Ty watched as his mother strode forward, arms out, wrapping them around his brother.
โAre you okay?โ she whispered.
โIโm fine,โ he replied, hugging her back tightly. When he released her, he glanced between Ty and their mother. โWhatโs going on? They told me I was being transferred.โ He motioned around him, at the empty freezer and silver metal racks. โThis is not what I was expecting.โ
Helen glanced back at Ty. โWeโre working on that.โ Tomโs eyebrows knitted together. โWhat does that mean?โ
โIt means,โ Helen said carefully, โthat things are complicated.โ โComplicated how?โ
โWell, you know your brother works at CERN doing physics research. He works on a device called the Large Hadron Collider. Itโs a particle colliderโโ
โMom, I know what the LHC is. I live in a federal prison, not under a rock.โ
She held a hand up. โI know, I know. Iโm trying to put my thoughts together here. The point is that your brother made a discovery.โ
โWhat kind of discovery?โ
โWe canโt say. Not yet. But itโs important.โ โSo why am I here?โ
โThatโsโฆ well, we canโt say that yet either.โ
He nodded, seeming resigned. Seeing that broke Tyโs heart. Tom had changed. It was as if the fight had gone out of him. The brother Ty had grown up with would have demanded to know what was going on. Was it prison that had changed Tom? Or time? Time spent questioning his choices?
And that was the real difference between Ty and his brother: their choices. The thought reminded Ty of what Lars had said about life being a
series of roadsโof turns and exits taken and not taken, a web of choices that sews together a life. Ty and Tom had taken different roads at key points. And that had led them to very different places.
And inexplicably, those roads had converged again, leading both brothers here, and Ty wondered what was next and if there was a chance to repair the past, to redo those turns that had led his brother astray.
The three of them talked, then, about everything and nothing at all, passing time like families reunited often do, asking questions about how each other was doing, and listening, but most of all watching the reactions that told more than words revealed. Ty could tell his mother was tired. And that there was still that core of strength within his brother, despite some of it being worn away.
When Helen left, Tom eyed the closed door. โThink sheโs doing okay?โ โYeah. I think so. Sheโs just worried. About both of us.โ
โYou worried?โ
Ty shrugged, trying to play it cool.
โJust another day at the office, huh?โ
Ty laughed. Some things never changed. His brother had his limitations, but he had always been able to see through Ty.
Tom shook his head. โMan, all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Itโs wild.โ He eyed his brother. โBet itโs not what that big brain of yours thought you were signing up for at CERN.โ
โNo. Itโs not. The last twenty-four hoursโฆ have been super weird.โ
There was another topic on Tyโs mind, something he had wanted to discuss with Tom since the minute he had found out that his brother was coming here, something only the two of them could discuss, the one thing in the world only they understood, a shared hurt and desire that neither time nor choices had changed. โDadโs here.โ
Tom glanced up, clearly shocked. โIn DC?โ โIn this building.โ
โYouโve seen him? Have you talked to him?โ
โHe brought me here. From Zรผrich. He sort ofโฆ saved me.โ
Tom stood from the rack he had been sitting on and walked the length of the meat locker, then suddenly looked back at Ty. โSaved you from what?โ
Ty realized what he had said then. โNothing.โ
โDoesnโt sound like nothing.โ He studied Ty for a long moment. โI thought Mom was the one I should be worried about. Maybe I was wrong.โ
โYouโve looked out for me enough.โ โIs that how you see it?โ
โThatโs how I see it.โ โYou blame yourself.โ โI do.โ
โYou shouldnโt.โ โI canโt help it.โ
โYou can. If you try. And you have to. Or else itโll eat you up inside, Ty.
Iโm telling you.โ
Ty stared at the floor. This was the conversation he had wanted to have with his brother for years, that he had rehearsed in his mind a hundred times. Maybe a thousand times. But now that it was happening, he couldnโt find the words.
โYou know what the most important thing is in prison?โ Ty stared at his brother.
โThe past,โ Tom said. โThinking about it. Obsessing about it. Itโs around every corner, as real as one of the guardsโand the walls and fences that keep us confined. The past is what really traps a person.โ
โItโs hard not to think about,โ Ty said.
โI would have done it with or without you. You dwelling on what happened doesnโt do either of us any good. Itโll just wear you down. The past is like a boat anchor for some people. They canโt get free of it.โ
โItโs like that for Mom and Dad.โ
โYeah. Turns out are parents are human too, just like us.โ โI canโt just ignore the past.โ
โNo. Thatโs not what Iโm saying. Weโve all got to learn from our past. Thatโs the other thing Iโve realized from my time inside. If you donโt, youโll never grow, never figure out who you really are. But I tell you what, Ty: once you learn from the past, youโve gotta let it go. It canโt do anything else for you. The future is all that matters.โ Tom glanced around at the meat locker. โAnd based on what Iโm seeing, youโre going to need all that brainpower for whatever is going on here.โ