But this time his brother reached out and slid the folder toward himself.

He opened it, took out his phone, and did a thing I had never once seen done at that table in all my years inside this family.

He started to divide it up.

“Okay,” he said, squinting at the total and then at the ceiling, doing the arithmetic out loud.

“Eleven of us.

Kids split between their parents.

Dad’s is on us, obviously, it’s his birthday.” He began tapping, assigning, reading portions back.

It was clumsy.