Caleb

eah, Lenny, and I are sitting in my parents' living room, waiting for my dad to come home. Leah's got her fingers folded neatly in her lap and Lenny is looking at her with one cocked eyebrow. I drilled him endlessly before we came here, making sure I had his word that he wouldn't talk about the accident or the fact that he knows I wasn't the one who really hit Maggie.

"So, Leah," Lenny says as he looks across the room at Leah with one eyebrow cocked. "You got a boyfriend?"

I whack Lenny on the chest with the back of my hand. "What're you doing?"

He looks at me as if I'm the crazy one. "Makin' con versation, Caleb. Someone around here has got to fill the dead air. Neither of you is doin' such a bang-up job at it."

"You don't have to fill the air with bullshit," I tell him.

Lenny rolls his eyes. "Okay, Mr. Crabbypants."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to talk only if you have something to-"

"No," Leah interrupts, her voice almost a whisper.

Lenny and I both look at my sister.

She looks down at the carpeting. "I meant no, I, uh, don't have a boyfriend."

Lenny leans forward. "Why not?"

She shrugs.

"Maybe if you smiled it would help."

What is this, the Lenny Self-Help Show? "Seriously, man, shut the fuck up. What do you know about girls, anyway? You're in love with Trish and all you can do is piss her off and dump her in a lake. You don't know shit about girls."

"And you do?" Lenny laughs. His stupid long hair falls in his eyes and he flicks it back. "I got one word for you, Mr. Crabbypants-Maggie."

At the mention of Maggie, my sister's eyes meet mine. I bet we're both thinking about our little deception that messed up both our lives.

"I'm going to get some water," Leah mumbles, then scurries away.

As soon as she disappears, the door opens. I stand, stiff at attention, as my dad walks through the front door. He's wearing a suit, carrying the briefcase he's had for the past ten years, and sporting the same mustache he's had for the past twenty years.

When he sees me, his expression goes from blank to shocked. He freezes in his tracks.

"Hey, Dad," I manage to say.

"Caleb."

I walk toward him, not knowing if I should hug him or shake his hand or pat him on the back or ... do nothing. It's sad when your own father has become a stranger.

I stop in front of him. He's still holding his briefcase and staring at me. What do I say to him now?

I blurt out, "I know I should have probably called and told you I was coming, but-"

"We haven't heard from you in months, Caleb."

"I know. I couldn't stay here anymore, Dad. Not like the way things were."

"Your mother is sick," he tells me. "She's been in the hospital on and off for months now."

He says it as if she has a terminal disease. I bet calling her "sick" is the standard excuse he's decided to use instead of saying "she's in rehab" or "she's a drug addict."

"I know."

I step back, realizing this isn't going to be a joyous reunion where my father welcomes me back with open arms. I should have had a clue that's the way it was going to be when I saw my room had been converted to an office and all signs I'd ever existed had vanished.

He's holding his briefcase in front of him, almost like a barrier between us. "We didn't know if you were dead or alive. Your mother had to make up a story."

I shouldn't be surprised. My mom is the queen of making up stories to make our family look good. "What did she say?"

"She said we sent you to an exclusive boarding school in Connecticut."

A hearty, snorting laugh comes from the couch. Or, to be exact, it comes from Lenny who's sitting on the couch.

"Who's that?" my dad asks.

"Lenny."

Lenny springs off the couch and envelops my dad in a huge bear hug. My dad steps back, totally caught off guard, but keeps his balance. I bet he's silently thanking his high school football coach for those balance drills in high school.

"Nice to meet you, Dad," Lenny says. "Or should I call you Dr. Becker? Or Dr. B., or just Doc?"

I push Lenny off my dad. "Lenny's kind of a friend of mine," I tell my dad. "More like a sidekick."

I figure that's better than explaining that Lenny is a delinquent who thinks he's funny and doesn't have a filter when it comes to his mouth.

My dad puts his briefcase in the hall closet and says to Lenny, "You can call me Dennis."

"Cool. Give me a fist bump, Dennis." Lenny holds out his fist mid-air and waits for my dad to do the same.

My dad doesn't. I'm not sure he's ever given anyone a fist bump. It's not that my dad is stupid or old fashioned. He's just ... proper. He doesn't stray from the norm, because he likes his life neat and tidy.

Me being home is messing up his tidy life.

I'm sure it's killing him that my mom is in rehab. He probably doesn't know what to do about it, and there's no rule book or game plan when it comes to the grim realities of our lives.

"Are you guys, uh, in town for a while?" Dad asks me. "Or are you just passing through?"

It's a question you'd ask an acquaintance, not your son.

Leah is leaning against the stairs, waiting intently for my answer.

I'm tempted to say I'm just passing through. It would be easier than telling the truth, that Lenny's story made me realize I need to come back and make peace with my family.

"I was thinking of staying for a few weeks," I mumble.

"At a hotel, or..." Dad's voice trails off.

"I was hoping to stay here, Dad."

Lenny sticks his chin on my shoulder. "Me too, Denms.

My dad scratches his head. "Umm ... I guess, umm ... we don't really have beds to spare. We turned your room into an office."

"I'll sleep on the couch," I tell him, feeling like I'm begging for a place to stay in my own house. It doesn't sit well in my gut.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Lenny chimes in, apparently having no problems begging. "Unless you want me to sleep in bed with Leah." Lenny holds his hands up when all of our heads snap up at his last comment. "Just kidding."

My sister steps forward and says, "I'll go get some sheets and blankets from the hall closet."

"Okay," my dad says. "But you boys better keep the house clean. My wife hates a messy house."

"Got it," I tell him, wondering if I need to remind him that "his wife" is my mom. And that she's in rehab, not here.

The loud sound of Lenny clapping his hands together makes us all turn to him. "Now that that's settled, what's for dinner?"

"Maybe we should order in some pizza," Dad says as he walks upstairs. He always changes into jeans and a T-shirt after work. It's his ritual.

When my sister and dad are out of hearing range, I let out a slow breath.

I'm home.

It doesn't feel like home, though. I wonder if I'd get a better reception if I showed up at Maggie's house. Who am I kidding? Her mom would toss me out or call the cops to have me thrown back in jail.

"Your dad is one weird dude," Lenny says. "But I like him."

At dinner, when Lenny excuses himself to go to the bathroom, I ask, "So, can I go see Mom?"

My dad puts down his pizza. "I don't think so, Caleb."

"Why not?"

"Because she's fragile. I'm not sure she could handle it right now."

"I'm her son," I say through clenched teeth.

"After you left, she said you were dead to her."

I look to my sister for confirmation, but she's staring at her plate. Anger starts to fire up in my veins. "Leah!"

She looks up. "What?"

What? All she can say is what?

I stand, my chair scraping the floor. "Thanks a lot, Leah," I grind out. "Thanks a lot for nothing."