A look passed between them. Though none of them had said anything, the subtext of their conversation was clear to all of them, and Billy had obviously struck a responsive chord in his father with the word “safer.” He was not sure if it was true, not sure if he really would be safer here, but he did want to stay, and he did not want to go to town. His dad continued to stare at him, but Billy did not avert his gaze, and he saw a host of conflicting emotions pass over his father’s face.

His dad finally looked away and put his coffeecup on the drying rack. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?” he asked.

Billy nodded.

“You cannot leave the house,” he warned. “I don’t want you stepping outside that door until we come back. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“If Brad and Michael come by,” he added, “you just stay in here with them and watch TV or something, okay? Watch a videotape.”

He nodded. “Don’t worry.”

His mom put a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

They finished breakfast in silence, his dad going back to the TV, his mom going into the bathroom to get ready. Something had happened here between them, something that he could almost but not quite understand, that barely eluded his grasp, and he wasn’t sure if he was glad it had happened or not. He almost wished he had agreed to go to the store with them.

He sneezed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

A half-hour later, his parents were ready to go. They said good-bye to him and gave him preparatory instructions that made it seem as though they were going to be embarking on a week-long journey instead of just going on a ten-minute trip to the store.

Billy watched them drive away, then he looked back into the kitchen. They had taken care of most of the breakfast dishes, but had left some for him to do. The sugar and orange juice and cereal boxes all still stood on the top of the counter, waiting for him to put them away. The TV was already off and he turned out the lights. The house grew dark, sliding into an artificial state halfway between night and day. He sat down for a moment on the couch to enjoy it. There was something special about being inside on a cloud-darkened day. Particularly when he was alone. It somehow made everything seem more valuable, more tentative and transitory and therefore precious. It was a strange feeling, as distinct from the feeling of safety and security he got from being warm inside the dry house on a snowy winter’s night as it was from the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped inside on a warm sunny day, and it made him feel grown-up, as though he were already an adult and this was his house.