Bird Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

matter what he did from now on, one was always going to be missing from his life.   And if his father’s drinking became worse, well…one might be missing permanently.
    I frowned again, because that option would involve Robert, and the thought didn’t sit well with me.   Graham and Robert were finally getting along, things were going well.   If Richard didn’t get help…
    “Grace?”
    I blinked at the voice calling my name.   “Yeah?”
    He chuckled, “I lost you for a second.   You totally spaced out.   What’s up?”
    I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts that had taken me away from our conversation.   “I was just wondering where you were going to sleep.   Janice and Dad have already turned that teeny room next to mine into the nursery, and Dad actually parks his car in the Garage…”
    Where was he going to sleep?   Janice had said that they could trust Graham with me…she didn’t actually mean that…   “Oh please tell me no,” I gasped before jumping off my bed.   I raced to the door and flew downstairs to the kitchen, where Janice was cleaning.
    “Grace?   What’s wrong?” she asked nervously, taking in my flushed face and my hectic breathing.
    “Where’s Graham supposed to sleep?” I panted, the anxiety in my voice apparent even to me.
    As the seriousness of the situation finally dawned on her she smiled.   “Oh Grace, he’ll sleep on the couch!   You didn’t think we’d meant for him to sleep in your room, did you?”
    I giggled nervously, sheepishly; foolishly.   “Of course not!”   Of course I did.   She knew that.   But she didn’t know that the reason I did was because of something she wasn’t aware of; I didn’t want Robert to come into my room to see Graham sleeping in there.   Even though they were friends now, I didn’t trust what my boyfriend would do if he found another guy in my room in the middle of the night.
    “Well, I’m done in here.   You know where the sheets and blankets are, Grace.   I’ll let you take care of things.   I’m going to bed.   Goodnight.”   I watched as she left the kitchen, her head shaking at my obvious overreaction, her shoulders bobbing up and down with her quiet laughter.
    Sighing with embarrassment, I went back up the stairs to my room.   “Looks like you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” I said as I walked through the door.
    Graham was sitting down on the corner of the bed, his hands holding onto something that appeared very fragile in his hands.   It was pink, and shiny, reflecting the light from the ceiling lamp.
    “I thought you might have thrown this away or broken it or something,” he whispered as he rubbed an odd protrusion at the top of the largest part of the solid blob in his hands.   I smiled, for in truth I had broken it.
    For a while, it had lain in pieces on the floor.   It represented, to me at least, our friendship…and me.   The little, deformed object in his hand was a ceramic whale that I’d made in the second grade.   It sported a large green dorsal fin, the remnant of his own whale, which had exploded in the kiln and melded onto mine.
    I had thrown it against my dresser in a fit of rage a few weeks after he had ended our friendship; the head and tail broke apart cleanly, while other parts chipped and broke away, falling around it neatly.   It was our life, my life, obliterated in one swift movement.
    After that day, I hadn’t thought about it.   I didn’t even try to find it after Graham had walked back into my life.   It wasn’t necessary, I had told myself.   And that worked for me…until Robert had fixed it.
    When he had somehow repaired the whale, and told me that it was stronger now than it had been before, I knew that he had been right.   But I also knew that it wasn’t meant for me, but for Graham.   He was now the one who needed reassurances about the strength of the few ties he had to his friends, especially now that his family had fallen apart.
    “Can I have