Page 65 of String Boys

His father had given him that, maybe.

His dad had given him his adulthood, so Seth could come home and be his boy.

And most of the weekend was quiet—by necessity. Kelly woke up to eat pizza and then fell asleep on Seth again as they sat on the couch. Seth woke him up to go strip to T-shirts and boxers, and then Kelly fell asleep almost instantly, Seth snugged up behind him.

It was as if he was making up for not sleeping for a really long time.

In the morning, Kelly went upstairs to play with his sisters, say hi to his parents, maybe convince them everything was normal, and Seth stayed downstairs to play chess with his dad. At one point, he looked longingly at the violin, and his father shook his head.

“The whole world knows when you’re practicing,” he said gravely. “You may just want to practice fretwork or run through it in your head.”

Oh.

Seth hung his head. “No music here?”

“Well, maybe just for now. I… I’ll be honest. A young guy—Rivers—kept coming by, talking about how he’d make sure the guy who took out Castor got a fair hearing. I was….” His father shrugged. “I was thinking about it, Seth. I hate that you’re… you’re afraid while you’re here.”

Seth thought about it. “Not afraid,” he said, moving his rook. He was really good at chess. “Just limited.”

Craig Arnold sighed. “Well, I’m not sure what to do about it until the case goes cold. Rivers got shot. He’s still in the hospital, from what I hear. I guess….” He grimaced. “Kelly’s dad didn’t like his partner—at all. It turns out, Rivers was wearing a wire because his partner was dirty. So we actuallyhada good cop on the case, but now we don’t. The guy that’s taken his place is, well, not a good guy. Nobody’s telling him shit, but then you aren’t here. So maybe you’re right not to be afraid. Just… limited. But what are you going to do about Kelly with these limits?”

Seth didn’t look up from his rook, which he was about to sacrifice for his knight. “Come when I can. And when Kelly turns eighteen, I’ll take him with me.”

“Oh.”

Seth finally glanced at his father’s expression. “Oh what?”

“That’s actually a good plan, Seth. But… but that’s a long time away.”

Seth shrugged. “I can practice a piece a thousand times. The night of the performance, the flute section can rush the tempo, the cymbal can crash a half a beat late, and my strings can fray at the worst time in the world. All I can do is practice, Daddy. I’ll talk to Kelly. All we can do is plan.”

His dad snorted softly. “Wow, you’re really getting wise.”

Seth flashed him a grin. “Well, you know. I try.”

Dad just shook his head and moved into checkmate. Then they cleared the board and started again.

KELLY CAMEback down in the afternoon while Seth was working on homework, and for a moment, his pacing almost drove them both crazy.

“Why don’t youdraw?” Seth asked the third time Kelly bumped his chair in a pass around the living room. “I’m sorry we can’t leave the apartment, but it didn’t used to be so hard for us to be quiet together.”

“Ican’t!” Kelly exclaimed, his voice aching with frustration. “You don’t understand! People are like ‘Art is therapy, Kelly,’ but the things I draw, they’re ugly! And horrible! And I don’t want people to look at them and think I’m ugly and horrible too!”

Seth regarded him for a moment, trying to put that into context in his head. “But your therapy art isn’tforthem. You know that song I was humming to you? That’syoursong. I play that every night. I don’t care if it drives my roommate batshit crazy. That song isyours.You do whatever you want with art that’s just for you. You draw a picture of your sister, you make it pretty. You draw a picture of how shitty you feel? You do whatever the fuck you want.”

Kelly flopped dispiritedly on the couch. “It’s so awful,” he mumbled. “What if… what if you see it? What if Mommy sees it? And you think that inside of me is so awful, you don’t want me near you on the outside either?”

“You’re so dumb! What makes you think either of us wouldn’t love you for that? God, Kelly, draw what you feel! Burn it if that feels better, but don’t worry about me or your mom or your dad or your shitty fucking brother.Weweren’t in that fucking room!”

Kelly stared at him, his pinched misery lightening to something… soft. Almost awestruck. “You’re… you were,” he said after a moment. “And later… you… you were someplace worse.”

Seth looked away. “Not worse,” he muttered, although he dreamed of Castor Durant’s red smile, the way his neck bone could be seen as his head tilted back at a 90-degree angle. “Just… just as ugly. And I got songs for that too.” He threw a furious look at Kelly. “But nobody bitches about those songs being ugly. Nobody’s got room to bitch because they’ve got their own shit to sort out.” He sighed, his anger fading. “Just… just don’t let him steal this from you. It’s been yours from the very beginning. I had the violin. Your stupid fucking brother had soccer. You picked up a crayon and said, ‘This is my thing.’ Why does he get to destroy that? What did he do to deserve to take away this thing that makes you happy? It pisses me off.”

Kelly chuffed a little bit of air and walked near so he could kiss Seth’s temple. “I can see that,” he said after a moment. “I’ll…. You promise not to look over my shoulder?”

“Yeah. You promise to show me anyway? I….” Seth stared at Kelly, so damned happy to see him, see his face, even tired and not smiling and sad. “I’ll probably hate it, but only because it’s your pain. So let me see it. We’ll both hate your pain. And maybe you’ll find something sweet that doesn’t hurt after a while.”

Kelly shook his head in wonder. “Your brain. It’s sort of a wonderful place, Seth. Have I ever told you that?”