Page 7 of Zeppelin
Never the same woman.
Our brotherhood, our friendship, our bond above everything else.
I shake my head, hoping to hell that she can’t tell what I’m thinking. “I probably could.”
“Or take up boxing or mixed martial arts. I heard that’s a great way to reduce excess energy and testosterone. It requires discipline.”
“Getting my ass kicked in the gym would probably be a lesson in humility. You think I need that?”
She rolls her eyes, but not unkindly. Ginny’s witty, but she’d never use her brainpower to make someone else feel small. I’m just guessing. I don’t know. But that’s the vibe I get.
“You’ll consider what I asked? And you’ll call if you need anything?”
“Those are two separate questions.” I don’t respond. Neither does she. We remain in the silent standoff for a few minutes. Somehow, it’s not uncomfortable. “My answer isn’t no,” she finally says, choosing her words carefully. My heart still races. I’m unaccustomed to hope like this. To feelinganythinglike this. “I just need some time to process all of this. I- I just found out, and then Jack was gone. It’s been a week of hell, trying to come to terms with that. Tonight is supposed to be about closure, but everyone’s lives have still changed. I need to put myself back together. I need to figure out how I’m going to do this. You’re right about one thing. Jack would have loved for you to be a part of this baby’s life. So to that, in some capacity, it’s a yes. I just need to figure out what that looks like and how to get there.”
“I’ll take that.” It’s so much more than I deserve. It’s so much more than I’ve everletmyself want.
Coming out here wasn’t me. It was something else driving my steps, my words, my actions.
Not something ghostly or otherworldly. I don’t believe in that. I’ll always feel Jack’s presence because I have our memories, but I don’t think he’s up somewhere looking down on me. What the fuck do I know, though? I’m starting to realize it’s not much of anything. I’ve always known to trust my gut, and it said something was up, andthat’swhy I came out here. Might be that my eyes are open and I’m seeing things I was blind to before. People say all sorts of things about death, but losing someone? The one thing that’s true is that it’s a shock. It wakes you the hell up and shakes you out of whatever stupor you didn’t even know you were living in.
“Okay.” Ginny nudges her black boot into the ground. “Okay then. I should probably get back inside.”
I nod, but can’t find anything else to say.
“I’m sorry about the hedge. And uh, the grass. And the sidewalk.”
“It’ll survive.”
“Okay,” she repeats, driving her toe even harder into the sidewalk. She mirrors my nod.
I’m the leasttimelineguy that ever existed, but I want to make things even more awkward by asking her if she’ll call me. When. How long will it take her to decide how I can be helpful? I’ve never been needy. I’ve always been a shit communicator at best, and this? This feels like a relationship, no matter how irregular of one it might be.
Ababy.
This woman is growing my brother’s child in her body. That’s the relationship. That’s the tether. If she allows it, I’ll always be connected to her. That’s more than crazy. It’s nearly unfathomable. This morning, I was mourning the loss of my brother, still in disbelief that he’s justgone, so thoroughly wounded that I wondered if I’d ever be able to take a breath again, and hours later, everything is different. There’s hope. There’s Ginny, and there’s a baby. I never wanted to be an uncle until I suddenlytruly wanted it.
“I’ll see you around then,” Ginny says before she turns and walks up to the front door. It’s usually locked, but not tonight. Wizard has cameras set up at the front, but that door also pretty much opens up right into the lounge where everyone is. No one could enter or exit without being seen. We wanted to keep that door open so anyone who knew my brother could drop in, have a drink, and send wishes of hope that there’s something after this and that it’s better.
The door bangs shut after Ginny, the sound echoing into the still, silent night.
I tilt my face up to the dark purple sky, bruised like my soul this past week, unhummable as explaining that ache inside of me, or thinking about what the future looks like as a single part of what should always have been a duo.
I squint against the heat gathering in my eyes again. It won’t break over me. I’ll control the storm. For now. For a minute. The next. The next. Until it passes.
“If you’re out there somehow, I just want you to know that it’s not better there. It was good here. You were about to have everything. Your life was so full. Just so you know, you’re a fucking idiot and I hate you for breaking your promise. It wassupposed to be me and you until the end. This isn’t it. I’m still here and you’re- you’re nowhere. That’s where you are. I’ll never forgive you for it. Fucking. Never.”
I stand there, breathing raggedly, muttering under my breath, hands clenched at my sides. I don’t feel any better for letting that out, probably because I know deep down, that I don’t mean half of it.
Chapter 3
Ginny
I’ve spent almost all of what I can remember of my life on the farm. I know the land, the birds, the animal tracks. I know the seasons, the roads, the stillness, and every other sound. I know exactly what piece of equipment or vehicle my dad and brother are driving into or out of the yard just based on the noise it makes. I know what’s familiar, and I know what doesn’t belong.
The low rumble in the distance isn’t right.
It’s not natural. It’s overcast today and drizzling on and off, but it’s not thunder.
