Page 37 of Afternoon Delight

Meg

It was odd how much I noticed Zak’s absence. The antique store wasn’t very busy. They only got a few walk-ins a day, as far as I could tell. Although, I often didn’t notice when people came and went from his shop, but I sure noticed when it was zero.

Afternoon Delight had slowed down a lot since the advertising blitz of the relaunch.

That gave me plenty of time to work on my instructional slides for the contract work Peterson, Londale, and Funk had offered me.

At least now, when I trained titmice like Cameron to take jobs I would never be offered, I would be amply compensated.

And you’d better believe I would tell any women I trained exactly how much they should ask to be paid.

Thursday was an even longer, slower day. Roddie went to his first LGBTQIA+ meeting after school. It was nice that he had somewhere to go, since the antique shop was closed. He caught the bus to the meeting and texted me the address so I could pick him up on my way home.

If I hadn’t been so bored, I might have stayed late at work, but I closed right at five and swung into the grocery store, killing time before I had to get Roddie.

Mom had let me start cooking now that Roddie was here. With Shelby coming for the weekend, my mind turned to a menu that felt a little more celebratory. She was a vegetarian, which always presented a challenge, especially because Mom was firmly old-school, meat-and-potatoes.

I was trying to remember what I might need for black bean patties when I came around the end of the aisle and found Zak standing in front of the dairy cooler. My heart leapt with way too much joy.

“Zak! You’re back.”

“What?” He turned his head. His expression was just... devastated.

“Oh my God. What happened?” I released the handle of my cart and stepped closer. I grasped his arm. He looked as though he was about to topple off a cliff and needed someone to hold onto him.

He swallowed, fighting to keep his composure. “Dad didn’t recognize me. I came out of the shower and he thought I was a robber or something. He told me to get out of the house. He was scared .”

“Oh, Zak.” I slid my arms around his waist, trying to press warmth into his stiff frame. “Is someone with him? Can I call Zara?”

“She’s there. Carl went over. Dad thinks she’s Mom.” His hand came up, but instead of wrapping it around me, he wiped his cheek where a tear had leaked out and started to run. “I had to leave so he would calm down. I thought I should pick up some groceries while I had the chance.”

Try to carry on. That’s what you did when your world flipped upside down, right?

“Let’s get a drink.” Maybe ten or twelve. I rubbed his back, then plucked my purse from my cart and left everything where it was. “Do you have your car?”

“No, I walked.”

I wondered how far. We were about a kilometer from our shops, and he lived within walking distance of the building, but the evening was chilly and he didn’t seem to be wearing more than his flannel.

I turned on the heat in my car while I drove us to Tap That. We both ordered a beer and a burger, then I called Mom to ask her to pick up Roddie.

“I’m fine,” I told her. “But Zak had a rough day. I’m buying him dinner.”

“Oh?” Her voice held both concern and speculation. “I’ll see you when you get home, then.”

“Thanks.” I ended the call and texted Roddie, then turned to Zak. “How was Leavenworth? Was it exactly like Europe?” I was trying to draw him out of his tailspin.

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Couldn’t tell the difference.”

“Was it okay for your dad? Disorienting, maybe?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He sat back and nodded his thanks as our beers arrived. “We got there and the buyers helped me unload the van. They were nice. They took us out to dinner and put us in a room with two beds. Dad was confused when we got up, but we had a great morning wandering around town.”

“You saw the nutcrackers?”

“So many nutcrackers.” He shook his head. “He read me every little sign about them like they were clues in National Treasure.”

I propped my elbow on the table and leaned my head on my hand, adoring him for indulging his father that way.

“The drive home was fine. The roads were clear and dry. Dad knew where we were. He said stuff about the different towns. ‘Your mother bought a dress there once.’ Things like that. We got home, and I put on his game shows. I usually shower when he’s watching those.

He likes them so he doesn’t get up and wander outside or start cooking. ”

My heart stuttered at what that told me about how closely he had to watch Dale, so his father didn’t become a danger to himself or others.

“I walked across to my room, got dressed. I guess he heard me because he was in the hall when I came out. He was really scared. Wanted to know what I was doing in Zak’s room.”

I could see how bewildered Zak was. How hurt.

“The doctor warned us this was likely to happen at some point.” He rubbed his face.

“They said we shouldn’t, you know, correct him or try to make him believe reality, but I couldn’t help it.

I said, ‘I’m Zak.’ He said no, Zak was out with his wife.

And where’s Zara? What have I done with Zara?

He was really angry. Really upset. I thought he was going to hit me. ”

“Oh, Zak.” I reached across to squeeze his hand. He gripped mine tight. I could feel him shaking.

“I tried to distract him,” he continued in a hollow voice. “I asked what he wanted for dinner. Soup and sandwiches? I just wanted him to accept that it was okay I was there, but he was so scared. Of me .” He released my hand and used his thumbs to wipe both eyes again.

I unraveled our cutlery from its paper napkin and offered the napkin to him.

“Thanks.” He pressed the napkin into each eye. “I couldn’t stand there terrifying him.”

“No,” I murmured, heart breaking right along with his own.

“I went over to Carl’s, asked him to try calming him down.

They’ve been neighbors since Zara and I were little.

Dad let him in, and I could hear Dad saying he wanted to call the police, that he’d had a break-in.

I called Zara from Carl’s place—he had her number beside the phone or I wouldn’t have known it.

I didn’t have my phone. Once Zara was there, I just started walking. ”

“Oh, Zak.” He looked so lost I wanted to slide around the booth, sit beside him, and hug him again.

Our food arrived. I’d never been less hungry.

“Will you text her for me?” Zak his pockets. “I still don’t have my phone or my wallet. I don’t know how I thought I would buy groceries.”

“Sure.” I texted Zara, telling her where we were and that she could call Zak on my number if she wanted. She called a few minutes later, but they didn’t talk for long.

“Dad is calmer. She’s going to stay the night with him,” Zak relayed. “I’ll sleep at her place. Tomorrow we’ll get him to the doctor, but...” He shrugged. “There’s nothing they can do. We already know that.”

This situation was the absolute worst.

“Do you and Zara belong to any support groups?” I asked.

“We’ve talked about it, but I think we’ve been in denial about how bad it is.

It went so fast. One day she said, ‘I think Dad’s becoming absent-minded,’ then suddenly it was, ‘Dad can’t live alone.

’ What the hell do I do now?” He sat up straight and rubbed his face as though he’d been freshly sucker-punched.

“I can’t live with him if he’s afraid of me.

What do we do? Put him in a home where nothing is familiar? Where no one cares?—”

He stared at the back of the booth, clenching his eyes shut against fresh tears.

I thought again about moving to his side, but he picked up his burger. He looked like it took all his effort to chew and swallow.

“You don’t have to eat it,” I said gently.

“No, I’m hungry. I just...” He trailed off.

“This is the shittiest of shitty situations, Zak. I’m so sorry.”

“It really fucking is.”

The helplessness was killing me.

“Hey,” I said, remembering something as I shook vinegar onto my fries.

“I’ve been talking to a facilitator who specializes in senior sexuality.

I’m trying to organize some info sessions at the shop.

I’m sure she’ll know of some good groups for caregivers.

Let me get the details for you, save you calling around.

If you don’t use it, no skin off my nose, but at least you’ll have a number if you want it. ”

“Thanks,” he said, though his voice lacked enthusiasm.

I really wished there was more I could do.

After a minute, he asked, “Do you mean you want to host dementia caregiver therapy sessions in your shop? Next to the dildos?”

I absolutely did not, but I gave him my best look of wide-eyed innocence.

“Is it bad taste to invite burnt-out, emotionally distressed people into the shop under the guise of helping them so I can push sex toys on them?”

“Works for me. As you well know. ”

A wave of happy-sad laughter hit me. I was glad to see him rallying toward humor, but I realized how much he used jokes to cover up genuine anguish—deep, rough, rocky emotional waters.

“We actually have enough space in our shop to hold meetings there,” he mused. “God knows we have enough furniture.” His gaze drifted into the middle distance, but it was a glimmer of movement out of his dark spiral, so I encouraged it.

“What I’m hearing is that you want to poach my workshop attendees and sell them your dusty old knick-knacks. Shameless.”

“Never claimed to be any different.”

We stuck to meaningless banter for the rest of the meal. I offered to drive him to Zara’s after I paid.

“Thanks. And hey.” He stopped me in the parking lot. “Thank you for this. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck when you found me.”

“Now it’s only one of those little two-seater smart cars?”

“Self-driving electric. No one at the wheel to blame, just a short-circuit somewhere. Bad luck.”

“No kidding. But seriously, anytime.”

“Thanks.” His arms came up then faltered.

I moved in to hug his waist.

He folded his arms around me and held me tight and hard. Really hard. His chin rested against my hair. “I mean it, Meg. Thank you.”

The sky was spitting on us, but he was warm and strong—and so shaken I had to rub his back, trying to soothe him. He could hold me as long as he needed. I only wished I could give more. Do more.

Oh, God. I really was in free fall, wasn’t I?

He took an uneven breath, his chest rising under my ear, but he didn’t let me go.

“I knew you would feel like this.” His voice sounded different. Still unsteady, but for a different reason.

I ignored the way my blood turned to warm honey.

“How’s that?” I lifted my face to look at him in the light from the bulb mounted on the side of the building.

“Good.” His grin tugged sideways, rueful. “I think about you a lot. How it would feel to kiss you. Do other things.” His brow lifted. “I thought maybe you should know that.”

“That is very unexpected news, considering ninety percent of our conversations revolve around sex.” I was trying hard not to let his words mean more than they did.

“Tell me you think about it too, so I know I’m not a degenerate.”

“That ship has sailed, sir.”

“Fair.” Another sideways grin, this one fuller. More lighthearted.

We were still holding on to each other, pressed close, sharing amused smirks.

“I do think about you in certain ways,” I admitted ruefully. “Ways that are not helpful when you’re going through so much.”

“Don’t. That’s not what this is.”

I wrinkled my nose, pretty sure he was clinging to the nearest solid object—me—but I was okay with that, since his arms felt really good around me.

“I’m a grown adult and I’m sober. Mostly.” He’d had a second beer. “I happen to be having a bad day. If you think letting me kiss you would be taking advantage of me, then lucky me. Have at it.”

“Maybe today isn’t the best day for me to do that, is all I’m saying.”

“Hmph. But is it definitely possible that at some point you’re going to use me like a ten-speed, hands-free, water-resistant vibrator?”

“Until I’m too weak to leave my bed.”

“Swing,” he corrected. “Let me have that one.”

I adored him. “Do you think maybe we should get out of the rain?”

“Do you think maybe we should kiss? Just once? Just to see?”

“Once,” I allowed. “For science.” I immediately got all nervous and fluttery. My smile wouldn’t relax.

He was grinning too. He dipped his head to brush his mouth at the corner of mine. The bristles of his beard grazed my chin. I liked it.

We both laughed, self-conscious, then pressed our lips together with more purpose.

The flood of sensations was incredible. We were both shivering and shuffled closer, warding off the cold. Speckles of rain dampened my face and the heat of our skin made the drops sizzle.

A rush of excitement struck as I realized I was finally kissing this man. I’d been waiting and waiting, and it was every bit as lovely as I’d hoped.

We found the right angle, the perfect fit, and settled into it. For those few moments, nothing else existed. My whole body felt like it glowed.

When the hiss of tires on wet pavement neared, we broke the kiss and caught our breath, suddenly aware of where we were.

I pulled all the way out of his arms and zipped my jacket up to my chin, freezing to death now that I wasn’t snuggled up to him.

“That felt really good,” he said.

“It did,” I agreed. Way too good. Like, change-your-life-for-a-man good.

Been there, done that, and sent that worn-out old T-shirt to the rag bag. Never again, Meg. Never again .

“Where does your sister live?” I blipped my fob to light up my SUV.