After the funeral, I thought things would start to get back to normal. I didn't realize just how wishful that thinking actually was. I'd either forgotten how hard the aftermath always is, or I'd tried to block it out. Either way, I wasn't prepared for Steve's appearance in our living room just two nights later.

I was watching TV alone for a change. Darry had gone to bed early (it was only 11), and Pony was finishing up some of his homework in the room we shared. None of the other guys were over, and I figured I'd just go to bed myself when this show ended, but then I heard the screen door bang. It was Steve, but this time he didn't have a black eye to hide. This time, he looked lost, lonely, confused, and desperately trying to hide all of that.

He walked in and sat down next to me without a word. I wanted to ask him why he was here and why he wasn't home with his mom … but I didn't. He'd tell me if he wanted to. Neither of us spoke for a good half hour. This wasn't too strange, though. We've had plenty of times when we just sat and watched t.v. without having to have a conversation. I had actually started to relax, thinking this just might be a regular visit, when Steve mumbled, "My mom didn't want me to leave."

I kept looking at the screen while I tried to think of an appropriate response. Finally I gave up.

"So why did you come?" I asked bluntly. I knew I wasn't being my usual sympathetic self, but something about this was really bugging me, and I couldn't for the life me figure out why.

Steve didn't answer for a few minutes, and then he said, "I couldn't take it there anymore. She… she won't stop crying, and I still don't know for sure how I feel about this whole thing. Like, I know he was my dad and all, but the night before he died, he punched me and threw me out of the house." His voice was getting angrier the more he went on, and he finally spat out, "why does he deserve for me and her to be sad for him? Soda, you know me. You knew him. He's the last person I should feel bad about."

I reached over, turned off the t.v., and then sat down so I was facing him. He'd been staring straight ahead, but I could see that his jaw was clenched, so I had some idea of how bad this night was going to be for him. He turned to me then, though. He wanted an answer.

"Steve," I said, "regardless of how much crap you went through with him, he was still your dad. No matter what else happened, I think you always hoped that there was a chance things could get better. Now they can't. You might not be mourning the man who died. You might miss the man you never got meet and the one he'll never have the chance to know... you."

I hadn't meant to do it. I never mean to do it. But I saw his eyes start to water as he quickly looked away. He whispered something that I didn't hear, so I asked him to repeat it.

He cleared his throat. "I said, you're right," he choked out. "I just want to know when it's going to stop hurting." He hunched over and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders started shaking, and I just sat beside him, leaving him be. For some reason, I felt no urge to put my arm around him this time. After a little while, he looked up, taking quivering breaths. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and then he said, "I'm sorry I keep dumping this all over you."

I shook my head. "Don't be. It's ok. I just think you should go back to your mom. She's alone there now."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll see you at the DX tomorrow."

He walked out the door with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head down but with his strut returning as soon as he hit the sidewalk. I sat alone in the living room, angry at Steve for the first time in years and having no idea why. I was still sitting there 20 minutes later when I heard Darry go into the kitchen for a glass of water. He must have noticed that the light was still on because he poked his head into the living room. When he saw the look on my face, though, he came all the way in.

"What's going on, little buddy?" he asked softly. He sat on the recliner and waited expectantly. I didn't know what to tell him, though. That I'm mad at Steve? That didn't seem fair. But that was what it was. So I told him what had happened that night.

"I told him to go home to his mom," I concluded. "I don't know how he could leave her in the first place," I added bitterly. I glanced at Darry then to see understanding dawning on his face.

"What?" I asked irritably.

"You're mad at him," he said quietly. I started. I didn't realize it was that obvious. It certainly wasn't that understandable.

I shrugged. "But why should I be mad at Steve?" I asked dully.

"Maybe because… because he doesn't realize that he still has something you don't."

I jerked my head up and looked at Darry then. He was smiling sadly at me, and it suddenly made sense. "His mom," I mumbled, and he nodded. I thought for the millionth time of how much easier all of this could have been for us if only one of our parents had been in that car. But no. We had to lose both at once. An unbearable loss. It didn't seem to me that Steve should be taking what he still had for granted.

I swallowed hard. "Yeah," I said. "He still has his mom."

"But Soda… he never had with either of his parents what we had with ours. I mean, yeah, he's lucky to still have his mom, but it's not the same for him like it would have been for us if we'd been able to keep one. And you know what we said… at least they were together, and at least we're together. Yes, Steve still has his mom. But I'd take you and Pony any day of the week."

I looked up at Darry, my eyes burning with tears. "You would?" I asked, my voice cracking.

He nodded, got up, and sat down next to me on the couch, folding me in his arms. I finally let it wash over me, and I buried my head in Darry's shoulder, feeling the tears seeping into his t-shirt. He said nothing, though. When I finally stopped, he looked at me, and I could see that his own eyes were wet, but he smiled crookedly.

"Feel any better?" he asked hoarsely. I nodded.

"Darry… I'd take you and Pony any day too. But thanks. Thanks for taking us."

He tried to keep the smile on his face, but his composure was finally starting to crack, and I realized it was my turn to do for him what he'd done for me so many countless times. I reached out to him, and for the first time in years, I felt Darry shake with silent sobs. He calmed down a lot faster than I had, though, and when he pulled back this time, his smile was for real.

"We're a good team, Soda. That's why we're going to be ok."

I knew he was right.