Ian drummed his fingers on the table. “There’s something I need to tell you but I don’t know where to begin.”

Fire began to wonder if he was ready. How should I act when he tells me? he asked himself. Should I let him know that I have seen it? Maybe I should act surprised. To Ian he said, “Take your time and get it out. Do you want me to get you some water?”

Ian shook his head and continued to drum his fingers. “You don’t understand what I am going through,” he mumbled. “You don’t know how bad I’m hurting inside.”

He’s speaking standard English, Fire noted. He only speaks that way at the gravest moments.

“This isn’t easy,” Ian said. “It won’t be easy at all. But I have to unload. This thing is just eating me inside.”

Each word contained a bent blue note of melancholy that reverberated in Fire’s head. “Give it a try, Ian,” he said. The words felt like a guitar pick on his vocal cords. “Just take a deep breath and take your time.”

“Okay, then. As I was going through those old albums today it really dawned on me how much you and I have been through … You are my brother, Fire. And your father is the only father I know.”

As Ian began to sniffle Fire looked away. Being perceived as hard was important to Ian; Fire knew better than to try and comfort him. He just sat there waiting, hoping he’d have something to say when Ian opened up.

“Your opinion matters a lot to me,” Ian continued. “And I hope that what I say won’t change that—but I know it will.”

Feeling especially close to him now, Fire said, “Nothing can break us apart, Ian. We’ve been through too much already. If it didn’t happen before it won’t happen now.”

“You mean that?” Ian said, wiping his eyes.

“Yeah, man.”

“Okay then,” he said, lowering his eyes to the table. “Don’t stop me until I’m through.”

“I won’t.”

“There is so much that I owe to you and your family, man. Cause you’ve done so much for me. I’ve been feeling like shit since the Donovan business, man, cause I brought a lotta trouble on your head. And on top of being embarrassed, I was so damn fraida going to jail. And without my even asking you came to my rescue, like always. So last night, I came downstairs to talk to you, to just say to you, for what it’s worth, ‘Man, I don’t know how to thank you for helping me out … this time and all the other times before.’ But you wouldn’t even gimme a chance to say it. As soon as I opened my mouth you just snapped at me. You just shut me out, man … just lock yourself off. And that really fucked me up because I’m sitting there thinking, Is it all over now after all these years? Have I crossed that line?