Page 23 of The Sailor

Zach nodded.

“What would I carry in a purse, anyway?” she asked, as they headed out.

Zach waited patiently behind her as she locked her apartment door. “I have no idea. I don’t know what women carry around with them all the time. I had to look in my mom’s purse for something once, and it scarred me for life. I saw a tampon, a bag of pretzels, and a wad of what I thought was used tissues, and I was done. No more purse looking for me.”

Marit laughed as they headed down the stairs. Zach took her hand in his when they reached the bottom. He loved hearing her laugh. For all she’d apparently been through with her brothers while growing up, and the harassment in her chosen career, she was a surprisingly happy person. He loved that about her. That she could live in the moment and not dwell on the past.

“Tampons are a normal part of life,” she said, when she’d gotten control of herself.

They walked at an easy pace toward his place, which was only three blocks away. It was still light outside, as the sun didn’t set until late in the summer. Although all too soon it would be dark at four in the afternoon and stay that way until around seven in the morning.

“I realize that. And I have no problem with tampons or pads. I’ve bought them in the past and brought them to women when they were having an emergency in the bathroom. I just don’t want to think about my mother having them or using them. Or having any kind of sexual organs, for that matter.”

Marit giggled once more. “You do know that you and your brothers wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t had sex.”

Zach pushed a finger from his free hand into his ear and singsonged, “La la la . . . I can’t hear you.”

Marit stepped closer and knocked her shoulder into his arm. “Whatever.”

Zach smiled down at her. He liked this. A lot.

“You’ve brought a tampon to someone when they were in the bathroom with a period emergency?”

“Yup,” he said nonchalantly. “On a Navy ship, there’s not a lot of privacy. And I was walking by a bathroom when I heard someone calling out from inside. I peeked my head in and heard a woman asking for someone, anyone, to get her a tampon. I flagged down the next woman I saw, had her get me one from her room—which, luckily, was nearby—and brought it into the restroom for the other woman.”

“Wow. That was . . . nice. You weren’t embarrassed?”

“Not really. I mean, like you said, it’s a part of life. I don’t even know who the woman was either. I had to get to the galley right after that.”

“Huh.”

Zach looked down at her. “Is that a good huh, or a bad one?”

“Neither. Just interesting. What are we having for dinner? I could eat a moose. Not that I’ve ever had moose, but I’m just sayin’.”

“No moose. Chicken parmesan.”

“What’s your way?”

“Alfredo and lobster sauce. Tons of garlic. And of course, cheese. All the cheese.”

“Oh my God, that sounds amazing. Will it take long to cook?”

“The chicken’s already cooking. When we get to my place, I’ll take it out and finish it up on the stovetop, giving it a quick fry so it has a nice crispy breading, then add the sauce. Then it’ll take another ten minutes or so in the oven to melt everything. I did bring home some lobster-and-Brie-stuffed mushrooms that we served at the shack today. They didn’t sell as well as I’d hoped, and we had a ton extra.”

“What’s wrong with people these days? I could probably eat a dozen of those babies.”

This woman. She was fucking made for him. “Well, that’s good, because I think I brought home about two dozen.”

To his surprise, Marit wrapped her arm around his and leaned her head against his bicep as they walked. “This is nice. Thank you for inviting me over. I was going to have another frozen meal before wasting at least an hour scrolling through social media and watching stupid videos before probably falling asleep on my couch.”

Zach made a mental vow to make sure Marit had fresh food for dinner as often as he could possibly manage. Lord knew he usually had plenty of leftovers from the shack. Some of the things he created for his customers sold very well, and others not so much—like the stuffed mushrooms from today. He was still learning what worked and what didn’t. For the most part, people were very receptive to the bougie lobster dishes he came up with. Were open to trying something other than the typical lobster roll.

“Here we are,” he said as they approached the house with his apartment. “It’s not very fancy,” he warned her, as he opened the door.

He gestured for Marit to enter first and watched her carefully as she looked around his place.

He had a studio apartment, with everything in one big room. Thankfully, it was a fairly large room. His queen-size bed—which he slept in diagonally, in order to fit—was on one end of the space, leaving room for two oversize recliners and a modest-size TV.