Two days later, it was Wednesday. Harry was home using the hand vacuum on the living room couch while Benjamin played outside in the backyard. Then the doorbell rang. After turning off the vacuum, he went to check the peephole to see who it was. It was Niall, so he happily opened the door.
"Good afternoon."
But Niall didn't seem as perky as Harry did. In fact he seemed like something was on his mind.
"Are you alright? What's the matter?"
"Today was family therapist day." He said as he sat down on the couch.
Harry gasped.
"Oh right. Yeah. How did it go?"
He sat down, staring into space.
"I'm... confused."
"That's understandable. It's still the beginning of your therapy sessions. You still need time."
"No, Harry. You don't get it. Our therapist asked us to tell her our honest feelings for how we each feel about each family member in a single short sentence. I went first. I said I hate my parents. My dad said he loved my mother and me. My mom said she loved me and dad."
"Okay."
"But then she asked us how often we tell each other these exact things. We all said it was often, which was true. But then she told us to look each other right in the eyes and tell each other exactly what we told her. My parents did. To me and each other. But me, I..."
He started to cry.
"I couln't do it, Harry. I couldn't say it. And it made realize that I don't look them right in the eyes and say it. I never do. It's always right before I lock myself in a room or as I'm walking out the door to leave home a few days at a time."
"And did your therapist tell you what it meant?"
"She asked me questions. She asked if I thought a food dish was delicious, would I hesitate to compliment the cook if they were sitting right next to me? Then she asked if I tried making a new dish for the first time and it turned out to be disgusting, would I not spit it out immediately? The answers were obvious of course.
"Then she went on to tell me hate is an even stronger emotion than liking or disliking a food. It's an intense and passionate dislike. And sometimes it can even lead people to do things they would not ordinarily do. Dangerous things. But it also doesn't really leave room for mercy. She said what I showed my mom and dad was mercey. Do you know what that means?"
Harry sat down and pulled Niall onto him comfortingly.
"It means you don't hate your parents after all."
"I'm a bad person, Harry. I have told them that many days since I turned eighteen. I know it must have hurt them so bad to hear me always say that whenever I was upset."
"But they knew it wasn't true, Niall. That's why they wanted to go to the family therapist. They wanted to talk to you so all of you could get down to the bottom of your real feelings. Can I ask you question?"
"What?"
"Did you cry like this when you were there?"
"No. I didn't want my parents to see me cry."
"Then that's fine. You don't have to. But opening up to your parents and your therapist the way you opened up to me just now is good for you. So when you go next week, I want you to try it out. You don't have to tell me how it went. That's none of my business. But I do want what's best for you just like your parents do. Do you understand that?"
He nodded and looked at Harry.
"Yeah. I understand."
"Okay. Then I won't lecture you anymore. Do you want some ice cream to cheer you up? I just bought a big tub of rainbow ice cream for Benjamin and he won't mind if you have any."
A smiled finally creeped on his face.
"Sure, Harry."
* * *
Louis was at the front counter of the dry cleaners. He'd just given a customer a dress she brought in to have cleaned before.
"Thank you Mrs. Parsons. Please come back and see us."
"Thank you."
As Mrs. Parsons was leaving out of the door, another woman was coming in. She was on the phone.
"Sweetie, I'm still out running errands. But I'm checking in to make sure we're still on for dinner tonight. Call me back as soon as possible, okay? I need to know whether or not I should cancel the reservation."
"How can I help you today? Are you picking up?" Louis greeted.
She took the phone from her ear.
"No. Sorry. I'm here to speak to my son. Zayn Malik. Is he back there?"
Louis instantly became excited.
"Oh. Hi, I'm Louis."
"Nice to meet you, Louis. Can you take me to see him?"
"Sure. Zayn is this way." He waved a hand his way and she came around the counter and followed him to the back of the store. Finally they stopped at an entrance.
"Zayn, someone is here to see you."
Zayn looked back from where he was trying to clear the printer of a paper jam.
"Mom?"
"Hi." She said.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was just out running some errands and wanted to come by and see you."
"Oh."
She came in and closed the office door behind her.
"You don't have a place for guests to sit."
"I know. I'm going to be remodeling and I threw it out last week. But you can sit in my chair if you want to."
She waved a hand at him.
"No. It's fine. I can stand. I was merely observing. But I do want to talk to you about something important. Do you have a minute? I want to ask you something."
He leaned back against the table.
"Sure."
"Your father and I have reservations at Le Bleu tonight. I would love for you to come and have a discussion with us."
"About what?"
She sighed.
"Ever since that night about three weeks ago, I can't stop thinking about your father and you and... that little boy you carried in. You're right. We both need to be there to meet him. We're his grandparents and it only makes sense. If you're going to be introducing a four year old to new people, it needs to be done in an environment where everyone likes and loves each other and are genuinely happy to be around one another. Kids can sense when they're not wanted. So I would like for us to talk things out and get how we really feel off our chests one last time. Then maybe come to an understanding."
Zayn folded his arms and shook his head.
"I don't need a dinner at Le Bleu. I'll tell you how I really feel right now. Let's start with what I hate the most. And that's the fact that Dad ever started this business."
She was surprised.
"Why is that?"
"Because it was this stupid business that he cared about more. He got himself sick trying to take care of it. I mean... why do you think I never told you guys anything growing up? Why do you think you never knew about Harry? Why do you think I even did that stupid high school bet in the first place?"
"I'm guessing you want to tell me why."
"I was thirteen years old, mom. What thirteen year old likes to be lonely? I don't know any of them. And so I liked the attention. I liked to be popular, to have the attention of all the boys and girls at school. It felt nice. Because I knew once I got home, I was going to a home where I had a father who crept in the front door every night at eleven o'clock because he was spending every waking moment in this very office shoveling paperwork, checking inventory, over and over again.
"Not to mention that it wasn't even me who made him realize he couldn't do it anymore. It was his declining health that put him in a hospital bed for two weeks and forced him to quit for a while. And do you think he stopped to think about his college son at all during all of that? Nope. Not once. Instead, he shoved the keys to this place into my hands on my twentieth birthday and he expected me to pick up right where he left off. He bought a second business without my permission and now he expects me run that one too."
He exhaled heavily. He was getting upset.
"I know that I messed up. Alright? I get it. But I have done nothing but spend the last four years trying to make dad understand that I am responsible. That I can do everything that he did. But you know what? I've learned something, mom. I've learned something from my son that Dad didn't learn from me. I don't have to own a second business. I can keep the one business I have and I can spend time with my boyfriend and my son and I will still be just as happy. So I'm going to do that."
She was confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not keeping that business in Summerland. I'm going to give it to someone who truly deserves it. And then I'm going to spend all the extra time I'll have loving Benjamin and his father whether Dad likes it or not and whether he wants to be apart of it not. So this little dinner you're having tonight, please count me out of it. If I need a dinner to convince my father to want to meet his own grandson, then maybe it's just not worth it for either of us."
He plopped down at his desk and put his glasses on. Then he looked at the computer so he could print again what he tried to print before.
His mother was solemn. She didn't want to plead with him. His mind was clearly made up.
"Alright then. I guess it'll just be me and your father tonight. I'll see you later."
When she left out of the office, Zayn groaned and leaned his head back. He didn't mean to rant at his mother like that. Especially when that rant was really meant for his father. But he just didn't have the energy to worry about it anymore. The last time he tried to please his father would be the last time. He was his own man now. For real. And no man- not even his father- could convince him otherwise.
➡️ ➡️ ➡️
Many days later, Zayn was over Harry's place. He planned to spend the night. But he was at the dining room table looking over the paperwork for the business in Summerland to see if there was anything in it about selling the business to someone else."
That's when he felt Harry put two hands on his shoulders and start to massage them.
"That feels great, babe."
"I know it does. You're tense as usual these days, it seems."
Harry came around and sat at the table with him. So Zayn took off his glasses to look at him.
"I am tense. There's a lot going on."
"With the business?"
"Indirectly. The business is fine. But... the one who gave it to me is the one I'm worried about."
"Your father?"
He nodded.
"My mother came up to the store a couple weeks ago and she wanted me to go to dinner with them and try to 'convince' him. Instead I declined and went on this rant about dad. And now my mom told me that he's been acting strange ever since dinner that night."
"Strange?"
"Strange in that he's gone very quiet. I think she told him what I said. But she keeps saying she didn't. And it's not that I think she's lying. I just think she's keeping certain information from me so that I don't feel bad or feel like it's my fault."
"Oh. Do you think it's your fault?"
"I mean if he's like this because of what I said, then yes. It is my fault, right? But that doesn't mean it wasn't warranted. I only said what he needed to hear."
"True. But why do you think he hasn't called you? If you think she told him you want to sell the business he just bought, he would have definitely called you by now, right?"
"I can't answer that, Harry. And I don't want to. I don't want to assume he would do anything anymore. You see where assuming has gotten me so far."
"Hmm. Maybe what you need is something to take your mind off of things. Something that can help you relax."
"Hmm. Yeah. Maybe the three of us could go out to dinner."
Harry deflated.
"I don't really feel like going out. I spent all day answering emails and I'm too tired to get Benny ready. I was thinking more along the lines of ordering a pizza and staying in to watch a movie."
Zayn reached over and flicked his chin.
"Whatever I'm doing with you, as long as I'm with you, I'm winning."
"Awesome."
He stood up and then leaned over to kiss Zayn's forehead.
"I'll order the pizza and pick a movie. You finish up."
After he was gone, Zayn went back to looking over the paperwork again. But this time, unlike before, he found himself thinking very much about his father. Harry was right. Why exactly hadn't he called him yet?