Chapter 13 - Caleb Came Back With His First Real Paycheck
Caleb showed up on a Friday evening holding two pizzas.
Not an envelope.
That was already progress.
Sarah let him in.
We ate at the kitchen table.
He talked about James.
“He's impossible.”
“You used his license without permission,” Sarah said.
“He's still impossible.”
Fair.
Caleb had spent three weeks working under somebody else.
He hated asking approval.
Hated submitting hours.
Hated not choosing jobs.
He also got paid every Friday.
Apparently predictability offended him less each week.
After dinner he pulled out his phone.
I stared.
“What?”
“I’m showing you something. Don't panic.”
Harbor balance.
Down by two thousand.
His first payment had cleared.
I nodded.
“Good.”
He put the phone away.
No speech.
Sarah asked:
“Did you pay your rent?”
He gave her a look.
“Yes, Mom.”
She smiled.
Then Caleb looked at me.
“James offered me something.”
“What?”
“Profit share on jobs I bring in.”
“That sounds good.”
“It is.”
“You going to take it?”
“Probably.”
Sarah said:
“Very brave answer.”
He laughed.
Then his face became serious.
“You guys decide about selling?”
“No.”
I looked at Sarah.
She shook her head.
Caleb leaned back.
“I thought after all that money you'd stay.”
I understood the instinct.
Sarah answered:
“That's one reason we haven't decided.”
Caleb looked around.
“House looks amazing.”
“It does.”
“You like it?”
“Yes.”
“Then—”
I raised one hand.
He stopped.
“Right.”
We laughed.
Caleb looked at me.
“I hate this new family.”
“Healthy boundaries are ruining everything.”
“Exactly.”
Then Sarah's phone rang.
Monica.
She stepped into the living room to answer.
Caleb watched.
“You're actually considering it.”
“Yes.”
“You've lived here forever.”
“Eleven years.”
“Forever.”
I smiled.
He looked toward the hallway.
“You know I always thought you had everything figured out.”
I stared.
“What?”
“House. Marriage. Work.”
“Do not model your life on me.”
“Bit late.”
He looked down.
“When my company started going bad, I kept thinking about telling you.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because then I wouldn't be the brother who finally got his act together.”
I understood that too well.
Our father had divided us without meaning to.
Daniel, the steady one.
Caleb, the one we'll worry about.
Caleb spent adulthood trying to outrun the label.
I spent mine protecting it because being steady was how I knew I mattered.
He said:
“Hiring me was stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
“I love you.”
He laughed.
“Still stupid.”
“Yes.”
That was probably as repaired as the conversation needed to be.
Sarah returned.
Monica wanted to know whether we'd consider a private showing.
A couple relocating from Chicago had seen exterior photos and wanted a house in our neighborhood.
My chest tightened.
Sarah looked at me.
“We haven't listed.”
“I know.”
“Monica says they might be interested off-market.”
Caleb looked between us.
“I’m going home.”
“Coward.”
“Absolutely.”
He grabbed the remaining pizza.
Sarah protested.
He kept walking.
At the door he turned.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“If they offer something stupid high, sell.”
Sarah laughed.
I threw a napkin at him.
He left.
Then Sarah and I stood alone in the kitchen.
“Do we let them see it?” she asked.
I looked around.
People touring our house felt much more real than realtor estimates.
“Do you want to?”
“I asked you.”
I thought.
“Yes.”
Sarah nodded.
“Me too.”
The showing was Sunday.
That did not mean we were selling.
May you like
We repeated that to each other several times.
Which was probably why neither of us completely believed it.
