Wyatt examines the room a bit further, looking at this god-awful deer antler statue painted black that still sits on the nightstand. The thing used to give me nightmares growing up.

“It’s almost like being in an art gallery or something,” he says, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He even seems like he’s being careful of how much he’s wrinkling the sheets.

“That’s probably the best way to describe it.”

“I’m so used to houses with … I don’t know, personality. I feel like when you walk into my room, you know it’s my room. You know?”

I move to sit on the bed with him. “Yeah.”

“Even your side of the dorm room, it screams Neil. With your weird abstract art prints and your fashion books.”

I want to investigate further, ask him just what else he feels makes my side of the room declare that it’s mine. But I save that question for later.

“It was never really easy growing up here.”

“I can see why you’d want to escape.” He looks up at the blank ceiling, and then back toward me. “You know, I’ve been jealous of you before.”

“Really?”

“Before, knowing how much your family had, what they did. It was a lot to take in. And …” He stops himself.

“And what?”

“Just the feeling of knowing that if my parents had even just one percent of what your family does, that it’d make the biggest difference in the world to them.”

I don’t say anything.

Because I don’t know what to say.

Wyatt continues. “Growing up … I guess I always kind of resented not getting things. It wasn’t really until I was maybe ten that I really understood our situation, what we have, how hard my parents fought to make sure that I was provided for. I wanted my parents to be rich, so that we wouldn’t have to shop at Aldi, and we could afford a bigger house, and nicer cars, and better toys.”

Wyatt talks like he’s walking on eggshells.

“But having this much, hoarding it, not living despite everything at your disposal—it just seems like such a depressing way to live. My parents might not have much, and I still wish they could have a fraction of what you have. But … then I look at how some of your family has treated each other this week, the stories about your grandparents, your mom, her friends.”