Page 90 of String Boys
“I know it got lost,” Seth told him. “But we’re proud of you. Graduating. Going to junior college. Being an artist. Don’t forget to draw. Send me pictures. I’ll keep printing them out, okay?”
And Kelly found hecouldcry.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you. I won’t forget. Every day. Every week. Every break we get. You’re my hope, Seth. Someday.”
The car pulled up then, and people started milling out of the church. Kelly had to step back and let Seth’s dad hug him before they both started throwing bags in the Lyft. One last kiss—full-mouthed, adult, promising all of the things they’d been together on that quiet afternoon—and Seth was gone, leaving Kelly alone to greet the crowds and take care of his sisters and Chloe and comfort his mother and—
“Here,” Craig said. “Come bring it to the car with me. Your mom has help in there. You look like—”
“Like going in there and dealing with those people would get on my last fucking nerve?” Kelly sniffled. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Seth’s dad threw an arm around Kelly’s shoulder and steered him down the parking lot. Kelly could take comfort after all.
SUMMER WASinterminable. The only thing that kept Kelly sane was that his dad had gotten the family a gym membership for Christmas the year before, so he took the girls swimming three times a week. Between that and free science day camp, he and his mother managed not to lose their minds with a baby in the house—and no Javi to help.
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, without fail, Seth’s dad knocked on the door when he got home. Thursdays, he warmed up leftovers. Fridays, he brought pizza. Saturday, he spent the morning shopping and cooked—mostly Italian and pot roast and meatloaf, but he made a lot, for the entire family, including some for himself.
They started calling Seth on Saturday nights on Kelly’s tablet and propping it in the corner so they could Skype. It was almost like he was in the room.
Almost.
Seth spent grave amounts of time listening to Lily and Lulu talk about how they were both completely different and totally individuals, because Lily’s hair was straight, like an arrow, and glossy, like her father’s had been, and Lulu’s was in tight ringlets, like Seth’s and her mother’sbeforeshe went to the beauty parlor every six weeks.
They frequently put Chloe up in her car seat and let Seth talk to her. He would sing Disney songs in a voice that was its own instrument, while she squealed and laughed, as happy as any of them saw her over the rest of the week.
At the end of the conversation, when everybody was gathered around the table about to dig in, he’d say goodbye.
“Love you all! Bye! Call me next week!”
And then he’d be gone.
He texted Kelly every morning, and Kelly—as time went on—started to appreciate how a boy who never spoke started to talk about more and more things on the little shining box in Kelly’s hand.
Vince has a girlfriend named Stacy. She thinks Vince walks on water, and she tries hard not to be like her parents, who I think are not particularly nice about brown people. I think Vince might change their minds, though. He’s nice to everybody, right?
Or,
There is a first-year violin here who is really good, but nobody seems to notice. I feel bad because I had all this help and this kid is drowning. I tried to do what you’d do—I asked him if he needed anything. He told me he could do it himself, and I had a big lightbulb. Aha! This is why he’s drowning. I’ll ask him next week if it looks like he can’t breathe.
Seth had also taken to sending Kelly “The Daily Amara.” She was frequently playing the flute, concentrating with a solid line of “fuck off and let me do this” between her eyes, but sometimes she was eating or laughing at the computer or throwing stuff at Seth. She did that a lot, and since she was laughing, it made Kelly laugh too.
Then there were emails, several times a week. Phone calls, late at night when the girls were asleep and it was just Kelly in the living room, drawing whatever he wanted while the TV played in the background.
Kelly had to admit that if Seth hadn’t worked so hard at keeping in touch those first six months, he would have given up.
Waking up every morning without his father was a pain he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over. Waking up and knowing Seth wasn’t anywhere nearby felt like a fresh wound every day.
He kept his phone under his pillow, so when it buzzed, he’d have Seth right there.
But he wasn’t stupid, and he knew that he lived in a human, fallible body.
Taking the girls to the gym was an exercise in “Look, asshole, but don’t touch. Don’t smile. Don’t think about flirting.”
There were days when he wanted a hug so damned bad.
But still, Seth would be there, on his phone that evening. Could he tell Seth about the hug he wanted? About the guy at the drive-thru with the really nice eyes? About the body on that blond guy who kept checking Kelly out in the mirror as he trooped the girls across the gym floor to the pool entrance?
He wasn’t sure.
