Page 81 of Only the Small Bones
“Can’t wait to hear you play.”
“You won’t like it. I’m not any good.” He reddened. I hated that he felt embarrassed, but I was happy to see some color in his cheeks.
“Well, then we can both get better at playing our instruments together.”
“What do you play?” he asked, curiosity lighting up his gloomy gaze.
“The piano. I’m better than “okay” but I’m no virtuoso. I will be one day, though.”
“Uh, vir-too… what?” Asher scrunched up his face at the word. I chuckled.
“It means I’m not exceptional at it. Or not really, really good yet,” I amended when he frowned at that word too.
“Oh,” he blushed again.
“I’m just being a know-it-all.” I downplayed my smarts. “I learned the word recently, and now I use it every chance I get.”
Asher coughed into his hand. It continued for a few seconds.
“Feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” he replied, laying down. I leaned over to rest the back of my hand across his forehead like my mother did when I was coming down with something. His skin felt cool. I took it as a good sign. “Do you have your own piano?”
“Yeah. My mom got me a hand-me-down one for Christmas a few years ago. The church was planning on throwing it away. She only had to pay for the delivery and tuning.”
“Is it in our room?” Asher asked with a tired smile.
“Yup. It’s an upright, so it fits against the wall. And there’s plenty of space for your mom’s violin.”
He stared at a stain on his sleeping bag, his mind seeming far away. “Does your dad live with you?”
“No. I never met my dad.”
“Me either.” He sighed. “What will we do when we get home?”
I didn’t know if he believed all the things I told him, or if he saw our talks as a fantasy that kept his mind occupied. I meant everything I said, but either way, I indulged him. It kept us both hopeful, and gave us something to look forward to. Without hope, we had nothing.
I leaned back on my palms, pretending to give his question serious thought. “We’ll have dessert for breakfast, and dinner for lunch. We’ll do everything backward and have nothing but fun for at least two whole weeks.”
Asher’s eyes and smile widened with excitement. “We’ll have double chocolate fudge cake!”
“And for lunch my mom will make my great-grandma’s famous jambalaya! I never met her, but her recipe is good.”
“Do you think she’ll make me chicken tenders and fries? That’s my favorite.”
“She’ll make you whatever you want,” I promised. “And we’ll watchThe Never Ending Storyall day. I never get enough of that movie.” The book was better, but we’d have fun watching the movie together.
Asher yawned. We hadn’t woken up that long ago. “I can’t believe you’re gonna keep me. I can’t believe I’ll have a brother. Malcolm and Asher forever,” he whispered.
“Malcolm and Asher forever.”
He closed his eyes, and for several minutes I monitored his breaths, how loud and how often they came. I listened to his newly developed cough too.
I sighed once I believed he’d fallen into a deep sleep, shoulders slumping as I covered my face with my palms. I let myself be weak, let myself worry and be scared for a little while, because pretending to be strong took a lot of effort.
“Malcolm?” Asher breathed. I straightened, clearing my expression of the terror I felt inside. “What else will we do when we get home?”
I searched for something to say, pushing past the pain and sadness clouding my mind for something to keep him cheerful. “We’ll start on our Christmas lists. We’ve got to give my mom and grandpa time to shop now that it’s the two of us. And no Happy Birthday/Merry Christmas gifts either. You get a gift for each occasion. I already know what I’m getting you.”
