Chapter 8 - The Prodigal Son’s Awakening
The next morning, the atmosphere in the house was tentative but warm. Ethan had slept for nearly twelve hours in his old childhood bedroom, which Linda had kept completely unchanged.
When he finally came downstairs, he was dressed in clean clothes I had loaned him. He sat at the kitchen island, looking at the breakfast Linda had prepared for him—pancakes, eggs, and fresh coffee. He ate slowly, with a quiet reverence, as if he realized that every bite was a grace he didn't deserve.
After breakfast, I called him into my study. He sat in the leather chair across from my desk, his posture humble, his hands clasped between his knees.
"I'm not going to give you money, Ethan," I said directly, leaning back in my chair. "The bank foreclosed on your condo, and your divorce will proceed. You will pay your own legal fees, and you will live within your means. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dad," Ethan said, meeting my eyes with a steady, mature gaze I hadn't seen in him since he was a teenager. "I don't want your money. I don't want the house. I just... I just want my family back. I want to earn your respect again, even if it takes the rest of my life."
"Good," I nodded. "Because you're going to start from the bottom. I spoke to the foreman of my old construction crew this morning. They need a laborer for a new commercial site downtown. It’s hard work, Ethan. You’ll be hauling lumber, mixing concrete, and waking up at 5:00 AM in the freezing cold. The pay is twenty dollars an hour."
Ethan swallowed hard, looking at his soft, uncalloused hands. For a second, I thought the old corporate marketing executive in him would balk at the idea of doing manual labor. But then, he straightened his spine.
"When do I start?" he asked.
"Tomorrow morning," I said. "And you will live here, in your old room. But you will pay your mother three hundred dollars a month for room and board. That money won't go to us; it will go into a savings account that you cannot touch until your debts are fully cleared. You are going to learn how to build a life brick by brick, just like I did."
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Ethan stood up, walked over to my side of the desk, and extended his hand. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you for not giving up on me entirely."
I stood up and shook his hand. His grip was weak, but I knew that within a few months on the job site, it would become strong. "Don't thank me yet, son. The hard part begins tomorrow."
