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Through the window, I saw my brother Jordan with a surfboard tucked under his arm. He looked luminescent standing in the surf of our childhood expanse of ocean. He could have been eighteen again, but the droop of his shoulders betrayed him. How long had it been since I’d seen him? Ten, twelve years? I opened the back door and yelled, “food’s here.”

Jordan turned and jogged up to the house, threw on a t-shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, and stepped into our childhood home. “What did you order us little bro?” He asked casually. 

I winced inwardly at his presence, but plastered a smile on my face. “Leo’s Tacos.” How could he be so flippant, waltzing in here after all these years, pretending like nothing changed?

We opened our styrofoam containers and ate perched on stools at the island. “Dad could have done some updating to the place.” Jordan ran his hand across the chipped tile countertops.  

I snapped back, “I’m sure he would have, but his cancer treatments kept him busy.”  

“Come on, man, I’m not trying to be smart. Just making an observation.” 

“Where have you been, Jordan? It took me forever to track you down.” 

Jordan sat quietly for a moment. “I couldn’t come back here. Too many memories.” 

“Seriously? Every other weekend at dad’s place, surfing, eating junk food, and playing video games. How are those terrible memories?”

“I didn’t say terrible memories, I just said memories. Period. It’s complicated.” 

“Help me understand. Why did you run off and never return to see your dying father?” Anger laced my tone, its undercurrent rising to the surface. 

I’d always seen things in black and white and been the one to listen to dad ask me over and over, “Hear from Jordan?”

“No he hasn’t called or written. I’m sorry.” 

Dad always replied, “He’ll come home one day. You watch and see.”  

Jordan arrived home, after we buried dad in the ground. Why now? For the inheritance? It pained me to view him in that light, but dark murky waters churned under our bridge. I snapped the empty container closed and tossed it in the trash. “We’ll get started tomorrow going through dad’s papers. There has to be a will somewhere. It’ll be helpful not to go to probate to get this settled. Dad’s attorney insisted we both look for a copy here at the house as part of his last wishes.” 

“I bet I can still beat you at Mario Kart.” Jordan proclaimed deflecting.

“Really? You want to play video games at a time like this?”

“Lighten up? What else are we going to do tonight? Sulk off to our rooms alone? You’re scared your big brother is still gonna whip your butt?” 

We moved to the den. Everything remained the same as it did during my childhood. The blue plaid couch centered the space, flanked by a pair of fat ceramic lamps with their pleated shades. Dad’s old tube TV sat in a corner, its rabbit ears reaching towards the ceiling. His bookcases, next to it, overflowed with classic fiction, memoirs, and Bibles that spilled from their shelves. I opened the TV cabinet and there sat our old Nintendo 64 just like we’d left it. The controllers tucked in beside the lined up games. Jordan plucked Mario Kart and smashed it in the consul. With the push of a button, the TV glowed to life, and organ music blared against the electronic beat in the background. With glee I won the first game, then Jordan won every subsequent game. After awhile I found myself frustrated by my efforts, put down the controller, and started looking through dad’s books hoping to find clues. Jordan joined me but all we found were a few old pictures that stirred long ago memories. Finally, at midnight, our age caught up with us, and with bleary eyes, decided to call it quits. Jordan ambled off to his childhood bedroom, and I to mine across the hall.  

The next morning, the sun peeked through the slats in the blinds earlier than I’d like. Groaning, I rolled over and sat up. The door to Jordan’s bedroom lay wide open, with the bed already tucked in tight. I found him sitting in dad’s office on the floor next to a pile of papers.

“Thought I’d get an early start trying to find the will.” He looked up at me with a serious expression.  

“Let me grab some coffee and I’ll join you.” 

We shifted through documents, but came up empty-handed. “Look, Adam.” Jordan called me over to a corner, where he rifled through a box. “Can you believe dad saved all these report cards?  

I snatched the card out of his hand. As my eyes glanced over the grades, I found myself transported to our high school, a period mostly erased from my memory. I was surrounded by throngs of people I couldn’t quite place. Then came Jordan, fit, tan, and surrounded by his posse. He gave me a high-five me as he passed by. “That’s my little bro,” I heard him announce to those within earshot. Not a trace of embarrassment in his voice. I remember the pride that swelled in my shy bones of having such a popular brother. What happened to us? It broke dad’s heart that Jordan left and didn’t bother to call.  At times I came across dad sitting alone in the dark den, staring straight ahead. Anger again boiled in my stomach, but I checked myself. The same blood ran through our veins, and dad wanted him here. I handed the card back to Jordan. “Put that box out in the hallway for us to look at later.” 

Returning to the desk, I opened the bottom drawer and took out all the hanging files, splaying them across the surface. Something unusual about the drawer caught my eye. I felt underneath. The depth appeared more shallow than it should. My fingers ran alongside the inside till they hit a tiny indentation. Easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. I grabbed a nearby pen and placed the point in the indentation. The bottom panel loosened and lifted up. A manila folder sat neatly tucked into the space with the words LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT written in dad’s distinctive script. On top of that sat an envelope, READ FIRST. “I found it.” .  

Jordan peered over my shoulder. “You sure did. Wonder why he hid it like this?”  

I lifted the documents out of the drawer and slid down the side of the desk to settle on the floor. Jordan sat beside me and I unsealed the envelope. A single sheet of paper lay neatly folded inside. I read aloud. 

Dear Adam and Jordan, 

One of life’s greatest sadnesses was to see you drift apart. I purposefully hid the will, hoping it would bring you back together to search for it. I wish I could be a fly on the wall observing your interactions, but I am in a better place resting with my Heavenly Father. I wrestled with how to share my estate. Do I split it fifty fifty? Do I give it all to Adam since he cared for me in my last years? I prayed many long nights about what to do when the Lord revealed a solution. A relationship between brothers is a great treasure. Somehow, you both are content to leave this treasure buried. I have one last mission to bring you back together, therefore this house will not be sold. I have placed all my assets into a trust to be managed by my good friend and attorney, Anthony Miller. It will be yours to do with what you please in twenty years, if you follow one rule. Every year both of you are to spend one week together at the house. It’s that simple. Snap a picture and send it to Anthony as proof. If you fail to follow this rule the entire estate will be donated to charity. I pray this plan restores some semblance of a relationship. I love you both and look forward to our heavenly reunion.

Dad

I looked up from the letter, dumbfounded. “This isn’t fair. I need my inheritance now, not in twenty years. After all, I did for dad, I don’t deserve this.” 

Jordan looked over at me, his face softening. “What do we really deserve? Come here.” He wrapped his arm around me and I leaned into his side. “Do you want to know why I didn’t come back?” He whispered. 

I nodded, afraid to speak because of the lump in my throat.  

“I was ashamed and didn’t deserve dad’s forgiveness.”

We sat huddled together on the floor for hours, filling in the blanks on our missing years. I imagined dad looking down and smiling at his boys. Mission accomplished.