Russell Tannehill’s forty-six years, which is the one thing here that came off a ledger and not out of a person’s life, and which he did to himself with a stapler.

Two point eight million dollars on a building in the Back Bay, for a sentence I said on a telephone that changed nothing.

Six birthdays, which is the one I handled worst.

In the first January I proposed to hold all six.

Six parties, in one weekend, in sequence, with six cakes, which I had costed and booked a venue for before I mentioned it to anybody.

Evelyn looked at me for a long moment and then said, “Marcus, they are turning six.