Finding Zach (27 page)

“Why do you say that?”

“Because nobody’s safe. Nobody has the right to feel safe, because it can all be taken away from you. David makes me feel safe and that makes me feel not safe.” Zach shot out of his chair and started pacing. “I know, it’s stupid. But I don’t want to feel that way. I can’t let myself feel that way. If I let myself, what will happen when I’m not safe anymore? I won’t be ready. I won’t be prepared.”

“You’ll be vulnerable,” Dr. Barrett said.

“Yes! And I can’t be. I
can’t
.”

“Zach, being vulnerable is part and parcel of being human.”

“Then I don’t want to be human,” Zach said wildly. “I want to be, to be
Andrew
.”

“Do you know what you’re protecting yourself from?”

“No. Yes. Everything.” He stopped pacing and stood before them, his hands fisted. “I’m scared. I’m really, really scared. And I don’t know what the fuck I’m scared of. Everything, I guess. And David makes me feel not scared and that scares me worse than anything else.”

“Fear is also a part of being human, Zach,” Dr. Barrett said. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”

“How do you
stop
?”

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “you can look at probabilities and rationalize them, but that doesn’t always work. Or you can face whatever it is that you fear. There are different therapies for specific phobias.”

“What about pantophobia?” Zach asked dryly.

Jane giggled, surprising everyone including herself. The shrink looked at her in puzzlement.

“It’s from Peanuts,” she explained. “Lucy’s trying to analyze Charlie Brown and she asks him if he has pantophobia, and when she explains that it’s fear of everything, he yells ‘
That’s it!
’ and she goes rolling over from the force of his yell. I guess you have to see it.”

“I remember the cartoon,” Dr. Barrett said. “That was in
A Charlie Brown Christmas
, right?”

“I think so.”

Zach said, “We always used to watch that every year at Christmas. We haven’t since I’ve been back.”

“We will this year,” Jane promised.

“Zach, back to your fears. Fear is normal, and most of the time more or less healthy. But not when it prevents us doing something that needs to be done or that we want to do. Maybe for your session this afternoon, you can make a list of things that you fear the most, and we can work on them.”

“Okay,” Zach said. He dropped back into his chair, stretched out his legs, and went back to studying his toes.

“W
OODCHUCK
C
IDER
,”
David said, and slid a five across the bar. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” Terry said. “How you been, Davey?”

“Decent, decent,” David replied, and took the bottle Terry handed him. “I’m back for good, I guess. Got a job teaching at Wesley Community College.”

“That so? Teaching what?” Terry opened a Woodchuck for himself.

“Art and design. It’s a good gig. I start tomorrow. Thought I’d treat myself before I jump into the grind.”

“Beth’s sister taught there for a while. Math, I think. She said it was pretty nice there.”

“Why’d she leave?”

“Married a Kansan.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Flatlanders,” they chorused, and clinked bottles. Terry grinned.

“Haven’t seen your little buddy around lately,” he said. “Not that he’s that little anymore. Holy shit, what did they feed the kid while he was away?”

“No much of anything, from what I hear,” David said. “He’s built up some since he got back, I guess.”

“Yeah, musta. I didn’t recognize him when he first started coming around here. Took me a few days, but then I heard that his folks had brought him back and figured out who he was. Wasn’t what I expected, that’s for sure.”

“Thought he’d be this poor pitiful me type, didn’t you?”

“I did. Nothin’ pitiful about that kid.”

“Nope,” David said wryly. “He’s got a mind of his own.”

“Couple people come around askin’ questions about him, but I ain’t talkin’. I don’t think anyone’s figured out who he is yet, though. Like I said, he’s sure a lot different. I remember when Beth worked for Tyler before the kids were born and we’d go to the company picnics and stuff. He was always such a friendly, happy kid. Not any more.”

“Who’s been asking questions?” David asked suspiciously.

“A couple people. Strangers, mostly. Reporters and that crap. But you know, this is a neighborhood place, not like some of those joints downtown. We know who our people are. And we don’t talk about them to strangers.” Terry glanced over David’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

A body settled at the bar next to David, a warm and solid presence. “Taff. Terry.”

“Hey, kid,” Terry said. “Scotch?”

“What are you guys having?”

“Woodchuck Cider.”

“I’ll take one of those.”

Terry served him the cider and then went off to attend to some other customers. They drank in silence a moment, then Zach asked in a low voice, “Are you pissed at me?”

David considered the question. “No,” he said finally. “Not pissed.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know, Zach. Not happy.” David picked at the label on his bottle. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now, but it’s not happy.”

“I’m sorry. I just had to get out of the house. I didn’t want… well, that’s not quite true. I
did
want to stay with you. Too much. It scared me.”

“You don’t trust me not to push. I get it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, it never is.” David sighed. “It’s okay, Zach. It’s a speed bump. Nature’s way of telling us to slow down.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” Zach said in a fierce undertone. “I want to be with you, Taff.” He turned his head to look at David. “I’m scared as shit but I
want
you.”

David closed his eyes as a shudder went through him at the hunger in Zach’s voice, in his eyes. “I got it,” he said.

“I wish I did,” Zach said. “Come home with me, Taff.”

David hesitated, then shook his head. “Not tonight. My first class is at ten and I gotta be there by nine to get stuff set up. And I want to go running in the morning. I need to get to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“You will. I promise,” Zach whispered.

David shuddered again. “Fuck,” he muttered.

Zach leaned over so his shoulder brushed David’s. “That’s what I had in mind,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Terry said as he came by with a handful of empties, “I meant to ask you—you guys in a fight or something?”

“What?” Zach frowned.

“Well, your nose is all swollen”—Zach put his hand over his nose automatically—“and Davey’s got a black eye.”

Zach turned to David in surprise. “What?” He put his hand under David’s chin and turned his head. “Fuck, Taff! You do!”

“It’s not that bad,” David said.

It wasn’t, just a slight discoloration, but still noticeable. He’d been standing on David’s other side, so hadn’t seen it. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“No big,” David said dismissively. “It doesn’t even hurt. It’ll go away in a day or two.”

“And in the meantime you start teaching with a honking big black eye,” Zach said remorsefully. “I’m sorry, Taff.”

“You sock him?” Terry asked interestedly.

“Accidentally,” David assured him. “Shit happens, you know?”

“Don’t I,” Terry said, and carried the bottles over to the recycler.

“Well,” Zach said thoughtfully, “if you have a black eye, maybe that will intimidate the students so they don’t give you a hard time.”

David laughed. “It’s college, Zach, not high school. The kids are there because they want to be there.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Zach finished his Woodchuck and pinned down a five on the counter with the bottle. “Well,” he said reluctantly, “if you don’t want to come home with me….”

“No,” David said, “but you could come home with me.”

Zach raised his head and gave him a hopeful puppy look. “Seriously?”

David sighed. “Yeah, seriously. And if you’re trying to look like a bad-ass, puppy eyes don’t help, dweeb. But you gotta let me get to sleep at a reasonable time and no nightmares, okay?
And
we go running in the morning.”

“Okay.”

A quick grin flashed on David’s face and he added, “Besides, I moved the full bed from the guest room into my room this afternoon. It’s still not as comfortable as your king, but a hell of a lot better than the twin.”

Zach was grinning widely. “Excellent,” he said enthusiastically.

David shook his head.

Chapter 19

“
Y
EAH
, it went fine,” David said, his cell phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he finished putting away the art supplies in the closet. “I’ll tell you more if you bring a pizza by about nine. I’m starving.”

Zach said, “Why didn’t you stop and eat dinner? I thought you said you had a break at six.”

“I had kids with questions after my class.”

“You gotta make sure you eat,” Zach said disapprovingly. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, Mother,” David said. “I’m packing up now and should be home in a little bit. I’ll provide the liquid refreshment and a salad; you provide the pizza. I think Mom has set-ups in your freezer; cook it before I get home, because I am not willing to wait.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Zach retorted.

David grinned and disconnected. He was almost done, ready to go home, as tired as he’d ever been in his life, but with a real sense of accomplishment. It was going to be a good move. The kids in his Introduction to Watercolor and Basic Drawing classes were enthusiastic and interested; the ones in his CAD classes less so, since CAD was a required course for the tech program, but still most of them were determined to do well, if the number of questions they’d had after each class was any indication. And they were all subjects he was comfortable with, so that was cool. The kids had all been impressed with the fact that he’d done internships with both ILM and Weta, and that seemed to add to their enthusiasm.

But teaching five classes was going to be tough. The two traditional art classes only met on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but the CAD classes were Monday through Thursday, with optional labs on Fridays. He had the suspicion that he’d be playing catch-up on his lesson plans during his off-periods on Fridays; these kids were chewing through his carefully ordered syllabi faster than he’d allowed for. He grinned to himself. Ah, better overworked than bored.

He turned off the lights in the art room and locked the door, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder. Footsteps sounded down the hall, and he turned to see Bill Hernandez.

“How did it go?” Bill asked cheerfully.

“Great,” David said enthusiastically. “These kids are awesome. I’m gonna really enjoy working with them. A couple of them brought in some of their own work for me to look at; I think there’s some real talent there.”

“I heard you yourself are working on a gallery show this fall?” Hernandez fell into step beside David.

“Yeah, I know someone in the Springs who’s expressed interest in showing some of my stuff. I’ve got most of it in storage right now, but there are some pieces I’ve had good feedback on. That’s for later this summer. Speaking of which, Frankie coming home on break?”

“No, he’s got a summer associate position at a big firm in Chicago,” Bill said. “He’ll get home when he can, I guess, but these are the connections he’s gotta make if he’s going to get a position after graduation. Gone are the days when you’re guaranteed a job anywhere.”

“No fooling. Frankie’ll be fine, though,” David assured him. “He’s a smart kid.”

“Yeah, he’s top of his class, so I guess I shouldn’t worry, but I do.”

“You’re a parent,” David said. “Well, when he does come home, let me know. I’d like to touch base with him again. Maybe we can talk Zach into going out for a beer or something.”

“Frankie’d like that,” Bill said.

“Well, I’ll see you,” David said as they reached the door. “I’ve got to get home and get some sleep before I have to deal with those cannibals again tomorrow.”

Bill laughed. “See that you do,” he admonished. “You need all your energy for this bunch.”

T
HE
gatehouse was quiet when David got home. He let himself in the front door and dropped his gear on the couch before dropping himself beside it. “God,” he groaned, “and I get to do this all again tomorrow….” It had been a while since he’d had to jump to someone else’s schedule, and it would take some getting used to. It wasn’t as bad as when he’d worked for MoMA, though; fourteen-hour days were the norm there. This was only—he checked his watch—twelve hours. He groaned again.

His cell phone rang and he climbed to his feet to get the phone out of the pocket of the jacket he’d slung over the opposite end of the couch. Figuring it was Zach, he headed for the kitchen to start putting together the salad he’d promised as he answered without checking the number. “Hello?”

“Hey, Davey.” The voice was sweet, with just a hint of a Jersey accent.

“Jerry?”