Swaying on the subway, he’d nearly lost his shape in the baggy rangers hoodie. It hung to his knees and flowed with him like molasses as he started to slump. First his left eyelid, then his shoulder and the arm attached to it extended to the ground like it wanted to catch him or race him to being prone.

Before he could get there, his companion gave his shoulder a gentle whack, bringing him back to his feet.

“Shit, was I doing it again?” Frank asked.

“Wake up, Frank.” Miles said.

“Where we going again, Miles?”

“We’re heading into the city.”

“Oh.” Frank looked over past Miles’s shoulder at the tunneled black speeding past the window. “Do I gotta be sorry, Miles?”

“Nah, Frank. S’all good.”

“Oh.” Frank’s, his tone was far away and his eyes closed a little at a time until his body began to droop again.

“Wake up, man. C’mon.” Miles whacked him on the arm.

“Oh. Hey remember that bike I got Eddie?”

“I remember.”

“He liked it right?”

“He loved it, Frank. Rode it all the time until he got too big for it.”

“Too big?” Frank peered at Miles.

“That was a few years ago, Frank. At his eighth birthday.”

“Oh. He here?” Frank looked around the train car, turning at the torso and stumbled when he let go of the pole. “I wanna see my son.”

“No, Frank. He’s with Geraldine. Remember?”

“We going to see Geraldine? Where she at? She here?”

“Nah, Frank. She and Eddie are in Pittsburg. They live there now, remember?”

“Oh.” Frank sagged. “That’s right. I remember now. They hadda leave, huh?”

“Yeah, Frank. They hadda leave.” Miles said, his voice soft and tired.

“We ain’t in the city yet?”

“Not quite. Almost at first avenue.”

“First avenue?”

“Yeah.”

Frank’s face perked up, one of his eyes opened all the way and the slack came out of his lips. “Why’re we going to first avenue, Miles?”

“You know why, Frank.”

“It happened again, huh? I fell?”

“Yeah, Frank. So we gotta go.”

The train lit up as it pulled into the station.

“Miles, I don’t wanna go. I don’t think I can make it.”

“You can make it, Frank. I got faith in you.”

Frank shook his head. “Okay.”

They stepped off the train and walked toward the exit at the other end of the platform, just two in a current of dozens.

“Miles?”

“Yeah, Frank?”

“I do got shit to be sorry for, don’t I?”

“Yeah, big brother.” Miles answered in a sad voice. “I guess you do.”

“I do anything to you ever?”

“Nah, nothing much. You know.” Miles remembered his first bike, his Nintendo, the silver locket with their grandparents wedding pictures in it.

“I’m sorry, Miles. I love you.”

Miles put his arm around him and gave him a short, hard hug.

“I love you too, Frank. C’mon. We can get you registered in time for breakfast.”