Page 9 of Zeppelin
I fist my hands on my hips and repeat my question with just as much impatience and heat. “What are you doing here?”
“I might have asked Carver when planting season usually was. I mean, you said last week that you do markets. I figure that means farmer’s markets, which means gardening. It’s been nice, minus today. So… I figured you’d be planting. I want to offer to help out. You shouldn’t be doing all that hard work when you’re in a delicate condition.”
I reallyshouldn’tstand here gaping. How do I even respond to that? “We’re doing a market tomorrow, so we’re baking for it. That’s what we sell when we don’t have fresh vegetables.” Okay, yeah, but I should be telling him that I’m all good, thanks for thinking of me, but unless I give him a direct invitation, I don’t need the help.
And there’s sure as hell nothing delicate about me.
“I did say I needed time,” I venture, maintaining eye contact. I don’t want to look away. It’s important to be firm in establishing boundaries. That’s about as polite of aplease piss off and don’t come backthat I can muster. I have a sudden idea, because riding all the way out here on the off-chance I’d be at home, seems strange. “Did you talk to my sister?”
Guilt flashes across his face faster than he can cover it up. “She might have pity talked to me to see how I was doing without… yeah. I might have asked her some roundabout questions. She didn’t know why I was asking.”
“You aren’t giving Bronte enough credit. She’s worried about me. She probably likes the idea of you watching out for me, or us consoling each other as a very strange and reluctant type of friends.” Meaning, she thinks that this is a hard time for me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Sick as fuck.” I might as well be honest. “I don’t get it. My mom never had morning sickness and Bronte had a little bit of heartburn now and then and that was it. My stomach is a mess all day long,already, and it’s getting hard to hide it from my family.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Unless you have a sleeve of saltines and a bottle of water stuffed up your asshole, probably not.”
He’s startled at first, but then his lips twitch. “Sorry. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Also sorry that I have no such magic stuffed up in any hidden crevices.”
This.
Ugh, the thing about the twins is that they could be so obnoxious as an instantaneous defense mechanism that some of the guys at the club affectionately referred to them as the twins of terror. They might show everyone else a typical asshole front, but occasionally, I did glimpseJack, and not just Grave.
The best part about Grave’s annoying sense of humor was that he didn’t just dish it out. He had no problem taking it, often from himself. Under all those layers, he was a little bit soft. I think he was waiting for the right person to come along and see that and figure out how to love him. I know that person wasn’t me, but I did like him. I wish he was still here…
“Everything I read says it will pass,” I choke, my voice thick with emotion. I have to stop thinking about that or I’m going to break down. “Well, most things. Some people are unlucky enough to have to endure this for the whole nine months and then the real hard stuff starts.”
“The hard stuff?”
“You don’t just push out a baby and they’re a little fully formed human who is entirely independent. It’s the opposite. My sister had a great baby, but there were still a lot of rough nights. It takes a toll on your body.” That’s about as far into detail as I’m going to go with that. My face is already hot.
“I joined some forums. Parenting forums.”
Blomp! There goes my jaw, hitting the darned gravel.
“It’s not the first time I’ve looked up something. I’ve listened to quite a few podcasts and videos and stuff about cars and bikes and the garage.” He ignores my incredulous, rude gaping. “Babies aren’t that much different.”
I swipe away the small beads of moisture gathering on my forehead. I don’t mean to laugh, but I can’t help it. “They’re quite a bit different, I’d say.”
“That’s just semantics. Vehicles need lots of love, care, and maintenance. Babies are pretty much the same.”
If this is how he wants to relate to this, I’m not going to be a jerk. What’s the female version of mansplaining? Anyway, I’m not going to dim the tiny glow that’s come into his eyes. It looks good on him. He’s excited about this. He didresearch. He came all the way out here, maybe to help out in any way he could, but also to talk to me. It’s clear he was worried. He’s probably been even more tormented and anxious than I have, dealing with one shock while trying to process losing his brother. He should have called or texted me first, but he still rode almost three hours on wet roads all the way out here.
Before I know what I’m doing, my hand smooths over my stomach. This baby is already so loved, and by more than just me. I drop it quickly, aware that my mom could be watching us right now.
I want as many people in my baby’s life as possible, loving them, teaching them, helping them throughout the years. Zeppelin getting excited about this, eager, concerned, showing a whole lot more emotion in two brief conversations than I’ve seen from him ever—that’s not nothing.
It’s a lot ofsomething.
“I…” he holds out a hand, but quickly drops it, ramming it into the pocket of his jeans. I notice now that they cling to him because they’re wet, outlining the muscles of his hard thighs. “I’m sorry I just showed up here. It’s a twat move, I’ll give you that. Last night, I was just thinking about- about Jack.” He looks over my shoulder, but quickly turns his eyes up to the sky. I don’t think he’s searching for his brother there, he just doesn’t know where to look. “Me and Jack. That’s what I was thinking. It’s fucking weird that I won’t be able to say that again. There’s a cut off point. Jack will never do anything with me again. He’s not a person anymore. He’s nothing. Just a name. A set of memories.There was a fuckton of bad, but there was good too. I want his child to know that. I want them to know the best of him. Not just photos. You can’t get a sense of a person that way.”
How can I stand here and not be affected by this man’s obvious pain and misery, but also by his determination? All those hollow places in me fill with the force of his emotion, the extra huskiness in his voice that he can do nothing about, that thick swallow at the end of it all and how his eyes graze the ground before returning to mine.
“Zeppelin. I- I’m so sorry for what’s happening right now. For your pain, for all this change that no one should have to live through. The world is often hard and cruel. Jack deserved so many more years and you should have had that with him.”
