'Well, where shall I start?' Zachary glanced at a point above my head; my father and I waited in anticipation of what was to come. He had a slight smile on his face as though he was prepared to answer any question you posed at him. It was... sexy.
'Start at the end,' I said with a wry smile, 'and work your way back.'
'With each new beginning, there's always an ending,' Dad said, picking up on my line of thought.
We exchanged a smile.
Zachary's eyes gleamed as though he approved of our philosophy.
'Well, it's funny you should say that,' he said. 'My grandfather on my mother's side â he's passed away now â was a great man. He had a lot of integrity. Although, not a terribly lucky man. He wasn't the most financially secure.'
'How so?' I asked.
My father's eyebrows raised a little at the 'financially secure' bit. Yet, I could tell, like myself, he was intrigued at the revelation.
'He was born slap bang during the depression era. Born and raised in the country. A Kansas boy. He'd experienced great hardship and poverty. It didn't help that his dad was a booze hound and beat his wife, my great grandmother, many times. Of course, that sort of thing was usual in those days...'
'Poor lady,' Dad murmured, his eyes were soft, 'it must of been hard for him growing up.'
'Grandfather decided that he'd had enough. On his sixteenth birthday, his parents were having the most horrific fight. Plates and glasses were smashed against walls in the kitchen. His mother was upset that her husband was seeing one of his paramours - my great grandmother could stand the boozing, but the womanising broke her.' He looked at me carefully, and I was reminded off his vast appetite (or appreciation) for beautiful women. It seemed that the apple hadn't fallen from the tree. Would it have been harsh to assume Zachary had inherited the unsavoury characteristics of his great-grandfather and who knows how many other men in his family?
'Ah, I suppose its in some men's natures,' Dad mused. He didn't look at all shocked; there was a weary acceptance in his tone as though he had encountered many men who held similar attitudes towards women.
I, however, was disgusted and aghast. I couldn't imagine being betrayed in such a way by my partner or spouse. It was simply unfathomable and against my values. But I wasn't so naive as to think it didn't happen.
'My grandfather, David, and his siblings were watching this from outside. Previously, his mother forbid the children to ever get involved during their fights. My father's younger sister was getting tired and hungry. It was starting to rain. They'd been out there for two hours.' Zachary's expression took on an expression of boredom to illustrate how his grandfather and siblings might have felt as their parents tore each other to pieces.
'Aw,' I murmured. 'That can't have been fun.'
'It wasn't,' Zachary agreed. 'But, then, things got worse. William lost it. He grabbed onto his wife's hair and started to drag her across the floor, screaming all these vile anti-Semitic insults. My great grandmother came from a well-to-do Jewish family. They couldn't understand why she went off with William - a Protestant layabout. My grandfather in turn married a rather beautiful Jewish woman, so by all accounts, I am Jewish on my mother's side,' Zachary said with a laugh.
'You're a nice Jewish boy, then?' I couldn't resist saying. It was hard to keep a straight face what with his past romantic history. Modest and shy were the last words one would use to describe Zachary. 'Jewish and Irish. What a weird combination.'
'Candice, don't be so careless!' My father retorted, his eyes widened in shock, although a smile passed across his face to show he was joking.
'I am a man of many different cultures,' Zachary ran with my commentary. 'Mostly oppressed ones...' he shrugged. A roguish smile lingered on his features as though he quite liked my observation; to him, he probably thought it gave him street credibility. Not the usual WASP template of a poor little rich boy.
'So, you were saying about William going wild on his wife...' Dad, no-nonsense as ever, prompted.
'Ah yes. Went a bit off tangent there, Thank you, Candice,' Zachary winked at me, before he continued with his grandfather's tale of woe. I was wondering how this was related to his childhood dream of designing planes. But going by his storyteller's ability of spinning a yarn and the forcefulness in his delivery I could tell the story was important to him. And for that reason, I would have plenty of patience for him.
'As I was saying, William was in one of his rages. My grandfather jumped into action, ignoring his mother's rules about never interfering and rushed into the house. There were gunshots. You see, my father had taken William's shotgun from his cubby holeâ'
My father, who was sipping from his tea, spluttered the liquid out. A little ran down his chin. He stared at Zachary as though he'd grown horns. 'Bloody hell! What is this, the Wild West?'
I began to laugh. Trust Zachary to have the most unreal, surreal stories. He and his family were larger than life.
'Something like it,' Zachary responded, his eyes were gleaming with excitement as he got involved in telling the story. 'My grandfather had three holes through the walls. And his father, who was in the middle of landing another blow to his mother, stopped. That was enough. My grandfather said he would kill him if he laid another finger on his mother. Unfortunately, he didn't expect his own father to give an ultimatum. Either David left or William's wife and children left. He didn't care - he'd set up house with his mistress.'
'Oh dear. The plot thickens.' Dad let out a disbelieving chuckle.
'Indeed. I can only say that Grandfather had no choice but to leave the family home. His mother practically pleaded with him to leave. Who could blame her? She had her family to provide for. It was either her son left or she and her children would be out on the streets. Besides, despite his abusive behaviour, she truly did love my rogue of a great grandfather.'
'Naturally. Some men have a hold over women...' My father commented, he looked sad.
I looked at Zachary; he was gazing at me with an unreadable expression. Sometimes he was like a statue; I couldn't really get anything out of him or even understand him. Although, he was lovely to look at. Handsome. Especially at that moment as he gave me his attention.
'So My grandfather or 'Dorothy' left Kansas and tried to make his own journey in life. At the time, technology was in its early days. People wanted to get around. Transportation was a big commodity. My grandfather was fascinated by planes and aircraft, ever since he'd seen them in the pictures as little boy. He would have liked to be a pilot or an engineer, but in those days, he had to settle for a more practical career path. Cattle farming in Jefferson, Texas. That was his Oz. But he still loved to make model aircrafts as a hobby. Most summers when I'd visit him on his farm, from the ages of about five to thirteen, until he died of cancer, he passed on his love of planes to me.'
My father was grinning widely. 'That's a great story, Zach. I'm sure you're doing your grandfather David proud.'
'I hope so.' Zachary's mouth quirked up.
'Did you write all that in your personal statement for university?' I said, at last.
Playfully, he tilted his head to the side. 'Well, I left out the... dramatic bits, but, yes, I left the essence of the story in tact.'
'Yeah, I agree with Dad. I liked the story,' I said, my cheeks were burning up.
Zachary's mouth gaped for a split second before he recovered his composure. He ran a hand through his hair. 'Well, I'm glad you did.'
'Yeah...' I smiled shyly.
My father patted us both on the shoulder. 'This afternoon has been great fun for all of us, I'm sure.
But I have got to go back to the office and do some paperwork. Once you're both finished, Candice will assist you in choosing a goody bag, Zach.'
Once my dad left, Zachary stopped stirring his coffee and it made a clattering sound as the silver teaspoon hit the rim.
'Where are you applying to university? Have you completed you personal statement?' He rattled off these questions like he was my parent, instead of my (reluctant) friend.
'No, daddy Zach,' I said slowly, wondering why he cared.
'Why not?'
'Because...' I was stumped. People had asked me why I wasn't applying to university but him asking me about my education just felt weird and kind of sweet?
'Daddy...' he repeated, his mouth twitching, 'I'm not sure how I feel about that...'
I shook my head, cursing myself for my word choice. 'Don't get any ideas. Look, I want to take a break from education.'
'You're too smart not to go to university,' he said with force. 'Promise me, you'll think about it.'
Coming from him, it was hard not to feel flattered. I didn't say anything, but I lead him to the front and allowed him to pick and choose what he wanted, wrapping and personalising it with his name with my best penmanship. As he turned to leave, I found a part of myself aching for him to stay a little while longer. I had so enjoyed his company this afternoon. I hadn't want it to end, in truth.
He seemed to read my mind because he turned around.
'What are you doing over the weekend?' he said eagerly.
'Jonny and I are going to see his parents for their weekly Sunday dinner.' I tried to keep my voice cheerful and upbeat.
He bit his lip and I could have sworn his eyes held disappointment in them. 'Meeting the parents, eh?'
'I suppose.'
'Good luck,' he said tightly.
Then he was gone, a goody bag in hand and only the reminder of his twinkly-eyed, knowing smile for me to recall later that evening in bed.