This Is Where I Leave You

block.”
    “What for?” Me.
    “For the last seven days, you have been apart from the world, focusing on death. Taking a walk outside reestablishes your connection to the living.”
    “So, just walk around the block?”
    “Yes,” Boner says, annoyed. “That would be great.”
    It’s cooler than expected outside, bright and blustery, the first winds of autumn whispering through the leaves. Mom walks between Phillip and Wendy, lacing her arms through theirs, adding a procession-like quality to our stroll. Paul and I fall awkwardly into step behind them, our hands jammed into our pockets for warmth.
    “So,” Paul says. “What’s next for you?”
    “I don’t really know.”
    “Well, if there’s anything I can do...” His voice trails off . I keep my eyes straight ahead. “What about Phillip?”
    “What about him?”
    “He needs a job.”
    “You need a job.”
    “I’ll sign over my share if you hire him.”
    Paul looks sharply at me and then sighs. “I’m pretty sure Phillip hasn’t screwed up his life for the last time.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    We walk in silence for a bit. I kick a small stone ahead of us. When we reach it, Paul kicks it, keeping it in play. “Dad always had a soft spot for him, didn’t he?”
    I nod. “He was everything Dad wasn’t.”
    “Crazy, you mean.”
    “Loud. Warm. Emotional. Dad liked us because we were kind of like him, and he liked Phillip because he wasn’t anything like him.”
    Paul sighs. “So what are we talking about here?”
    “Dad’s gone,” I say. “And along with the business, we inherit the business of bailing out Phillip.”
    He kicks the rock a little too hard, and it clatters off the sidewalk and into the street. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You keep your share. I’ll bring Phillip into the business on a trial basis. But when it comes to him screwing up, you and I are partners. Fifty-fifty. Deal?”
    “Deal,” I say. It feels good to be talking like this, like brothers. We turn the corner onto Lansing, a short, crescent-shaped street that jughandles back around to Knob’s End. Paul stops walking and clears his throat. “I want to say something else.”
    “Yeah?”
    “What happened the other night. I said some things.”
    “We both did.”
    “Yeah, well, the point is, I’ve been pissed at you for a very long time and that didn’t do either of us any good. I wasted a lot of time being angry, time I can’t get back. And now I see you, so angry about what happened to your marriage, and I just want to tell you, at some point it doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. At some point, being 334angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.”
    “I hear you. Thanks.”
    Paul slaps my back. “Do as I say, and not as I do, right?”
    “Right. Thanks, Paul.”
    He starts walking again, a step ahead of me. “Don’t mention it, little brother.”
    As far as rapprochements go, it’s awkward and vague, but the advantage to being as emotionally inarticulate as we are is that it will do the trick. So we walk on, lighter than when we left, the staccato click of Mom’s stiletto heels beating out a Morse code on the pavement as she leads us back home.

    9:10 a.m.
    Mom cries when she kisses Wendy good-bye. She can be so over the top as a matter of routine that when normal emotions come into play, it almost feels unreal. But we are her children, and we’re all leaving her again. I kiss my two nephews good-bye and strap them into their car seats. “You guys have fun on the plane. Be good.”
    “I live in California,” Cole informs me solemnly.
    “Yes you do.”
    “Good-bye, Uncle Judd,” Ryan says.
    The next time I see them, Cole will be speaking in full sentences and Ryan will be a sullen adolescent sports fan with the first dusting of hair on his legs. He probably won’t let me kiss his cheek anymore. The thought fills me with sadness, and I give him a second kiss.
    “Donkey-hole,” he says, and we share a conspiratorial laugh. Cole’s not sure what’s funny, but he laughs along with us, because he’s two and why the hell not.
    Wendy hugs me. “Go have some fun while you still can,” she says.
    “Have meaningless sex. Crush women like beer cans. A little misogyny will be good for you.”
    “Have a safe trip.”
    “You’re a wuss, Judd. But I love you. I’ll come in when you have the baby.” She kisses me brusquely and then moves on to Phillip,