Darius stopped.
“I can't.”
Walter said:
“You don't have to read it out loud.”
Darius shook his head.
“I mean I can't…”
He pushed the page toward Walter.
“You read.”
Walter hesitated.
“This is yours.”
“Please.”
Walter picked it up.
His own eyes filled before he began.
“Darius,
If Dad is standing in front of you reading this, tell him I said he still can't tell a story without taking forever.”
Walter stopped.
A laugh escaped him through tears.
Darius covered his eyes.
Miles smiled weakly.
That sounded exactly like Marcus.
Walter continued.
“You will be sixteen when you get this if everybody follows instructions, which nobody in this family is good at.”
Renee sat slowly.
“I don't know what you look like at sixteen.”
“That makes me angry.”
“I want to know whether you still shoot the ball from too low.”
“I want to know whether your voice finally stopped cracking.”
Darius laughed through tears.
“I want to know whether you are taller than me, and if you are, I do not want anyone telling me.”
Miles looked toward his brother.
Darius was taller than Marcus had been.
Walter read on.
“There is something I need you to know because people are going to become stupid after I die.”
The room became still.
“They will say Miles lost his father.”
“They will be right.”
“Some of them will forget you did too.”
Darius lowered his hands.
Renee began crying harder.
Walter had to stop again.
Then:
“You made me a dad before Miles was born.”
“I did not need your blood to know what you were to me.”
“You were the first kid who ever trusted me enough to fall asleep on my chest.”
“The first bicycle I ran behind.”
“The first report card I pretended not to panic over.”
“The first person who called me Dad.”
“You are my son because we lived it.”
“Do not let anybody reduce that because I did not make your DNA.”
Darius bent forward.
His shoulders shook.
Miles looked toward his mother.
Renee's face had collapsed completely.
Walter continued:
“And do not let anybody make Miles pay for being my biological son.”
Renee closed her eyes.
Everyone heard the sentence differently.
Walter read:
“People get weird around death.”
“They count.”
“They compare grief.”
“They rank who belonged to who.”
“Don't join them.”
“You and Miles are brothers.”
“Not half.”
“Not step.”
“Not more.”
“Not less.”
“Brothers.”
Walter lowered the letter.
Silence.
Darius whispered:
“Keep going.”
Walter nodded.
“When you turn sixteen, there should be money for one serious basketball camp if you still love the game.”
Renee looked up sharply.
Darius stared.
Walter continued:
“Dad has the details.”
“Not because I think basketball owes you anything.”
“It doesn't.”
“Because you work hard and hard work deserves one honest chance.”
Darius looked toward Walter.
“What camp?”
Walter closed his eyes briefly.
“I was going to tell you next month.”
“What camp?”
Walter looked at Renee.