Free Seize the Day by Curtis Bunn Page A

you have any shame? Don’t you feel any sadness for your brother? Don’t you feel at least a little guilt for not being there for Walter? Don’t you feel a little responsible for him hanging himself?”
    â€œDon’t put that on me!”
    I had regained my composure and stood up—it was more a show of manhood than it was anything else. I wasn’t going to take his shit sitting down.
    â€œYou should take some responsibility,” I yelled back.
    â€œYou don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Donovan responded. “He was sick. He took his meds a lot, but he needed to take them all the time. When he didn’t, he was a different person. He could become violent or totally silent or just so strange you didn’t know what he would do.”
    â€œBut he wasn’t a different person. He was your brother.”
    Donovan turned away and took a seat at the kitchen table. “You don’t understand,” he said.
    â€œAll I know is what I’ve seen. And all I’ve seen and heard from you is that you want money, your dead brother’s money. There’s no remorse that he was so distraught—medication or no medication—that he killed himself. You haven’t asked any questions around his death. It’s like you’ve been waiting for him to do this.”
    Donovan lowered his head, and right away I was convinced I was right. He couldn’t even fake it. And I didn’t want to be around him anymore.
    â€œI’m gone. You can look around and see what you can find. Your nephew should be here in a little while. You all can scavenger hunt together.”
    I made my way to my car and drove off. In my rearview mirror I saw another car pull up. I stopped and through my mirror saw that it was a younger version of Walter…his son. He, too, arrived earlier than he had indicated he would, obviously seeking to get a head start on his uncle. I wanted to keep going, but I felt like Walter’s spirit told me to go back, to meet his son and to gauge his mindset.
    So I put the car in reverse. I parked up against the curb just as Walter Jr. was getting out of his. He waited for me to get out.
    â€œYou’re Mr. Calvin?” That surprised me. That was a show of respect to call me “mister.” It made me immediately feel better about him.
    â€œYes, Walter, right? I was just leaving; you got here just in time.”
    â€œBut we were supposed to meet in like an hour from now.”
    â€œWell, your uncle is in there and so I figured you all were good.”
    â€œUncle Donovan is here? See, this is what I’m talking about. He told me he was coming later today.”
    â€œAnd you told me you were coming later, too,” I said.
    He didn’t respond. “I don’t know what’s up with either of you, but he’s in there and I’m gone. Lock the door when you’re done. Call me later and let me know what you find—and the funeral plans.”
    â€œNo, wait. You should come in. If it gets ugly, I might need you to pull me off of him.”
    â€œYou think I want to be in the middle of your drama with your uncle?”
    â€œYou are in the middle of it, remember?”
    Maybe I wanted to see them beat each other up, so I went in. Donovan was upstairs, rifling through his brother’s belongings as if he were in a panic. He was startled when his nephew and I walked in.
    â€œYou scared the hell out of me.”
    â€œI was trying to leave, but your nephew wanted me to come in.”
    â€œUncle Donovan, you told me you were coming much later today. How you get here so early? Why are you here so early?”
    â€œThe same reason you’re here earlier than you said you’d be.”
    I saw a family resemblance in the two men, but no family connection. No family love. Walter Jr. did not show any sadness that his father was dead, either.
    â€œSo what’s going on here?” I asked.