Once he’d invited me over for Hungarian goulash, his famous dish. I rang the bell and was waiting on the front stoop. The door opened, and there was Hal, tall and handsome, smiling and warm and wearing a chef’s apron. “Come in,” he’d said, pulling me toward him and kissing me in the threshold. The warmth of his mouth and the heat from his body against mine contrasted against the cold of the outdoors and created a thrill that seeped in from three sides.

“Dad, something’s buzzing,” called a voice from the kitchen.

Hal let go, and I almost fell back onto the front stoop. “Sorry. That’s Caleb,” he said. “Okay!” he yelled to the kitchen.

“Go ahead,” I said, tossing my coat over the banister and fixing my hair and lips in the hallway mirror.

In the kitchen, Hal had turned off the oven timer and was washing his hands. Caleb was leaning against the kitchen counter with a sandwich in his hands.

“Hi, Caleb,” I said.

Caleb took a bite and waved hello with a limp hand, his mouth full.

“Is Jake here?” I asked, because it was an easy topic for me and Caleb to connect on.

“Yeah, he’s downstairs,” said Caleb, chewing.

“Oh, that’s right,” I said, remembering: Jake had fallen in a snowboarding competition, injuring his shoulder and suffering a mild concussion.

“He’s banished to the basement,” said Hal in a fake-evil voice as he pulled open a drawer for a spoon.

“How much longer does he have to be in darkness like that?”

“The doctor said a few more days,” said Hal, tasting some of his goulash and then rinsing the spoon. Caleb ambled to the fridge and filled a glass with milk.

“I hope you’re more careful, Caleb,” I said to his back, an attempt at teasing.

“That’s why I play Final Fantasy VII on PlayStation,” Caleb deadpanned. He chugged the milk, set the glass on the counter, and scuttled to the sofa in the great room, plopping into place in front of a giant-screen television. His video game was waiting, characters hovering in animated suspense, and he donned his headphones and picked up the controller.

“Sorry about that,” said Hal, opening a bottle of cabernet.

“No, I get it,” I said. “Scary about Jake, though.”

“Thank God he was wearing his helmet.” Hal poured me a glass.

“Must be hard for him to stay in the basement.” I took a long sip. I felt a twinge of guilt for being happy he was out of our hair. But the poor kid had taken a pretty bad fall. “He’s down there full-time, huh?”

“Yeah, but Audrey set up a nice bedroom for him, with dim lights, and he listens to music.” Hal smiled, and we both sipped.