Cynthia sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “Excuse your father, Florian, but you must understand why he is slightly agitated.”
“It’s Hammer.”
She stalled, only to correct herself while looking as if she’d been forced to swallow a frog.
“Let’s go to the living room then,” Peter said, finishing his pasta.
“So what do you do, Dex, apart from riding bikes?” Cynthia asked, downing her glass of wine.
Dex slouched, shoveling the last bits of pasta into his mouth. “Oh, I work at my uncle’s junkyard. It doesn’t sound like much, but I get to drive a forklift, a truck, use this massive cement mixer, and my uncle is teaching me welding.”
Finally, he seemed to have caught a glimpse of interest from the kid. “Have you ever driven a digger?”
Dex grinned once he swallowed the last bit of food. “Hell yes! I was using the bucket and everything.”
“We can take you to Diggerland for your next birthday,” Cynthia said, leading the way out of the dining area once everyone finished eating.
The kid jumped with joy before sprinting down the hall, through an arch, which revealed similar decor to the one that had surrounded them during dinner. Only this time, pictures of landscapes and seascapes hung on the wood-paneled walls instead of still life. The living room was almost as big as Frank’s entire home, with a luxurious sofa and a grand piano on one end.
Dex squeezed Hammer’s hand as the boy set up in front of the instrument. “They’re a bit grumpy, but still happy to see you,” he whispered.
Hammer didn’t seem as enthusiastic and shrugged. “Are they?” he whispered when his younger brother leapt onto the stool in front of the keyboard, uncovered it and started playing with a skill Dex had not expected from a child this young.
Dex’s eyes went wide, and for a moment he listened in amazement. “Did he compose it too? He’s so talented.”
He didn’t like the silence that followed, though it wasn’t too jarring since Wolfgang kept on playing. What had he said wrong now?
Peter raised his eyebrow at Dex. “It’s ‘Für Elise’. By Beethoven,” he added when Dex wasn’t sure what he was supposed to gather from the title.
“Oh. Still very talented,” he mumbled. At this rate, Hammer would soon realize he’d plucked Dex out of the junkyard like the piece of trash he was, and discard him at the nearest Dumpster.
“Only one of the most known piano pieces,” Cynthia said as Hammer tensed.
“People don’t live to fulfill others’ expectations of them.”
“You never did,” Peter quipped, pretending to be entranced by the music with his arms folded on his chest.
Oh no, this was going downhill fast. “But he has so many other talents than piano,” Dex said quickly.
Cynthia sent a sad glance Hammer’s way. “Have you even heard him play? Before the whole debacle at his high school, he was excellent.”
“Because you made me do it. I never wanted to in the first place,” he said, raising his voice when Wolfgang banged the piano keys harder, as if trying to drown out the noisy conversation.
Dex stepped between them, desperate to make things better. “Everyone had different talents, but you also get better at the things you practice. I know I’ve already made an idiot of myself here. I don’t know the piano songs, and I can’t eat pasta right, but for example, I’m a really great shot. Sounds like I’m blowing my own horn, but it’s true. Even Hammer says so. What I’m saying is that everyone has something to offer. Maybe I could show you, or even teach Wolfgang a thing or two,” he said and pulled out his zebra striped gun with a smile.
The kid stopped playing. “Is that real?”
“Go to your room,” Cynthia said, and dragged him from the piano, frantic as if Dex had pointed the firearm her way. Reality was spinning on its head, and Dex stepped closer to Hammer, who remained quiet as everything around them crumbled.
Peter was red as tomato juice when he whispered as soon as his young child was out of the door. “You have no sense of boundaries. There is no shooting training in the suburbs. And you can’t just offer it to someone else’s child without asking!”
Cynthia stormed back in, holding one hand on her chest as if she were assessing her heartbeat. “What was that? Floria—”
“Hammer.”
She sucked in air and shoved a wooden box of paper tissues off a sideboard. “How dare you correct me afteryour guestdid this!”
Dex swallowed. "I'm sorry. I thought we were doing, like, a skills thing? Where everyone shows off their best talent…"