“Oh.” So the expedition had been about buying marijuana. Gorham felt a flash of annoyance. His father saw it.

“You don’t understand, Gorham,” he said quietly. “It helps with the pain.”

When they got back into the apartment, Mabel had made them soup and a light lunch. They talked as they ate, mostly about things they’d done together when Gorham was a child. When lunch was over, Charlie said: “There’s something I’m going to ask you to do for me, Gorham, when this is all over.”

“Sure.”

“There’s a piece of paper with a list of names and addresses on it by the bureau. Would you bring it over?” Gorham brought the list. He could see about a dozen names on it. “Most of these are just friends of one kind or another. You’ll see my doctor’s there, and one of the Keller family, and some others. I’ve left them little mementoes in my will, nothing much, but it’d be awfully nice if you’d deliver them and say I asked you to do it. It’s just that I’d prefer them to receive the presents from your hand, rather than from my lawyer in the mail. Would you do that?”

“I already said I would.” Gorham ran his eye down the list. The doctor he knew, and several of the others. Others were unfamiliar. “Sarah Adler?”

“A gallery owner. I had some paintings from there. She might give you something if she likes you. You’ll do them all?”

“Of course.”

“I’m feeling a little tired now, Gorham. I’m going to sleep a while. I think you should get back to school now.”

“I’ll come back next weekend.”

“Make it two weeks. I’ve got some things going on next weekend, and it’s a long way for you to come. Two weeks will be fine.”

Gorham could see that his father was getting tired, so he didn’t argue. After parting from Charlie, he quietly told Mabel that he’d be telephoning to check up on him in the coming days.

Once he was outside, he realized that he had more than an hour to kill before the next Boston train. So he decided to walk a bit to get some fresh air. Crossing Madison and Fifth, he entered Central Park.

The trees were bare and there was snow on the ground, but the cold air was dry and bracing. As he went over the day in his mind, he decided that it could have been a lot worse. He hadn’t criticized his father or lost his temper, even once. Their meeting had been loving and harmonious. Thank God for that.

He wondered how long his father had got. Surely some months, at least. He’d visit him plenty more times, and make his final days as gentle a passing as he could.