inheritance and
prohibit the speaking of my name?”
“ After two years or so his lawyer came over and I think he
changed his will. To him you were dead. I remember him telling me
that you weren't ever coming back and I think he truly believed
that. We spoke of you sometimes, when I asked or when he was
telling stories.”
“ Father told stories?”
“ I think when you left he realized that he drove you away and
he was afraid to lose me as well so he tried harder to be a real
father.”
It was strange
for Brant to be having a real conversation with his brother. The
last time he had seen him James had been six years old. He was now
ten and had matured a great amount. It pained Brant to see that he
had missed so much of his brother’s life.
“ That is hard to believe; a kind Calvin Foxton,” Brant said,
followed by a chuckle that sounded bitter even to his own ears. “I
thought he only knew how to command troops.”
James laughed.
“Oh, he is still like that, but he did try hard to get closer to
me. He told stories and asked me what I wanted to do when I was
older. He even showed me everything we owned and explained things
to me.”
Brant smiled
but it pained him to hear that his brother had gotten the father he
had always wanted, always fought for. Brant could almost consider
himself an orphan after his mother had died. “And now that he's
ill?”
“ He has me sit with him every day for a few hours and he goes
over business with me. This house will be sold when he's gone, you
know.”
“ Why?”
“ Because that is what we thought would be best. I will go to a
boy’s school and this house would be empty. There is still the
Jamaican sugar plantation.”
“ So you will go to one school and then the other until you're
twenty, and then what?”
“ And then I will either go to Jamaica to oversee the
plantation or I will purchase a townhouse here.”
“ You and father have it all figured out.”
“ We do. His lawyer will look after the finances until I
graduate I will be given an allowance each week. Father doesn’t
want me, or our money, falling into the hands of a relative I
barely know. This seemed like the best situation.”
“ Father thinks the best situation is for you to be independent
at ten years of age? You're still so young, James. You're too young
to have responsibilities like this, to have no parental figure
other than teachers and a headmaster in school.”
“ It's what father thinks is best.”
“ What father thinks is best,” Brant repeated the words that
seemed all too familiar. “What do you want, James?”
“ What father says is usually a good idea.”
Brant shook
his head, frustration mounting. “You need to learn to think for
yourself.”
James only
laughed. “I suppose I'll have to pretty soon, won't I?”
His brother
was becoming hard, like their father. Brant was sure he laughed and
he cried like a normal child, but James was completely at peace
with the fact that their father was dying, that the big plan was
for him to be completely alone in this cruel world. Everything
should feel like it was crashing in on him, like it was to Brant,
but instead he laughed it off as if it was just the circle of life
in action.
* * *
During his
time spent at home Brant had daily conversations with his father
about what he had done with his life these past four years—more
often than not his father would grunt in disapproval but
occasionally he expressed delight. Brant knew Calvin would never
admit it but he was sure he secretly enjoyed hearing of Brant’s
adventures because through them Calvin could relive his own glory
days.
Brant was not
invited or allowed to sit in on James’ time with their father as it
was usually discussing affairs of the estate, of which Brant had no
part of.
Time passed
quickly for Brant, but every day when the doctor came to check in
he just shook his head and muttered something along the lines of
“not long now.”
As bitter as
Brant was
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