Relief doesn't even begin to describe the emotion coming from Zach's mother when he walks through the door. She holds her son and kisses him, telling him how worried she was that he had abandoned them forever. She insists on making him the biggest breakfast she can manage and instructs him to wait for his father to come down.
Zach's appetite wanes at the mention of his father. How much trouble would he be in for leaving? He holds his shaking hands under the table and waits.
That's why it's such a surprise to him when the very man, refreshed from a night's sleep and warm shower, strides into the kitchen with a wistful smile.
"Zach's back!" he calls, clapping him on the back as he passes then rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his morning coffee.
Hopeful bewilderment washes over Zach. Was he worried for no reason? This whole time, had he been exaggerating his father's demeanor in his own mind? Had he been imagining him as such a bad guy when...really, he just had a temper like everyone else? What a horrible thing to do. His heart leaps in his chest.
"Hello, father."
His mother protests his dispassionate response. "Stanley, he was gone for two months! You're his father; say something!"
Zach's father shakes his head. "He'll be a man soon. And men aren't easily tied down now, are they?" He sends Zach a wink and straddles the chair to enjoy his breakfast.
"But where were you," insists his mother. "Do you have any idea what I went through after realizing you weren't on that bus?"
"Leave him be, wife. A man's life is his own." He turns back to Zach, who is still in shock at the household's rare atmosphere and, almost with humor, offers the phrase, "With a girl, were you?"
"No," Zach looks down with a smile to match his father's. "A boy."
If he had thought harder about his answer before responding, if he hadn't gotten caught up in the mood, been lost in thought about how he was somehow off the hook, he might have been able to get away with the honesty and undeniable adoration in his voice. He might have been able to continue with the lighthearted punishment and soft scolding of his father. But, after the short comment causes his father to look at him quizzically, an immense blush falls over Zach's face, making the meaning of his words unmistakable. He's made a horrible mistake.
"Wife, leave us alone now."
Zach's eyes lock onto his mother's, and it seems like she wants to protest, but the phone rings in the next room, so she obeys her husband and stalks away to answer it.
The humor has left the room. Icy stillness lingers in its place.
"There. Now it's quieter. I don't think I heard you right."
"I don't-" Zach shakes his head, not wanting to repeat the words that changed his father's unstable mood so quickly. He can't bring himself to deny them, either—to cry out, Yes father, you heard correctly. I'm not interested in women.
His eyes are on the man before him, but he can't seem to focus on his face. Everything seems so far away. Sweat drips into his eyes, stinging their corners. Why hadn't he told him he was working a summer job and staying with a friend? Things were fine just a moment ago. What has he done?
"If you met him, you'd like him." he attempts to explain. "And Granny. Oh, and Maddie, she's like an angel. But especially Shane."
Saying his name out loud feels like a betrayal. But he can't stop the words from escaping. "He's so different from anyone I've known. He-"
"What the hell are you saying?"
The words make Zach flinch. He breathes harder, panting now. He's scared. His brows curve in on themselves as he realizes he can't undo what he's done. Without even meaning to, he's told his father what he hadn't planned to—caught off guard by the man's good mood and his own unfamiliarity with the undesirable dynamics of his family after all these weeks.
He'd grown so accustomed to sharing what was on his mind. How could he be so foolish? The safe environment where he could be himself, say what he thought, try so hard to not get caught while also not minding when he did? He's not there anymore. The farmhouse is back in Shanan. He is here in this room with his father now, far away from that place. He licks his lips and swallows hard, finding no moisture in his mouth and feeling faint as panic sets in.
His father stands, and Zach looks up at him, sinking into the chair like a puddle. Would he hit him now, too? His father has never actually struck him, but Zach has witnessed it before. It was something he wasn't meant to see; he was supposed to be in bed. But he could never forget the blur that turned into a single, finite slap. He could never wipe the memory of his mother reeling backward, sent almost too far by the force behind this man's strike. He saw her body twist oddly as it tried to compensate for the backward motion, then slap hard against the stove and crumple further into the floor. He can still see her attempting to rise and failing, finally giving up to stare helplessly at her towering husband across the room.
Is that what will happen to him? He's almost grown, now. He's tall. And working in the fields has made him strong. He thinks he can handle it. It might not be that bad.
The man doesn't hit him. But a seething and snake-like aura is writhing around his frame. Almost—for just a moment—Zach wishes he would hit him and be done with it. Whatever his punishment, get it over with quickly. Unfortunately, that isn't what transpires.
"You ran away from home to be with a boy..."
"No! No, I.. I met him by chance."
"Oh," he says, nodding his head with his eyes fixed on Zach. "So that makes it all okay. Stand up!"
Zach's body obeys before his mind catches up.
"Up the stairs. Up!" He marches him up the flight of stairs and down the hall toward Zach's bedroom. Having an idea of what's coming, Zach backs up against his father, shaking his head. The man pushes back, and Zach catches himself on the doorframe, eyes wide.
"You're gonna sit in your room and you're gonna think about what it is you've done. You're gonna sit there, and you're not coming out until you've made the right decision, am I clear?"
"Decision a-about what..."
"Excuse me? Am I clear!"
"Yes."
"Yes, sir," his father corrects.
"Yessir."
"And I don't want you mentioning that boy ever again in this house, hear me?"
"Yessir."
"This is my house and my rules, and you are my son who will abide by those rules now and forever, as far as I'm concerned."
Zach hesitates before giving in with his final reply as the door slams before his eyes. "Yes...sir."
It only takes about thirty minutes for him to realize his father is no longer in the house.
With a trembling hand, he reaches for the doorknob. He won't leave. He won't disobey. He just...wants to check something.
After his hand closes around the brass knob and the tremors cease, Zach holds his breath. He twists.
It doesn't budge. And immediately, he feels lightheaded. His legs shake, and he lowers himself into the floor, hanging helplessly on the door that has been locked from the outside.
It's dark by the time the screen door slams shut downstairs and his mother demands answers from her husband. Zach lay face-up on his mattress, too numb to move. After missing the first few exchanges between the two, he listens on as the conversation grows louder in volume until it's a muffled and heated argument rising up from the floor.
"Lower your voice; the twins are sleeping," his mother begs.
"Don't tell me to lower my voice! He's your son! And you allowed this to happen! You allowed him to be out of your sight, and now he's been traipsing around the countryside doing who knows what, picking up diseases and—"
"Honey!"
"Honey WHAT? He could be whoring around with animals too for all we know."
"I don't want to listen to this anymore."
"You may not want to listen but it's what's going on! Your son is corrupt and it's your fault! You name me as the bad guy just cause I slapped you around once. You just can't let that go!"
"It was more than once, Stan! This is not what we're talking about!"
"—Say all our problems are on me! You run away and you run away. Run away to mama, run away to sister. He learned it from his mother! Ignoring what's happening around you. Thinking you're getting away from me, but it's all. On. You!"
Zach can't listen anymore. He throws his pillow over his ear, pushes his head into the mattress, and wills himself to feel nothing.
He stops counting the hours and starts counting the days. After five, he gives up altogether. His mother brings his meals to his room, apologizing and making excuses for her husband but insisting that he only wants what's best for him, that they both do, that there is nothing she can do once he's made up his mind about things such as this.
He would refuse to meet her eyes but thank her for the meal, waiting until she's gone to stare down at it until hunger comes. It rarely does.
On the seventh day, Zach looks out his window to see children on buses and parents waving goodbye. School starts this morning, and for an entire week, Zach has only left his room to empty his bladder twice a day. He hasn't bathed, he's barely slept, he's been all alone with his thoughts and regrets, his confusion and, at times, hatred. Compared to this...school sounds like a heavenly place to be.
Boots fall heavily on the floor outside his room. His father. He must know what day it is. Zach takes the chance.
"May I come out?" he dares to say to the shadow weaving in from underneath the door. He can feel the desperation on his face. His eyes feel dry and his muscles feel sore. The seconds feel like minutes before an answer comes.
"Have you learned your lesson?"
"Yes! Yes, sir. Please let me go to school." Anywhere. Anywhere but this room. This house. Tears would be leaking out if he had any to spare.
"Have you learned."
"Yes! Yes! Please." He tugs once more at the doorknob.
"Are you lying to me?"
Zach holds his head in his hands before falling against the wall. He's not going to let me out. I'll be in here forever. Am I going to die here? He clutches his chest to try to calm his breathing.
"He's been in there a week, Stan!"
"Stay out of this! This is between a father and his son."
Zach turns his head from the wall. "I...I don't know what it is you want me to learn, but I'll do what you say. I will."
When the door opens to the darkened hallway, he immediately regrets what he's done. He wants to retreat back into his room rather than face his father wearing the face of a proud man who has won a short victory over an unseen enemy.
"I want you to learn what it means to be a man." He motions for Zach to exit the room, then places a hand on his shoulder, changing his approach to that of a gentleman pleading for reason.
"Now, we have a deal. Hear me. I'll be a better father, and you'll be a better son. I'll be around more, I'll try. We're in this together, don't forget. Sound good to you?"
The twins peek out from their room. Zach had forgotten all about them.
Suddenly, the world seems harsher out here.
His father means his words, he can tell. That may be what hurts him the most. More than his own naivete. More than Shane's face the day he decided to leave. More than the hours he just spent staring at the wall. In the end, he's the weakest person of all.
"Yes, sir."