Page 44 of Something like Desire

“Check out this castle,” he says, pointing through the window at the intricately carved wooden castle displayed on a table, twinkling under a string of fairy lights, complete with a moat and a tiny drawbridge. “Can you believe someone carved that out of wood? It’s pretty incredible.”

He presses his face up to the glass, clearly captivated.

I smile. “Want to go inside? There’s probably loads of other cool stuff in there.”

Zach lights up like I just asked if he wanted pizza. “Thought you’d never ask.” He swings open the glass door, and we step inside, greeted by the warm glow of antique lamps and that unmistakable thrift-store scent—old books, a bit of mustiness, a hint of mothball.

“Hey there,” a man with curly white hair calls out from behind an ancient-looking cash register. “Need a hand finding anything?”

“We’re going to check out what you have,” I say, glancing at a pair of beady-eyed squirrel-shaped salt and pepper shakers that I’d totally buy as conversation pieces—for conversations that begin with,Why the hell did you buy such creepy knickknacks?“Not looking for anything in particular.”

He gestures around the store proudly. “Well then, you’re in the right place. Take your time. There are enough treasures here to keep you entertained for hours. And everything’s ten percent off today.”

Zach follows me down the first aisle, and we examine rows of old books, their scent a combination of dust and worn leather. We pass a rack of eclectic clothing containing a fuzzy neon green sweater, bowling shoes, and a yellow fedora. “I have an idea,” Zach says with a grin playing on his lips. “We both pick three items for each other, and we have to wear them to lunch.”

“Oh, you are so on,” I say, extending my hand for him to shake. “You’re going to love what I pick, I already know.”

“You’re going to love what I pick more,” Zach says teasingly. “You’ll probably make it a permanent part of your outfit rotation.”

He clearly doesn’t know who he’s competing against.Challenge accepted.I step away from him and head toward the blazer rack. Nestled between a navy pinstripe jacket and a brown tweed coat is a fuzzy zebra-print cardigan. It feels like a stuffed animal, and I can’t stop petting it. Perfect. That’s the first piece of Zach’s lunch outfit officially selected and it’s better than I could have imagined.

I turn down the accessories aisle and spot a hot-pink cowboy hat, its brim encrusted with purple and orange rhinestones.Bingo.Next, I snag a purple boa that sheds feathers with every step. That was fast. The guy at the cash register’s right about this place being full of treasures. “Okay, I found my items,” I call. “You’re going to look amazing.”

“What a coincidence. I just finished finding yours. You’re going toadorethem.” Zach appears in front of me, his hands behind his back, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

I show him each of my selections like they’re Gucci pieces.

“Oh my god, the owner of the restaurant is going to think I’m a total weirdo,” Zach says. “The last time he saw me, I had just found out about my dad and your mom, and I was a massive grump. And now I’ll be back dressed like a... a crazy disco safari man.”

“A deal’s a deal,” I say. “You’ll look great.”

“Okay,” Zach says, “but you need to fully commit to my choices for you.”

He swings his hands out from behind his back with a flourish, revealing the treasures he’s been hiding: a pair of enormous magenta sunglasses with bubblegum-pink lenses, a hat made entirely of blue feathers that looks like it might take flight, and a dress patterned with cat heads—one of which bears an uncanny resemblance to my old buddy Hairball—complete with tiny felt ears sprouting from the shoulders.

“Oh no,” I breathe.

“Ohyes,” Zach says. “Like you said, missy, a deal is a deal.” He extends his arm. “Shall we?”

I laugh as I link arms with him and we pay, then step outside and put our new outfits on over our clothes.

It’s even more ridiculous than I imagined. Zach looks like a seventies porn star who moonlights as a children’s party entertainer. I reluctantly wriggle into the cat dress and balance the feathery hat on my head, already imagining a family of sparrows moving in before we reach the restaurant. The sunglasses make the world look strange and a little psychedelic.

“You look ravishing,” Zach says, with an amused smile. “You really suit cat print.”

“And you,” I tell him, “look like the prettiest zebra at the zoo.”

“That’s what I was aiming for,” Zach replies proudly. We walk along the street, people giving us bemused glances. A few of them even take not-very-subtle pictures of us.

We walk about a mile from the busy section to Pavaro, a restaurant I’ve passed a bunch of times but never felt enticed to try; It’s small and there are always tons of cars out front, its tiny sign instructing customers to enter from the back of the building.

Zach and I head around back, and he pulls open the door. We step inside the small space, where there are only ten tables, all of them occupied.

A tall man in his late fifties approaches us, his mouth gaping open. “Zachary?” he says. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Zach says, doing a slow spin so the man can appreciate his outfit in all its glory.

“You look like you’re going trick-or-treating, but you also look a lot happier than the last time I saw you.” The man gestures at me. “And who do we have here?”