the light?â
Theo shook his head. âNo,â he said, âI came because I wanted to see you for myself, and to see this place you have been living in.â He took a step closer. âBut now that I do, I think that maybe our parents are right to be worried.â
Vincent, stunned, speechless, turned and started to walk away from his brother. A thread was broken. Inside his head a dark cloud rolled in, turning all of his thoughts to black. His brother had come here on bad faith.
âVincent,â Theo called after him, still standing where he had been, âdonât run from me. Iâm still your brother.â He started to walk after Vincent. âBut come,â he called, âreally, what is your plan? You have not told me what your plan is; all afternoon weâve been talking but you havenât said. What will you do next? You canât stay here forever, living off Ma and Pa, you must know that.â
The sun was sending blinding arrows of light off the quiet tracks where the mining carts had once moved. Vincent stopped walking but did not turn back.
âIt has been over a month since your dismissal,â said Theo, his voice quieter now, âisnât that right? And what have you been doing since then?â He paused, but Vincent didnât answer or move. âI come to visit you and you donât say a word of what has happened; all you do is show me this place as if it is glorious. But Vincent, it is not glorious! It is a sad place, Vincent, and you no longer have a job to do here. Why do you remain? What is there here for you?â
Vincent turned back to Theo. He could feel the blood in his face, the warmth on his cheeks familiar from whenever he exercised strenuously, particularly in the sun. He struggled to get the words out, pushing them from deep in his throat. âWhat would you have me do?â
They stood face-to-face by the fence that led into the mine. The grass was overgrown and reached to their calves. âThere are a million things to do!â Theo said, throwing out his hands. âSo you wonât be a preacher; so youâll try something else! It doesnât have to mean everything. I know a man who is a successful carpenter, Iâm sure heâd take you on as his apprentice. You could learn the trade of a bookkeeper, a lithographer, a baker. How about a painter? How about a businessman?â
âA businessman?â Vincent was aghast; he couldnât begin to attempt to argue with this. Theo smiled then, but it was a cold smile, the smile of a stranger who politely steps over a dog he does not like. âWell, perhaps not a businessman. But Iâm just trying to say that you have choices. Youâre only twenty-six; youâre young; you can still do nearly anything. But what do you gain by idling around? What do you gain by staying here, with nothing to do? Youâre not seeing things straight, Vincent. This is not your home. Youâre only making yourself miserable, staying here, when there is nothing here for you, as well as making our parents worry.â
Again, their parents. Again, the burden he was for others. Vincent felt a strange sensation, his skin beginning to feel cold while the inside of him grew hotter. He steadied himself on the fence, feeling the enormous urge to run, or to crouch his body down so small, he might disappear.
âVincent,â Theo said, his voice grown quieter again. âI know it has been a long road that brought you here. I remember the year you spent studying for that evangelical degree in Amsterdam, I remember the training school in Brussels after that, and I know that all youâve wanted for a long time is to bring the word of God to the poor. I canât imagine how it must feel now that it is all over. But how can I understand if you donât tell me about it?â He paused. âCome,â he said again, âdonât you want improvement in your life? Donât