What should I do? Time’s up. Nate’s alone. I have to go. So I grab the package and leave Lawrence behind. I want to turn back, promise yes, of course, I forgive you. I can visit. I’ll call. I’ll write. Instead, I head out to the street and into the bar next door, where I find my brother. I tap his broad shoulder and say, “I’m done,” and he gets up, buttons his coat, and we leave, together.

Epilogue

I ONCE READ ABOUT A FANTASTICALLY RICH MAN WHO owned several homes, many cars, and rooms of priceless art. But he felt possessed by his belongings, burdened by their weight. To lighten himself, he distributed his houses, cars, and art among strangers. This, he believed, was the key to contentment. Giving away his personal effects, though, wasn’t enough. So he donated all his money, shocking his family. Still, he felt unsatisfied. With no assets left, he decided to offer up his organs, starting with a kidney, which he gave to a woman he met on the internet. And yet he still had more to give. So, he found someone to take his second kidney. I’ll go on dialysis, he said. By this point, his siblings stepped in, and the man was institutionalized. They tried to recoup his money, but to no avail. He gave it all away willingly, they were told. It was his choice.

My brothers tease me about carrying the sorrows of the world, but I don’t think you can quantify empathy. These days, I’m clear about the facts I know to be true. My brother Billy is a criminal. He raped Diana Holly in a fit of rage while she was unconscious. Then he lied about what he did, and my family covered it up. I am sickened by this; I feel terrible for Diana; and I will live with this knowledge for the rest of my life. At the same time, I’m preoccupied with my own behavior, and making amends to my family, to Nate, Billy, and Eleanor.

But what is my burden and what is theirs? How much is required to balance the scales? What words can convey how deeply sorry I am? You can be both a victim and an offender, but in this case, they don’t cancel each other out. You can’t shroud yourself in self-pity to avoid accountability. I will apologize to my brothers, whose lives were derailed by my behavior, the younger of whom went on to destroy someone else as a result.

“You guys are really taking off?” Billy is at my bedroom door. Nate and I are packing boxes.

“Yeah,” I tell him, closing my suitcase. “The Bowtie is selling the SoHo loft. We’ll stay at my place in New Haven.”

“And then what?” He looks at Nate.

Nate responds by ripping off a long strip of tape.