Page 52 of Sew Matcha in Love
I wasn’t sure if he got my Golden Girls reference, but that was okay. I hurried into the kitchen to boil water for tea and pull out the box of pre-sliced cheesecake I’d ordered from Tasha last week.
Hmm. Only one slice left. I’d forgotten that the girls and I had indulged earlier in the week. I was holding a knife and debating on how to cut it when I felt Zaki behind me.
“Last piece? I don’t need any if you want it,” he offered.
I shook my head. “I think we both need to eat it for this to work.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” he replied.
“Oh yeah? From who?” I was testing him.
“Just some sweet old ladies. Met one of them in person, you know.”
I set the knife down. “You didn’t!”
“I did. Out in LA after a game. Betty White was a crazy flirt.”
Was he serious?
“I’m serious. There’s a selfie on my Instagram.”
“Wow,” I breathed. It had never occurred to me that he must have met scores of celebrities over the years.
The teakettle whistled, and I left the uncut slice to attend to it and fixed myself a cup. Zaki sat at the round table and gestured for me to sit next to him instead of across, where I usually sat. He’d set the plate between our seats with two forks, one on either side. Apparently, we weren’t slicing it in two.
“You take the first bite,” I suggested. “Tell me what’s weighing on you.”
Zaki picked up the fork and stabbed off the point of the cheesecake slice. “I’m happy for my friends.” He slid the fork into his mouth and pulled it out clean. I watched him chew, slowly, quietly, no slurping or weird noises.
My misophonia appreciated that.
“But?” I prompted.
“But I can’t fight off the feeling of massive loss. My family is broken up. I don’t see a path to having more kids. When we get back to Montreal, we’ll share custody again, and I’ll miss even more than I do now.” He dropped his head. “And then I feel worse for thinking those things. I have two beautiful girls. So many people can’t have children or never get the opportunity to. I can’t be ungrateful or upset. I have blessings that people would die for.”
I used the side of my fork to cut into the back corner and scooped the cheesecake onto the tines. “Your feelings are valid, Zaki. Your life hasn’t gone as you planned. You fell in love as a teenager, set high expectations for your career and personal life, and achieved most of them. Then you got blindsided. You never saw that coming. You couldn’t ease into it or prepare for it. It was there one day and gone the next.” I stuffed the fork into my mouth and fought back tears, thinking about the glass-encased flag on the mantel over the fireplace.
“Like your dad,” Zaki said quietly. He set his fork down and reached for my hand. I let him take it and watched as he rubbed his thumb lightly over my knuckles. “I’m guessing the sting of it never goes away.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t. But listen—we both still have so much to be grateful for. We both get to do what we love. We have great friends—distance won’t change that, only the frequency of seeing them. And your girls—they’re the best gift. I saw your face on the screen when they played that montage. The size of your grin equated to how amazing of a dad you wanted to be, and are.”
He gave my hand a light squeeze, still holding it, while his other hand cut into the cake for another bite.
I didn’t say anything as he thought over my words. I didn’t know how to convince him just how great of a father he was. When he spoke, there was pain in his voice and a touch of anger.
“What you didn’t see was the terror on Viki’s face.” He let go of my hand and his fork and rubbed his palms over his eyes. “She was so scared, and I didn’t notice. And when she told me, I didn’t validate any of it. I didn’t listen to her ‘what ifs,’ and I refused to consider anything that might go wrong. Why would it?”
I wasn’t sure if that question was rhetorical, so I took another bite of cheesecake.
Two bites left.
I set my fork down. I didn’t want to finish the cake before the talk was done.
Zaki’s hands covered his eyes, and his elbows rested on the table. Should I reach out and comfort him like he’d comforted me? I wanted to. From what I could tell in the short time I’d known him, he welcomed and craved physical touch.
I went for it.
Pushing my chair out from the table, I stood up and moved into place behind his chair. Then I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my head against the side of his.
