Page 60 of Zeppelin
“Yes it is. Because you want it, it’s more than important.”
My insides hurt with something way past nausea and embarrassment. I’m thoroughly convinced that no one else sees this man the way I do. They have no idea how kind he is and that’s such a travesty.
He has my purse, since he gathered it up from under the chair he was sitting on. I motion for him to take it with him, since it has the truck keys and registration in it, as well as money.
“I don’t need that,” he protests. “I’ve got it.”
I’d like to argue about this, but I’m currently still covered in throw up and would very much like to rectify the situation with a sponge bath and a change of clothes.
“Take it anyway. For the keys and stuff.”
He nods tightly. Unexpectedly, he lightly grasps my chin between his fingers and tilts it up. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”
“About as okay as I can be.”
He turns his face and grazes his lips over my cheek. His beard tickles, but his lips are so, so soft, and my heart nearly leaps out of chest. I swallow convulsively as I watch him go, my leather purse slung over his shoulder. I wouldn’t exactly have called Zeppelin secure in anything, but that was before I knew him.
I count the moment we stood on the sidewalk that night outside the clubhouse, as moment one. Zeppelin should have been drunk to the point of obliterated, but he wasn’t. He was sober. Feeling it all. Letting the pain take him apart silently.
Is it still?
I let myself into the bathroom and strip out of my disgusting clothes. I’m used to pretty much sponge bathing at this point, so wetting one of the small towels and running it over my legs and arms, belly and breasts and back and neck isn’t a big deal. I don’t have a bag to put them in, so I rinse my clothes out the best I can in the sink and roll them tightly into a towel like I do with a wet bathing suit. I splash water on my face and rinse the ends of my hair because they dipped into the splash zone.
I wrap myself up in the sheet after, knotting it at the front. I would have taken even a hospital gown at this point, but I guess they don’t have those here? The sheet is more than adequate and at least it’s not made of paper like what you get at the doctor’s office.
I gather up the towels and my clothes and take it all with me.
Thank goodness no one is in line to use the bathroom and doesn’t have to witness my strange appearance. I duck into the side room without anyone seeing me.
It’s another exam room but half the equipment is missing, so maybe it’s no longer in use. I slide into a stiff black chair in the corner and wait.
I wonder when they’re going to give me photos. I want to share them with my family, but I also want Zeppelin to havesome. When did I start thinking about him almost as quickly as I think about telling my mom or sister something?
I think about that night at the club again. Overnight, Zeppelin aged twenty years. He has his whole club family, but it was never more clear that he’s very alone. Do they understand him? Does he let them in? He might want to belong there, but he holds himself back. He doesn’t do that with me. Sometimes, I think I get to see the parts of him that no one but Jack did, and maybe even more than that because the nature of our relationship is so different. In just the shortest time, he’s given me so much. What has that cost him? Why did I never ask myself that before?
Even though it’s been an impossibly short amount of time, the door cracks open and Zeppelin sticks his head in like he wants to check that I’m decent.
He grins at me and thrusts himself quickly through the door, shutting it tightly behind him. He holds out a bunch of bags. Some of them are ornate and have a distinct boutique quality about them. The clinic is in a part of the city where there are a bunch of strip malls with those kinds of stores. Each one is the kind of place where you pay hundreds for a dress and ten dollars for a small coffee.
I can’t say anything because I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude and guilt. Zep must see that because he drops the bags and pulls out the most gorgeous floral wrap dress that I’ve ever seen. It’s dainty and flowy. I know the name on the bag. It’s the kind of boho inspired store without the thrifty prices. I’ve only ever dreamed of being able to afford something from there. The dress is a light pink with a burst of flowers embroidered all along the ruffle hem.
“Oh my god,” I breathe. “Zep, seriously!”
It might just be the lighting in here, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “I didn’t want to buy you pants because I wasn’t sure about the size. This is adjustable. You could wear it anytime.” He produces a soft, fuzzy pink cardigan from the bag. I wanted you to have something warm.”
I breathe, my throat so clogged with tears that I can barely push even that much out. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”
He lifts the flap on my purse and pulls out a package of gum. “I almost forgot. There’s this too. I got you mint tea as well from the coffee shop. It’s in the car.”
If I wasn’t so gross, I swear that I’d rush across this room and fling myself against him. I’d hug him and kiss him and—
No. I was the one who said I needed time. Why does it feel so natural to do that? To want to be close to him? I can’t confuse things again. I’ve seen his pain, and I don’t want to cause more.
“I’ll just leave you with this and I’ll step out so you can get changed. You can put your clothes in the bag? I asked for an extra large one just for that.”
My god. This man. He thought of things that I wouldn’t have, even if I had hours and wasn’t rushed the way he was. How he even got back here so fast, I have no idea.
He slips out of the room, but I can see the shadow of his boots under the door crack, like he’s standing guard.
