“Give it to him.”
Renee's eyes filled.
“Not like this.”
“Exactly like this.”
“Walter.”
“You decided to put those shoes on another child's feet before Miles even finished opening the box.”
His voice shook now.
“Don't tell me today requires delicacy.”
Darius whispered:
“Who bought the shoes?”
Walter turned toward him.
For a second anger left his face.
“Marcus.”
Darius stopped moving.
Miles did too.
Renee covered her mouth.
Walter looked at his grandson.
“Your father bought those shoes.”
Miles's eyes filled immediately.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Miles shook his head.
“Dad died two years ago.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Walter pulled out the chair across from him and sat.
“About four months before he died, Marcus asked me to take him shopping.”
Renee turned away.
Walter continued:
“He knew his treatments weren't working.”
Miles stared.
Nobody had ever said the sentence to him so plainly.
Treatments weren't working.
His father knew.
Marcus had died from pancreatic cancer at forty-two.
Miles was ten.
Everyone always said it happened quickly.
It had not.
Adults had simply protected Miles from the timeline.
Walter said:
“Your dad made a list.”
Miles looked at him.
“What list?”
“Birthdays.”
Darius sat very still.
Walter continued.
“Things he wanted to be here for.”
“Your twelfth birthday was one.”
Miles looked at the shoes.
“He knew what shoes I'd want?”
Walter smiled sadly.
“You showed him a picture.”
“When?”
“Before he got really sick.”
Memory arrived.
Miles was nine.
Walking through SouthPark Mall with his father.
Marcus had stopped in front of a sneaker store because Miles pressed both hands against the glass.
They had argued about red versus blue.
Marcus told him:
“When those feet stop growing every six weeks, maybe.”
Miles had forgotten.
His face crumpled.
“He remembered?”
“Yes.”
Walter nodded.
“He couldn't know the exact model two years ahead.”
“He left money and instructions.”
“When you turned twelve, I was supposed to buy the closest thing to what you used to point at.”
Miles looked at Renee.
“So Grandpa bought them.”
“With Marcus's money.”
Walter corrected gently.
“Your father paid for your birthday present.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“I brought the box yesterday because I wanted your mother to wrap it.”
Walter's face hardened again.
“I told her exactly what it was.”
Darius turned toward Renee.
“You knew?”
Renee cried silently.
Miles whispered:
“You knew Dad bought them for me.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave them to Darius.”
“I didn't give them yet.”
Miles stared at her.
“You put them on his feet.”