“Yes.”
Miles pointed toward the glove.
“This comes with me.”
“Obviously.”
“The airplane too.”
“Okay.”
“The jacket…”
They both looked at it.
Then laughed.
Darius said:
“Donate.”
“Yeah.”
For a moment they were brothers again before grief had become accounting.
Then Darius opened a drawer.
He removed a thick envelope.
Miles recognized their father's handwriting.
His heart jumped.
Darius saw.
“No.”
“What?”
“This is mine.”
Miles stared.
Then smiled.
“Okay.”
Darius laughed through tears.
“See?”
“What?”
“Boundaries.”
Miles shoved him.
They sat on the floor for a long time.
Eventually Darius said:
“I don't want the basketball camp.”
Miles frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Dad left money for you too.”
“So?”
“It feels…”
“What?”
“Like more.”
Miles stared at him.
“You're doing it again.”
Darius looked confused.
“What?”
“Math.”
Their father's letter sat between them.
Darius looked down.
Do not turn that into math.
He laughed.
“Right.”
Miles continued:
“Go to camp.”
“You sure?”
“Dad wanted you to.”
Darius swallowed.
“Yeah.”
“He did.”
Back downstairs, Walter and Renee were still at the table.
No shouting now.
Something more difficult.
Truth after shouting.
Walter was speaking when the boys reached the hallway.
“I did not like that Marcus called Darius his son.”
Both boys stopped.
Renee looked at him.
Walter continued:
“At first.”
“Why?”
“Because I was proud of the Carter name in a stupid way.”
“My father did it.”
“His father did it.”
“I thought blood was continuity.”
Renee stared.
Walter said:
“When Miles was born, I felt something change.”
“I hate admitting that.”
“Marcus noticed.”
Darius's eyes widened.
Walter did not know the boys were listening.
“He told me, ‘Dad, if you make my first boy feel like he became temporary because I got a biological son, you won't see either of them.’”
Darius covered his mouth.
Miles looked toward him.
Walter's voice broke.
“I told him he was being dramatic.”
“He wasn't.”
Renee whispered:
“Why didn't you listen after he died?”
Walter stared at his hands.
“Because grief made me selfish.”