“With fire.”
Armando’s eyes widened, and he got lost in his thoughts of animals cooking on flames. Watching Damian as he went to let the valet in. They ate then, and Damian just chewed that artificially flavored meat and that bland salad, his thoughts on the meals they had after exhausting days of hunting or fishing. A vague brooding clouding his mind. He pushed the plate away and waited until Armando finished, leaving half of that huge plate.
“Time for your bath.”
“And then to bed.”
“Yes…”
He helped him bathe, change, and they went to bed, that routine ingrained. Even if Damian had wished Armando would sleep in his bed, he didn’t want to force him, sensing that maybe there was something else under that silence, his little hands clutching his T-shirt as he fell asleep, the pig wedged between them.
Next day, they went to the medical center, and Armando waited until Damian had been through all the examinations. Watching him run on a treadmill, a mask on his face. Blood drawn, the doctor listening to his breathing, his heart.
He took Damian’s hand when he was done. “You are healthy?”
Damian smiled down at him. “All good. Your turn, ok?”
He nodded and held his hand tight.
They walked to a bright yellow room, cartoon figures painted on the wall, a doctor lady smiling at him. “Armando? Nice meeting you.” She shook Damian’s hand and gestured them to a bed. “Just take his T-shirt and pants off, and I’ll see what’s up.”
Damian stripped him, his heart clenching at that thin body. Watching as the doctor examined Armando, made him laugh because the stethoscope was cold, so she blew on it to warm it up. Her hands roaming his body, those too visible ribs. Armando’s eyes darted to Damian, and he just gave him the thumbs up. Waiting until she was done. He dressed him then and sent him to the corner to play. Facing the doctor over her desk.
She was typing on her laptop, and her eyes went to him. “So… you said he has only been with you a couple of days?”
“Almost a week.”
“And you have sole custody? The mother?”
“She died… Listen, I know nothing of this… as you know.”
She nodded. “Yes… He’s very thin, a bit malnourished for his age.”
“He’s also very silent. When he’s playing, he hardly makes a sound.”
“Might be his new circumstances. Give him a bit of time. If he doesn’t improve, you can bring him back, and I’ll refer you to a psychologist. Did you see one?”
Damian’s eyes flashed in surprise. “No… what for?”
She smiled. “You were away six years on an island, alone…”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“Almost, though? Maybe it would do you good to talk it out with somebody.”
“Right…” Damian forced a smile, but inwardly, he was already fed up. Knowing what was wrong. He rose. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Just feed him properly and watch his behavior. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Sure. See you.”
They went back to the hotel, and Damian had to talk something over with the receptionist. Armando had darted away to that huge, black, shiny thing standing in the lobby’s corner. He climbed on that red velvet seat, mesmerized, his eyes on those black and white slabs. He pushed one softly and almost fell over at the sound.Oh…He pushed another one, and another one.Fun…A small smile on his face, finding another slab, slamming them with his tiny fingers. He got lost a bit in that delightful cacophony and jolted a bit to the hand on his shoulder. He turned to Damian with a smile.
“You like this?”
“What’s this?”
“A piano. It makes music.” Armando slammed the keys, and Damian gently peeled his hands off. “Uh… not like that…”
