Chapter Eleven

The phone rang just after eleven in the morning.

Nate almost ignored it.

He was sitting at the Elsher kitchen table, a medical textbook open in front of him, though he'd been staring at the same page for nearly twenty minutes without reading a word.

Sarah had gone to work.

Micah was at the rehabilitation clinic.

The house was empty except for him.

The ringing persisted.

With a sigh, Nate reached for the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Good morning. Is this the Elsher residence?"

"Yes."

"My name is Mrs. Bennett. I'm the vice principal at Ashwood Secondary School."

Nate immediately straightened.

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm afraid not."

----------------------

Twenty minutes later, Nate was pulling into the school's parking lot.

The drive had been loud... Too loud.

Not because anyone else was in the car.

Because his own thoughts wouldn't stop racing.

Fight.

School.

Suspension.

Max.

He rubbed a hand over his face.

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

----------------------

Ashwood Secondary hadn't changed much.

The same red brick buildings.

The same football field where he'd once played with Micah after classes.

The same giant oak tree that had stood at the front entrance for decades.

Walking through the front doors felt strangely familiar.

Almost like stepping into another life.

A receptionist looked up.

"You must be here for Max."

"I am."

She offered a sympathetic smile.

"Vice Principal Bennett is expecting you."

----------------------

Mrs. Bennett's office smelled faintly of coffee and old books.

She stood as Nate entered.

"Mr. Whitmore?"

"Nate is fine."

She gestured toward the chair opposite her desk.

"Please, have a seat."

Only then did Nate notice Max.

He was slouched in a chair by the window, one cheek beginning to swell where someone had landed a solid punch.

His knuckles were scraped raw.

He refused to look at Nate.

Nate took the seat beside him.

"What happened?"

Max answered without looking up.

"Nothing."

Mrs. Bennett gave him a tired look.

"It was hardly nothing."

She turned back to Nate.

"Max was involved in a physical altercation during lunch."

"Involved?"

"From what we've gathered, another student made a comment that escalated into a fight."

Nate looked at Max.

"What kind of comment?"

Max remained silent.

Mrs. Bennett hesitated.

"It appears another student said something about his father."

Nate felt something tighten in his chest.

"...What?"

"The student claimed Max only acts tough because his father isn't around to control him."

The office fell silent.

Mrs. Bennett continued gently.

"Several witnesses say Max warned him to stop."

"He didn't."

"So Max punched him."

"And the other boy punched back."

"The fight spread before teachers could separate them."

Nate slowly nodded.

"I understand."

Mrs. Bennett folded her hands.

"Understanding isn't the same as excusing."

"No."

"It isn't."

She slid a document across the desk.

"This combined with many other infractions has led to a decision from the school board... Max has been suspended for three weeks."

Max finally looked up.

Still no apology.

Still no regret.

Just anger.

Nate signed the paperwork.

Not a single word was spoken during the process.

----------------------

The walk to the car was painfully quiet.

Max climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

Nate waited until they were back on the road before speaking.

"You want to tell me what happened?"

"You already know."

"I want your version."

"There isn't one."

"Nate kept his eyes on the road."

"You could've walked away."

Max laughed bitterly.

"Sure."

"So that's what you would've done?"

"I've learned not every fight is worth having."

"Funny."

Max turned toward the window.

"So didn't you get banned from a bar?."

The words stung.

Nate gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"We're talking about you."

"No."

"We're talking about you pretending to be my parent."

"I'm trying to help."

"I don't need your help."

"You got suspended."

"I know."

"You could've seriously hurt someone."

"He deserved it."

"That isn't your decision."

Max scoffed.

"You sound just like the teachers."

"And you sound like someone determined to ruin his own future."

That finally got Max's attention.

"My future?"

"Yes."

"You're smart."

"You have potential."

"But every decision you make pushes you further off course."

Max let out a harsh laugh.

"You seriously want to lecture me?"

"If that's what it takes."

"No."

Max shook his head.

"You don't get to."

"Why not?"

"Because your life's a mess."

The words hung between them.

"You want to tell me how to live?" Max continued. "Fix your own life first."

Nate's jaw clenched. "I'm trying."

"Really?"

"You skipped weeks of your hospital rotations, You've been getting drunk every night, You got into a bar fight, You barely eat, You barely sleep."

Max's voice grew sharper with every sentence.

"So forgive me if I'm not interested in life advice from someone who's destroying himself."

The car fell silent.

Every word had found its mark.

Because every word was true.

Nate swallowed.

"I deserve that."

Max frowned.

He hadn't expected agreement.

"I do."

Nate's voice was quiet.

"I've handled things badly."

"You think?"

"But that doesn't change the fact that you're hurting yourself too."

Max looked away.

"I'm fine."

"There it is."

"What?"

"The biggest lie you've told today."

"I said I'm fine."

"And I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

"I know."

They drove another mile in silence.

Finally Nate spoke again.

"When I was your age..."

"I don't want another story."

"Tough."

Max groaned dramatically.

Nate almost smiled.

"When I was sixteen, I thought anger made me stronger."

"It doesn't."

"It just makes it easier to ignore what you're actually feeling."

Max stared out the window.

"You don't know what I'm feeling."

"No."

Nate admitted.

"I don't."

"But I know pain doesn't disappear just because you punch someone."

For a brief second...

Max's expression faltered.

Just enough for Nate to see the hurt beneath it.

Then it was gone again.

"I hit him because he talked about my dad."

Nate nodded once.

"I figured."

"He laughed."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity."

"It isn't pity."

"What is it?"

Nate took a slow breath.

"It's understanding."

Max didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Because part of him believed Nate.

And another part still couldn't forgive him.

They pulled into the driveway.

Before getting out, Max reached for the door handle.

"Nate?"

He stopped.

"What?"

"If someone says something about your parents..."

Nate looked ahead through the windshield.

"I still want to hit them."

Max looked at him for a long moment.

Then, without another word, he climbed out of the car and headed inside.

It wasn't peace.

It wasn't forgiveness.

But for the first time since Nate had returned home, neither of them had walked away from an argument feeling like complete strangers.

Somewhere beneath the resentment, they had finally recognized something they shared.

The ache of losing someone who could never be replaced.