Page 34 of Afternoon Delight

Meg

On Monday, Mom came by the shop to give it a spring makeover. She’d picked up a clear umbrella printed with rainbows, some silk tulips from the thrift store, and a pair of bright yellow women’s rubber boots.

She arranged a few shower toys with a book on natural aphrodisiacs and some colorful tubes of lube. Her sign read:

Have fun! Get wet!

“You could start a business doing this, you know.”

“I doubt it.” She reached into the display to adjust the angle of a boot. “People don’t even go into stores anymore.”

“Because their window displays suck.”

“I’m retired. People would think I’m broke and taking the only work I can get.”

“Screw what people think. If you like doing it, do it. It’s flexible. You could take only the clients you like and only as many as you want.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “I already work at the thrift store.”

“For free. Doing this for free.”

“Because I have friends there.” I could see the little hamster in her head running in its wheel, though.

“It would get you out of the house and help you meet people once you move back east with us.”

She sighed the way she always did when I brought up moving, big and heavy. “This is where I live, Meg.”

“I know.” It’s where I had grown up, and I couldn’t remember why I had hated it so much. My life had seemed very small back then. Restricted. But I’d been a kid.

“Roddie seems to like it here,” Mom pointed out.

“Because it’s still new.” Also, he had made his first sale at the antique store. It had been a fluke because the mirror was the size the customer wanted, but he had earned fifteen dollars for five minutes of work. “His dad and baby brother live in Toronto, though.”

“His sister is closer.”

“I know, but?—”

The door jangled. Mom turned.

“Dale,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Debra.” His wide smile faltered. His expression became confused as he looked around.

Oh, shit.

“Hi, Dale.” I made myself approach him without hurry, holding out my hand in hopes that he’d recognize I wanted to introduce myself. “I’m your new neighbor, Meg. We’ve met a few times. This is my mom, Vickie. You’ve met her once or twice, too.”

“We had a nice chat about some of our favorite haunts, like the diner out by the rail yard,” Mom said with a nostalgic smile.

“Right, right.” Dale’s smile was brave, but his eyes grew damp with upset.

“Should we go back to your shop and talk with Zak?” I asked.

“Yes. I think so.” He looked around, and I realized he was completely disoriented and didn’t know where the door was.

Oh, Dale .

“I’ll walk with you. It’s this way.” I motioned toward the door.

Through the glass on our door, I saw a middle-aged couple leave the antique shop to duck into the rain. Zak came out right behind them, shoving open my door with a hard push.

He pulled up short as he saw it was only Mom and me in the shop with his father.

“Hey, Dad. Everything okay?”

“Totally fine.” I projected all the calm reassurance I could. “We were just about to walk back and see you.”

“Debra retired so now Meg is in this shop,” Zak explained to Dale. “Did you want to look around? Or come back to our shop?” Zak was trying to pretend he was unbothered, but I could feel the tension that gripped him.

“I thought this was a toy shop,” Dale said with a husk of laughter as he peeked into the window display. He blushed. “That’s what I told your sister. That a toy shop was moving in.”

“Yeah, we were all surprised as hell when we saw what kind of toys,” Zak drawled. “That looks nice, Vickie. Brightens up a dreary day.”

“Thank you.” She had sobered at Dale’s obvious distress, but found a smile for Zak.

“What would Debra think if she knew?” Dale asked Zak. “That woman wouldn’t say shit if she had a mouthful of it. Now they’re selling unmentionables in her store?”

“She was pretty straightlaced.” Zak was relaxing. “She washed my mouth out with soap once for saying ‘fart.’ I still taste Irish Spring when I swear in here.”

“I wondered why your breath always smells so fresh,” I murmured.

Zak’s mouth twitched, and I was entirely too proud that I’d given him something to laugh about.

“Debra was a good listener, though,” Dale said.

“Let’s give her a call, see if she has time to chat. You can talk to her while I empty the china cabinet.”

“You sold the china cabinet? It’s about time. God, they’re a bitch to move.”

“We’ll put some blankets around it.” Zak opened the door, nodding at Mom and me.

“Bye.” I waved. Then I sighed. Big and heavy.

“I thought the only thing that could feel as bad as losing your father would be losing you or one of your children. I can’t imagine how Dale feels, though, losing himself.” Mom was staring at the wall as though looking through it to where the men had moved into their own shop.

“I can,” I blurted, then immediately regretted it.

Mom shook off her introspection and looked at me to continue.

“That’s why I quit my job.” I crossed my arms, not wanting to be defensive, but I was.

“I feel like I was lost for twenty years. Now I want to figure out who I am when I’m not a wife and mother.

I want to find me . And I know you feel lost, too.

That you’re trying to figure out who you are without Dad. ”

“I know exactly who I am,” she dismissed. “And I agree that helping Georgia was the right thing to do. But throwing away your career is throwing away something valuable.” Her voice edged toward impatience. “You’re not replacing it with anything.”

“I’m making room for something else. Something better.”

“Now you sound like Amber. She’s one of those hippies who comes into the thrift store, always telling me how she rakes the sand in her aquarium, and rearranges her crystals to fix her aura.”

“Mom,” I kept my voice as gentle as I could. “If raking crystals makes Amber happy, and that’s who she is, who cares?”

“She can do whatever floats her boat, but you’re not broken, Meg. You’re fine .”

“I don’t want to be fine,” I snapped, temperature spiking. “I want to be fabulous.”

Mom stiffened. I made myself take a breath.

“Look, I know Aunt Linda made you feel guilty about your affair with Dad, that you’ve always felt we have to live a certain way to make up for that.

But guess what? Dad was the one who cheated.

With his secretary. I really hope it was consensual, but quit carrying all the blame for his affair. Tell Aunt Linda to fuck off.”

Her expression shifted from shock to consternation to mild irritation.

“I can’t, can I? She gives your children money for school.” She picked up her smart blue raincoat and slid her arms into it, letting me know this conversation was over.

“She does. And I appreciate it. So maybe just say it in your head.” I chewed my lip, wondering if I’d gone too far.

“It was consensual, for the record.” She belted her coat, avoiding my gaze. “I was na?ve about what I was getting into, but your father gave me— us —a very good life. I can’t say I ever felt lost until he was gone.”

Oh, Mom. I wanted to hug her, but she was already digging through her purse, pulling out her keys, even though her car only needed the fob nearby to unlock the door.

“For what it’s worth, I know who you are, Meg. You’ve always liked to help people, so this...” She waved at the store. “In many ways, this is exactly who you are. That goes for Zak, too.” Her gaze held mine.

How could I be nudging forty and still feel so self-conscious when my mother saw right through me?

“He’s not the man-child Joel is, but I can see how you’re trying to prop him up.”

He’s a good person, I wanted to say. He needs support.

Did I want him to need me , though? I kind of did.

Mom was right. That was a slippery slope if my goal was to make myself the priority.

A gust of wind slapped rain against the window.

“I think we’re both fixers, Mom. That’s why I’m trying to move you to Toronto, so you won’t be so lonely here. We’re trying to fix each other’s lives so we don’t have to figure out our own.”

“I have been lonely at times,” she admitted with a slow nod. “And I’ll admit that as much as this has been outside my comfort zone, helping in here has been good for me.”

“Yeah? Does that mean you’ll let me buy you a toy? Have fun, Mom. Get wet,” I quoted from her sign.

“I was thinking of starting with joining a mixed foursome when golf reopens. Which, for your information, can be a gateway to polyamory.” Her gaze clashed into mine, wide with amused forewarning. “I’ve seen it happen.”

“Okay. Well. Make good choices. Use condoms.”

“Can you imagine?” she muttered, but we were both chuckling as she left.