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I resisted the urge to argue with him about this. “I understand,” I said.
“I can’t come back here,” he said. “I can’t. This weekend, I’m going to tell Mom I want to stay.”
“That isn’t going to happen,” I said calmly but firmly. My heart was pounding a little faster now, but I was determined to be a good dad and not let on how much his words were hurting me. He was the one who needed support right now, anyway.
“Why are we even here?” Zach asked, throwing his hands up in the air. He got up and started frantically packing his suitcase with clothes.
“We’re here because this is my home,” I said.
“The only reason you want to be here anyway is because you’re weirdly attached to your best friend. Nobody would ever want to live in this stupid place.”
Every word stung like poison. I almost felt sick. “No, I like it here,” I said quietly and calmly. “I like my new job, and the people there. I like this creaky old house. I’m starting to get personal training clients. We’re building a life here, Zachie.”
“You’re building a life here,” Zach said, burying his face in his hands. “I just want to go home.”
A lump was forming in the back of my throat now as I watched tears stream down Zach’s face. I knew there was no use arguing with him while he was basically throwing a teenage tantrum, so I helped him pick up a few shirts that he’d tossed around the room, folding them nicely and placing them in his suitcase. I left and went to the kitchen, grabbing all of the ingredients out of the fridge and making a ham and swiss sandwich to pack into a plastic bag. I tossed the sandwich, two oranges, a small chocolate bar, and a bag of chips into a brown bag and folded it up.
Zach emerged from his room twenty minutes later, looking much more settled, with his suitcase in tow.
“This is for the plane,” I said, holding out the bag. “We should get going. Takes more than an hour to drive there.”
“I know,” he said softly.
We were mostly silent on the road over to the airport, but when I parked the car, I stopped him before we walked in.
“I understand how you’re feeling, believe it or not,” I said. “Have a good time in Chicago. Forget about this, okay?”
He nodded solemnly. “I will. And I… I’m sorry for acting like an asshole.”
“Thank you, kiddo. You’re not an asshole, you’re just going through a lot. A lot. I love you, you know.”
“I love you too, Dad,” he said, leaning over in the seat to give me a big hug.
I went with him into the airport and waited until the last reasonable minute before he had to go through security.
It took every ounce of control in me not to shed a tear as I watched him disappear after the X-ray machines.
I just wanted him to be happy. And anytime I was unsure about that, it shattered me.
The drive back to Amberfield was slow and full of traffic at first, then the cars thinned out as I got further and further away from the airport. When I got back home, I saw Evan’s car parked outside, and some part of my heart felt like it was instantly restored.
Evan was sitting on the edge of the small planter of flowers that lined the front of the house. He’d brushed the snow away. He was wearing one of those sweaters again, the kind he looked so fucking good in. It was a forest green color, which always brought out the light flecks of green in his hazel eyes.
“Hey, Ev,” I said.
“Hi,” he said as I walked toward him. “You doing okay? Things go all right at the airport?”
I nodded. “They went as well as they could have.”
He stood up and hugged me. “I know it must be hard to have him leave.”
“It’s been a long afternoon. Let’s get going and move that piano. I know you have a date tonight.”
“Right,” Evan said.
“You said you found this guy on a dating app, huh?” I asked. “I didn’t even know you were on one of those.”
He shrugged. “I check out some apps from time to time, but usually there isn’t much action on them. This guy is named Bruce. He is new to the Amberfield area. I got an alert about a new message from someone, and it turned out to be him.”
“That’s great, Ev,” I said, trying to sound encouraging.
My insides twisted. I didn’t know why it made me feel sick to think about Evan looking for other guys. It wasn’t like Evan was mine, or something. He definitely wasn’t my boyfriend. Evan was my best friend, and by all accounts, I should have been happy he was out playing the field.
