Chapter 17: Dario Alone

On the second Saturday of January, I came home from the grocery store and found my brother in the lobby.

He was sitting on one of the retired man's folding chairs, with his coat on his lap.

The man from 3A sat across from him on the other chair, with his arms folded.

"He says he's your brother," the man said. "I told him to wait here until you said yes."

"Thank you," I said.

"Don't thank me. I haven't decided about him yet."

Dario stood up too fast and nearly dropped his coat.

He looked thinner, and he had not shaved in a few days.

There was no quarter-zip, no bank voice, and no one with him.

"I came alone," he said. "I know I should have called. I didn't want you to be able to say no on the phone."

"That's the opposite of asking."

"I know." He swallowed. "Can I ask now? Can I come up for ten minutes?"

I looked at the man in the chair.

He gave a very small shrug that meant it was my decision.

"Ten minutes," I said. "In the lobby. Not upstairs."

"Okay."

"Okay yes?"

"Okay yes," Dario said, and I saw him hear himself say it.

We sat on the folding chairs.

The man from 3A went to check his mailbox, very slowly, so he could listen.

Dario took an envelope out of his coat and held it in both hands.

"I did the math," he said. "Everything you paid for, from sophomore year until the cabin."

"All of it?"

"Concert tickets, deposits, the van, the ski rentals. I went back through your old messages with Mom's help."

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