Page 97 of Afternoon Delight
Tell Mom she should wrap one of the monster dildos like a maypole.
I wouldn’t dare.
Your mother is a creative genius.
She’ll get there on her own.
“That must be your man again. No one else makes you smile like that in the middle of the day,” my new boss, Folami, said.
“Sorry.” I set aside my phone.
“I wasn’t scolding. Life is short. I just wonder why you’re not there with him if he makes you happy.”
“Mostly because I’ve got this brand-new job I’m trying to keep,” I said wryly.
“Pssh,” she dismissed. “But you’re right not to let a man hold you back, career-wise. I learned that the hard way. I’m running out for coffee. You want anything?”
“I’m trying to cut back. Sleep better, eat better. Be more boring.”
“You’re nailing it.” She slung her purse strap over her shoulder, flicked her beaded braids over the opposite one, and flashed me a cheeky grin as she headed for the door.
I liked Folami, even though I didn’t know her very well. She’d joined the small business division at Peterson, Londale and Funk when I was switching to remote work so I could be in Victoria more often with Dad. At the time, I mostly interacted with her through online meetings and chat. She was always pleasant but stuck to business, which I appreciated. She was ruthlessly efficient, too—another quality I liked.
The only time I’d been miffed with her was when she called in sick for a week during tax season. It was made worse by the fact that the rest of our division was a pile of listless potatoes who hadn’t picked up the slack like I did.
When Folami returned, the photo of her with her husband—who looked like he’d been ordered from the L.L. Bean catalogue—had disappeared from the shelf behind her. She’d replaced it with a photo of her dimpled twins in Sunday dresses, standing next to an elderly woman in a wheelchair.
Soon after, I left Joel. We didn’t talk about it, but I felt a kinship with her. I had quietly envied the way she navigated her divorce and tried to emulate her. Anytime I saw her, she was in full makeup, with hair and nails impeccable, outfits always professional yet made from warm colors that gave her a cheerful, approachable vibe.
Her unspoken ‘better off without him’ message had kept me washing my own hair and making an effort. I’d started going back into the office, hadn’t I?
She left for another firm without any fanfare and that’s where I thought she’d stayed so I was surprised to learn she’d opened a boutique accounting office last year, one that specialized in small businesses. Since I was looking for work, I impulsively messaged her to congratulate her—and to ask if she was hiring. I added, Or we could just get a drink and bitch about exes and PLF.
Two drinks and a shared plate of nachos later, I had a job. Folami already had an associate and more clients than she could handle. Within days of my posting online about my new job, four of my best clients from Peterson, Londale and Funk reached out, asking to make the switch.
I felt good about bringing fresh clients into Folami’s office, but it was scary, too. It meant I was putting down new roots here in Toronto.
Which was okay, because Roddie seemed to be thriving. He was back at his old school, staying at Joel’s a couple of nights midweek, but officially, he lived with me, eating his weight in groceries and leaving his shoes in the middle of the floor like old times.
Actually, he was staying with Joel tonight, wasn’t he? I grabbed my phone again and texted Zak.
Want to have phone sex tonight?
Hi Meg, it’s Zara. I have Zak’s phone.
Oh, he thought he was funny?
Offer’s still open.
I hate you. What time?
God, I loved him.
Thankfully, I was alone in the office so no one heard the whimper that caught in my throat. I really did. I loved Zak with my whole entire being, in a way I had never loved Joel.
And I had loved Joel in many ways. There’d been the sexual crush and teenaged romantic idealism, along with a co-dependent’s love of being needed. There was the love built on shared years and fond memories. I mean, yes, he was a self-involved dickhead, but he had a decent sense of humor and could tell a good story. He made great kids, and he’d never been afraid to spend money on what he wanted. We’d taken some amazing vacations, like taking the kids to see gorillas in Rwanda. I’d call it a trip of a lifetime, but we’d also taken them to all the Disney properties, snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef, and we’d once watched a space shuttle launch.
When we’d gone to counseling after his first affair, Joel had shared some things about his dad’s alcoholism that helped me understand him better. He’d missed out on a lot in his own childhood, which led him to indulge himself as an adult, sometimes in ways that weren’t entirely healthy.
