$3,200 plus travel.
Renee's first reaction was fear.
Money.
Darius's tuition.
House repairs.
Normal adult calculations.
Then she froze.
Miles saw.
His expression closed instantly.
“Never mind.”
Renee felt sick.
“No.”
“What?”
“Don't never-mind me.”
He stared.
“I need to look at the budget.”
Miles crossed his arms.
“So no.”
“I did not say no.”
“You make that face when it’s no.”
Renee smiled sadly.
“I also make that face when I need thirty minutes.”
Miles hesitated.
She continued:
“You asking does not obligate me to say yes.”
“But I will answer based on what we can afford, not because your brother needs something.”
Miles looked away.
“That sounds rehearsed.”
“Therapy.”
“Expensive.”
They both smiled.
She checked.
Could not afford all of it comfortably.
They found a small scholarship.
Walter contributed $500.
Miles saved money from tutoring younger students.
Renee paid the rest.
Not because she owed him for the past.
Because they made a plan.
That distinction mattered.
The old Nike sneakers lasted almost exactly as long as Marcus predicted.
Miles wore them until the white leather became gray.
One sole separated slightly near the toe.
Renee offered to replace them.
Miles refused.
Not because they were sacred.
Because they were comfortable.
At fourteen, they finally became too small.
He put them inside the closet.
Walter saw them months later.
“Why are these here?”
“They don't fit.”
“Throw them out.”
Miles stared.
“They were Dad's.”
Walter looked at him.
“No.”
“What?”
“Dad bought them.”
“Different.”
Miles frowned.
Walter continued:
“Your father specifically told you not to preserve things because they came from him.”
Miles sighed.
“Why did everybody save his letters then?”
“Paper doesn't hurt your toes.”
Fair.
Miles did not throw the shoes away.
He did stop treating them like a shrine.
Years later, one sat on a shelf in his dorm room holding pens.
Marcus probably would have appreciated the disrespect.
Renee and Walter eventually talked privately about the funeral.
No children.
No therapist.
Just two adults in Walter's backyard.
Renee said:
“I hated you.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I don't think you do.”
Walter waited.
“When Marcus died, you looked through me.”
“You looked through Darius.”
“You looked at Miles like he was the only thing left.”
Walter swallowed.
“He looked like Marcus.”