January

[You stand warned. This is a continuation of the last part written in exactly the same style with perhaps more error and less sense.]

“Alright,” said Gary, his voice shaking slightly. “Alright.” He pushed his sleeve up to reveal his right arm. “The catalyst? That she cared so damned much about the other people that she let this happen to her own kid!” He dropped his sleeve, his arm, and looked at the others, challenging, daring them to dismiss the four-inch long scar. “Happy now?

“No.” Zach crossed his arms and distractedly drummed his fingers along his upper arm. “How did you break your arm, Gary?”

He threw up his arms. “What is this now, an interrogation?”

Zach waited.

“Rock climbing. My mother was a rock-climbing instructor and she took me rock climbing along with one of her classes. The safety gear broke.”

Mike turned on his heels and walked out. In some ways, thought Zach with a sigh, he could sympathize. He even momentarily experienced the urge of using the It Was An Accident, Get Over It statement. A greater understanding of empathy had him swallowing that treacherous line and admitting that yes, the experience must’ve been horrible and yes, it was, in terms of overall trust, the equivalent of a betrayal. There was still something else though, that bothered him. Something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Well there goes Mike,” muttered Gary.

“Projects,” suggested Zach blandly. “What did your father do when this happened?” He expected some sort of snide comment, perhaps a refusal to answer now that he was the only one there. What he did not expect was the almost-smile which was, frankly, unnerving.

“Oh he was so mad,” Gary breathed, an almost-awed expression on his face. “I’ve never seen him that mad before.”

“Only child; I can imagine.” Zach pondered this new development

“Noooo,” Gary shook his head. “He divorced her for it.”

Zach’s mouth dropped open, but Gary was off somewhere else, wandering through the pale maze of memory, and did not notice.

“He got so mad that he divorced her, and they had this big fight over my custody. My dad won, of course.” He sounded, thought Zach, aghast, proud. “That woman’s a freaking idealist and didn’t stand a chance in court.” It was almost possible to see another man, older, the famed TV anchor, speaking from behind his son. “He won,” repeated Gary, a puzzled, slightly displeased frown crossed his face. “Come to think of it, I think that’s where he met my stepmum—she’s a lawyer on the case, you know.” And abrupt change of expression occurred. Zach wondered if Gary realized that he was ranting. Better out than in, he thought dazedly. “I don’t know what he wants!” Gary scowled, frustrated. “The college. The double major. The works, you know. What the hell does he want from me?” he finished with a wail.

Dear God, thought Zach.

“How do you know he wants something from you?” asked Zach.

“He’s my parent, of course he wants something from me.”

“Alright, you might have a point there, but have it ever occurred to you that maybe all he wants from you is be happy and healthy?” I mean,” Zach continued, forcing his tone to remain light-hearted with just a touch of dryness. “As cliché as that sounds, it’s actually the case for some parents. All good parents, actually.”

“My dad’s a good parent,” Gary interrupted, hastening to assure Zach, himself, the world.

“If he’s a good parent, then that’s, in general terms, probably what he wants from you.”

“But,” Gary looked confused, paused, and chewed on his lower lip. “But what if it isn’t?” he finished in a small voice.

“Then he’s not as good of a parent as you made him out to be, and you shouldn’t need to worry anyway,” Zach felt like saying, but that had more emotional implications that he could handle. Instead he said, “Ask you father.” He doubted Gary would, but even if he did, his father would not say no to this sort of question. It was the sort of question designed to make a parent grind their teeth, but try to look good anyway. And a TV anchorman such as Mr. Smith was bound to want to look good, even if only to his son, that much Zach was certain. “Look,” he chose his words carefully, knowing that, to some degree, he was destroying many of the fundamental laws which governed Gary’s world. “I know he’s your dad and all that…he’s your parent but…no matter how great we think our parents are, they’re…still human. They make mistakes…they can be wrong. Heck,” he tried a joke. “My mother once mistook a vein-and-artery diagram for a map!”

Gary stared at him. For one desperate, helpless moment Zach wished the others were here, now that the anger’s spent and the problem in the open. Now what Gary needed was comfort. If Nick were there he’d hug Gary as one would a little brother, saying everything’s fine, and be perseveringly cheerful until everything was fine. If Mike were here he’d make fun of everything and that’d be alright too.

Zach sighed, sighed and did the only thing he knew how to do under the circumstances, which was to wait, to respect the privacy and silence until the other person was ready to go on.

“Hrm,” said Gary, eventually, after some very awkward moments during which the two were unwilling to broach the silence. “Food.” His voice grew a little stronger. “I’m hungry, want to go get food?”

“Should I get the others too?” Zach asked softly, silently flicking himself with his fingers just on the inside of his wrist.

Gary looked panicked for a moment. He swallowed, then nodded nervously. “Um. Sure.”

“See you in the DC then, usual spot.” Gary nodded again. Zach took a deep breath and braced himself for the long aftermath would no doubt follow, and its questions, and stepped into the darkening air.

“All hail teen angst and its morbidities,” he muttered to himself, and sighed again.