“Oh, there’s beer? What do ya need?” he asked, eager as ever to help. Law liked his beer, but he was a good guy who would do anything to help a friend.
“Do you have plans late tomorrow afternoon?” I asked and he snorted.
“Yes, my plans involve drinking beer and listening to baseball.”
“Can you do it on a lawnmower?” I asked and he laughed in my ear.
“You want me to mow someone’s yard now?” he asked, his tone telling me he was confused.
“Actually, I need a weed whip. I have to repair a wheelchair ramp for a friend. I’m going to need to get under the ramp to shore it up for a few weeks until I can build her a new one. I want it cleaned out and cleared of any snakes before I start crawling around under there.”
“I think you have the wrong number. You want Shaun’s Snake Removal.” He made the name up on the fly and I laughed.
“I’m not saying there are snakes. I just want to be sure before I climb under there and end up bit. Her lawn could use a mow, too. I’ll pay you, time and a half since it’s a last-minute job.”
“You can pay me with a case of beer and the satisfaction of helping someone in need. Good enough?”
“More than good enough, Law,” I said, giving him the address. I gave him a few more specifics and then hung up the phone.
He was only one of several people I needed to convince to come help me tomorrow, so I spent another half an hour in the truck, calling friends and lining up helpers for tomorrow afternoon. When I finished with my calls, I set the phone back in the center console and cranked the engine over. I couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to be a man and own up to my mistakes.
It felt like déjà vu as I stood on their doorstep and knocked on the door. This time there was only one woof and then footsteps hurrying toward me. The footfalls were too heavy to be Cinn, which meant my brother-in-law would be the one to peer out at me when the door opened. As suspected, he held the door and I noted the expression on his face. It was resigned with a heavy dose of sadness.
“Hi, Lorenzo,” he greeted me, holding the door open. “Come on in. She’s playing in the basement.”
I stepped in, and when he closed the door, I could hear the plaintive cries of a bassoon from below my feet. I hung my head and groaned. “When we were kids she always played the bassoon when she was sad.”
Foster motioned for me to take a seat, but I stayed standing. “She’ll get over it, if you give her time.”
I stuck my hands in my back pockets, trying to decide what to do. Poopsie hopped over to me, suddenly interested in the new visitor. I gave her some attention and then stood. “I’ve got something for her, but I’ll come back another day. Tell her I stopped by and I’m sorry. If she wants she can call me, but if she’s settled down, I don’t want to bother her.”
I turned to leave and he grabbed the crook of my elbow, halting me in place. “All you did was point out her insecurities, Lorenzo. She walks around here half the time trying to push me away because she thinks it will hurt less when I leave, which I’m not, by the way. You should understand, this medication they put her on has some side effects. One of them is mood swings and emotional lability. It won’t last forever, but she’s on a high dose right now to reduce the swelling in her esophagus and stomach, so it doesn’t impair her breathing. Her stomach and esophagus were swollen to the point the doctor was considering keeping her in the hospital to monitor her breathing. The only reason he didn’t is her amazing lung capacity from playing instruments. She has to sleep sitting straight up, because if she lays down, her stomach could push on her diaphragm and cut off her ability to breathe during the night. It means on top of the fact she’s on the medication that makes her emotional and keeps her from sleeping, she’s constantly scared of dying. Hopefully she won’t need such a high dose of prednisone after a few more days. She’ll start the medication she used to take once the doctor feels he has this flare under control.”
“I see. I had no idea it was compromising her breathing. I can’t believe you agreed to bring her home and didn’t insist on the hospital stay.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like she gave me much choice in the matter. I have emergency oxygen here in case she goes downhill, but as you can hear, her breathing is fine. She can’t play if she can’t breathe.”
I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re telling me I shouldn’t be a jerk and call her on anything, even if it’s true?”
“You weren’t being a jerk,” Cinn said from the doorway to the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed she quit playing as I was talking to Foster. “I was behaving like a child and needed a swift kick. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
I strode toward her and she ran to me, letting me cradle her. I could practically swallow her tiny body in my arms and it was only then I realized how much weight she had lost the last year.
“I still shouldn’t have said it the way I did. I wanted to help you see the truth, but didn’t go about it the right way.”
She rested her hand on my chest. “I know what the truth is. Foster isn’t going to leave me the way Josh did. In my moments of clarity, I understand, but in my emotional moments of guilt, I wonder why he stays.”
“Why are you feeling guilty?” I asked, swiveling to let her sit on the couch instead of stand.
“Because she let this go too long and lied to me about how she felt,” Foster answered. I glanced his way and then back to Cinn, and she nodded.
“He’s right. I’ve been struggling for almost a year. I should have admitted defeat and gone back on the drug before things got this bad, but my ego wouldn’t let me. I had such determination to stay off it and one day give him a child.”
“Because if you have his child, he won’t leave?” I asked her and she kept her eyes downcast.
“No, I know he won’t leave me. I’m a teacher, right?” she asked and we both nodded in unison, hoping for an explanation we could understand once and for all. “I spend my days with wonderful, talented kids. I look into their eyes and wonder what mine and Foster’s child might be like. I wonder if he or she would love music, or have an instant connection to animals. All I’ll ever be able to do is wonder because I’ll never have our child.”
I squatted down and took her hand, glancing to Foster for guidance, but he was taken aback by what she shared and stared at the ceiling, fighting back tears, but failing.
“Cinn, you know if you want to have a child of your own, you could always get a surrogate to carry it. The baby would have both of your genetics and you would have living, breathing proof of your love. I know it’s not the same as being pregnant and going through those milestones, but my guess is it wouldn’t matter as much to you when you’re watching your baby on the screen of an ultrasound, or when they lay your baby in your arms. The body is a vessel for a few months, but the heart is forever.”
She finally glanced up at me, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “When did you get so smart, little brother?” she asked, putting her arms around my neck. “Thanks for putting up with me being an emotional wreck right now.”
Foster trudged over and sat next to her on the couch, putting his arms around her when she let me go. “I want you to promise us right now you won’t put your health at risk ever again. Now I know you were doing it for me, and I’ll carry guilt about making you think you had to hide your illness from me forever. I can’t lose you, Cinn. My heart can’t handle holding you while you vomit and cry out in pain because everything hurts. When I hold you in my arms and you’re shivering in pain, I feel impotent and useless to help or comfort you. I would give up my life for you. Do you understand?” he asked, shaking her gently. “If the good Lord gave me the option to die for you to live healthy, I would do it, because I love you unconditionally and without regard for my own life. Do you understand me?” he asked, crushing her to his chest.
While he hugged her, I got up and opened the door. Brutus was scratching to come in and he walt
zed in, immediately homing in on Cinn. He sat next to her and rested his big head in her lap. She absently stroked his head, as though they depended on each other all the time. It was his job to calm her and he took his job seriously.
“I’ll go so you can rest. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at Cat’s gallery showing,” I said, ready to close the door.
Foster wiped his eyes and pointed at the item I had picked up off the floor and planned to take back to my truck. “What did you bring?”
I set it back down on the floor and motioned to it. “It’s my I’m sorry I’m not a nice brother gift for Cinn. I had planned to give it to her before the Battle of the Bands, but thought maybe now would be a better time. The other parts are in my truck.”
“Other parts?” Cinn asked excitedly, forgetting about her pain for a moment. “What did you do?”
“Remember last year how you had a problem holding the bass because you’re too small?” she nodded and I set the item wrapped in a bag by the couch. “It took me some time to figure it out, but I think I solved the problem.”
She leaned down and tugged the bag off the foot high, curved wooden base. She gasped and Foster picked it up, turning it every which way so she could get the full effect.
“Lorenzo, this is stunning, but what is it?” she asked and I chuckled, taking it and setting it back on the floor.
“The curve is where the bottom of the bass rests while you’re playing it. The V on the back is what the neck rests on when you aren’t playing it. For instance, Foster could take the bass out for you and leave it on the stage, propped in the base. As soon as you’re ready to play, you grab the neck and push it forward. Now it can rest in the base and you can play it without needing someone to hold it. As long as you don’t let it touch the V on the back while you’re playing, it won’t change the tone of the instrument.”
“How do you know all this?” she asked, still inspecting the carving on the wood.
“Let’s just say I’m now a close personal friend of Tucker at the music shop.”
She laughed and the sound was music to my ears. If nothing else, all the hours of work I put into it had been worth her one moment of levity.
“Gosh, Lorenzo, this is a work of art. It looks exactly like the bottom of a real bass.” She paused for a moment and pointed at the center of the velvet padding. “You even made the right size diameter hole for the endpin assembly. Do these carved edges hook onto the c-bouts?” She pointed at the filigree pattern on the curved stand.
I paused, unsure of what she meant. “Are C-bouts the same as the waist?” I asked and she nodded. “Okay, Tucker helped me with everything, but terminology is not my strong suit. He gave me the measurements and I designed the protective measures to keep it from falling out of the base when you aren’t playing it. Yes, the edges hook onto the bass and the V on the back is there simply because I’m paranoid about being responsible for the demise of an expensive instrument. It shouldn’t be necessary, but it’s extra protection to make us all feel better.”
She grinned and stood, hugging me around the waist. “You always know how to cheer me up, brother.”
I rubbed her back a few times and kissed her cheek. “Hopefully this year you won’t have to have your husband hold it for you, not that he isn’t a fantastic assistant.”
She glanced back at the stand and shook her head. “I think this will do just fine. Now I need to grow about a foot and I’ll be all set.”
I laughed, tickling her side lightly, so I didn’t bother her stomach. “I have a solution to you being a shrimp. I’ll go get it.”
I left the house and jogged to my truck. I lifted out the tall, wooden stand from the front of the cab and hadn’t even gone a quarter of the way across the yard before Cinn was squealing.
“Lorenzo! What did you do?” she asked, her breath catching as she inspected the stand.
“Come in and check it out,” I encouraged her, setting the music stand on the floor.
By the time the door closed, tears were already on her face. She touched the wood as though it would break apart in her hands. “It’s Brutus,” she whispered, her hand gliding over the inlay on the music stand. “What do you call this type of woodwork?”
“I made the dog out of what they call an intarsia carving. You give the carving depth by using different colored wood to set it apart. It’s taken me a full year to make, but I’m happy with it.”
She had her hand to her heart as though it hurt. “I can’t imagine the hours of work you’ve put into this, Lorenzo. You’re too good to me.”
“Cinn, did you see this?” Foster asked, pointing to the base of the stand.
I motioned at it. “I know sometimes you stand on a stool so your kids in the back can see you.” I bent down and lifted the small handle, sliding it toward me. A step emerged, giving her a six-inch lift. I showed her how to adjust the stand up and down depending on if she’s using the step or not. “You can swivel it any direction, so you can use it for when you play the bass, too.”
“There is something magical about your hands, Lorenzo,” Foster said, inspecting the stand. “Your talents are being wasted building animal shelters. You don’t see this kind of craftsmanship anymore. It’s quite stunning. I had no idea you had this kind of intricate woodworking skill.”
I shrugged. “I spend a lot of time alone and it helps pass the hours. This was my most intricate and biggest project to date. There are a lot of moving parts which all have to work together. I figured after the Battle of the Bands you could leave it at school. Maybe it will make band practice easier for Alvar. He’ll be able to see you and know when to come in.”
She laughed and hugged me again. Alvar was her genius tuba player who at thirteen had as much trouble seeing Cinn as she did seeing him. “I think Alvar is going to love it, especially because you took the time to put the image of our favorite guy on it. You really nailed his side profile, pensive look.”
I snickered, because Brutus always had a pensive expression on his face. “I’m glad it lifted your spirits. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so I think I can trust Foster to put these where you want them.”
She put her hand on her hip. “You can’t overstay your welcome when it’s my home, Lorenzo. Besides, I see a box you didn’t open. What’s in it?”
I chuckled. “Does this drug make you nosy, too?” I joked.
She tossed her hand toward it. “You brought it in, so it must not be a big secret.”
“Not so much a secret as it is lack of confidence. It’s something I made, but I’m not sure how good it is. I was hoping you could tell me. The only reason I hesitate is because I don’t want you to get exhausted.”
She hurried to the couch and sat primly. “There, I’m sitting down. I can’t get exhausted when I’m sitting. Show me.”
Foster and I both laughed at her antics and he nodded as if to say I should do anything to keep her mind off her problems. I picked up the small box and carried it to her, setting it on her lap. “I’ve been working on this for a couple years. I didn’t have some of the specialized tools I needed, so I could only work on it when I could get into the shop at the tech school. I made it for you, but I’m not overly confident it works, is correct, or is even worth the time it took to make, since I can’t play it.”
She gazed up at me, her eyes sparking. “You made an instrument?” she asked shocked. I motioned to the box and waited while she opened it and lifted it out. She paused as she held it in her hand, her breathing nonexistent as she stared at it in shock and awe. Foster sat next to her and rubbed her back until she tore her eyes away from it. “You made a jarana huasteca?” she asked stunned.
“A whata whoda?” Foster asked confused.
I motioned at it. “It’s an instrument from Mexico. They’re built to look like a guitar, but they aren’t. There’s large ones and small ones, so I made a small one since it was my first,” I explained.
Cinn plucked the strings. “It has five strings instead of the usual six
a guitar has. Its range is like that of a mandolin,” she said. “It’s plucked more than strummed, and it’s usually an accompaniment piece in an ensemble.”
She played a few notes and glanced up. “It’s in perfect tune.”
I laughed. “I took it to Tucker since I didn’t have a clue how to string it. He put the strings on and tuned it for me.”
Cinn couldn’t keep her fingers from plucking. When she stopped she would bring it to her face, inspecting the inlay and bridge as if it were a painting rather than an instrument.
“Lorenzo, this is…”
“Amazing,” Foster finished. “I had no idea you could do this type of woodwork. Like none.”
I shrugged. “Diversify, right? I enjoy the music of our culture, but you don’t hear it a lot here. I know Cinn plays and I also know she has a big jarana huasteca. This one is probably lame, but I had to start somewhere. Mainly I hoped you would play it and tell me what I can do to improve it.”
She shook her head and didn’t say a word as she kept inspecting it. “Lame? Did you honestly just say this is probably lame? Lorenzo, you clearly have no idea how much talent you have in your mind and your hands. You could make a living making nothing but instruments. I might already have one, but I’ll treasure this jarana huasteca because you made it for me. You can forget about getting it back.”
I grinned and knelt in front of her. “I’m glad you like it. It wasn’t a gift so much as it was my first attempt at an instrument, but you’re welcome to keep it. Like I said, play it for me a bit and tell me what I could improve on or change. This is the kind of woodwork I enjoy and what really gets my blood flowing. There’s something to be said for making something beautiful and useful with your own hands.”
Foster took the small guitar from his wife and she hugged me, her arms around my neck. “There sure is, and I’m thrilled you aren’t afraid to try new things. Keep up this kind of work and you’ll be famous in no time.”
I laughed and stood. “I don’t know about famous, but I’d be happy with well known.” I winked and pointed toward the door. “I better go. I still have to design a new ramp for Cat’s house tonight. Tomorrow I’ll pick up some wood to fix the one she has to get her through until I can build the new one.”
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