It was the second day of January and Jake was still in Alabama. He’d spent New Year’s Eve at Harold’s bedside, happy that they’d finally upgraded his condition from critical to serious, and that they’d moved him out of the ICU. He’d been staying at Harold and Susie’s house, but on New Year’s Day he’d gone over to Miss Bernie’s for the prerequisite serving of greens and black-eyed peas—good luck for the New Year. And today, when he’d wanted to do nothing more than sit in his mother’s guest room and let the TV watch him (since he’d stared at it off and on for three days and couldn’t put two sentences together about what he’d watched), he sat in Harold and Susie’s living room with Johnny, Cynthia, Mike, and Lillian, who were busy trash-talking in a high-spirited game of bid whist. His mother had insisted that he get out of her house. Jake thought it was because she was tired of seeing him mope around. But his brothers were in on the real reason. Shortly after the card game ended, the women decided to go shopping while Johnny and Mike grabbed beers before joining Jake in the living room.

“You want one?” Mike asked. Jake shook his head and Mike sat down.

For a moment the brothers were silent, staring at a TV on mute.

Johnny set down his beer and leaned forward with his hands on his knees, eyeing his brother intently. “You call her yet?”

Jake thought about feigning ignorance but that idea was quickly doused. His twin had known everything about him since they’d been born. They could read each other’s thoughts and finish each other’s sentences. “No,” he finally replied.

“Why not?” Mike asked, exasperation showing in his voice. Clearly, he was not as patient as his younger brother.

“It’s better this way.” Jake responded.

Johnny pressed. “Better for whom?”

Belatedly Jake realized that, since it was obvious he was in for a grilling, an ice-cold beer may have been a good choice after all. Then again, he reasoned, having a clear head may be the best bet. He sat back and said nothing. He figured they’d tire of talking to a wall and then leave him alone.

“I spoke to her,” said Johnny.

The wall talked. “You what?”

“Cynthia suggested it, bro, and she was right. We’d both seen how she looked at you when she was here for Thanksgiving; all the love that sistah has for you, man. We were concerned about her and knowing you like I do, I couldn’t be sure that you’d been in contact.” Johnny went on despite the frown on Jake’s face. “She’s family, Jake. And we wanted her to know that we were thinking about her.”