Saving Ezra - 4. Chapter 4

The house was dark when Ezra went inside. He took off his shoes, lining them up in their spot on the mat next to the door. His dark hoody went onto the hook set above his sneakers. Ezra rubbed his palms awkwardly over the scars and bruises on his arms. He felt naked without his jacket. The teen would see if maybe he could talk his dad into getting him more long-sleeved shirts the next time they got clothes.

They always shopped at the second-hand stores, but Ezra really didn’t mind. He wasn’t in any popularity contests at school. He knew he was on the bottom rung, and bling jeans weren’t going to change that. The boy’s dad would let him mostly choose what he wanted from the store. There were actually a lot of name brands there. There were guidelines, though. The clothes needed to be in good condition, not have any swearing or pictures his dad didn’t approve of, and couldn’t look sissy. The first two were easy for Ezra to discern. The third was sometimes difficult. It was hard sometimes to know what his dad thought would look “faggy”. Ezra knew never to choose v-necks, that was on the ‘no’ list. It was also good to avoid anything with a picture on it that could be seen as cute. Sometimes it just baffled Ezra, though. Once the teen had been left trying to figure out how the sleeves on a certain shirt or the back pockets on a pair of jeans were gay. Ezra hadn’t argued about it, though, just apologized and quickly put the clothes back.

The teen tossed his backpack onto the dining room table and went to the kitchen to start supper. It was Friday, which meant Ezra could do TV dinners or frozen whatever. He decided pizza and mozzarella sticks sounded good and easy, so he fired up the oven and threw the pizza on a pan and then into the oven without bothering to wait for it to preheat. He’d put the cheese sticks in when the time was half-done so they wouldn’t overcook.

After setting the timer on the stove, Ezra wandered into the dining room to work on homework. The mozzarella sticks were in the oven and Ezra was almost done with an amazingly boring essay on invertebrates when the teen heard his dad’s car in the drive. The senior quickly glanced at the timer, just a few minutes left for supper, and quickly scribbled to finish the essay.

Paul Walker shut and locked the door behind him, he placed his coat on the hook and his shoes neatly under it next to Ezra’s.

“I’m home,” the big man called.

“In the dining room,” Ezra said back as he put down the last period on his essay.

Paul ruffled Ezra’s hair as he passed by into the kitchen, making the teen scowl and hunch his head down. Paul just chuckled as he peeked in the oven.

“Smells good.” The man straightened, opening cupboards to grab plates and glasses.

The glasses Paul chose from the top shelf were no stretch for the tall man. Ezra had to get a chair or step-stool to reach them. The father and son bore little resemblance except for their dark reddish brown hair, though Paul’s was short and tidy while Ezra’s was always hanging in his hazel eyes. The boy’s was getting long enough that Paul would drag him off to get it cut soon. Paul towered over his much shorter son. Though he’d gone a bit soft in the middle over the years, he still had the broad shoulders and thick arms earned from weightlifting and football. His current job doing maintenance at a tech and testing company didn’t give him much exercise, but he had a section of the basement set aside for weights and a treadmill. Paul had tried to get Ezra on a workout program to help him fill out in junior high. It had only made the kid skinnier and exhausted. Paul had given up by Ezra’s freshman year. The big man had decided to wait until Ezra got some growth before trying again, but now Ezra was almost eighteen and Paul was still waiting.

Ezra had put his schoolwork back in his bag and out of the way by the time the stove beeped. Paul set the table as Ezra got the pizza cut and set out. His dad poured apple juice and they both sat down to eat.

Prayers were said over the food first, the same grace they’d done for as long as Ezra could remember. The food wasn’t amazing, but it was tasty enough to satisfy them both. Paul asked Ezra about his day between bites.

“It was fine.” Ezra shrugged.

Paul frowned. “Don’t shrug at me and don’t sidestep. I know you had that thing with that college research, so how did it go?”

“Fine.” Ezra kept his shoulders still. “Umm… I mostly just stapled stuff together today. I don’t think it’s going to be hard. The guy I’m helping seems cool.”

Paul raised his eyebrows as he took a bite of cheese stick, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “He’s cool? He’s not some hippy atheist communist is he?”

“N-no!” Ezra piped up quickly. “He’s an honors student. I think he’s too busy to be into anything like that.”

The older man finished his last mozzarella bite and sat back in his seat, washing it down with a swig of juice.

“I still don’t know about this, son.” Brown eyes met hazel. “I’ve heard bad things about that liberal university and the things that go on there. I don’t want you getting into trouble. I’m still wondering if finishing things up with homeschool might not be the best choice.”

“Dad!” Ezra couldn’t keep the hint of a whine out of his voice and immediately regretted it when his father’s eyes narrowed. “Please, don’t. If I do homeschool it’s going to take me another whole semester or two to graduate and I won’t be able to graduate with my class. And I’m not doing anything at the university except helping with the research. I didn’t even see anything except the inside of some old building today and put papers together.” Ezra’s hands clenched under the table. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big… Well, I think I have to disagree. I think keeping my son safe and on the right path is a big deal.” The bigger man leaned forward. “Now, I let you talk me into this little research thing. I said I’d give it a chance and I will. I’m a man of my word, but you know I think it’s a foolish thing that you don’t need to be messing around with. What do you know about science anyway? You barely passed chemistry. I can’t imagine how you conned the school into picking you as a research assistant.”

Ezra didn’t bother telling his father the research was in psychology not one of the harder sciences. He’d just turn it into an excuse to make Ezra quit. Ezra clenched his jaw and fought the urge to roll his eyes. His dad was always so damn unreasonable. The man overreacted to everything. The teen looked at the older man sullenly, unsure what he could say to make his father chill out.

The smack startled Ezra, catching him on the cheek bone and knocking him from his chair to sprawl on the floor.

“Don’t you look at me with that attitude, boy,” Paul growled.

The big man was out of his own chair and around the table quicker than Ezra could get up. The boy yelped as a sudden grip in his shaggy hair propelled him violently to his feet.

“Now, I let you have your way with this ridiculous assistant idea, but I won’t have you sassing me or giving me trouble.” Paul gave his son a small shake by his hold in Ezra’s dark locks. “One afternoon at that university already has you getting too big for your britches.”

Ezra was ready for the next slap, this one not as hard as the first but still stinging his cheek.

“Are you understanding me, boy?” Paul asked gruffly.

“Y-yes, sir,” Ezra stammered. “I’m really sorry, sir.”

Paul huffed and let the teen go. Ezra stumbled slightly, but didn’t fall.

“Good.” The man sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to go round and round like this, son. Sometimes it feels like the devil is always trying to get his claws in you. I sometimes swear something tainted you when your mother died when you were born. It’s like you’re marked and God has to fight to keep scrubbing you clean.” Ezra was stiff when the big man patted his shoulder gruffly. “We’ll get through this, son. I know we will.” Paul nodded at the table. “Go ahead and clean up supper and get your shower. It’s Friday and you know we have God’s therapy tonight, so be quick. After everything this week, we definitely need to get you back into His grace.” The man tilted his head, contemplating at the red mark blooming on Ezra’s cheek. “I don’t think that will bruise. Good. I dislike having to call the school and mislead them. Ridiculous laws these days telling me I can’t discipline my own child.”

Paul shook his head and turned, walking out into the living room. He would sit and read the newspaper and then read the bible until it was time to help his son find his way back into the grace of God. Ezra shivered then quickly got to work cleaning up. The teen still had a little pizza left, but he’d lost his appetite. He threw it away and rushed to wash the dishes. He used a chair to put away the glasses where his dad liked them and slipped quietly through the living room past his dad to get to the bathroom so he could shower.

Ezra hated Fridays.

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