That number was the floor I was standing on. I didn't think about it often, the way you don't think about a floor. Vanderbilt's financial aid office had built my package around it. I had a grant from them, and a small merit award, and the rest, the family contribution, was supposed to come partly from my parents' income and partly from that account, Grandma Ida's account, the one with my name on it as beneficiary in her loopy fountain-pen hand.
So when I say I read the window sticker, I want you to understand I wasn't doing math yet. I was just reading.
* * *
At three o'clock my father tapped a fork on a Solo cup and the yard went quiet.
He was good at this. Rick Calder could have been a preacher or a used car salesman if he hadn't loved the lake, and he had the voice for both. He stood at the edge of the patio with one hand on Grant's good shoulder, and Grant stood there with a paper plate of brisket going cold, looking at the grass.
"Most of y'all know," my father said, "this has been a tough year for my boy."
A murmur. Mrs. Abernathy put her hand over her heart.
"He got hurt doing what he loves. And he didn't quit. He's been in that training room every morning at five-thirty. He's been driving back and forth to Murfreesboro in that old Silverado of mine with the busted AC, and I said to his mama, I said, Denise, that boy has earned something. That boy needs to know his family's behind him." He squeezed the shoulder. Grant winced, very slightly. I don't think anyone else saw. "So, son. Happy birthday. Go on and look out front."
Everybody went around the side of the house. They'd all seen the car already, of course; you couldn't park on our street without seeing it. But they went around like they hadn't, because that's what the moment wanted, and when Grant came around the corner of the garage and stopped, they cheered like he'd scored.
I watched my brother's face. I have thought about that face a lot since. It was not the face of a man who'd gotten what he wanted. It was the face of a man who'd been handed something heavy and told to smile while he held it. He looked at the bow, and then at my father, and then, for half a second, over the crowd, at me.
"Dad," he said. "Dad, this is too much."