Chapter 6: Tape and Ribs

"Nobody left it," I said. "It's a card."

Chan kept looking at it.

"Three swords through a heart means grief," he said. "My mother reads tarot."

"Then your mother knows I got it the week I buried my brother."

I zipped my jacket up to my chin.

"I was thirty-eight," I said. "It hurt less than the funeral.

"I got the sleeves after, because by then I figured I might as well finish."

Hyunjin turned from the rail.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It was eleven years ago. Come down. It's getting dark, and I don't like the stairs after dark."

That was a lie, and Chan knew it, and he held the door for me without a word.

I took the stairs ahead of both of them so they couldn't see my face.

Back at the cabin, I lit the stove and put the pot on, and I taught Hyunjin to make rice without burning anything.

He was a good student and a bad listener, and he hummed under his breath the whole time.

Chan stood by the window with the curtain open a crack.

Around eight, I sent Hyunjin to the shed for kindling.

"Stay by the wall," Chan said. "Don't go past the porch light."

"Okay, Hyung."

Hyunjin went out, and Chan turned to bring in the logs from the stack by the door.

He bent for the second armful and made a sound.

It was short and tight, and he straightened up at once and pretended it hadn't happened.

I put down the spoon.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"You bent for that log like it cost you. Take off your shirt."

He turned his head slowly.

"I'm sorry?"

"The ribs. You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Your jaw, now this. Shirt."

"It's nothing, it's bruised."

"Then you'll be fine when I look at it."

We stood there for a moment with the stove crackling.

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