I started to sob, my shoulders shaking so hard I thought my heart would split in two.
Aunt Clara put the tray down and sat beside me, embracing me. "Don't cry, dear. He doesn't mean what he says. He's upset because he was embarrassed at work. Please, you'll only make yourself sicker, and then what?"
I sucked in my breath and pulled back my tears. "Please, eat something, Raven," Aunt Clara begged.
"All right," I said. "Thank you, Aunt Clara."
I started to eat, and she left. Afterward, William came to my door.
"I'll take your tray to the kitchen for you," he volunteered.
"Thank you," I said, smiling, "but I can do it, William. it's nice of you to offer, though."
He continued to stare at me.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked him.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes, I am," I said. "Your mother was right. Hot food helped."
He smiled. "Good, because I want to show you the double-decker birdhouse. It's done," he declared.
"It is? Okay," I said.
I took my tray to the kitchen. Aunt Clara, who was watching television, came rushing in. "I'll do that, Raven."
"I'm fine now," I told her, and smiled.
"And you ate, too. Good," she said. She put my dishes in the dishwasher. "You just go and do your homework, or come watch television if you like, Raven."
"I'm going up to see William's new birdhouse, and thenI'll do my homework," I explained.
"Oh. That's very nice," she said.
William looked proud. "Come on," he said, and I followed him up the stairs to his room.
As I sat and listened to him explain what kind of birds would feed in his house, I felt sorry for him, sorry that his father took so little interest in what he had accomplished. He was like a flower, stunted and pale because it received so little sunlight. He almost talked as much about his father making fun of his hobby as he did about why he loved making the houses. When I showed sincere interest in him and what he was doing, he wasn't sad or shy anymore. He practically beamed with pride.
"Thank you for showing me your work, William. I bet you could sell these birdhouses. They're so perfect," I told him, gazing around at his collection. It was impressive when I realized he had done all of it himself.
He beamed and strutted about his room, showing me his books on birds, his tools and paints, and some of his other creations.
"Do you have a favorite bird?" he asked me. "Because if you do, I'll make a special house for you."
"No. I don't really know very much about birds. We didn't have many trees around the apartment building."
"Oh, I guess not," he said. "I've been hoping to build a house for every kind of bird we get around here. But it takes money to buy all the wood and stuff. And every time I talk to Daddy about my projects, he just makes fun of me." He hung his head sadly.
"I wish I had some money to help you buy supplies," I told him.
"Don't worry. I'll get the money." He thought a moment and then decided to tell me how. "Daddy drops a lot of change behind the cushions on the sofa downstairs when he sprawls out to watch television. When nobody's around, I pick up the cushions and find it. Once, I found nearly two dollars in quarters and dimes."
I laughed. "Your secret's safe with me," I told him. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. For a moment, he looked so shocked I thought he might cry or scream. When I turned around, I saw the cause of his alarm. Uncle Reuben was standing in the doorway.
"What the hell are you two doing in here?" Uncle Reuben's face was bright red with fury. "Raven, get away from my son. I knew you were a no-good troublemaker like your mother. And here you are flaunting yourself around and tempting my son just the way she tempted me. Well, I won't have none of it! Get out of this room right now before I drag you out!" For a second, I was too terrified to move. Then Uncle Reuben started pulling William toward him, and I knew I had to get away.
I saw William's horrified face as I ran past him and knew that I had to speak up.