Twenty-Two
OWEN
I remain furious for the rest of the trip.
My stomach feels sick because I know this is just the thing that will have Zak running for the hills.
I’ve been assured over and over by the plethora of people calling me in association with the condo that it will never happen again, and I have their sincerest apologies.
That doesn’t fix this. It doesn’t take away Zak’s doubt or his fear. It doesn’t quiet the loud voices in his head that he’s from a different world and that’s where he should stay.
My game only slightly suffers from my bad mood. I’m far more aggressive than usual. My hits throwing other players into the boards come more frequently and harder than normal, but I’m already moving on before anyone has a chance to truly take offense.
I take nearly three times as many shots on goal and manage almost twice as many points as usual. It improves my stats, but I barely feel the pride of those moments. My anger carries me through each game and into each day.
The only thing that settles it for a while is talking to Zak.
Hearing his voice and knowing he’s home waiting for me.
He hasn’t left the building again, and I have a feeling he won’t until I get back.
This might be why my anger stays around.
I don’t want him to feel trapped, like he has no choice but to stay.
That’s not the kind of environment I want him in.
I want him to want to be there. To be comfortable and happy. I want my condo to feel like home.
Luckily, the rest of the trip goes by quickly.
Maybe it’s because I’m lost in my fury that I barely notice anything around me.
I know stewing in it isn’t exactly going to make anything better.
It has the potential to lead to some very bad decisions.
But I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I get home and Zak’s gone because of this.
When at last I open my condo door, I take a breath of relief. His boots are right there, sitting neatly on the mat. I shut the door behind me and drop my bag on the floor. I peel off my jacket as I kick off my sneakers.
Turning the corner, I find Zak standing in the living room. He’s wearing soft pants that must be his, but the hoodie he has on is mine. My heart flutters at the sight. His hands fidget at the hem, his eyes wide as he stares at me.
I sigh, my shoulders finally relaxing as I cross the room to pull him into my arms. He wraps his around my middle tightly as he buries his face in my neck.
Sometimes, Zak looks so small. Much smaller than he actually is.
Though he’s at most two inches shorter than I am, when he’s not right in front of me, I’d swear he is an entire foot shorter.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He nods.
“I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” I say, kissing the side of his head. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It won’t happen again. I swear.”
“How do you know?” he asks, his voice sounding small. I squeeze him harder.
“Because he doesn’t work here anymore.”
Zak jerks backwards and looks at me with horror. “He’s fired?”
I shrug.
“But it’s a rule. It says so on the window! He can’t be fired for following the rules!”
Taking his face gently in my hands, I kiss his lips gently. “I had an exception to the rule cleared by the man who writes his fucking checks. He was simply being an asshole. However, I don’t think he was fired. I think he was transferred to a different position away from this property.”
Zak still looks horrified. I pull him into me and hug him. “This is your home, Zak. Make no doubt about it.”
He takes a deep breath, holds it, and slowly releases. For a long time, we stay right there, wound together in a tight embrace.
“What would you like to do tonight?” I ask.
“Can we just… do this?” he asks.
I smile. “Yeah. Let’s get comfortable.”
He nods and we move to the couch where we curl up together. “Tell me what you did while I was away.”
Zak shakes his head. “Nothing really. I’m not sure what to do to pass the time.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Well, I visited all the places in the condo. Have you been to the roof?” I shake my head. “It’s beautiful up there. There are heat lamps, too. Also, there’s a hot tub downstairs. I didn’t go in it, but it was really warm down there.”
I grin, noticing the pattern in his most notable visits.
“I got the mail every day. There’s a pile on the table inside the door. My social security card came right away, but not my birth certificate yet. Maybe it’s lost in the mail.”
“Then we’ll order it again.”
He nods. “I played with my phone for a little while. I turned on the laptop but I’m a little overwhelmed with the search results when I looked up how to get my GED. There were fifty-eight million results!”
I chuckle. “Ninety percent of those are going to be shit sites that aren’t giving you actual information.
Some are going to be blogs from people who got their GED and want to relive the process for you.
We can start by narrowing down the requirements for acquiring your GED in the city.
There’s still going to be a lot, but usually the site we need will be on the first page. ”
Zak sighs. “I’m not good at the internet,” he whispers.
“You will be. Just start looking random things up and clicking around. See what you find.” He nods. “What else?”
“Well… I visited Clarinda that day. She’s doing really good.”
“That’s great. Her siblings are doing well?”
“Yeah. She’s worried about Danielle. She hasn’t heard from her.”
He told me a bit about each of his friends one of the times we talked while I was away. I know he’s worried about Danielle, too.
“You said she has until the end of the month, right? That’s how long the rent is paid through?” Zak nods again. “I’m willing to bet that Danielle calls her sister then.”
“Clarinda didn’t leave her anything. No food or cups or money. Not even laundry soap. How is she living?”
“How did you live?” I ask.
“Off the generosity of my friends,” he says bleakly.
“I’m sure she has friends like that too.”
Zak sighs. “Yeah. Maybe. I hope so. It’s not like I think she’s a bad kid. I think she’s been hurt by her mom like the rest of the family and is dealing with it in her own way.”
“I agree.”
A minute passes. “What else?” I ask.
Zak is quiet. After a while, he shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m not sure what to do with my time.”
“Soon you’ll be able to concentrate on getting your GED. Then we’ll see what else you want to do.”
He nods.
“Are you hungry?”
Zak’s laughter is muffled. “I’m always hungry.”
“Want to help me cook dinner?”
His shoulders stiffen. “I uh… don’t know how to cook.”
I don’t have to see his face to know his cheeks are probably red. I kiss the top of his head. “That’s okay. I’m happy to teach you. Or you can just keep me company if you want.”
He pulls his face back and looks at me. I was right—his cheeks are flushed. “I’d like to help.”
This time, I kiss his lips because I can reach them. “Then let’s go, sunshine.”
We disentangle from our spot on the couch and head into the kitchen. I open the fridge and take a look at what we have left for produce. There’s still a lot and most of it is on the tail end of its shelf life.
“I tried to eat as much of it as I could,” Zak says.
I shake my head. “No worries. We should have had a food conversation before I left. We’ll cook up everything that needs cooking. Here, put these on the counter, please.” I start handing him produce from the fridge, emptying the drawers.
There are fruits along with the vegetables that need to be used but far less of those. A good note to make.
When I’ve emptied the fridge of the contents that need to be used, I decide that it’s just going to be a hodge podge stir fry. I pull out some steak strips from the freezer and a few eggs before I get the rice going.
“Come here,” I tell him.
Zak follows me to the sink where I pull him in front of me and wash our hands together. I kiss his neck, making the entire thing far too sensual. But fuck, I’ve missed him so goddamn much. I had no idea that coming home to someone would be so… exciting.
This time Zak’s flush is very different. I kiss his cheek and then pull out a knife from the drawer. “How about you just begin chopping vegetables.”
His flush changes to one of embarrassment. “I’ve never done that,” he says. “Not since I was a kid.”
“Just cut them into similar-sized pieces. Not too big, otherwise they’ll take longer to cook. Okay?”
Zak chews his lip and gingerly takes the knife from me, nodding. “Okay.”
“I’m right here. Just don’t chop off your fingers.”
His shoulders tense. I grip him gently and kiss the side of his head. “You’ll be fine. I’m right next to you.”
Taking a breath, Zak nods.
While we prepare the veggies and the steak thaws in the sink submerged in cool water, I ask, “Let’s talk about foods you don’t like.”
“Uhm. Most green things like Brussels sprouts and asparagus. I don’t like fish, but that might just be the smell. There’s a possibility that I like fish if it doesn’t smell like… fish. I don’t like… artichokes. Uh… beets or radishes.”
“So you’re picky on vegetables.”
Zak smiles down at the carrots he’s slowly making his way through.
“Yeah. And most meats that aren’t commonly from farm animals.
Like, I’ve been told many times that venison and bison are better than beef, and even better for you since they’re less fatty, but I just can’t eat Bambi or the big beasts that were almost hunted to extinction. ”
I chuckle. “Noted.”
“I feel the same about fowl too. No, like quail or duck or pheasant, please.”
I’m rather impressed by his comments on food. It sounds almost like he’s had exposure to these things, which tells me there was a time in his past when he’d had a much simpler, easier life. I don’t ask for details. When and if he’s ready to share, I’ll be happy to listen. But I’m certainly curious.
Because Zak is cautiously very slow at chopping his vegetables, I move on to prepping the fruit for a mixed cobbler.
I don’t want him to feel rushed at his task, so I let him be once I made it through the onions and started them on a very slow caramelization.
He needs to gain some confidence, not only in the kitchen, but in himself. So I’ll just let him go to town.
“What foods do you not like?” Zak asks.
“I’m not the biggest fan of seafood,” I admit.
“There are a few fish I’ll try sometimes if I’m confident they’re fresh.
Like you, I’m not a fan of anything too fishy.
I don’t like most shellfish, so no mussels or snails or anything like that.
I’ll have crab in things, but not on its own.
Same with lobster, but only if it’s mixed in with other things.
Lobster is far too rich for me. But, oddly enough, I love shrimp. ”
“I don’t know if I like shrimp or not. I’m not sure I’ve had it before.”
“I’ll get some delivered later this week and cook some on the side. You can try it if you’d like. No pressure at all.”
Zak flashes me a smile.
“Let’s try the opposite now. What are your favorite foods?”
He laughs quietly. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”
“If you could have anything at all, any meal, what would it be?” I try.
I watch as he chews his lip for a long time while concentrating on the broccoli.
“My mom used to make dump casseroles,” he says.
“You know when you use most of something, but there’s always that little bit left that’s not enough for even a single serving for one?
We’d save all that stuff up and mix it together in a casserole dish.
There was only one time it turned out awful.
I can’t remember what was in it, but we were sick for three days after.
Usually, it was amazing. We could never duplicate it though, since it was always just whatever was left over.
Once we tried to write down what we put in it but forgot about making the list halfway through. ”
The soft smile on his lips as he shares this memory tells me a lot about him. He loves his mother, wherever she is. He has some fond memories of her.
“I promise that I’ll get you to a point where you feel confident enough to experiment with food while cooking,” I tell him.
Zak looks at me, his eyes shiny. His lower lip trembles a little and he quickly looks away. It takes him several deep breaths before he nods. “I’d like that,” he whispers.
Dinner takes us four times longer to prepare this way.
I make a mental note that we need to begin cooking earlier to accommodate this.
There’s no way in hell I’ll ever rush him.
That’s not how you build confidence in someone who has so little.
It’s not something I can give him, either. He needs to build it.
I will always go out of my way to make sure he feels comfortable enough to take the time to learn something new. Especially in the kitchen.
By the time dinner is ready, we’re both famished. I pile two plates with food and then portion the rest into single serving glass storage containers for the fridge, but leave them out to cool. We sit at the counter, angled slightly toward each other, and eat.
We’re quiet for the first several bites. Then Zak looks at me. “This is delicious.”
I smile. “Yeah? You did a good job.”
He rolls his eyes. “I cut things. You did all the cooking.”
“Believe it or not, how you cut vegetables goes a long way into making or breaking a dish. If they are too widely different sizes, you’d have some overdone and some way undercooked.”
Zak smiles. “I believe that, but I still think you did all the hard work.”
I lean forward and kiss his forehead. “When we share the work, we both get credit,” I tell him. “You’re going to have to learn to share that burden, sweetheart.”
The pink of his cheeks is delicious. But what I love most is his smile and the way his eyes shine. He gives me a single nod and turns back to his plate. “We made a really great dinner together,” he says quietly.
“We did. Then we’ll eat the dessert we made together and clean the kitchen together. After that, we’re going to wrap around each other, maybe naked, and watch a movie together in bed.”
Zak sighs. “That’s a perfect night.”
It really is.