That frightened me more than tears would have.
He was getting used to being humiliated.
I stood.
“I’ll be back.”
Gavin looked confused.
“Where are you going?”
“Getting dinner.”
I drove thirty minutes into town.
I found the best steakhouse I could.
I ordered two filet mignons, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and cheesecake.
Then I drove back.
Naomi wrinkled her nose when I entered carrying the bags.
“What did you buy?”
“Dinner.”
“For who?”
“My son.”
I plated everything for Caleb and sat beside him while he ate.
Nobody said much.
But after that, the atmosphere changed.
The remarks became less subtle.
The twins started teasing Caleb whenever they thought I couldn’t hear.
They mocked his books.
His clothes.
The way he spoke.
At one point, I walked into the hallway and saw them throwing Caleb’s sketchbook between them.
“Did you get this from a thrift shop?” one of them laughed.
Caleb simply reached out and took it back.
I confronted Gavin.
“They’re bullying him.”
He shrugged.
“They’re kids, Luke.”
Naomi added, “Maybe Caleb should learn to defend himself. If he reacted differently, they might leave him alone.”
I almost packed our bags that night.
But Caleb asked me not to.
“Can we stay until Sunday? I want to finish the big puzzle.”
So we stayed.
Later, I found him curled under the blankets holding his sketchbook against his chest.
The following afternoon, Naomi organized the scavenger hunt.
For the first time all weekend, Caleb looked excited.
He grabbed a pencil and headed toward the door.
Naomi stopped him.
“Oh, Caleb, the teams are already made.”
He looked around.
“Can I just do it by myself?”
“That wouldn’t really be fair. Everyone else already started.”
“I don’t care if I win.”
She smiled.
“Maybe next time.”
I stepped forward.
“Let him participate.”
Naomi shrugged.
“House rules.”
Caleb walked outside and sat alone on the back deck.
I watched him staring into the trees.
Then I walked over to Gavin.
“We’re leaving.”
He rolled his eyes.
“You’re seriously doing this again?”
“I’m doing what I should’ve done months ago.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“No. I’ve been underreacting for years.”
He smirked.
“So you’re going to pack up and storm out because Caleb didn’t get to play a game?”
I looked him straight in the eye.
“No. I’m going to make sure I never forget what happened here.”
He laughed.
He thought it was another dramatic statement.
It wasn’t.
I packed the car before sunrise the following morning.
Caleb barely spoke.
Halfway down the mountain, I heard him from the back seat.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
I pulled the car over.
For several seconds, I couldn’t answer.
“No.”
My voice cracked despite my effort to control it.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why don’t they want me there?”
I turned around.
“They’re the ones who got this wrong, Caleb. Not you.”
He nodded.
But I could see that he wasn’t convinced.
The months after that were difficult.
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