My brother is a fish. Silver and bronze. Reckless rather than brave, as if that matters to flesh. A show-off fish. He is fascinated by the bears that wade along the river banks. Their feet like tree trunks planted beneath the shallow water. Their claws the size of tightly closed pine cones. While others note the nets the bears make with their paws and keep their distance, he darts around and through their legs, tickled by the brush of fur on his scales. The dark fur is warm, even in the cold water, and inviting. There comes a point when he leaps into the air to see the bears. Every day he leaps, every hour he leaps, leaving this water, his home and his own, waving to the bears. Despite our warnings, our worry and our love. And one day, he leaps high and arched into the mouth of a bear. Watching from the reeds, I know he meant to join them, to become a bear, and, finally, to be warm.

Here is my inheritance: an electric guitar, a vacuum cleaner, a cat. These are the items of value. My parents are left with empty boots, deflated clothing and other punctured wreckage. There are items we never found. The gold cross he wore around his neck. The pelt of his first squirrel, a ratty treasure he carried with him from move to move. There are items we wish were missing. The gun. It is too awful to keep, and too precious to misplace. It is, after all, the last thing he touched.

We were twins, adopted together, a "king’s order" set – boy first, then the girl. We looked no more alike than a pair of puppies with two different sires in one breeding cycle. I am very fair with dark hair and green eyes. He was white blonde with brown eyes, sun kissed skin. I was difficult and wicked; he was pliant and angelic. There are stories! Stories that were true and remain true, even if over time the characters became slippery and unrecognizable, hard to catch and harder to watch.

Now, here is my inheritance: a blood-bourne need to atone for every careless act, his and my own; sole responsibility for aging parents who cannot see, speak, or hear any more bad news; the diminished happiness of every happy event; a ruined guitar, a dead vacuum, a dying cat. A gun, tucked away like baptismal gown.

I am a fish. Silver and bronze. Neither reckless, nor brave. I am frightened by the bears. From a safe distance, I leap into the air, high and arched. I want to see the bears. My brother is a bear.