted?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Josh said. “It is something they both want. I offered to have my face painted too, but—”

“Papa! Papa!” they chimed as if on cue.

I narrowed my eyes at my darling husband, whose innocent smile did nothing to dispel the feeling that I’d been set up.

Dad slapped my shoulder and said, “Come on. Pop Pop will do it too.”

Destiny and Rochelle cheered when we assumed their seats, then climbed onto our laps to help us choose our art.

“Wainbow,” Destiny said, then tapped her grandpa’s cheek.

Dad smiled at the artist. “I’ll take a rainbow, please.”

Rochelle narrowed her eyes as she studied my face. Her actions were always deliberate and measured. She nodded her head when she reached a decision. “Unicorn,” she announced.

“A unicorn it is,” I said.

The girls watched intently as the artists painted our faces. When it was their turn again, they only giggled once before settling against our chests.

Afterward, I suggested we join Darius, Matteo, and Dylan, who were waiting in line with my mother, Bertie, and Bill to ride the ponies on the opposite side of the park.

“I’ll pass,” Dad said. “I’ll check out the food on offer.”

Something in his tone caught my attention. “You’re not afraid, are you?” 

“Terrified,” he replied. “What if the little ones don’t like the beasts and want me to sit on one?”

I turned and looked at my father, a six-four man who still looked like he could play center for an NBA team. “They’d never let you sit on one of the ponies, Dad.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I’m not taking any chances after what I went through when your mom talked me into riding a donkey through the Grand Canyon. I’m telling you right now, I’m not interested in riding anything smaller than an elephant.”

I laughed until my eyes watered, grabbing his arm before he could get away. “I’ll protect you.”

He harrumphed but followed me to the pony rides. “That gray one is looking at me weird,” Dad said. I had to admit the pony seemed hyper-focused on my dad. “And this fence looks sketchy. I bet the beast could knock it down easily.”

“Stop making eye contact, then,” I said.

“And let him get the jump on me? Heck no.”

Luckily, the next round of kids mounted the tame beasts, and the gray pony shifted his attention elsewhere until they stopped again to switch riders. My dad’s nemesis twitched its ears and pulled its mouth up on one side.

“Is he growling at me?” Dad asked.

“Stop staring at him,” I reminded him. “Ponies don’t growl.” At least, not that I knew of.

All five kids made it onto the next rotation, and Dad became too busy cheering on his grandchildren to worry about the cantankerous pony. He looked relieved once they slid off the saddles and exited the ring but didn’t relax until we walked away.

That afternoon, we consumed more sugar than recommended, but the sweetness paled in comparison to sharing our first Pride event with our family and community.

Happy Pride, everyone!