The host always offered to let the remaining ones stay, have their parents come get them in the morning. That was my cue to fake sleep, head tipped back, hands open and loose, encouraging a bit of drool to slip out of my mouth. I knew Dad would never leave me; he always felt better if I was home with him, what was left of our family safe under one roof, even if it did leak. So I’d wait for him to come, struggling to keep my body in an approximation of sleep when I was so tense, hoping he’d fall for it. Maybe he knew I was faking it every time, or maybe he’d had so many beers I didn’t need to
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