If the Idols think money buys happiness, I feel sorry for them.
This, this right here is what life is all about.Dad isn't exactly thrilled to receive an invitation from Zack's family to have Thanksgiving dinner at the Brooks’ place. He hasn't said much since the video came out at the football game, but I know he's upset. More for me than for him, but still, even though I told him I forgave Zack, it isn't enough. Nor should it be, considering what Zack did to me.
Still, when the invitation comes, it's tempting to go.
“I did not know he was the one that drove you home from school,” Dad says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me like he’s severely disappointed. I tuck my bottom lip under my teeth and grimace. I never lie to my dad; I try to make it a habit not to lie at all. The thing is, I didn't exactly tell him either.
“Dad,” I start, glancing over at the brown paper bags full of groceries on the counter. I went shopping for everything we would need to have a huge Thanksgiving feast, but I’m just … tired, and Dad’s tired, and quite frankly it sounds kind of fun to hang out with Zack. Does that make me a crazy person? “Look, I'm not trying to minimize what Zack did to me. But I know you like to hang out with him, and I know he kept you company last year when I was gone. Going over to his house for dinner doesn't mean that he's been forgiven or that has sins have been forgotten.” I exhale and slide my palms down the front of my red skirt. “But don't you think he deserves a second chance? You gave one to Jennifer.”
Charlie purses his thin lips and tucks his hands into the pockets of his paint-covered overalls. He must believe in second chances, or he really wouldn’t be having an affair with Jennifer. We haven't talked about that yet; it seems so unimportant right now. Dad's health is the only thing that matters.
“I guess they'll probably have a full spread over there …” He starts, and I grin. I don't need to keep pressing: I’ve already won him over. Dad says I forgive too easily, but he also believes in the power of forgiveness. It’s a fine line to walk.
So on Thursday, we had over to the Brooks’ family home in Dad's rusted-out Ford. It rattles down the pristine white limestone driveway, coming to a stop near an impressive set of steps. The porch on this house is as big as the entire Train Car.
Zack is waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall near the front door with his big hands tucked into the pockets of his black slacks. I surprised to see him dressed up in a white button-down and jacket. He seems so uncomfortable in it, like he'd rather be in sweats and a tank, working out in the gym. Even though he seems nonchalant, I can tell he’s nervous about our visit. Probably nervous about confronting my father. As he should be, anyway.
Charlie gets out of the car in his unflattering yellow and red plaid button-down (I tried to convince him not to wear it) and brown slacks. Pretty sure this is the same outfit he wore to his friend’s wedding two or three decades ago. He’s also wearing an extreme frown that looks carved into the slightly wrinkled planes of his face. As he makes his way around the front of the truck and heads up the stairs, Zack lifts his head and meets my eyes.
There's no doubt about it: my heart stumbles, trips, falls. I have a hard time breathing, and my palms are suddenly sweaty. I curse those damn teenage hormones out again, and roll my eyes as Charlie approaches Zack with a no-nonsense expression on his face.
“Zack.”
“Mr. Reed.”
The two men stare each other down, and I wait at the bottom of the steps to see who will break the tension first. Even though I can tell it pains him, Zack is the one to do it, glancing away from my father and toward the rocking chair covered pumpkins, bits of hay, and a smiling scarecrow. The entire porch is decorated in fall themes: orange, red, and yellow leaves, turkey silhouettes, horns of plenty. I wonder who did the decorating? Probably someone that was paid to do it. The Brooks don’t exactly strike me as a family who does their own decorating.
Zack looks back to my father again, and meets his stare dead-on.
“Sir, I apologized to your daughter once, but I'll do it again. I’d like to apologize to you, too.” Zack lifts his chin proudly. “For the things I've done, there are no words to make up for it. But I really am sorry. From now on, I'll try to be a better man. It wasn't Marnye’s job to teach me how to be one, but she already has anyway.” Zack turns his brown gaze over to me, and I feel a little thrill shoot through me. It takes everything I have in me not to fidget. “Thank you, Marnye.”
