Chapter 11

It's fucking insane. I've stared down the barrel of guns being held by bad guys with worse intentions and haven't been as fucking nervous as I am right now. Standing in front of my son's apartment, my stomach is turning somersaults so hard, I think I might be sick. Like, I might vomit all over his welcome mat. My heart is pounding in my ears and my blood pressure is so high, it's giving me a fucking banger of a headache. I think I might stroke out in the hallway before I work up the nut to actually knock on his door.

Closing my eyes, I silently count to ten, thinking of Cassie's face and hearing her voice echoing through my mind. Ever since she came into my life, she's been a calming presence. Admittedly, my mind can be a noisy, chaotic place. But in such a short time, she has become my oasis in the tempest. She is my solace. She is the place I go to when the cacophony in my head becomes too much. I honestly don't know how I ever coped with life, let alone all the bullshit that constantly bounces around my mind, without her.

Blowing out a deep breath, I grit my teeth and try to pull my shit together. I'm here for some finality. I'm here to get some closure and put this to bed one way or the other. Zane and I will either patch our shit up or we're going to go our separate ways for good. My hope is for the former, of course. But I'll find a way through it if it ends up being the latter. More than anything, what I'm realizing as I stand here is that I want Cassie to be proud of me.

It's a strange thought. It's crazy to think that somebody I've known for such a short period of time has had this kind of impact on me. That I want her to be proud of me. That she's my sense of peace amidst the chaos. Crazy or not, it's true. She has swept into my life like a fucking storm and has turned everything upside down and inside out. And perhaps the craziest thing about it all is that I like it. That I'm thankful for it. That I don't know how I've lived my forty years on this planet without having been shaken up like this before.

Without giving myself more chance to puss out of it, I raise my hand and knock on the door. A couple of moments later, it opens, and I find myself staring at my son. His hair is a wreck. He's got several days' worth of stubble on his face and looks like he hasn't changed his clothes, let alone bathed, in days.

"You look like shit," I say.

"Gee. Thanks, Dad," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk."

"Got nothing to say to you."

"Maybe not. But I've got some things to say to you."

"Not interested in hearing shit you've got to say, old man."

"Too bad."

I push past him and barge into Zane's apartment, stopping in the living room and frowning as I take it all in, aghast at the condition of his place. Beer bottles and crushed cans, pizza boxes, and old fast food containers cover every surface. A blanket and a pillow covered with a case that's stained and greasy sit on the sofa, where I assume he's been sleeping. Zane slams the door and storms in, throwing himself down on the couch and glaring at me disdainfully.

"Maid's day off?" I ask.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to open a window and air this place out," I say. "It fucking stinks in here."

"Get over it. My place, my rules."

"So, you enjoy living in filth?"

"Maybe I do," he snaps. "Now, get to it and get out. I got shit to do."

"I hope showering and cleaning up is on that to-do list."

"Go fuck yourself."

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. This is getting us nowhere. It's certainly not getting us closer to any kind of resolution. I make a concerted effort to dial down the irritation inside me and try to adopt a more conciliatory tone when I speak.

"Look, Zane, I didn't come here to fight with you."

"Then why did you come here?"

"Because we need to find a way past this."

"Do we?"

"You tracked me down after all those years for a reason. You wanted a relationship with me," I tell him. "And I want a relationship with you."

"Why? So you can fuck all my girlfriends?"

"I had no idea that you knew Cassie, Zane. She just showed up at my door one night because she was running from you. Because you scared the shit out of her," I say.

"We had a fight. It happens."

"Not all fights end up with somebody scared you were going to beat them."

"I would have never hurt her."

"She feared you might," I say. "That's the point. She ran from you because she thought you might actually hurt her."

"Then she's an idiot."

"What I saw that day you came to the bar tells me she's not. Or that she overreacted," I tell him. "You raised your hand to her. I thought you were going to hit her too, Zane. That's why I stepped in when I did."

"What do you want from me, Cash?"

"I want to find a way through this. I want us to keep building our relationship and not let this situation blow everything up."

"Yeah, well, I want the winning lottery numbers," he says. "I guess both of us are just going to have to get used to disappointment."

"You never even told me Cassie's name, Zane. You didn't tell me the first thing about her. How in the fuck was I supposed to know she was your girlfriend?"

"She's half your age, man."

"So? Should I have known she was your girl just because she's younger than me?"

"Younger than you? She's young enough to be your kid," he says, his voice thick with scorn. "How about going after somebody a little more age-appropriate? Jesus Christ."

"We don't get to choose who we fall for, kid. And some people just click on levels you never expected. Maybe one day you'll understand that."

"Great. Thanks for the life lesson," he spits. "You're a little late to be doling out fatherly advice. Like, almost twenty years too late."

"So, you're going to blame me for your mother's decision again, huh? Is there anything you don't want to blame me for?"

He shrugs. "I'll get back to you on that."

"You know, you're pretty fucking good at playing the goddamn victim. But maybe you should learn to take responsibility for your own bullshit, kid."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you might not be in this spot if you learned how to treat women with some fucking respect. Maybe, if you'd been a decent person, Cassie never would have left you in the first place. Your current situation is because of decisions you made. Because of things you've done. But you refuse to take responsibility because you're too busy blaming other people. That's what I mean. Learn to take responsibility for your own shit, kid. Learn to be a better man and a better human being overall. Do that and you might just be able to hold on to somebody as special as Cassie."

"Whatever. You don't know shit."

He glares at me for a long moment, looking as if I just slapped him across the face. He's not hearing what I'm saying. He's still too busy playing the victim to accept that he has a role—that he's the reason, actually—behind Cassie leaving him. What happened between them is his fault. Period. Plain and simple. And it appalls me that Zane, my son, not only treats women like garbage but is such a punk that he can't take responsibility for his actions. Like Cassie, I'm disillusioned with him, to say the least.

"You're not the person I thought you were," I say sadly. "I honestly thought you were better than this. But you're not even a decent person. I can see why she couldn't get away from you fast enough. It all makes sense now."

He recoils, surprise and hurt on his face. He quickly recovers though and puts that petulant, angry expression back on his face. He folds his arms over his chest.

"You want a relationship with me?" he asks.

"I would. But if we're going to have a relationship, you need to work on yourself."

He waves me off. "I'm not going to be able to have a relationship with you if you're with her," he says. "She hurt me. Badly. I can't have that constant reminder in my life."

"What are you saying, Zane?"

"I'm saying that if you want us to be able to move past this and work on having a relationship, you need to break it off with her."

I shake my head, the anger bubbling black and hot in my gut. "Are you fucking serious right now? You're trying to force me to break things off with Cassie?"

"Unless you can convince her to take me back, yeah. Like I said, I don't want the constant reminder of the pain she caused me—that the two of you caused me—in my life," he tells me without the slightest hint of humor in his voice. "I don't think I'd be able to have a real relationship with you with that kind of resentment still running around inside me."

"You're serious."

He nods. "I am. Either break things off with her or convince her to come back to me."

"Even if I were inclined to do that, I never would. You don't know how to treat her with the respect she fucking deserves."

"Then cut her loose and be done with it," he says with a shrug. "It's really the only way I can see us building a relationship together. I know you don't like it, but I'm being honest with you."

"Wow. That's just…unreal."

"Like I said, I'm sharing my honest feelings with you. I'm trying to take your advice by taking responsibility for how I feel."

His ability to twist my words and warp them to suit his agenda is remarkable. It's also manipulative as fuck.

"Yeah, I'm not going to play that game. I don't negotiate with terrorists," I say. "And that's exactly what you're behaving like right now—an emotional terrorist."

"Suit yourself. But you came here. You wanted to know what it was going to take to rebuild our relationship. Well, that's it. That's my price."

"That's a shame, kid. It really is," I say.

"Why's that?"

"Because there will be a day when you find yourself wishing you had a family. Remember, you're the one who sought me out. And you did that for a reason. I think it's because you wanted a father. A family. And you need to remember that you're the one throwing it all away because you're a petty, jealous, insecure boy, Zane. I honestly believed there was a decent, good person deep inside of you, but I guess I was wrong. You're behaving like a child, and in your tantrum, you're pissing away what you really wanted," I tell him.

"If you say so."

I shrug. "Maybe I'm wrong. That sort of thing requires a level of introspection and emotional intelligence that I'm not sure you're capable of. You certainly don't seem to have the ability to take responsibility for yourself, so perhaps I'm wrong about the rest of it, and you'll be fine going through life alone and without any meaningful relationships. Without anybody who cares about you. Relationships, be it with family or a woman, require sacrifice and honesty. I'm starting to think you don't have those things in you. Like I said, it's a shame."

Without another word, I turn and head for the door, leaving him sitting on the sofa watching me go.

"You really care about her, don't you?" he calls.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob then turn my head, looking over my shoulder at him.

"Yeah. I really do," I reply. "Good luck to you, kid."

I walk out of his apartment and close the door after me. I got my answer. I don't like it and wish it could be otherwise, but Zane has a lot of growing up to do and I can't help him do it. Not at the price he wants me to pay.