Tales of Accidental Genius Read Online Free Page B

fish die in childbirth,” he said. “It’s a lot of stress for them to push the fish babies out.”
    â€œBut, what I don’t quite understand,” said the old man, turning to Akin, “is how Piper got in the family way to begin with?”
    â€œWell,” Akin said, trying to think of something, “I suppose it’s like Mary and the baby Jesus.”
    â€œThe Bible story?”
    â€œYeah, but underwater.”
    The old man thought about it.
    â€œMy wife, Doris, and I never had any children ourselves. I got Piper after she died just to have a little friend in the house.”
    â€œNow you’ve got two little friends.”
    T HE OLD MAN wanted to lift Piper’s body out by himself but couldn’t steady his hands, so Akin took the spoon from him. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
    When Akin was nine years old, he came home from school and found his father in the upstairs bathroom on the floor with a plastic bag over his head. Akin tried to get the bag off, but there was too much tape and his fingers kept slipping.
    Sometimes he dreamed that it was happening again, and sometimes the bag came off and he saw his father’s eyes.
    T HE OLD MAN watched as Akin scooped up Piper’s body in the spoon.
    â€œDear God,” Akin said. “Please accept Piper into your flock in Heaven.”
    Akin offered to take Piper’s body to the park, but the old man said he’d bury her in the morning under one of his potted plants.
    Akin put the kettle on again and watched the old man sprinkle a few meal flakes for the two young fish, who were zooming around in the water, completely unaware of the tragedy from which their lives had sprung forth.
    While they were on the couch holding mugs, the old man said he was going to call one of Piper’s children Akin, if Akin didn’t mind.
    â€œCall the other one Doris,” Akin said.
    I T TOOK A long time to get home. The bus was crowded with people talking about the snow, and there were several text messages from his mother, asking where he was.
    As Akin neared the front door of his house, he noticed light falling from the living room window onto a patch of shallow snow. He stepped over and put his face to the glass. His mother and brother were on the sofa and didn’t see him. The television was on and the night echoed with the faint ring of applause. His brother’s feet were on a cushion and his mother was rubbing them with an expression Akin recognized as worry. There were empty choc-ice wrappers on the arm of the sofa, and a loose stack of Chinese takeaway containers on the carpet.
    In the far corner of the living room was a Christmas tree. It was tall and well lit. They bought it from an all-night convenience store that kept them outside between bundles of firewood and boxes of vegetables.
    Sam insisted on carrying one end of the tree, but had to keep stopping to rest.
    When they got home, their mother kicked off her slippers to climb the attic ladder and get the Christmas things down. Akin waited on the second step for her to lower the boxes.
    They spent the afternoon decorating the tree with ornaments that caught the light. As they were putting the star on, Sam asked if Santa Claus was real.
    â€œOf course he is!” their mother exclaimed. “Haven’t you made your list yet?”
    After she had vacuumed up the needles, they held hands and cheered when the lights came on.
    Sam lay on his back and looked up into the branches.
    On the mantelpiece were photographs from their summer holiday in Cornwall.
    One night they couldn’t find a bed-and-breakfast and had to sleep in the car. Sam said if anyone came he’d protect them, though Akin knew it would be up to him as the older brother, and stayed awake as long as he could, waiting for figures beyond the glass to bear down upon them. But all he saw was the faint glow of stars from deep in the universe; proof that other