Free Our Song by A. Destiny Page B

“still-steaming” part proved problematic for his glasses. Immediately, they fogged up.
    â€œWhoa!” he muttered. Completely blind, he stumbled a few steps backward, knocking right into a dirty dish cart. A bowl full of flatware tumbled noisily to the floor.
    Clearly mortified, Jacob looked in my general direction, with his glasses still misted over and his baseball hat askew.
    That’s when the laugh I’d been biting back burst forth.
    Jacob swiped off his glasses and stared at the forks and spoons scattered across the tile floor.
    I held my breath and tried to stop laughing, which, of course, only made me laugh louder.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I gasped. “I’m just picturing a Three Stooges movie.”
    â€œBut there’re only two of us,” Jacob said.
    At once, both of us looked over at Ms. Betty, who at that moment was scraping big hunks of sticky dough off her hands and muttering, “This never happens when I make biscuits. Durn Brits!”
    â€œBwa, ha, ha!”
    Now it was both of us cackling, him bent over at the waist and me stumbling around as I scooped spoons off the floor.
    Then the Hobart beeped again, attracting Ms. Betty’s attention.
    â€œListen, you two,” she called over to us. “Cute don’t get the dishes done.”
    I cringed in embarrassment and glanced at Jacob. He, too, quickly stopped laughing.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “Clearly we have a division of labor. You load.”
    â€œAnd you, Leatherhands, unload,” Jacob said, grinning as he returned to his side of the Hobart.
    â€œJust for that,” I said, “I’m not going to tell you my idea.”
    â€œAbout what?” Jacob asked, leaning backward so he could see me around the dishwasher.
    â€œAbout that bowing problem you’re having,” I said lightly asI stacked up clean plates. “I bet Nanny told you to bend the bone between your wrist and elbow, didn’t she?”
    â€œ Yes! ” Jacob cried. “I mean, seriously? That’s like telling someone to breathe through their eyelids.”
    â€œWhat, you can’t breathe through your eyelids?” I said. “How do you do the breast stroke?”
    Even though I was busy scooping forks into a metal canister, I could just feel Jacob gaping at me.
    â€œ Kidding! ” I yelled over my shoulder. “C’mon, I may have E.T. fingers, but I’m not a complete mutant.”
    Then Jacob said something, a phrase that got swept away by the chug, chug, chug of the Hobart and the noisy spray of the water. I couldn’t discern the words, but something about the tone made me catch my breath.
    It made my hands, grasping a handful of serving spoons, suddenly feel weak and shaky.
    It made me turn around to look at Jacob.
    I didn’t need to hear his words to know that he had just paid me a compliment.
    The sudden blotches on his neck and the way his eyes couldn’t bear to meet mine? Well, that confirmed it.
    But I was too shy to ask him what he’d said.
    And he was clearly too embarrassed to repeat it.
    The next thing I knew, it was me saying something completely unexpected.
    â€œI could show you, if you want.”
    â€œShow me . . . ?” Jacob looked confused.
    â€œHow to bend the bone between your elbow and your wrist,” I said.
    He didn’t answer for a long moment.
    â€œI promise, it’s much easier than breathing through your eyelids.”
    A perplexed smile slowly bloomed on his face.
    â€œBut I warn you,” I added, “it is harder than reading with the soles of your feet.”
    He didn’t laugh. Instead he looked at me curiously.
    â€œYou really want to help me?” he asked. “With fiddle?”
    I shrugged, then nodded. “Sure.”
    â€œBut I thought this was your month to get away from all that,” Jacob said.
    He looked pointedly at my right hand. Not the one with the calluses that he so