Page 24 of Afternoon Delight

Zak

I heard the bell over the door jangle and stopped sanding to listen.

Dad had launched into his magician routine with someone, so I gave my hands a quick wash and went out to find Roddie looking confused by the punchline.

“Layaway is how people used to buy things in olden times,” I explained. “Like a loan, but you had to pay it off before you took your purchase home.”

“Oh. I get it now. That’s pretty funny,” he told Dale.

“Dad, this is Roddie.” I reminded him that they’d met before and told him where, then mentioned Meg next door.

“Not Debra. The toy store,” Dad said, chuckling and scratching the back of his head. He turned to Roddie. “I thought she was selling toys for kids.”

“You think you’re embarrassed,” Roddie muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Are you?” I asked.

“Nah. I think it’s funny.”

Better, I supposed. “Did your mom send you over for something?”

“No, I had a spare. I’m on my way to the coffee shop to do my homework.” He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder.

“Do you need a school desk? We have two in the office. The twins used them, but they’re at college now. We could let one go,” Dad offered.

“Oh. I just came in to look around. I was curious,” Roddie said. “Do you mind?”

“No, no. Stay as long as you like.” Dad gave a grand wave.

“If you don’t see anything today, come back tomorrow.

Tammy’s always bringing in something new.

Did you say you’re looking for something for your mother?

Let me show you the vase she found last week.

Now, where did I put it…” He wandered off.

“I need to put my stuff away in the workroom,” I told Roddie. I’d learned my lesson on that. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Sure.”

By the time I’d locked everything in the cupboard and closed the door behind me, Dad was talking to Roddie again, saying, “People can’t buy it if they can’t see it.”

“The china cabinet?” I guessed, since that’s where he was pointing.

“Yes. Since we have Kyle here, we should bring it to the front of the store,” Dad said.

“Okay. You start emptying the cups and plates. I’ll get some boxes for them.”

It was a shitty trick I played on Dad every time he brought up moving that thing.

He would start pulling the dishes out, then forget what he was doing and put them all back.

It kept him busy and meant I didn’t have to rearrange the whole store for a piece of furniture no one was going to buy no matter where it sat.

Also, the clink of dishes helped me keep track of him without having to watch every second.

“How was school?” I asked as I led Roddie to the gumball machine and turned the crank.

“Meh.” He shrugged, then took the orange ball I handed him. “Thanks.”

“It was a dumb question, wasn’t it?” I felt like one of my aunts who used to pinch my cheek and ask about my plans for my future.

Roddie peered down into the glass case full of odds and ends—wire-rimmed spectacles, old camera equipment, a signed baseball in a protective plastic cube.

“Are you a sports guy? Computers? What’s your area of interest?” I asked.

“So you can sell me something?” He gave me side-eye.

“You need a cookie jar?” I pointed to the fat blob vaguely shaped like a man’s head that looked like it had melted in the kiln.

“That’s horrifying,” he said with a giggle, lifting the lid and replacing it. “No, I’m into music. I joined band, but I have to rent a saxophone while I wait for Dad to send mine.”

I nodded, then quit pretending I wasn’t dying of curiosity.

“You mind if I ask why you wanted to come here? That high school you’re going to is fine, but it’s not great. At least, it wasn’t when I went there. Either way, changing schools usually sucks.”

“I know, but… I don’t know if my mom told you—my dad has a girlfriend. They have a baby. Wanda wants to get married. Dad kept saying the divorce had to be final.”

“It’s not?” That was none of my business, but I was definitely interested.

“It is now, but they were still fighting. If Mom was there, I could’ve just moved in with her. But I wanted to change schools because…” More side-eye as he took my measure. “The guy I was seeing started dating my best friend. Bethany.”

“Shit.” I had clocked that he might be gay when he had asked about the Playgirl magazines. It didn’t matter what your age or persuasion—getting thrown over was a kick in the stomach. And for your best friend? “You want a root beer?”

“Sure.”

I led him into the office. The school desks were long gone. There was only the big oak desk with the leather blotter, a sofa, a filing cabinet, and a mini fridge where we kept pop and meal replacement shakes that Zara liked Dad to have once a day, to be sure he was getting his vitamins.

I pulled out two root beers. Bottles, because I was fancy. I opened one and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” Roddie sat down and left his backpack on the floor at his feet.

“I was recently dumped, too.” I opened my bottle and flicked the cap into the waste bin, where it landed with a ping and a clatter.

Then I sat on the edge of the desk where I could see Dad through the open door.

“I hereby call the meeting of the Dented Hearts Club to order. First item of business: no social media stalking. Can I get a motion?”

“Ew. Yeah. Guilty.” Roddie curled his lip, then promised, “I’ll stop.”

We clinked the necks of our bottles and drank.