Alex looked at me. "Phil Dunphy, looking at pictures of women on tractors? That would be the least surprising thing he's done this week. Last week, he tried to sell a house using a magic trick that went wrong and ended up setting a tablecloth on fire."
"That was an accident."
"Everything my dad does is an accident. But somehow, it always works out in the end."
In the living room, the "man-to-man conversation" was devolving into disaster.
"Luke," Phil said, hands on his knees, an expression of misplaced intensity on his face. "When a man and a woman love each other very much, sometimes... sometimes the man sends the woman a picture of... of..."
"Of a tractor?" Luke asked.
"Of a woman on a tractor," Phil corrected. "And that picture... well, it's not something a boy your age should see because... because tractors are dangerous, and women on tractors... also, for road safety reasons."
Claire put her hands to her head. "Phil, please, let me talk."
"No, no, no. I've got this. Luke, what I'm trying to say is... it's okay to be curious, but there are things you see on the internet that... aren't real. Like unicorns, or honest politicians, or women on tractors without... without... helmets. Yes, helmets. It's dangerous to drive a tractor without a helmet."
Luke stared at him with wide eyes. "Dad, are you okay? You look like you're having a seizure."
"I'm perfectly fine. I just... just need a glass of water."
Phil stood up and shot toward the kitchen. Claire followed him with her eyes, with an expression mixing exasperation and suspicion.
"Something's wrong," Alex said, her fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. "My dad is nervous. And it's not the kind of nervous he gets when he's about to do something stupid. It's the kind of nervous he gets when he's trying to cover something up."
"How can you tell the difference?"
"The first kind comes with exaggerated gestures and bad jokes. The second kind comes with sweat on the forehead and furtive glances. My dad has all three."
From the kitchen, we could hear Phil talking quietly with Claire. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone was one of contained argument.
"Should we eavesdrop?" I asked.
"No need. I already know what's going to happen. My dad is going to convince my mom that he can handle the situation. Then he's going to talk to Luke and blame him for something he didn't do. Luke is going to confess to something he did do to avoid getting in trouble for the other thing. And in the end, everyone is going to be fighting over something that started with a picture of a woman on a tractor."
"That's very specific."
"I've been living in this house for eleven years. I've seen enough parades of chaos to recognize the patterns."
Phil came back from the kitchen with an expression of renewed determination. Claire followed behind, arms crossed, jaw tight, as if she'd lost the battle but not the war.
"Luke," Phil said, sitting across from his son, hands clasped. "Your mother and I have decided that... that I'm going to talk to you. Alone, in your room. So you can have... privacy."
"Privacy for what?"
"To confess. If you have something to confess. Which you probably do. But I'm not going to judge you, because I was a kid once, and I was also... curious about tractors."
Luke looked at him with a mix of confusion and amusement. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking about."
"You will. Come."
Phil took Luke by the arm and led him upstairs. Claire stayed in the living room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the stairs, as if waiting for something to explode.
"Mrs. Dunphy?" I said, approaching with the cookie tray. "Would you like a cookie? They're oatmeal raisin."
Claire looked at me, and for a moment her expression softened. She took a cookie, bit into it without enthusiasm.
"Thanks, Leo. You're a good kid. Always bringing cookies. Always... being there."
"That's what friends do."
"You know? When Alex was younger, she used to say she didn't need friends. That books were enough. That equations never let her down." She paused, looking at the cookie in her hand. "And now she has someone she shares everything with. And I... I don't know if that makes me happy or scares me."
"Why would it scare you?"
"Because when someone means a lot to you, they also have the power to hurt you. And Alex... Alex isn't used to that. She doesn't know how to handle really caring about someone."
I didn't say anything. Words stuck in my throat, not because I didn't know what to say, but because Claire was right.
"But anyway," Claire said, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. "That's a problem for the future. Today, I have to deal with my son watching agricultural porn."
"Agricultural porn," I repeated, unable to suppress a smile.
"That's what Phil said. 'It's not porn, honey, it's high-voltage agricultural content.'" She sighed. "Sometimes I don't know how I ended up in this family."
"I think you chose them, Mrs. Dunphy."
Claire looked at me, and for a moment her eyes grew moist.
"I chose them," she repeated. "And I would choose them again. Even though Phil is an idiot, and Luke is a disaster, and Haley is a diva, and Alex... Alex is so complicated. They're mine."
"And you're theirs."
She nodded, and then, without another word, she went upstairs.
Alex came to my side, hands in the pockets of her gray sweatshirt.
"What did my mom tell you?"
"That she's afraid I'll hurt you."
"Really?"
"She didn't say that. She said she's afraid someone will hurt you. Because you're not used to caring about people."
Alex fell silent. Her fingers drummed on the table, but her eyes were fixed on the stairs.
"And is it true?" I asked. "You're not used to it?"
"I don't know," she replied quietly. "No one ever stayed long enough for me to really care."
"I stayed."
"I know."
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