Asher ✓

03 | fragile

JUNE 31, 2001 / DENHVOY ALVOROD MEDICAL CLINIC

Under the sheltering arms of two loving parents, Asher Delrov grew up as happy a boy as any other.

Ekaterina Delrov found him the highest regarded kindergarten in town, and - because of her high acclaim in the scientific world and elegant way with words - allowed him easy access in.

When Asher was five years old, Mrs. Delrov also identified what she thought was the best elementary school for Asher - surprisingly, not the one that all the educational magazines suggested, but one that reminded her of the elementary school she herself had attended - and gained entry for him using that same verifiable reputation.

His childhood was cheerful, mind the occasional broken bone and grounding. Sometimes, Asher didn't want to go visit Dr. Polzin, because he left each time with a sore arm from all the needles.

"Why do I have to see him?" Asher would whine, as a stern Ekaterina Delrov tugged him through the carpark of the medical clinic.

"Because, we need to know how to keep you safe, and healthy."

"But, Mama," Asher would lift his scrawny arms, displaying the pale skin and blue veins, and ignore the slight pain he got his back from doing so, "I'm perfectly healthy!"

Two weeks later, Asher was back at the Denhvoy Alvorod Medical Clinic with a fractured elbow.

It was a clean break, and Vasily didn't want his son seeing the x-ray.

But Ekaterina had faith in her son's her-ness, and smuggled him a look at the black and white images on the car ride back, two days later, after he had wires put in his arm to hold the bones in place while they grew back - and a cool-looking, camouflage-patterned cast making his arm look musclier than it was.

"Whoa," Asher looked at his cast, wide-eyed, "I have that inside of me?"

"Mm-hm," Ekaterina ruffled his hair, "And you can see it because of x-rays. Science is pretty cool, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Mother and son high-fived.

Asher's mother was the one who taught him how to ride a bike, with her own special technique. She said, while pinching his ears, "Thank God you have good semicircular canals inside your head, Asher. They're the only reason you're not falling over every time."

After that, Asher spent hours trying to master how to say 'semicircular canals' to impress his friends with how smart he was, and please his mother - who was the smartest person he knew.

Possibly the thing he was most proud of about her: his mother knew how to multiply double digits.

The earlier hopes Ekaterina had for her son, before he was born, were being slowly reignited by the infectious fire in Asher's heart. He was a curious, inquisitive and smart boy. A future of success was lining itself up, like the shadow of a still object moving as the sun rose, a silhouette she saw behind the puzzles he completed and the drawing he made for her.

Despite his condition, Ekaterina began to hope that when the time came - when Asher knew how to take care of himself - he would find life better and worth the pain he would have to endure. She hoped that Asher would never be hindered by his disorder, or have to decline an offer to hang out with friends because, "I might get hurt."