He turned to Vito. “The clothes too?”
Vito looked at him, and Henry could discern the anguish on his face as he nodded.
“Look, why don’t you go lie down. I’ll finish packing in here and come get you when it’s all ready to carry downstairs and over to that Goodwill you mentioned.”
“I should do it,” Vito said, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “He was my boy.” The last few words came out ragged.
Henry went over to where Vito still sat, cross-legged, on the hardwood floor. “No. No, you shouldn’t. You’ve made this decision, and I think it’s a good thing, a healthy thing, even though you might not see it that way. Not now.” Henry allowed himself to touch Vito’s tightly curled hair. It was surprisingly soft, and he let his fingers linger in its strands for a moment. He wanted to hold
