"You were looking for batteries."
I stared at him.
"How did you know that?"
"You always steal batteries from my drawer."
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then started crying again.
Caleb rolled closer.
"Come on."
"I'm sorry."
"I said it's okay."
I looked at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His face became serious.
"Because it's Earl's story."
I nodded.
"And?"
Caleb hesitated.
"And because I thought you'd misunderstand."
"How?"
"You'd think he only hangs out with me because of Danny."
I looked away.
He was right.
That exact thought had passed through me.
Caleb touched my arm.
"I'm not Danny."
"I know."
"He knows too."
"How do you know?"
"Because we talked."
"When?"
"The night he gave me the letter."
Caleb looked toward the living room.
"He said if being around him ever made me feel like some replacement kid, I should tell him and he'd stop."
"What did you say?"
"I said he was being stupid."
I laughed.
Caleb smiled.
Then his expression changed.
"He helped me."
My chest tightened.
"I know."
"No."
He looked directly at me.
"You know he takes me to games."
I waited.
"You don't know what it felt like before."
I did not interrupt.
"I know I was little."
He looked at his hands.
"And everybody kept saying I was doing great because I could transfer by myself or go up ramps or whatever."
His mouth tightened.
"But I hated everything."
"Caleb..."
"I'm not saying I hated you."
"I know."
"I hated waking up."
The sentence frightened me.
He saw it.
"Not like that."
He shook his head.
"I wasn't trying to die or anything."
I breathed again.
"I just didn't care what the day was."
He continued.
"Monday, Saturday, birthday, Christmas, whatever. It was all just stuff I had to get through."
I covered my mouth.
Caleb looked toward the framed Rangers photograph near the television.
"Then Earl showed up."
A small smile.
"He didn't ask me how I was feeling."
"He asked if the Rangers' power play still sucked."
I laughed through tears.
"It did."
"Exactly."
Caleb continued.
"Then there was a game."
"Then another game."
"Then I wanted to know when the next one was."
He looked at me.
"That's the first thing I remember waiting for after the accident."
Saturday.
Earl.
Hockey.
Something ahead.
Caleb touched the wheels of his chair.
"He didn't fix this."
"I know."
"He never tries."
The sentence mattered.
"He just made me remember there's still stuff I want to do with it."
I leaned forward and hugged him.
Caleb tolerated it for approximately four seconds.
Then pushed me away.
"I'm eleven."
"You're still my baby."
"That's embarrassing."
"Good."
Saturday came.
At exactly three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang.
I opened it.
Earl stood outside.