Chapter Twenty-One: After hearing the mourners gathering next door following David Duquan’s funeral, Jerome Jefferson figured David Duquan was one lucky little fellow. Then Jerome thought of that badass who called himself “June Bug,” and a swell of sadness rose.

Dude never got to see his son smile, Jerome thought as Suleimān walked in, holding Christoph by the neck.

Jerome wept.

He was inconsolable and reached for his son’s hand, holding on until his eyes stopped screaming for forgiveness and his mouth began to tremble as he formed the words. Jerome told the boy he had never understood how incredible his talent was. He wondered if Suleimān would do something for him before he reaped the karma he had earned. He pleaded, “Please, play something, something jus’ for me.”

Suleimān pulled a chair close to his father’s bedside, cradled Christoph like a compassionate mantis, and set his bow to Franz Schubert’s Ave Maria. Jerome heard Christoph sing: