He lay on his bed all the rest of the night, just staring at the ceiling. Now, in the light of day, the kitchen was a terrible mess. Dirty dishes had been thrown in the sink. A pot with macaroni and cheese in it had been knocked off the stove and spilled all over the floor. There must have been a thousand ants crawling on the gooey pile. There was red stuff smeared on one wall by the light switch. Blood, Dennis thought. He stared at it and felt nothing.

The dining room was no better. There were broken glasses on the floor, and a couple of broken plates.

For sure his mother had not come home. She would never have gone to bed and left the place like this. She kept everything clean and tidy because that was the way his father liked it.

Dennis got a bowl and fixed himself some cereal. He was halfway done when his father came walking in, looking like he hurt all over. He had a hangover. Dennis could tell by the color of his skin and the bags under his eyes.

His father didn’t get drunk very often, and when he did he didn’t try to hide it like Dennis’s mother did. He knew his mother drank almost every day on account of he knew where she hid her bottle. But it was her secret, and most of the time even his father couldn’t tell.

Dennis stopped chewing and just stared at his dad now, not sure what to expect from him. Would he be normal? Would he still be mad?

His father made a face like his mouth tasted bad, went to the coffeemaker, and stared at the empty pot.

He looked at Dennis. “Where’s your mother?”

Dennis shrugged.

His dad went to the window and looked out at the driveway. “Her car’s gone. I never heard her come home last night.”

I never heard you come home last night, either, Dennis thought, but he just shrugged again. He fully expected his dad to explode and belt him one for not answering, like he had the night before, but he didn’t.

“I think she left,” his father said, still staring out the window.

Dennis said nothing. He still couldn’t feel any emotions. In a weird way, it was like he was wrapped up in a cocoon. He could see the world around him, but it couldn’t touch him. He liked it that way.

His father turned and left the room. Dennis could hear his footfalls going up the stairs. When he couldn’t hear them anymore, he put his backpack on and left the house with no intention of ever coming back.

Chapter 57

57

“Mimosas,” Franny told the waitress. “And keep them coming, honey.”