The sound of my fork scraping up eggs may as well have been the climax of an action movie. Caleb cast frequent, furtive glances at the bathroom door. Kelby had emerged from their room an hour earlier only to vanish into the bathroom and turn on the shower before any greetings could be shared. They’d been in there for forty-five minutes when Caleb finally gave up and left for work without brushing his teeth or a word to his sibling. I promised to text if something happened.
Two minutes later, in a puff of steam, Kelby crept from the bathroom. Their cheek had faded from red to purple.
“Morning,” I said.
“Hi.” They poured a glass of orange juice and took their usual place at the far end of the bar. They drank slowly while quizzing me on the weather and my job and the latest soccer scores. They didn’t say anything about the previous evening. I didn’t ask. When I finished my own meal I told Kelby to leave the dishes.
“No, I got it,” they said, the only sign they knew of Caleb’s and my spoiled evening. I texted Caleb of Kelby’s emergence.