Page 94 of Afternoon Delight
“You can eat first, Dad. We’ll do that later.” I got him seated and opened a bottle by tilting one against another, then handed it to him.
“We can share,” Meg said. “I don’t want a whole one. I’m driving.”
“I’ll get the opener. It’s on the fridge.” Dad rose again.
I let him go, thinking of all the times I’d silently judged parents who couldn’t keep their kids in line. It wasn’t that simple. Sometimes you just didn’t have any fight left. He’d eat later, while watching his game shows.
I shifted my chair so I could keep an eye on Dad in the garage. It also brought me closer to Meg—not exactly a hardship.
“He’s kind of wound up today. Doesn’t want to sit still. I’m not sure why, but that’s why the mower and buckets are out. We always used to wash the car and mow the lawn on Sundays if the weather cooperated. When he sees the bucket and mitt, he remembers it’s Sunday and doesn’t ask if we’re going to the shop. How’s your day?”
“Well, my mother basically agreed to buy a condo today.”
“Wow. And Georgia’s coming back to work, so...” My heart sank into the bottoms of my grass-stained sneakers. I bit into a taco and lifted it. “Is this a breakup dinner? Because I took you to a nicer place when I thought that’s what was going to happen.”
“How—oh. Right. Georgia came into your shop the other day. I forgot.” She took a bite of her own taco and glanced toward Dad, who was now engrossed in rearranging the shelves. “I wanted to see you. But yes, I also wanted to tell you I’ll probably leave at the end of the month.”
Eleven days.
We each took a pull from the beer we were sharing.
“Something I haven’t told you is that I feel like a shitty mother,” she said, still watching Dad.
“Why?” It was inconceivable. “You’re a great mom.”
“Not in the last few years. Not for Roddie—or even Shelby. She basically got herself through her last year of high school and accepted into U of C, all while getting Roddie to school and doing Joel’s laundry. Roddie didn’t tell me he was gay because he thought it would be too much for me on top of everything I was going through with Dad and the divorce. How awful is that?” She turned to me, eyes full of regret.
“That’s not abuse or neglect, Meg. That’s life.”
“I know. But divorcing Joel still felt like something I did to them. I made Roddie pick between staying in his home near his friends with his dad, who might be a dick, but he’s there, or the mom who parents via text. If Roddie was thriving with Joel and Wanda, I’d move here. But he’s not. He wants to live with me there. He wants to be back at the school where his friends are. I feel like I owe him that.”
“I understand.” I did. “But it sucks.” I took another swig. “You’ll come see your mom, though? When does Roddie graduate?”
“I’m not going to ask you to wait four years, Zak. Everything I said the other night still stands.”
“About me wanting kids? I’ve got one.” I nodded toward the garage.
She didn’t say anything.
I thought about Erica saying nothing lasts forever. About how she was willing to accept scraps until things changed. I wanted more for Meg.
We finished eating in silence.
“Do you want me to go?” she asked, balling up her napkin and tucking it into the box.
“No,” I said sullenly.
“I meant right now.”
“I know what you meant. I don’t want you to leave now or ever. Especially not now.” I felt like a child saying it, but it was the truth.
She stood and cradled my head against her stomach. I wrapped my arm around the backs of her thighs and let myself enjoy the sift of her fingers through my hair.
I never wanted to let her go. That was the bald truth. But I had to.
“Nothing is going to change in four years, Meg. Except Dad’ll be worse.”
And I would still love her.
