I sent a proposal to Grandad last week—we’re hoping he’ll loan us the capital to get started. Considering how supportive he’s been of me and Zac, I think we have a pretty strong chance.
My relationship with Dad has been strained at best. I speak to him once a month when he calls to check in, but it’s all surface level. He asks the obligatory questions about Zac, though he’s still struggling with my choices, and sticks to safe topics like school and soccer. We haven’t spoken about Nathan or David since that night.
Last month, Grandad let it slip that Dad had someone reach out to Nathan’s family, only to learn my ex-boyfriend is living in Far North Queensland with his new wife. He completed his law degree, and now he practises immigration law in East Timor. It stung to find out he’s married, like he never gave a second thought about us after he left, but it’s a relief to know he’s living the life he wanted.
My stomach swoops as the jet descends into Perth, and Zac picks up on my change in mood.
He leans in and nuzzles my jaw.
“If you want to leave, just say the word and we’re out of there,” he says, squeezing my leg.
“Thanks,” I say, shooting him a small smile. “But it’ll be fine.”
“Of course it will. I’m just saying you’re in control here.”
I grip the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He always knows what I need, even when I don’t.
To my surprise, Dad meets us at the airport instead of sending a car, and he greets Zac with a warm handshake and a pat on the back. We haven’t seen him since last Christmas, and it seems like he’s really trying. He asks about Zac’s family as we drive to my grandparents’.
Grandad sits in his armchair by the window, a glass of scotch in his hand. Nan sits opposite him in hers, a crocheted blanket draped over her frail shoulders as she works on a complicated-looking cross-stitch. I settle on thecouch between Zac’s legs, my back resting against his chest, and he drapes an arm over my shoulder.
Dad stands by the empty fireplace, his arm resting on the mantle as he focuses on us.
“I want to start out by saying I haven’t been the best father,” he says gruffly. “I know my actions have been… problematic, and I have a lot to make up for.”
Zac’s hold on me tightens.
“I’m sorry for what I put you through, Noah. I understand it will take more than words to earn your forgiveness and your trust. Zac, I want to thank you for being there for my son. While I’m still working through my own issues, it’s clear that you love each other, and deep down, that’s all I want for my boy. I deeply regret ruining it for him in the past. It was wrong of me to meddle. I hope you both know I’m trying to be better.”
I glance at my grandad, and he smiles encouragingly.
“We can see that,” I choke out.
“With that said,” Dad says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a bunch of papers. He strolls towards us, and I reach out a shaky hand to take them from him. “I know you came here to ask your grandfather to assist with the start-up for your not-for-profit, but I’d like to help. No strings attached. The money would be a donation, and I’d have no ties to the corporation.”
Running my tongue over my lips, I unfold the papers and scan the document. My eyes widen when I take in the numbers of the very generous donation. It’s almost double what I set out in my proposal.
“Holy shit,” Zac murmurs when he reaches that part of the document. “It’s way more than we need.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask my father.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to buyyour forgiveness. I’m simply trying to make up for past mistakes. What I did to you and Nathan was deplorable, but I can’t change the past. I can only try to fix the future for other children. That’s what your vision achieves.” Clearing his throat, he looks me in the eye. “I want to see you succeed.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I turn my head to find Zac’s stunned gaze. “This is really happening.”
“It is,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. “You did it, Shadow.”
My lips tug into a grin. “Wedid it, Romeo. You and me.”
“Forever.”
His words settle warm and comforting in my chest.
The restof our week in Perth is quiet. I show Zac around the town I grew up in, and we spend a lot of time at the beach, where I try to teach Zac how to surf—it’s adorable how bad he is. He blames residual effects from his head trauma for his inability to keep his balance on the board, but I know he just hates failing at something. Especially when I picked it back up so easily despite not having been in the water for years.
While the sun, sand, and surf are great, my favourite parts are the evenings with my grandparents. While Grandad is slowing down in the business as he prepares for his retirement, he’s still sharp as a tack, challenging Zac or me to a game of chess each night in his study. He regales us with stories I’ve heard a million times over the years, but I don’t take a second of it for granted. They won’t be around forever.
Nan joins us, sitting in the large armchair by the bookshelf, working on her knitting or cross-stitch and keeping Grandad humble as he embellishes and twists events to suit himself.
