"Thank you," Anna said softly. "It means more than you can imagine. I will call you again later." Zack stands frozen halfway out of his car; phone pressed to his ear as her soft thank you echoes through the receiver. The genuine gratitude in her voice hits him harder than any punch he has ever taken, making his chest swell with familiar warmth. "Yeah okay," he manages, his voice unusually gruff. "Call me whenever. I will wait up." He ends the call abruptly before he can say anything else stupidly sentimental and pockets his phone with trembling fingers. The cool night air does little to calm the racing heartbeat thrumming against his ribs. "Fucking hell," he mutters to himself as he slams the car door shut and stalks toward the house. "She is turning me into a damn sap." Inside, his father waits– a reminder of the real world waiting for him. But for once, he is not thinking about skipping school or rebelling against parental authority.
He enters through the side door into the kitchen, where the familiar smells of his father's homemade beef stews fill the air. Zack's father walks into the kitchen and asks when he sees Zack, "Want some dinner?" These turn of events make Zack freeze mid-step, because his father has not made him dinner since before his mother passed away. He immediately puts up walls– this is just another manipulation tactic, an attempt to make up for years of neglect. "What is this?" he asks suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest. "Trying to buy my forgiveness with my favourite meal? That is a new low, even for you." Despite his harsh words, Zack's stomach growls audibly at the sight of the steaming pot on the stove. The last time he ate his father's cooking was at least ten years ago, before everything changed. "Do not think serving me dinner means you get to lecture me again," he warns, leaning against the doorframe instead of approaching the table. "I am not some kid you can bride with food anymore."
His father sets two plates on the small kitchen table without responding, his movement deliberate and quiet. "Why would I buy your forgiveness?" he asks as he dishes out the beef stew into bowls. "You are the one who screwed up today." Zack pushed off the doorframe and strides into the kitchen, pulling out a chair with more force than necessary. "Screwed up? I screwed up?" he repeats incredulously, slamming his hands on the table. "I am almost eighteen years old, and you are still treating me like I am ten. When are you going to accept that I am not the kid who needs grounding anymore." His voice rises with each word, the familiar tension between them crackling in the small space. "I know how to take care of myself; I had to since you are never home. You want to talk about who screwed up? Look in the mirror." Zack's jaw clenches as he watches his father serve the stew, memories of happier family dinners flooding back unwantedly.
"Maybe if you stop acting like you are ten it would be easier," Zack's father said coldly. "At this rate you will probably have to repeat your final year." Zack's competitive nature ignites at the threat of repeating his final year, a direct attack on his academic pride. He slams both hands down on the table hard enough to make the silverware clatter. "Repeat? Are you kidding me?" he shouts, rising from his chair. "I am not some dumbass who can't pass his exams. You think failing is going to stop me from getting out of this house and this town?" his father remains seated calmly, stirring his stew with deliberate movements. "Then prove it, son. Show me you are responsible enough to handle college applications and a girlfriend without screwing up everything." The word 'girlfriend' hangs in the air between them like a challenge. Zack's jaw tightens as he pictures Anna's face– her kindness, her confidence, how she believes in him even when his own father does not.
"Anna thinks I am responsible," Zack continues defiantly, his voice dropping slightly as he remembers their earlier conversation. "She believes in me more than you ever have. She trusts me to drive her somewhere safe Saturday morning." He leans forward across the table; his competitive nature now focused entirely on proving his worth to this man who sees only failure. "And she is not going to break up with me if I get one bad grade. She knows I am working hard to graduate and get out of her too. Something you seem to forget about when you are too busy working overtime." The familiar tension between them thickens as Zack's father sets down his spoon with deliberate precision.
"Then maybe you should focus on that instead of fighting with me every night," his father says calmly, though his eyes hold a flicker of something other than anger– maybe disappointment or regret. "Just eat," his father finally says defeated. Zack watches his father begin eating, the sudden silence in the kitchen feeling heavier than their argument. His competitive nature wants to keep fighting, to push for an apology or at least some acknowledgment of his frustration. But Anna's voice echoes in his mind– "Be the better person." Her gently advice cuts through his anger more effectively than any shouting match ever could. He slowly sinks back into his chair, picking up his fork with deliberate movements. "You know," he says after a few minutes of tense silence. "Anna's helping her little bother with homework right not. She is probably explaining multiplication problems while I am over here arguing with you."
His father looks up from his bowl of beef stew briefly before focusing on his food again. "Good for her. At least someone is responsible enough to help others." The comment sting but Zack forces himself to take a bite of the beef stew instead of reacting immediately. The dinner progresses in silence. When it is done, his father dishes the leftovers into a container. "Wash up," he says causally to Zack.