“Why?” Oliver says. “I’m obviously not dying.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “Wow, really?”
“What? I’m not.”
His brother can’t argue with that. He lets his head fall back againstthe cabinets. His gaze darts around Oliver’s apartment, from the cardboard boxes stacked in neat columns next to the door, to the deep indentations in his carpet where his couch and coffee table used to be, to the badly wrapped gift sitting conspicuously on his otherwise empty kitchen counter. “You’ve been busy.”
Oliver adjusts the beer can so he can see his brother. “Luke and Zoë helped.”
Theo meets his gaze. “I could have helped.”
“I know.”
“I want to help you, Oli.”
“I know.” But Theo has done enough.
“If you want to come home—”
“I don’t,” Oliver says firmly.
They sit next to each other in silence. Not awkward, but not exactly comfortable, either. Oliver’s gaze lands on the package on the counter. He pulls himself to his feet. Theo rushes to help him. “I’m fine,” he insists. His head is throbbing, but the room isn’t spinning anymore.
He puts the can on the counter, picks up the rectangular package that looks like a toddler wrapped it, and offers it to Theo. “I got this for you. For your birthday. Since I’m going to miss the big 3-0.” He cringes. He sounds like an idiot.
Theo gingerly takes the package as if it might explode in his hands. “Would you mind—can I open it?”
Oliver swallows. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Theo tears through the metallic silver paper to reveal a pale wooden box with a hinged lid. The decal advertising the box’s original contents had peeled and faded beyond recognition long before it was Oliver’s, leaving behind flakes of white and gold and green embedded in the wood. Theo runs his hand over it. “Was this Dad’s?”
“Yeah,” Oliver says. He gave it to Oliver after he found the quarter in the garden. He had found a treasure, so naturally, he needed a treasure chest. All sorts of random things have inhabited the box over the years. Now it is Theo’s turn to keep something precious in it.
Theo lifts the latch and opens the box. Twelve white envelopes sit in a neat row. “What is this?”
Oliver wanted to give his brother something special to mark themilestone birthday he is going to miss, something meaningful to Theo long after the day is done. He couldn’t think of a damn thing, until the night Luke and Zoë showed up unannounced at his door. They ate too many tacos and laughed at their old college stories until Oliver’s sides ached. Then they drank too much gin and sifted through his life, piece by piece. Zoë cried. So did Luke. So did Oliver. Because everything really did have a memory attached to it. But as they sorted Oliver’s life intoKeepandTrashandDonate, he realized it wasn’t the things he valued. It was the memories.
“It’s life,” Oliver says as Theo pulls out the first envelope,November 2202written in black ink and Oliver’s handwriting across the front.
He’ll miss Theo’s birthday by two months. Somehow it seems like so much time—what wouldn’t he give for an extra two months—and yet so little; he will barely miss his brother’s thirtieth.
“A year of life, anyway.”
Theo lifts the flap of the envelope with his thumb and pulls out a pair of tickets to see the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra. He glances over at Oliver. “Two?”
“I didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday.”
Theo takes out another envelope. February: two tickets to Red Sox spring training. July: a long weekend cottage rental on the Cape. His eyes shine under the white glow of the kitchen lights. “It’s very generous of you, but—”
“No excuses.” Oliver pushes the box across the counter to Theo. “Just take it. Please.” He needs him to take it. Needs to know his brother will keep living when he is gone, keep making memories. Keep going.
Theo leans heavily on the counter, staring at the box. “I know what you’re trying to do, Oli.”
“Then let me do it.”
His brother sighs. “All right. Thank you.” He slides the envelopes into the box and closes the lid. It latches with a soft click. “I should probably head home, if you think you’ll be all right?” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Still not dying,” Oliver says.
