"Shawn, forget it." Henry growled, trying to walk away.
"What's the big deal?" Shawn demanded, following his father into the kitchen.
"It's not a big deal." Henry agreed. "So drop it."
But he knew that Shawn wasn't going drop it.
Shawn never dropped anything until he got his way…
Well, this time he wasn't getting his way.
"It's one dinner, Dad!" Shawn pestered him. "She'll be in town for one night, and she wants the three of us to have dinner. Like an actual, semi-normal, somewhat passably functional familial unit!"
Henry just shook his head and raised his shoulders impassively, but Shawn noticed that they tensed as he dropped them again.
"Shawn, she's your mom. If you want to have dinner with her, go ahead. I don't care. But I'm not going. So. Drop. It."
"Come on! It's been fifteen years!"
Henry crossed his arms firmly, completely unmoved by his son's plea.
"Shawn, do you even know what a divorce is?"
"Yeah, Dad. I'm painfully aware, actually. Thanks for asking."
"I'm not going."
"She'll go!"
"What can I say, Shawn?" Henry muttered. "I guess she's the bigger person."
"She always was." Shawn snapped angrily.
Henry's eyes flashed as they locked with his son's.
Suddenly, they both knew they were in dangerous territory.
And they both knew that neither of them were going to back down.
Not this time.
"Watch it, Kid," Henry warned, his jaw clenching.
"I'm just saying!" Shawn continued, not heeding his father's admonition. "I don't see why after fifteen years the two of you can't be in the same room for an hour!"
"Because that's the thing about divorce, Shawn. We don't have to be in the same room anymore. That's why we got a divorce in the first place."
"It's one dinner!"
"Drop it. Now."
Henry's voice was suddenly eerily quiet.
Shawn knew he should listen for once and just drop it, but he was in too deep to turn back now.
"No." He returned shortly. "It's not my fault you're an obsessive workaholic with massive control issues. It's not my fault you couldn't make it work. Why the hell shouldn't I be able to talk to both my parents at the same damn table?"
"Really, Shawn? It's not your fault?" Henry asked quietly.
The room went dead silent.
Shawn's eyes widened ever so slightly.
They both saw it coming now…
It was too late to stop it.
"Shut up." Shawn growled.
"No, no." Henry insisted far too coolly, sitting down at the table.
His eyes were suddenly ice as he glared up at his son.
"Do you want to talk about fault, Kid?" He asked, feeling the knife twisting with every word. "Let's talk about fault. Do you know what the first fight your mom and I ever had was? I mean, the first real fight?"
"No."
"It was about what to name you, Kid. We had a knock-down, drag-out fight about your damn name. I wanted Henry. She wanted Shawn. Guess who won that one. We never fought before that, Kid. We never fought before you. So, you see, if my marriage didn't work out, Shawn, it wasn't my damn fault."
Even as the words came pouring out of Henry's mouth, he tried to stop them.
He knew he could never take them back…
Not this time.
Shawn's jaw clenched, his eyes the most painful mixture of hurt and anger Henry had ever seen.
His hands were trembling as he slowly turned around and walked out of the kitchen without so much as a glance back at his father.
Henry stayed seated at the table until he heard the screen door slam and Shawn's motorcycle peel away. Then he slowly stood up and walked to the back door.
Usually, after a fight, he listened for the sound of the motorcycle turning around and coming back.
Usually, after a fight, he stood by the back door, knowing that Shawn would be back…eventually…
But this time, he didn't bother listening.
This time, he didn't wait.
This time, he locked the door and silently went upstairs.