Authors: Sarah Ann Walker
“Yes, it made perfect sense. No worries.”
When we enter the apartment, Z asks me if I have to use the washroom. What a strange, personal question. Ah, actually I do have to pee again.
"Can I take you?"
WHAT?!
"Um, why? I'm just going to go pee." Blush. Giggle.
"I won't look. I promise. I'll stay on the other side of the glass cubed partition."
"O-
kay..."
Weird.
Entering the bathroom, Z does this strange moving thing kind of around me, kind of leading me to the toilet. It’s like we’re dancing, kind of. I'm getting so embarrassed. Why is he acting this way?
"Why are you acting so strangely? I
have
peed before." I can’t help another awkward little giggle.
"I know. Go ahead, Sweetheart. I'll be over here by the sink." Okay.
After peeing, I'm totally embarrassed, but at least Z had turned on the water, so he couldn't hear me. Walking toward him and the sink, he spins toward me and begins cleaning my hands with a cloth. Why?
Trying to reach around him, Z again gives me a nice hug. Uh oh. Something is definitely wrong. I can actually tell by his strange smile. It’s not his usual beautiful easy smile, this one is… well,
strange.
"What's wrong? You're acting very strangely. Please just tell me. If you don't like my clothes I can change."
"Nothing’s wrong. I was just helping. Would you like to join me while I change?" Hell yeah!
"Okay… just a second. I want to check my..."
OH. MY. GOD!!
What the
FUCK?
! I think I just heard Z say 'fuck' too. At. The. Same. Time.
Did he
? Who fucking cares? I am stunned into silence, absolutely
STUNNED!
This is truly incredible! This is an out-of-body experience! This is crazy! This is shocking! This is so... so
FUNNY!
Gasping on my laughter, it explodes from my chest and mouth. I can barely breathe for the laughter. I have never IN MY LIFE seen anything funnier! I'm going to die from laughing to death!!
Z begins trying to tug me away from the mirror. Fighting him, and the laughter, I almost fall over, on my FUCKING HEELS! As he grasps my arms steady, I'm almost hyperventilating with laughter.
"I'm o-okay. Honestly. I'm almost d-done laugh-ing."
"Sweetheart.
Please..."
"No. I'm good. I'm just...
Shocked!
What d-did I
DO?!
" And a little more laughter escapes.
"It's okay, love. You..."
"It is
NOT
okay, but it
IS
very funny.
Oh. My. God!
You poor thing!
You had to walk with me like this. Holy
SHIT!
You must have died of embarrassment!" And another giggle.
"I was fine. I was a little concerned about you though."
"Well, you are more man than most. How could you
stand
to be seen with me?"
Jeez…
more laughter. I just can’t get a grip.
"I was fine."
Seriously?!
"You were fine?! Well, then...
You
, Mr. Zinfandel, are as FUCKED UP,
as I look!
"
Howls of laughter follow my words. Will this laughter never end? Christ, I’m getting stomach cramps from the laughter. Finally Z smiles a little, while I continue to laugh.
Looking at me kindly, "Are you okay, Sweetheart? Are you
back
with me now?" God, yes!
"I'm here. But
holy shit!
What the
hell
did I do?"
Smiling again, Z says, "Um, I'm not really sure what look you were going for..."
"No kidding! Neither am I!"
All I can do is stare at myself in the mirror. There’s nothing else
to
do. I don’t even know how to proceed from here. I’m just kind of in shock or something. This is just too much to process.
"Can we please talk about this now? I'd really like to talk to you for a minute." No, doubt!
"Um, sure, but can I have a few minutes to clean up and change? I look like a, a
freak
or something."
"It's not that bad, really..."
"Well then, you are either the kindest person on the planet, or you have
completely
lost your mind. I have never seen anything like this IN MY LIFE, and I hope I never do again. I'm fine, Z,
really
. I'll be out in a couple minutes, I promise."
Staring at me with obvious concern, Z almost begs, "I'd rather stay here with you. I'll turn away if you'd like."
"No. Please give me a few minutes. I really,
really
need to be alone. I'm fine, Z. No worries. I mean honestly, how much worse can I get?"
Nodding, Z doesn't look convinced, but at least he finally leaves me alone in the bathroom.
W
hat the hell did I do? Actually, more importantly, how the hell do I explain away what I’ve done? Jesus
Christ!
Where do I start? My hair I think. Pulling the red beret from my hair proves challenging. Apparently, I stuck it to my head with my chignon bobby pins. Ouch. Once removed, half my hair falls down in strange ringlets, while the other half stays firmly in place on my scalp. It looks freakishly unkempt. Pulling the rest of the bobby pins out, I quickly re-twist my hair and secure it up against my head again,
NEATLY
.
My make-up is horrendous. Black mascara lies chunky, streaked and clumped all over my face. Christ, it’s even in my eyebrows. Holy Shit I look like some gothic freakin’ nightmare. I’m like a Tim Burton character for Christ’s sake! Was I crying again?
Apparently.
My lips are dark, dark red. Where did I even get the lipstick? I've never owned red lipstick in my life. My mother always told me, 'red lips are for harlots'. Scrubbing my entire face with soap is my only option…
twice.
I may as well brush my teeth while I'm at it.
Next, I have to deal with the clothes. Honest to god, I've never seen such insanity in my life. I am wearing a huge red pull-over sweater, over a red cardigan, over a red blouse, over a red t-shirt…
FUCK!
All this clothing is even overtop of a slinky skin-tight red cocktail dress. How the hell can I bend my arms? I look like a 300 pound fucking
tomato!
Removing the first 4 layers is easy enough, however the zipper on the dress proves to be a bit of a struggle. It really is quite a lovely dress, though... If worn properly. Maybe if the dress was paired with black heels, it might look classy, and sexy.
As it is with my nearly 6' strappy red stilettos, I look like a cheap whore... playing dress up...
in an asylum
. I wonder where the bolero jacket is? Without the jacket, the dress is much too low-cut, and my breasts look way too big to be stuffed into it. Plus, it’s rather short.
Jesus Christ!
What was I
doing?
Once I'm naked, with the dress finally removed, I hop in the shower. What else can I do? I need to seriously wash all
THAT
insanity off me. Z hasn't returned, and quite frankly, I'm frightened of his thoughts right now anyway.
I don't want any of this. I was supposed to just have a relaxing mini-vacation in New York. I wasn't supposed to go crazy at Macy's and spend...
Holy Shit!
Did I just spend over $4,000 dollars ON MY CREDIT CARD?!
SHIT!
Now Marcus will find me in New York. Oh no. This is bad.
Jumping from the shower, I plow right into Z, while naked.
Dammit.
"Oh! Sorry. Um, how long have you been here?"
"Long enough. How are you feeling?" He asks while handing me a towel. Thank god!
"I really am okay, but I'm a little nervous about Marcus finding me now. I used my Amex."
"Actually, you didn't. I used
my
Amex, so don't worry about him."
What?!
"I'll pay you back. I swear! Why would you do that? Why would you pay for my clothes?!"
"No worries, I have it covered. It's really not a problem."
“Well, it’s a problem for me! I don’t like you blowing money on me. I’m nothing to you, and you certainly shouldn't be spending over 4 thousand
dollars
on me!
Christ!
This is humiliating!"
"Come with me." And taking my hand, Z leads me into the bedroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Z pulls me beside him. I’m still in the towel, but I’m feeling very
exposed
to him at the moment. Jeez, maybe it’s the insanity I’ve just lived, or maybe the fact that I was a complete nut-job, that the poor man had to help. Whatever, I’m feeling kind of exposed and insecure right now. Actually, I want to get out of here now. This really is too much.
"Why are you humiliated?"
Seriously?
"Would you like a list, preferably alphabetical?" That was snide. Oops.
"No. Just tell me what has you humiliated."
"Everything! All of it! The clothes! The money! Being here! Everything! I would like to go home tonight. I really,
really
need to go home."
"I don't give a
FUCK
about the clothes, or the money! I do, however, give a
fuck
about what’s making you so fucking crazy! Could you please at least tell me that?! What happened at Macy's?" Oh, he's mad.
"I'm sorry Z. I didn't mean to make you angry."
"I'm not angry! FUCK!" And taking a deep breath, he continues... "I'm concerned about you! There’s a huge difference. What. The. Fuck. Happened. Today?" This is bad.
"I'm so sorry. I'm just going to leave. Please forgive my behavior."
Standing, I nearly run for my
normal
clothes, but Z grabs me quickly. Essentially, he grabs me, turns me, and slams me into his body.
"What HAPPENED today?!!" He yells in my face.
"I don't know," I whisper without eye contact.
"What. Happened. Today?! Tell me! NOW!!"
"I DON'T KNOW,
OKAY?
I remember I wanted to make you happy. I remember you liked red. I remembered your sexy bedroom. I remembered all the color in your closet. I WANTED TO MAKE YOU HAPPY!! I'M SORRY I FAILED YOU!!" Gasp.
"You didn't
fail
me." Yeah,
right.
"Look, I want to go back home now.
Really.
I have to leave, Z. TONIGHT!"
Turning from him I run for the spare room and start grabbing my clothes as he follows and watches me silently. Shimmying on a pair of underwear, I follow them with slacks. Turning my back to him, I put on my bra, as I drop the towel to the floor.
I feel sick with sadness. Tears are pouring down my face, and I can't stop them. Reaching for a black t-shirt, I put it on as well, while Z still just watches me.
Continuing with my clothes, I basically throw them in my luggage, with no rhyme or reason. Who cares at this point? Walking back into the ensuite, I grab all my toiletries and throw them in my other luggage. I'm almost done.
This trip to New York was a nightmare. I can't stand all this drama anymore. I can't stand feeling like this anymore. I can't stand
me
anymore. It’s too much, and I'm done now. This little ‘mini-vacation’ was a test, and I’ve failed it. I just can’t seem to do anything right anymore.
"What do you want to do?" Z asks calmly.
"I'm just going to hail a taxi and return to the airport. It doesn't matter anymore if Marcus tracks my credit cards; I'll be going back anyway. Oh, and I
AM
paying you back for all the clothing from Macy's."
"I don't care about the clothing," he says so calmly, it’s a little unnerving.
"Maybe not, but I do. And I am sending you the money as soon as I return to Chicago."
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"I mean, where in Chicago?"
"My home."
"You're going back to your husband? Are you
fucking
insane?!"
"
Apparently.
Didn't my little Macy's adventure prove that?” I whisper on a breath.
"You are NOT going back to him. Stay in a hotel if you want and I'll pay for it. I don't care. But you are NOT going back to that fucking prick!"