A pounding comes from the front door, and Zach answers to discover one of his classmates, or really, former classmates bundled up in the cold. After Christmas break, Zach stopped attending high school and immediately began preparing for his college classes, meaning he hasn't seen anyone from the school for weeks. What could he want?
"Hey!" the boy calls out grabbing his oversized hat as if he can't believe Zach actually answered the door. "Good, this is where you live after all. I wasn't sure!"
Zach blinks at him, then out the door behind him, wondering again what he could be doing on his step. He doesn't know him well. They've taken classes together over the years and even worked on projects together. But never have they made house calls or contacted one another outside of class.
"I haven't seen you around school lately." The boy hooks a hand around his neck and says in embarrassment, "I thought maybe you were sick or something, but it doesn't look like that's it at all."
He flails his hands around in the air, adding, "I mean! Unless you are sick, and I just can't tell. I guess that's a thing?"
Ah.
"I had enough credits to graduate a semester early. I won't be going back."
"Oh," the boy says in disappointment as a cloud of condensation escapes his mouth into the brisk air. "So that's what it was. Gosh, I had no idea that was even an option." He seems to be distracted by his new train of thought.
Zach's eyebrows knit together. Was that all he came to ask? How long was he going to stand there in the cold? Should he invite him in? But...his father is home until the week's end. He shouldn't allow company inside the house without consulting him first.
"Well..say, I uh…" The boy clears his throat, standing up straighter in the doorway. "I mean, me and some guys are all going together to the football game this Friday night. I know it's not really your school anymore, but ya think you still have some school spirit? Wanna come and show your colors?"
"Oh." Zach didn't see that coming at all. That was nice of them to think of him. He'd never been to one of the games before and never played sports himself. And this kid was standing at his door, nose red and gloves off in a polite effort to invite him. For some reason, that makes him happy.
Zach laughs, and the boy looks around, wondering if he's laughing at his invitation.
"Sure, I'll go."
"Really?! Aw, great. I mean, I'll tell the guys! And uh, I'll-I'll come and pick you up Friday. Sound good?"
"Sounds good."
The boy pounds his fists together as he backs down the steps, waving before he turns to leave.
Zach closes the door with a smile and turns to get back to his studies, but almost jumps out of his skin when he realizes his father is standing there, blocking the way.
"You're not going with that boy."
It takes Zach a moment to process his father's words before realizing what he saw and how he might interpret the exchange.
No. That's not it. You're wrong, he wants to say to him. This is wrong.
He shouldn't be scared of being seen with that boy. He didn't mean any harm. He was just being nice, inviting him to go out with a group of friends. Is he not even allowed to have friends? Is he not allowed to have anything? His fists clench together, but he can't bring himself to say those sharp words to his father.
"It's a group of my friends," he argues. "We're all going together. You must have heard."
"I can't trust you."
Trust me with what?
"I...I want you to trust me."
"And maybe one day you'll prove to me that I can. For now, we're done with this conversation." His father turns away as Zach runs his fingers through his hair, regretting ever opening the door.
________________
If he knew the boy's last name, if he knew where he lived, knew what number to call, he could have avoided this disappointment. Zach answers the door Friday night to reveal his friend already smiling, motioning with excitement to the car still running. Its headlights shine brightly through the darkened front drive.
Zach wishes he could go with the boy. He wishes he had the courage to grab his coat, lock the door behind him, and hop in beside him to share a teenager's night out with a group of excitable and spirited boys.
He wishes he was in the back of the old man's pickup truck on his way to the fields.
"I'm sorry. Something came up. I can't go tonight."
The boy's face falls as he pulls at his glove. "Oh. That's okay. We'll do it another time."
It's not enough. What do I say? He rushes his next words as he tries to close the door, shutting out yet another piece of light in his life. "Actually, it's best if you don't come around here again. I'm not interested in stuff like that."
His friend grabs the door. "We can do something else! Besides football? Um, me and the guys. I'm sure we can think of something else to do!"
Zach is getting desperate. He can hear his father stepping heavily into the room behind him.
I'll handle this on my own. I'll do it.
But the boy is so adamant now, practically pleading. He's so honest. He's so nice. Zach can't get over how nice it was of him to invite him, to think of him. He can feel his father's eyes boring into him.
"YOU NEED TO LEAVE!"
That takes the boy by surprise. After releasing his hold on the door, he stares wide-eyed at Zach. Reigning in his shock, he manages to briefly and ever so slightly raise his eyes to look at the looming man behind him, then back at Zach.
No. Don't. Don't see it. Just...please, go. Zach begs without words.
The boy's face falls.
"Sorry…"
He turns away to walk down the steps and into his running car, then slowly disappears into the evening. Only then does Zach push the door shut with a solid slam.
He doesn't wait for his father to speak. He doesn't look at him. He tries not to think about him as he trudges through the house and up the stairs to his room.
Why? Why is this happening? Is it me? Am I hurting people? Am I being selfish?
What can he do to distance himself even a little bit from his father? What can he do to prove to him that...that he....
How can he assure this never happens again?
Before the evening is over, he emerges. He walks with confidence down the stairs and into the living room where his father is holding a can of beer and watching the television. After waiting only a moment for the man to acknowledge him, he opens his mouth to speak. Before words come out, his father mutes the program, looking directly at Zach as he does.
The unexpected stillness halts his words. At least Zach knows he's listening. He hopes his words will please his father, or at least stop the turbulence between them. If he would just leave him be.
"I'm...going to ask Nina to go steady with me. I...want to date her." He looks to the side. "I enjoy her company. And I think..she..likes me, too."
"Good. Good...that's very good. One day you'll understand how important it is to be married to a woman like that."
The man unmutes the tv and returns his attention to his show, finished with the conversation, and with his son.
"One thing at a time," Zach whispers too softly for his father to hear.