I looked down at my bare left hand on my lap. I put down my fork, and took the diamond engagement ring out of my pocket. I slid it on my left ring finger, and then raised my left hand in my dad�s direction.

He glanced at the ring, but then stared at me. He frowned. Did he know something was up? Why should it matter if my dad suspected something? He should know that I didn�t want to have a marriage as screwed up as his and my mom�s.

�You can put your hand down,� he said.

After dinner, I excused myself and sat at the foot of the stairs. I checked the voicemail on my cell phone. I had a new message.

�Lisa, it�s me,� Ben�s voice said. �I just wanted to know if your flight got in all right, and if you got to your parents� yet. I miss you. When you return from your parents�, I hope you�ll come back. To me. I love you. Call me back when you can. Bye.�

I erased the message and returned the phone to my belt clip. My dad came out of the dining room and sat next to me. My mom, of course, was cleaning and doing the dishes. Alone.

�Phone call?� he said.

�Yeah, I just text messaged Ben to let him know I arrived okay.�

�He seemed like a good kid,� my dad continued. �Why didn�t you bring him home with you?�

Ben had only met my parents twice. The first time Ben visited me at home during winter break, my dad hadn�t spoken to him unless Ben started the conversation first. Poor Ben. My mom, of course, had been little help. She had sat at attention with the serving tongs in her hand, eyeing my dad and his plate. I vowed never to bring Ben home again. The second time Ben and my parents had met was unavoidable, when Ben and I both graduated. My dad initiated the handshake that time, and even ventured �Congratulations� without being prompted. That was all.

But if Ben really did seem like �a good kid� to my dad, my dad wouldn�t sympathize with my real reason for being home. Ben and I now lived together, and after a fight in which I tried to give him back his ring, I had nowhere else to go. I didn�t want to be in the apartment with him. I didn�t want to stay at friends�, because I�d have to explain myself. They liked Ben. My parents� was the only place I could go. And, conveniently enough, my mom�s birthday was coming up.

�Mom�s birthday is in two days, and, well, I didn�t want Ben to steal the attention that should go to her,� I said.

My dad let out a laugh. �Your mother? Attention?�

I stood up. �I�m tired, Dad. Traveling took a lot out of me,� I said.

�Don�t lie to your dad now. Is everything okay?�

�I�m just tired.�

I ran up the stairs and yanked the ring off of my finger.

The next morning I woke up earlier than planned, to the sound of Sophie yelling. I crawled out of bed and marched down the hall. As I walked by the bathroom, I heard the shower running. It must have been my dad, getting ready for work. I continued down to the guest room. The door was open. My mom was in the room, and had the bedcovers in her hands. Sophie was lying on the bed, still in her pajamas.

�Some people are still trying to sleep,� I snapped.

�I�d be sleeping, too, if it wasn�t for her,� Sophie said. She pointed at my mom.

�You still have to go to school, Sophie, like your mom told you,� my mom said.

�But she isn�t here!� Sophie said. �Gimme back the covers!�

My mom walked closer to the bed. Oh, no, she wasn�t. The spoiled brat wasn�t going to get her way. Nor was she going to scream anymore. I snatched the covers from my mom.

There were mornings in elementary, in junior high and high school that I didn�t want to get out of bed. But I always did. Not only did I not want to get in trouble with my dad, but I didn�t want my dad yelling at my mom for being too �soft� with me.

�Get out of bed and get dressed. I�m driving you to school,� I said.

Sophie stared. My mom slipped out of the room.

�Mom always said your mom was a pushover,� Sophie said.

She got out of bed and walked to her duffel bag of clothes. I went to put on clothes of my own, and to get the car keys.

My mom and I never mentioned the morning incident with Sophie. I dropped Sophie off at school, drove home, and then went back to sleep. She had lunch waiting for me on the table when I woke up again and came downstairs around midday. She said nothing, not even a �thank you.�

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