$250,000.

River nursed Naomi in her lap. “She wants to invest. I guess the idea of a green shop-at-home catalog company isn’t so crazy after all…”

Oliver said nothing. The only sound in the room was Naomi’s soft swallows.

“When does she want repayment?”

“We haven’t discussed the details yet. We’ll get together next week.”

Oliver’s face changed from happy and shocked to worried. He handed the check back to River and turned toward the kitchen sink.

Naomi had now fallen asleep. River brushed dark strands of wild hair out of her baby’s face.

“What is it?”

Oliver turned around slowly.

“Dawn owns a multi-million dollar company with international distribution. How can you be sure she’s going to be…-”

“Fair? Because she’s one of my dearest friends.”

River tried to push down the feelings of disappointment, annoyance, and worst of all, fear as she slowly stood up and placed Naomi on a pile of soft cotton blankets in the living room. She stared at her sleeping child laying peacefully amongst the bold currant, mango orange, and blood red prints of fabric. It had been nine years since she’d purchased them while wandering alone in an Istanbul bazaar. A few crumpled Turkish lira for two armfuls of blankets.

Why couldn’t all transactions be so simple?

She knew Oliver was right. He knew that she understood by her silence.

Ten minutes later she was in front of her computer Googling “business partner contracts” feeling like anyone but herself. Her intense discomfort grew as she clicked through stories of deals gone bad and how to protect oneself from a crooked agreement.

She pictured her old friend’s face in her heart and slammed the laptop shut. No.

“If I’m going to do business, I’ll do it my way,” she whispered semi-audibly and was only partly surprised when the walls seemed to answer with a sarcastic, “Good luck”.

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The file folder she was holding flew into the air and paper rained down on top of her.

River scrambled to her feet and glanced right and left out of the corners of her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she thought to herself as she struggled to gather her belongings, taking note of how the busy, smartly dressed people buzzing around tried to sympathetically avert their gaze. “Hot mess on Aisle 2. What was I thinking.”

With papers sticking out every which way from the portfolio under her arm, River angrily turned and put her hand to the door. Another dramatic exit.

“Are you really going to give up that easily?”

River turned to see Dawn standing in the middle of the lobby in a perfectly tailored black skirt suit. In the center of entrepreneurial naiveté she looked like a queen. All she needed was a crown.

Or a crushing scepter. River’s brow furrowed as Dawn’s hurtful words the day before came to mind. Lisa’s baby daddy drama may have trumped her feelings for a brief period of time, but she hadn’t forgotten how her dreams had been stomped down.

“What are you doing here?,” River took two steps toward Dawn.

A busy FedEx delivery man walked briskly through the building’s doors bumping River’s shoulder as he passed. Her papers once again tumbled to the outdated tile. She nodded her head, agreeing with fate that her plans were worthless as she bent to pick up the litter.

She heard the clicking of designer heels walking toward her and was surprised when Dawn knelt to the floor to help.

They silently put the portfolio together and stood.

“I was mean.”

“You were rotten.”

“I’d had a tough weekend.”

“No excuse.”

“No excuse.” Dawn nodded and began to smile slowly.

River held up a finger as they linked arms and made their way to a seating area . “Don’t look happy! I’m still mad.”

They both knew River held on to anger with about as much commitment as a 2 year-old holds on to a glass of anything.

When both women were comfortably seated River squinted her eyes suspiciously. “So what are you doing here?”

“I called Oliver to apologize and he let me know that-”

“I’m way over my head?”

“That you you had a meeting with a small business adviser.”

River scanned the large cold lobby feeling more out of place by the second.

“You belong here as much as anyone else does,” Dawn said, reading her mind.

River said nothing. She checked her watch and stood suddenly.

“My meeting is in 2 minutes. Suite 401…401…!”

“This way,” Dawn popped up and lead her friend to the elevator. As they stood it was River’s turn to be psychic.

“You’ve been here?”

“All of the Small Business Administrations are the same. You think I was born an entrepreneur?”

By the time they arrived at Suite 401 a rushed looking gentleman in a stuffy argyle sweater was tapping his pen against the table top impatiently.

“So sorry to keep you waiting!” River extended her hand. He shook the tip of her fingers weakly and then wordlessly took her portfolio.

Dawn and River exchanged “Is he for real?” glances before sitting in the plastic chairs opposite the inquisitor.

He spoke while flipping through the pages. “Your business plan looks fine…executive summary is detailed, operating plan…very good. Come back in two months.”

River’s eyes went wide. “That’s it?”

“You’re right on track. All of paperwork is in order..albeit a bit wrinkled, but very well put together. I have 17 other entrepreneurs to see today, most of them will need my help more than you. Take it as a compliment.”

The women stood and walked in to the hallway.

River was buzzing. “He called me an entrepreneur,” she whispered.

Dawn didn’t answer. She was too busy scanning River’s business plans. “You know this isn’t half bad. Your marketing and financial plans are a bit thin but there is some real potential here.”

“Oh yeah?” River pressed the elevator button.

“Yeah.”

They stepped into the elevator.

“Are you accepting investors?”

River laughed, “Yes, the opening buy-in is $1 million dollars,” she said jokingly.

Dawn pushed the “L” button. “Done.”

River stopped laughing.

The elevator doors shut.

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They stopped next to the dry foods bin and River began to cautiously fill a small reusable bag with organic red lentils. Now that they were a one-income family she didn’t feel as carefree about grocery shopping.

Oliver read his wife’s hesitation.

“We’ll be ok,” he kissed River on the back of her hand. “I did the math and with what we save on daycare we’ll actually only be about a hundred short a month.”

River looked up from her bag. A few grains fell to the floor.

“What? Why would we take Naomi out of daycare?”

Oliver placed a bag of steel cut oats into their cart.

“I just figured that this would be your chance to be a stay-at-home mom…take away the stress of balancing everything, trying to be all things to all people.”

River cocked her eyebrow. “So it’s not possible for me to be a good employee and a good mom…funny during the last 15 months I don’t remember you complaining.”

Oliver touched his wife’s shoulders. “But I remember you complaining. Constantly. About how hard it is to do it all. You know I think you’re amazing. I just want you to have a break for once.”

River kissed her baby’s soft downy head and pushed the cart towards checkout. Why is it so much easier for dads? No career angst for them.

“Staying at home isn’t a break from anything. I love being a mom and I love activism. This isn’t just a hobby for  me, I’ll get another job. Taking Naomi out of daycare and putting her back in when I find a position will just be chaotic for everyone.”

She unloaded her goods and focused on the rhythmic beep of each scanned item instead of her doubt.

Oliver put an arm around his wife’s waist. “I guess we’ll just have to make it work.”

“That will be $128.34.”

River unfolded the bills Lisa had given her and handed them to the waiting cashier.

Oliver’s eyes grew wide. “Whoa big spender!”

River was caught off guard. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Severance pay.”

They loaded the groceries into their oak wagon and began the half mile walk home.

“What about that business you always talked about starting? Maybe this is a sign that you need to just go for it. Step out on your own.”

River hugged warm Naomi against her body. While she was pregnant she’d become an expert in all things organic and natural for baby. During her second trimester she’d toyed with the idea of opening a retail store where she’d happily drown in organic onesies while little Naomi rested on her hip. Then the demands of Green Helps plus third trimester fatigue hit and her belly button and entrepreneurship dreams popped at the same time.

“Are you serious? Do you know what it takes to start a business? Loans, investors…”

Oliver stopped walking and turned to face River.

“Babe. If you want it, you can have it. Don’t sweat the details. Just jump.”

River felt a flutter of excitement in her chest. Maybe he was right. She’d run it past the girls tomorrow.

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“Oh well, ” she thought, “This isn’t a fashion show. It’s activism.”

She slinked into the already-in-progress Green Helps meeting and took a folding chair in the back. 10-12 of her fellow activists were already seated and listening intently to their program director, Charles.

“And on to the next point in our agenda…” Charles glanced up at River, who at the moment happened to be wading through her overstuffed purse for a notepad and pen. A child’s sock fell out.

Charles’ raised a disapproving eyebrow. “River. Have we made any progress on the condo development project? If we don’t get a statement from the mayor’s office, filing the cease order to halt construction will be close to impossible.”

River looked up to see all eyes on her. “Absolutely. I actually scored the name and phone number of a direct associate of Mayor Ellis.”

She paused for a standing ovation.

Silence.

Charles tapped his pencil against his music stand/podium. “Would you care to share that information?”

She blinked, startled by the impatience in his voice.

Someone chuckled.

“Sure.” She dove hands first back into the diaper bag. In her AM haste she hadn’t had the chance to transfer essentials into a smaller, more woman-sans-children appropriate bag and found herself once again swimming amongst cloth diapers, changes of toddler pants, free-styling rice crackers…a few crumbs tumbled out onto the thin carpet.

“Maybe you’d like to address the group when you’re ready. We need to move on and I don’t want that bag exploding all over the room.”

River silently ended her hunt. A few of her group members gave her an extended look, as if they wanted to properly file her image away under “What a Mess” in their mental encyclopedia.

“I’ll bring the information with me when we meet with the press next week.”

Charles held up a hand to stop her. “Actually River, we took a vote before you got here and decided that camera time would be better suited for someone with more…,” he looked her up and down, “stage presence. We’re not going to bring attention to this project if the city thinks it’s being being run by the mom patrol.”

Her whole body flushed hot.

As the meeting continued River was lost in a swirl of fatigue, anger, and loneliness. She didn’ t hear anything else Charles or her colleagues said. It wasn’t the first time she felt punished for being a mother but every time it was a blow to what she wanted to believe about the position mothers hold in the world.

She looked around the room at all the people; their hair brushed, outfits put together and clean. They’d probably slept all night and had hot showers, too, she thought.

River’s thoughts turned to her little Naomi who was probably napping in her dad’s arms on the back porch swing facing their garden. She wondered what kind of dreams the scent of the fresh lavender would give her little one.

She could feel her motherhood pride being restored.

Charles’ voice cut through her private moment.

“And next week, River, perhaps you’ll leave the nursery at home, ” he gestured to her bag, “and come prepared to contribute a little more.”

Sweet River felt a tidal wave of strength rise in her.

A voice louder and sharper than one she’d ever used appeared in her throat.

“Leave it at home?”

The smirk on Charles’ face vanished.

“You want me to ‘leave it at home’? Excuse me? Is my calling as a mother offensive to you? You may have forgotten but you too were a child at one point in your life and probably had a mother who, like me, gave you everything you needed to grow up secure and nourished while serving her community at the same time. I don’t know about you but I’m doing all of this because I care about the world we’re leaving our children, not because I have extra time or energy after a night that involved spending more time awake than asleep in my bed. I’m very sorry if my being a steward for the future is making you uncomfortable but I cannot compartmentalize my life and no I will not ‘leave it at home.’

The room was frozen.

Charles cleared his throat but before he could speak. River gathered her bag and stood.

“It’s been nice working here but I feel as if I’ve outgrown an organization that can’t appreciate my primary role,” she turned to leave, “as a mother.”

And she was gone.

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“Five more minutes, c’mom, ‘mon.” she murmured to herself as she impatiently pushed the crosswalk button.

She glanced up at the the towering First National Bank digital clock. 4:56 PM. If she wasn’t at the organic produce stand in four minutes Eduardo wouldn’t hold her standing order. The thought of another family enjoying her pesticide-free rosy mangoes made her ill.

As soon as the light changed River broke into a run and dashed through the farmer’s market almost knocking over an elderly woman and unattended lightweight stroller.

She spotted Eduardo. He was mid-transaction, handing a large paper sack to a waiting customer…was that her bag?

“WAIT!!” she yelled, attracting the attention of all within a 50-foot radius.

Eduardo, startled, turn to see a frazzled River, one hand up as if saving the world from annihilation.

He immediately dissolved into bellowing laughter so vigorous he doubled-over, his white apron strings coming undone.

River stormed the stand. “Did you give away my fruit?”

“No, loca!”

Eduardo reached behind a wooden crate and pulled out a medium-sized paper bag nearly bursting with brightly colored, fragrant produce.

River didn’t even appear sheepish as she breathed a deep sigh of relief and handed Eduardo a $20 before transferring the goods to her bags.

“Thank you! See you next week!”

She didn’t seem to notice how he shook his head in disbelief.

Later as River was seated on the packed subway BART train leaving San Francisco for the more spontaneous streets of Berkeley she giggled recalling the look on the assumed fruit-napping customer’s face. She’d probably given the woman a story to tell her friends: a frightening interaction with an obvious “crazy East Bay-er.”

The train dipped out of sunlight and River was engulfed in darkness as the passengers whooshed through the tunnel underneath the Bay waters. River closed her eyes and pretended, as she always did, that she was being born. While others gripped their seats and clung to the metal poles, River let her body grow limp against the bumpy contractions and waited for the transportation labor to bring her home.

Black turned red as she felt the light hit her eyelids. She scrambled to gather her belongings before jumping onto the platform. Before she could turn to find the stairs a strong arm grabbed her and a man’s rough cheek met her soft one.

“Welcome back to reality,” the voice whispered in her ear.

She turned to kiss her husband, Oliver, who was dressed casually in faded denim. In his free arm, Naomi, their daughter sat perched, supported by a deep green hemp sling.

River’s heart swooned. She loved to see him babywearing.

“I missed you, two!” River gave her squirmy 15 month-old a hug before planting a smooch on her cheek. Naomi smiled coyly at her mother and contently leaned into the comfort of the sling. River didn’t feel offended by her child’s subdued greeting.

As they came above ground, River was immediately energized by the sight of students sauntering into coffee shops, bicyclists riding comfortably alongside vehicles, and the familiar grit of unmanicured life, or reality as her husband called it. She loved living in San Francisco during college but Berkeley definitely spoke to her heart.

Oliver kissed her hand as they walked. “How was the city?”

“Oh you know, perfect and fast.”

“Just how I like my women. Except the perfect part.”

River playfully slapped him in the chest.

By the time Oliver unlocked the door to their garden-enclosed duplex, Naomi was fast asleep, probably lulled by her father’s heartbeat as they’d walked in silent contemplation. Being in Oliver’s presence was just as soothing for River, she often called him a walking meditation.

River placed the grocery bags on their secondhand kitchen table while Oliver disappeared into their bedroom to put Naomi down. Gently placing the fruit and vegetables next to containers of pad thai and curried tomatoes she felt enveloped in homey peace.

When she rose to her feet and shut the fridge, Oliver was standing next to her. He turned her towards him, wrapped his arms around her middle and the two lost themselves in an embrace. He sighed, echoing the happiness she felt. “How did I get so lucky?” she wondered silently. She burrowed her face into his warm shoulder, not waiting for an answer.

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