Chapter 8 #2
Cy said, “She told us she was making breakfast tomorrow.”
“That’s not the same. There’s something weird going on.”
I said, “Do you think maybe she’s sick? Maybe she—”
“Don’t say that shit, Dani.” It wasn’t until Braden blurted out his admonition that I realized just how much he cared about Zack’s mom—that she was like a mother to him.
I didn’t know much about Braden’s family, just that he preferred Zack’s to his, but I suspected it was more than that.
I got the feeling he felt like he loved Zack’s mom more than his own.
“Sorry.” I didn’t say another word about it, but something didn’t feel quite right.
And that sensation continued throughout the evening. Because Zack’s mom brought Monopoly, we played until the early hours of the morning without anyone winning—although Cy was clearly ahead. And breakfast was enjoyable…but I still felt like something was off.
So as soon as his mother left, I waited for the opportunity to talk with Zack alone.
I figured it could take days to find the right moment, but I decided to sit my ass down at the kitchen table with my journal so I’d have a chance.
I was tired of writing, but I started doodling in the journal, finally scrolling through social media on my phone.
Both Braden and Cy had come and gone and were in the tiny living room playing a video game together.
Since Braden had started working at the electronics store, he’d been spending his paycheck on the merchandise they sold because he got an employee discount.
Zack and his mom had gone to lunch before she left the city and it wasn’t too late in the afternoon when he wandered in the house.
That was when I got full confirmation that something was wrong.
Ordinarily, he would have talked with the guys while watching them play, even if only for a minute or two.
And then he might have sat at the kitchen table to chat with me.
Instead, he walked straight for the cabinet where we kept most of our food and pulled out several boxes of cereal.
Behind those boxes was a big bottle of vodka I hadn’t known was there.
After pulling it out, he grabbed a glass from another cabinet and poured the clear liquid to the rim—without replacing the cereal or closing the cabinet doors.
As if in a daze, he drank a big gulp and then leaned back against the counter as if he wasn’t sure what he’d come in here for.
At first, I thought about asking, Is everything okay? But I knew it wasn’t, and that would have been the most insipid question I could have asked. So instead, keeping my voice soft, I asked, “What’s wrong, Zack?”
Scoffing, he blinked before taking another large gulp of vodka. I expected him to walk away but he surprised me. Sitting at the table, he said, “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. I got the feeling your mom was delivering some bad news.”
He was quiet for a bit, but I knew there were words aching to come out of him. Fortunately, Braden and Cy were in their own little worlds, not paying attention to us; otherwise, Zack might not have opened up to me like he did. “It wasn’t really bad news—but she finally told me about my dad.”
The timbre of his voice reflected the emotional intensity of his words—but I still didn’t realize just how hard it was for him.
“I thought you…” I stopped mid-thought, realizing what I was about to say was stupid at best and heartless at worst. His mother might have told him something in passing about his father over the years, but nothing of merit.
Nothing that he could take to the bank. So I changed my direction. “What did she say?”
“Remember how she told me he was a rock star? And that made me think he was famous? Well, that was bullshit.”
My mind traveled back a few years to when Zack got his first guitar, one that had supposedly belonged to his father—and what Zack’s theory was about him. My voice came out as a whisper. “Was he an inmate like you thought?”
At that, he actually smiled. “No. At least I was wrong about that. But…he is a musician. He’s not really famous, but he’s in a band here in Denver—a house band for some bar in Five Points.”
“No shit.” When I realized my voice was probably a little louder than it should have been, I lowered it again to ask my question. “So he’s still alive?”
“Apparently.”
“So why did she tell you now?” I imagined she’d thought maybe he was mature enough to handle the truth, but I didn’t quite understand why she’d waited this long.
“With us playing bars and stuff all the time, she was afraid we’d run into him—and she didn’t want me finding out that way.”
“But how would you even know?”
To answer that, he picked up his phone, and, after a couple of taps, set it on the table and turned it so I could see the screen.
For a split second, I oriented myself. It was a picture of a young couple, probably a little older than Zack and I were now, but it looked like an actual printed picture, not one taken by a phone, like Zack or his mom had snapped a picture of a physical photo.
And even though it wasn’t the best quality, I was struck by the man’s face.
Although his hair was only chin length, it was dark like Zack’s—and his full lips and chin caused my brain to play tricks on me, because for just one moment, I wondered if that was Zack.
But, of course, it wasn’t.
After I’d stared at it for far too long, Zack said, “He’s twenty years older now, so I might not recognize him—but he’d probably recognize me.”
We were quiet for a bit, long enough to hear Cy say, “Son of a bitch” at the game he and Braden were playing. Finally, I said, “Would that be so bad if he recognized you?”
“Yeah. He abandoned me…didn’t give a shit about me. Why would he care now? And why should I care?”
He talked a big game, but I could hear the pain in his voice.
It was unmistakable. But I thought about myself…
about a time when I thought I remembered having a dad in the house.
It was before school, before Ava, and long before my mom started working her fingers to the bone.
The memories had fuzzy edges, partly because I tried not to conjure them up—but, when I did, I knew my father and mother hadn’t gotten along.
I didn’t know why and it didn’t matter anymore.
But I sometimes thought, if I had the chance, I’d like to see my father, just once.
There were no pictures of him and, the few times I’d asked, my mom wouldn’t talk about him.
My grandparents were pretty quiet about the matter too.
Now that I was an adult, though, I thought I could make my own decisions—and I thought I might jump at the chance to see my father now.
Then again, I knew my mother and I had been better off without him. What little I remembered wasn’t good.
But there was something else, a question I had that I’d never bring up with Zack.
Did his dad even know he existed or had his mom always kept it secret?
Zack worshipped his mother and she loved him completely—so I didn’t want to ask that question and potentially drive a wedge between them.
I felt like if his father didn’t know about him, then it would only be fair to tell him, to give him a chance to be a real dad.
“I’m not saying you should care—but aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Fuck no. And I’m trying like hell not to be pissed at my mom for bringing it up in the first place. I hadn’t thought about him in years—and now he’s all I can think about.”
And probably why Zack was drinking vodka like it was water.
I decided to take a chance. Zack and I hadn’t really spoken in over a year, because I still harbored a grudge…but if I could let it go, maybe, just maybe we could learn to be friends again. Real friends. The way he’d just now chosen to tell me and not our bandmates—especially Braden—said a lot.
It felt like an olive branch.
“Do you think maybe it’s because, deep down, you do want to see him?”
Frowning, Zack circled his fingers around the glass of vodka but he didn’t pick it up.
Instead, he just twirled it by the base with his finger and thumb as if it were a crystal ball ready to show him the future.
“Probably…just to satisfy my curiosity. But maybe just watch him play in his shitty little band.”
Oh…Zack’s mom had no idea that she’d sliced her son open and left him gushing blood on the side of the road. Until now, I’d had no idea just how big a wound he’d been tending—or, more accurately, ignoring.
“If you go…do you want us to go with you?”
“No. I need to do it by myself.”
“Okay,” I said—but I didn’t mean it. Never had I been so worried about my friend, and I felt like a total asshole for being cold to him for so long.
Maybe Zack just didn’t know how to love me—but I knew how to love him, how to be there for him.
And I needed to. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched the top of his hand.
Zack turned his and held two of my fingers. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just don’t think Cy and Braden would understand.”
That was fair. Cy hated his dad and, although Braden didn’t talk about them, he had two parents in an intact home. Maybe he was the reason why Zack never said much. So I said, “Well…it could just be me if you wanted.”
“Yeah, but I keep coming back to the one sticking point.”
“And that is?”
Letting go of my fingers, Zack picked up the glass of vodka and stared at it for a moment. When his eyes shifted to mine, he said, “If he wanted me in his life, he would have tracked me down. He’s had twenty years to do that and I’ve never heard a word from him.”
With that, he pounded the liquid in the glass and stood.
“Thanks, Dani.” As he headed toward the bathroom, I thought about his last few words.
Would his dad have contacted him? There were so many unknowns that I wasn’t so sure—but it was such a sensitive subject, I didn’t want to push it with Zack.
Besides, he’d have to talk to his dad when he was ready.
I decided that I would be here when he was so I could support him in whatever way he needed. And, just like that, my heart was finally beginning to thaw.