3. Leo
Leo
Two days before I was due to leave for Italy, Dad called and asked if I’d come for Sunday dinner.
That was the wording. Come for Sunday dinner.
Casual, no pressure, the way he always asked.
I knew I had a standing invitation, but he always reminded me anyway, just in case I needed to back out at the last minute.
My dad was good like that. He never made it a thing.
He just opened a door every week and trusted that, eventually, I’d walk through it.
Which I usually did, because honestly, I liked them.
We were the kind of family that texted dumb memes back and forth and remembered each other’s birthdays without a reminder app.
We even had a family group chat. One that Alex wasn’t a part of.
And that, I was starting to realize, was exactly the problem.
I drove over at five with a bottle of the rosé Diane, my stepmother, liked and a vague plan to not bring up Alex.
That part lasted exactly as long as it took to get out of my car.
Diane was in the front yard pretending to deadhead the hydrangeas.
I learned long ago that she only did that when she was waiting to ambush someone.
“There he is,” she said brightly. “Honey, you look tired.”
“I’m not tired, Diane,” I laughed. “I just have resting bitch face. It comes with the job.”
She laughed and pulled me into a hug. She smelled like her perfume and the garlic she’d probably been chopping for dinner. “Stop. You have a beautiful face. I just worry about you, that’s all.”
“I know you do.”
And I did know. That was the thing. Diane had married my dad when I was thirteen.
And she had never once, not even at fifteen when I came home from school and announced over meatloaf that I was gay, made me feel like a guest in my own house.
She had cried, actually, when I told her, but in the good way, and then she had gone and bought me a pride flag pin from a craft fair the next weekend like that was a normal thing a stepmother did.
I loved her. That was the whole problem with the evening that was about to unfold.
It feels almost impossible to be properly furious with someone you love.
My brain just couldn’t make the math work.
Dad was in the kitchen carving a pork roast in his usual setup. He had the fancy cutting board, the good knife, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, and the small glass of bourbon he’d been nursing for an hour. He looked up when I came in and smiled.
“Hey kiddo. You hungry?”
“Always.”
“Good. Your mother went a little nuts.”
“I can hear you, Michael,” Diane called from the dining room.
“You were meant to hear me, sweetheart.”
This was their bit. They’d been doing it for fifteen years.
It was familiar and warm and reassuring.
If they were bickering, things were okay between them.
That’s how it always was. Then I sat down at the table and reminded myself once more that I was not, under any circumstances, going to be the one to bring up Alex.
“So,” she said, sliding into her seat with the casual energy of a woman who had been rehearsing this in the shower. “Italy. Tuesday. I cannot believe it’s already here.”
“Me neither.”
“Three whole weeks.”
I nodded. “Three whole weeks.”
“And you’re going alone?” she prodded. “Ben didn’t come to his senses?”
“Nope, Ben’s still a prick,” I replied, shaking my head. I took a deep breath. “But I’m not going alone.”
“Oh?” Diane’s eyes lit up. “New boyfriend already? Or is this just a rebound guy?”
“Diane…” my father warned.
“I don’t mean anything by it. He knows that.
” She pulled the oven open and pulled the rolls out.
“You were together a long time. It’s only natural you want to get out there and rebound a little.
I know I did that after my divorce.” She paused, flashing a grin at my dad.
“So who’s the lucky guy you’re going with? ”
This was it. The moment I’d been dreading for a week now.
“I’m actually going with…” I swallowed hard. “With Alex.”
I kicked myself internally. So much for not bringing up Alex.
The silence that followed made my ears ring. Dad’s knife paused mid-slice through the pork, and Diane’s mouth opened slightly like she was trying to process what I’d just said. I could practically hear the gears grinding in her head.
“Alex?” she repeated slowly, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard me correctly. “As in... your stepbrother Alex?”
“That’s the one.” I reached for my wine glass, needing something to do with my hands. “He’s going through a rough patch with the divorce and everything, so I thought—”
“Leo.” Dad’s voice was careful, measured in that way it got when he was trying very hard not to say something he’d regret. “Son, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Why not?” The defensiveness in my voice surprised even me. “He’s family.”
“He’s also...” Diane trailed off, clearly searching for the right words. “Well, he’s not in a great place right now, honey. And from what Amanda told us—”
“What Amanda told you is bullshit,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I’d intended. “She was cheating on him, Diane. For months. While he was working his ass off to build a life for them.”
Dad set down his knife and turned to face me fully. “That doesn’t excuse the way he treated her, Leo. The way he treated all of us. When’s the last time any of us heard from him before the divorce? Christmas two or three years ago?”
“So that makes it okay for you to just write him off?” I could feel my temper rising, that familiar heat creeping up my neck. “He’s your stepson, Dad. Your stepson is falling apart, and instead of helping him, you’re taking the word of his cheating ex-wife?”
“She isn’t just his ex-wife,” Diane said quietly. “She’s our friend too, Leo. We watched their relationship for years. We saw how he prioritized everything else over her.”
“Because he was trying to provide for her!” I slammed my hand down on the table, making the silverware jump. “Because that’s what he thought love looked like. Working hard, building something stable, giving her everything she wanted.”
“But never actually being present,” Dad said. “Never actually participating in the relationship.”
I stared at him, this man who’d raised me, who’d taught me how to drive and helped me through my first heartbreak, and felt something crack inside my chest. “So that justifies abandoning him? When he needs us most?”
“We didn’t abandon him,” Diane protested. “We tried to reach out after the divorce was announced. He wouldn’t return our calls.”
“Because he was ashamed!” I pushed back from the table, pacing to the window. “Because he thought you’d all chosen sides and he was wrong. Jesus, do you have any idea what he looks like right now? He’s living in this shitty apartment, he lost his job, he’s barely eating—”
“How do you know all this?” Dad’s voice was quiet now.
I turned back to face them. “Because I went to see him. Because someone in this family should give a damn about whether he’s okay or not.”
The silence stretched between us again, but this time it felt different. Heavier. Like something fundamental had shifted in the room.
“Leo,” Diane said finally, her voice gentler than it had been all evening. “We do care about Alex. Of course we do. But—”
“But nothing,” I interrupted. “He’s drowning, and instead of throwing him a life preserver, you’re all standing on the shore pointing out that he should have been a better swimmer.”
Dad ran a hand through his graying hair, a gesture I recognized from my teenage years when I’d pushed him past his comfort zone. “What do you want us to do, son? We can’t force him to accept help.”
“You could try offering it first,” I said. “You could stop believing every word that comes out of Amanda’s mouth and actually talk to him. You could remember that he’s family.”
“So are you,” Dad said quietly. “And I’m worried about what you’re taking on here. You know how Alex can be. He got into a lot of fights as a kid. He’s hurt people before. I don’t want to see you end up on the other end of his fist.”
Something in his tone made me pause. There was real concern there, not just judgment. And fear, maybe.
“I can handle Alex,” I said, softer now. “I’ve known him since I was thirteen, Dad. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“I’m not just talking about physical hurt,” Dad said. “I’m talking about trying to care about someone who’s determined to destroy themselves.”
The words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit.
I’d already seen glimpses of that self-destructive streak in Alex, the way he seemed almost comfortable in his misery.
And I remembered when he was a teenager too.
He’d gotten into so many fistfights at school.
Our parents had to go pick him up from the police station on more than one occasion.
He was a troubled kid. But he’d changed now. Right?
“Maybe,” I said slowly. “But I’d rather risk getting hurt trying to help him than live with myself after not trying at all.”
Diane stood up and walked over to me, reaching up to cup my face in her hands the way she’d done when I was a teenager dealing with bullies at school.
“You have such a good heart, honey,” she said. “But I worry it’s going to get you in trouble.”
“Either way, I have to try,” I said, letting out a long sigh.
“I can’t just sit around and do nothing.
” I looked up at my father then, trying to make him understand.
“And I think you two should try as well. After all, I might not always live this close and who’s going to join you for Sunday dinners? ”
My father furrowed his brows, suddenly worried. “Are you going somewhere?”
My heart raced. “N-No… I just…” I let out another sigh. “I’m just saying. My job might take me away someday and I don’t want you two sitting here alone every Sunday because you were too proud to talk to your own son.”
Dad’s face went pale, and I immediately felt like an asshole for playing that card. But it was true, wasn’t it? Life was unpredictable. Things changed. People left, whether they meant to or not.
“Leo,” he said quietly, setting down his bourbon. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
“No, Dad. I just...” I ran my hands through my hair, suddenly exhausted by this conversation that I knew was inevitable. “I just think family should stick together, that’s all. Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”
Diane squeezed my shoulder. “You’re right,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re absolutely right, and I’m ashamed that it took my twenty-seven-year-old son to remind me of that.”
I looked between them, hope flickering in my chest. “So you’ll call him?”
“We’ll try,” Dad said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “But Leo, promise me something. If this trip goes south, if Alex becomes... difficult... you’ll come home. Don’t sacrifice yourself trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
“I promise,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure I meant it.
Dinner proceeded more smoothly after that, though the tension never fully disappeared. We talked about my work, about Dad’s retirement plans, about anything that wasn’t Alex or Italy or the growing knot of anxiety in my stomach about what I’d committed to.
It wasn’t until I was driving home that I let myself really think about what I’d gotten myself into.
Three weeks in a foreign country with someone who was barely holding it together.
Someone who’d made it clear he didn’t want help, didn’t want company, and definitely didn’t want to be anyone’s charity case.
But as I pulled up to my apartment complex, I thought about the way Alex had looked when I’d found him in that apartment. Lost. Broken. Like he’d given up on everything that had once mattered to him.
Maybe I couldn’t save him. Maybe Dad was right and I was setting myself up for disappointment.
But I had to try. Because the alternative, watching my stepbrother disappear entirely, wasn’t something I could live with.
And, if I was being truly honest with myself, I didn’t want to go to Italy alone.
It was supposed to be something special, a step forward in my life.
But without Ben everything just felt… hollow.
My phone buzzed with a text as I unlocked my front door.
Alex: Do I need shots or anything for Italy? And what’s the weather like?
I smiled despite myself. Maybe he actually wanted to go on this trip. That, at the very least, would make the entire ordeal more enjoyable.
Me: No shots needed. Weather should be perfect. Pack light. We can buy anything you forgot.
Alex: Good because I don’t own much anymore anyway.
The response made my stomach clench, but I pushed the feeling away. Two more days. Two more days and we’d be on a plane to somewhere that wasn’t here, somewhere that didn’t have so many memories attached to it. A place where I could make new memories and new friends.
Maybe it would be a disaster. But maybe, just maybe, it would be exactly what we both needed.