“You can remember, Warden Wilson.” X dabbed his brush into bloodred paint, and touched it to the canvas. “You can remember your hard-learned lessons, and act accordingly.”

French didn’t know what to expect from his son, but this cold and distant emptiness was not it. His eyes looked vacuumed out, his voice monotone, as a guard secured his cuffs to the table. “I don’t want you here. You shouldn’t have come.”

French struggled to understand. He’d expected something, anger, at least. “I came to talk. To apologize.”

“Apologize? Really?”

“If you’ll hear me out—”

“Why now and not before?”

French had no idea what to say. A moment earlier his thoughts had been clear—so clear.

“Just go,” Jason said. “Go home.”

“Not this time, son. There are too many things to say, and too many years between us.”

“Oh, you came to talk years.”

“Mistakes made. Things I wish I’d done differently.”

“Family history,” Jason said.

“That’s part of it.”

“Okay.” Jason blinked once, and slowly. “Let’s talk about why I went to war.”

“You went because of Robert, because he died a hard death, and you were young and angry—”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“Isn’t it the truth?”

“Do you really want to talk about mistakes?”

“It’s why I’m here.”

“I heard her that night.” Jason studied his father with those empty eyes. “The night we learned that Robert died, I heard what she said. That’s the reason I went to war.”

French thought, Gabrielle, dear God …

“Son, she was distraught.”

“Distraught or not, she wished it was me instead of Robert, me with a bullet in the heart. How could I stay in the house after that? Or look at her? Or even at myself? Vietnam was all I had left.”

French looked for the right words, but there were no right words. How could there be? Gabrielle had always loved Robert the most. He was the first and the gentlest, the closest to her heart of all their sons. Jason, in contrast, had always been sharp, sardonic, and quick, a needle to handle with care. It was a difficult truth to admit, but there it was. Gabrielle had a favorite; she’d always had a favorite. “Do you hate us, then?”

Jason shook his head. “I have no feelings for you at all.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Believe it or not. I don’t really care. Just stay away from this place, and keep Gibby away, too.”

“Son, please. Let’s talk about this.”

“You may not remember, but I tried that once.” Jason stood, moving in such silence not even the chains made a sound. “Guard,” he said. “We’re finished here.”

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