Darius stood immediately.
“No.”
He placed the shoe back in the box.
“I don't want them.”
Renee looked at him.
“This isn't your fault.”
“I know.”
His voice shook.
“But I don't want them.”
Walter looked toward Darius.
“Good.”
Then regretted the word.
Darius flinched.
Walter saw.
“Not because you don't deserve good shoes.”
He leaned forward.
“Because those are Miles's.”
Darius nodded.
Miles looked at the sneakers again.
He did not feel excited anymore.
That hurt almost as much as losing them.
The object had changed.
A minute earlier it was something cool.
Now it was a message from a dead man.
Renee whispered:
“I thought Marcus bought things for both boys.”
Walter looked toward her.
“He did.”
She froze.
“What?”
Walter reached down for the birthday gift bag he had carried inside.
Then he placed it on the table.
“That's why I'm here.”
He looked toward Darius.
“This is for you.”
Darius frowned.
“My birthday isn't until next month.”
“I know.”
Walter slid the bag toward him.
“Marcus knew too.”
Renee stared.
Walter reached inside before Darius could.
He removed a long brown envelope.
DARIUS.
Marcus's handwriting.
Even after two years, all three recognized it.
Darius's face changed completely.
He sat.
“No.”
Walter placed the envelope in front of him.
“Yes.”
Darius touched the name with one finger.
Marcus had been his stepfather.
Technically.
The word had always seemed too small.
Darius was three when Marcus started dating Renee.
Five when they married.
Marcus taught him to ride a bicycle.
Took him to his first basketball game.
Sat awake in an emergency room when Darius broke his wrist at eight.
Attended parent-teacher conferences.
Taught him how to grill burgers badly.
Then Miles was born.
People outside the house began changing language.
Marcus's son.
His real boy.
His biological child.
Most did not mean harm.
Darius heard it anyway.
Walter had once been one of them.
Renee stared at the envelope.
“I didn't know.”
Walter looked at her.
“No.”
“You didn't.”
Darius whispered:
“What is it?”
Walter nodded.
“Open it.”
His hands shook.
He pulled the flap.
Inside was a letter.
Three pages.
Marcus's handwriting became messier toward the end.
Darius began reading silently.
After six lines, tears dropped onto the paper.
Miles watched.
He had never seen his brother cry except at their father's funeral.