Chapter 19 #4
Caspar mouthed a quick thank you to Malek as he stood.
He helped William find the right pots and pans, even some plastic Tupperware dishes, and lined them all up on the coffee table.
William emptied out the stray cigarettes from the decorative dish and turned it over to use as a higher pitched percussion instrument, while Caspar unloaded the plastic bin full of romance novels onto the floor and turned it over to act as a base drum.
William snagged some chopsticks to use as drum sticks, and a knife to carefully hit the glass items. Malek slunk the guitar over his knee and walked his fingers a millimetre above the strings, hovering there the same way a ghost hovered in a haunted house. The guitar hummed and glowed.
Caspar sat cross legged on the floor, eyes wide. He could feel the jewels in his front pocket, growing heavier by the minute. Is it because I made a second wish? I’m getting closer? Or was it something else, something like the magic that passed between William and Malek?
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Malek said. “Pots and pans and a guitar.”
“Hey, we could go to a hobby store and get a drum kit,” William said. “I’d kinda like that, actually.”
“Stop bickering,” Caspar said. “Just play.”
“Fine, fine. We’re gonna freestyle most of this, okay?”
When William nodded, Malek nodded, counted down, and began.
At first, there was a mess of chaos and noise as they both adjusted to their instruments and one another.
Soon, William found the right sounds on the random objects, and Malek came to life.
He seemed like a shell of himself up until the very moment his mouth opened, and then he sang.
We stopped watchin’ the clock
when our momma stopped tellin’ us
bedtime stories about princes and kings
We were never the kind of men
they wrote books about but that doesn’t mean
we can’t give ourselves a new mythology
where we’re the heroes or villains or something in between
Because I want to turn that page
and see my life depicted on the screen
In every story, we meet and part and meet again
In every movie credit scene, we leave
in some other landscape
in some different clothing
and though I may know nothing
about your sob story and potential wealth
I know that stories end badly or happily
I’ve never been good being stealth
I need everyone to know the odds
We are princes, not kings.
I never inherited anything but me
Because our mommas never told us stories
About princes like us. So we better
Smarten up, pack our things, and get out
Caspar was struck by how quickly the music came to Malek despite it not being an All Trades song.
Malek played it as if he’d been thinking about the lyrics for years.
He’s been writing music all this time, but didn’t think he could play it.
Just because his band had ended, he thought his musical side had to end too.
Malek’s face was full of light and colour.
He was coming to life again. Caspar wasn’t quite sure what this meant for Malek beyond this song in this particular moment, but he knew he wanted to be around to find out.
When Malek placed a palm over the strings, William seemed to know intuitively that it was time to stop. He hit the dish with his spoon and the pinging sound echoed in the room. The sun hung low outside the window, casting them both in a halo of light.
“That was gorgeous,” Caspar said. “Really.”
“It was garage band at best.”
“But it was your garage band.” Caspar smiled, catching Malek’s gaze.
He wanted to kiss him again—but for real this time.
Not as an under-the-influence gesture to stave off his loneliness.
Not even as a trick to get his jewels back.
He wanted to kiss Malek because he was here, and Caspar was here, and there was nothing else left to do.
“I’m glad you liked it,” William said, breaking up the moment. “Does this mean I can stay here tonight?”
Caspar sighed. So did Malek. “How old are you again?”
“Sixteen. I know you were looking into getting me a case worker, and that’s great—really, truly so excited for that.
But until that gets sorted out, I was hoping to stay.
That way, the instant you’re not bound to Caspar, I can make a wish, and that’ll be that.
” William smiled, nodded, and gathered his confidence.
Each second was long, and he crumbled after five.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll give back the key and—”
“It’s fine,” Caspar said. “May as well make use of the nice couch. It was too quiet last night, anyway.”
“In that case, I guess you’re free to stay here.
” Malek went to set his guitar down, but seemed unable to part with it for even a moment.
He cradled it in his lap instead. “I’m pretty sure there was enough food the last time I looked.
As long as you help with the dishes, and maybe with this IKEA table, then you’re good.
It may take the case worker a while to get back to me. ”
“Cool, cool,” William said, trying to act nonchalant. “Maybe one more song before dinner, then?”
Malek paused to consider the request for only a moment before he strummed his guitar again.