I Am Her...

  "What does geography have to do with it?" What, indeed? Shit.

  "Well, in Chicago, you’re like, helping someone. In New York, you’ll be taking care of someone- Me. I don't really like that. I'm fine here. I'll work this out. Maybe by tomorrow I'll have it all worked out." Yeah, right. What the hell am I going to do?

  "No offense, Sweetheart... but that’s bullshit. You’ll just give in tomorrow, if you do anything at all."

  "No, I won't. I still have to figure out what I want, and I won't be able to do that in your apartment in New York. That will just confuse things. You are very nice to me, and I don't want to start mistaking your niceness for more than it is."

  "More than it is? What if I told you I was feeling more than niceness toward you?"

  "Um, I would say that you just pity me or feel bad for me or something..."

  "Really? So you don't know your own feelings on anything at the moment, but you know mine?"

  "No, I don't have a clue what you're feeling, but I don't want to at the moment. If I start thinking you’re more than nice, it will twist me into doing something I might not have otherwise done. Does that make sense?"

  "Yes, it makes sense. But I still want you to come to New York with me tonight. I have a spare room, if you want it, or you can share my bed, with me. I don't want you alone anymore. I told you I was going to help you, and I still am. It’ll just be easier for me to help if you ARE with me in New York. We can fly back by Thursday evening, if you like. I have a meeting Thursday afternoon, and then I'm free again for a few days. You could even help me figure out what the fuck Craig was doing with his expenses..." He's grinning? "... I would very much like you with me in New York. Please come. You could just spend the days relaxing, or thinking, or obsessing, or sight-seeing, or reading... Oh! I have a Kindle at home, so you can instantly buy all your filthy novels from Amazon. Sound, good?" Yes. God, this all sounds too good.

  "The raunchiest novels I can buy?" What am I doing?!

  "I look forward to it. I need to enhance my skills in the bedroom a little, I think."

  “No. You. Don't… Okay... I'll go to New York. But NO STRINGS, for both of us. I don't want you feeling like you have to take care of me. I'll die of embarrassment if you look at me like I'm all pathetic and needy."

  "I won't look at you as if you're pathetic, but I do hope to see you looking at least a little needy..." Oh my god, he just wiggled his eyebrows at me. He's flirting with me. This is awesome!!

  "I'm only agreeing because of your Kindle."

  "Fair enough." Z pulls me into a hug and a deep kiss.

  Wow. I could get used to this. Don't! You are still VERY married. Don't get attached! Don't be stupid! This is just a nice man who is helping you. That's all. He is a sexy as hell, unattached, beautiful, sexually amazing man, just helping you… nothing more.

  "Please stay with me. I feel your retreat again. I promise you, you dictate what we DO, or DO NOT DO in New York. You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t hurt you. Do you trust me? Even a little, at this point?"

  "Ah, a little. I'm sorry, but this is just so new and strange for me. Kind of whirl-wind like. I'm just trying to keep up with my life at the moment."

  "I do understand. I know how all this is for you right now and I'm not trying to add to your stresses; I just want to be there when you need help with them, that's all, I promise." My god. This is the greatest man I have ever known.

  "Okay. Um, what time do we leave? I have to check out of here."

  "I suggest we leave this hotel room no later than 9:00, so I can pack up my hotel room quickly. We should be at the airport before 10:45. Our flight is at 11:30."

  "You already booked me on your flight?" Seriously? “Am I really so easy?” Ah, yes. Where Z is concerned it appears I’m really, really easy.

  "Of course I booked a flight for you. I knew I could convince you with my charm and argumentative skills..."

  "Really? Well, I'll have you know, you almost lost. Your argumentative skills only got you so far. It wasn’t quite the adorable eyebrow wiggle or needy suggestion that did me in, but rather it was the Kindle that convinced me to go."

  Hugging me to him, Z replies, "Well, whatever convinced you, I still win."

  ==========

  After we’ve eaten dinner in the dining room, Z asks if I need help packing when we return to my room. Looking at all the food, he actually laughs and suggests we stop by a homeless shelter. Ha! Smart-Ass! Wondering where the muffins are, I finally see them in the trash.

  "Not a fan of muffins?" Shit. Is he like Marcus?

  "Muffins are fine. I just dropped them on the floor. Why? Would you like me to buy you more?"

  "No. Marcus wouldn't let me have them, because they are for fat women, so I was worried you felt the same... Sorry."

  "I'm not Marcus, Sweetheart, and I could give a shit what you do or don't like to eat. Just relax." Wow.

  "Do you need help packing your clothes?"

  "No, thank you. I can manage. Actually, I'll need to buy more in New York, but that should be fun. I haven't shopped in New York in a few years."

  "Do you have enough money?"

  "Of course." Gulp.

  "Sweetheart... Do you?"

  "Yes, but I would like to hit a few ATM's before we leave tonight. That way I have extra money, AND Marcus won't know I'm in New York."

  "Whatever you want to do... but I have plenty of money, and..."

  "No! I'm not taking a dime from you! Please, Z. I need a little pride, okay? I have money, I just have to access it before we leave Chicago."

  "No problem. We'll stop at an ATM on the way to the airport. Breathe, love."

  Kissing his lips quickly, I mutter a thank you, as I turn to begin packing my clothes. Z’s using my laptop again while I pack. He just looks so relaxed on the bed, and so handsome. His relaxation actually makes me relax some.

  If he was freaked out, or regretting his suggestion that I go to New York with him, he’d look stressed, right? Actually, Z seems like the type who would just speak up and tell me if he’d changed his mind. Okay, that directness is comforting too. Maybe I won’t always have to worry or wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I won’t have to question his feelings and motivations all the time.

  Z seems like he’ll just tell me anything he feels like telling me, whenever he feels like it. I won’t have to second guess, and I won’t have to search him for clues. Yes, this is good. I can relax a little. Z will tell me things, and then I won’t panic at the unknown.

  After all 6 pair of heels, and my one pair of sneakers are packed, I start on the dresser drawers. I have lots of black bras and underwear, a few black camis, a couple black t-shirts, 2 pair of black yoga pants, and 2 pair of black 2-piece pajamas. In the closet, I pull out my couple black sweaters, my 5 pair of black slacks, 4 black skirts, a few black blouses, and my sexy little backless cocktail dress in black, naturally.

  "Do you ever wear any color, besides black?" I jump as his voice suddenly surrounds me.

  "No! WHY?!" And here it is, I’ve been waiting.

  "I was just curious. You look very good in black…”

  “But…?" Christ my voice is high. Breathe, Dammit.

  "Why are you so tense right now?"

  "I’m not. It's nothing."

  "But…?" He asks and waits patiently, again.

  Exhaling, “Okay, fine. Marcus used to criticize my black, but then he also said he understood why I liked black, because of my 'big thighs and butt'. I just feel a little defensive about my clothing. Well, my clothing color. Sorry, I’m fine now."

  "Marcus is an asshole. I love your clothing… though, I do think with your pale skin and gorgeous blue eyes, you would look stunning in a little red."

  "RED?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Red is for DIRTY SLUTS!!" What?

  "Pardon? Says who? Where did that come from?”

  "Um, I mean...um… actually, I don't know what I mean. I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. Ah, pleas
e just forget I said that." Gasp. Z is walking toward me.

  "Sweetheart, you’re starting to panic again. Breathe slowly for me. Come on. That's better. Breathe. What just happened?"

  "I, I don't know. I'm so embarrassed. I don't know why I yelled that at you. I'm really sorry for yelling."

  "I don't care about you yelling at me... But who told you ‘red was for dirty sluts'?"

  "I have no idea. I must have read it, or heard it somewhere. Please just forget it. I have to finish packing now; it's almost 9:00." Turning from Z, I run for the bathroom to pack up my toiletries.

  What The FUCK Was That? I've never thought that before in my life. Why now? What the hell? Forget it. Just pack quickly. The sooner I’m packed, the sooner I can get out of all this tension in the room.

  Okay, placing my carry-on by the shower, I grab my Shampoo, Conditioner, vanilla-jasmine body scrub, vanilla-jasmine body wash, vanilla-jasmine pump soap, vanilla-jasmine lotion, lotion, lotion, and another lotion. 4 vanilla-jasmine body lotions? Okay. I don't remember that when I left my house, but who cares? At least I won't run out.

  Packing, I grab my make-up bag, blow dryer, and curling iron... Why? I've never used a curling iron, but I always think I will, so I bring it with me everywhere I go- It’s really quite stupid actually. Continuing, I have my razors, tooth brush, toothpaste, vanilla deodorant, and 4 more vanilla-jasmine body lotions on the counter. Oh my god, there's another one beside the bed.

  Panicking, I look and there’s 7 more bottles under the sink... 16 bottles of vanilla-jasmine body lotion? 16? Have I completely lost my mind? Why did I think I needed 16 bottles of lotion? Was I planning on leaving Marcus for 6-7 years? Why do I even own 16 of the exact same vanilla-jasmine body lotion? What the hell is going on? Obsess, much? Jesus CHRIST!

  Did someone plant them here to drive me crazy? Did Z? When a knock sounds on the bathroom door, I’m still stunned. Sitting on the floor, with my back against the tub, I realize I'm surrounded by 15 lotion bottles, because sadly I couldn't get the 16th bottle from the bedside table, without looking crazy. Yeah, because the 16th bottle would have done it… Holy shit!

  "Sweetheart... I'm coming in. What are you doing...? Wow! That's a lot of lotion."

  "Uh huh..." I can’t help my small giggle. NO! Be normal! "I was just thinking about opening my own supply store." Oops… bigger giggle.

  Kneeling beside me, Z asks, "What's going on? Are you feeling alright?" And now my small giggle turns to a laugh.

  "No. Not really. Did you put these here?" More laughter. Ooops. Keep it together.

  "No. Why would I?"

  "To make me feel crazy? I don't know. Why ARE you still here, at all?!" And back to a giggle. Shit.

  "I'm here because I WANT to be, and I DON’T want you to feel crazy, whether you believe me or not." That makes sense. Why would he want me crazy? Crazy chicks can’t be all that fun, well, except to themselves, I suppose.

  "Okay. I'm just going to leave these here then. I'll grab the one in the bedroom, and then I'm ready to go. Is that okay with YOU if I leave these here?" Come on psycho... Answer me!

  "Yes, it's fine. Do you believe me?" Not At All.

  "Of course, Z. If you say you didn't than it’s the truth, right?" Come on... lie to my face again. I dare you!

  "Yes. It IS the truth. Are you trying to pick a fight because you’ve changed your mind about going to New York with me?" What?

  "No! I want to go! I just don't know why you bought all these bottles of lotion! I don't know why you want me to feel crazy! I want to go to New York. Please, please Z, I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again. Please, don't be mad at me anymore!" Gulp. Breathe.

  "I'm not mad at you, and I still want you come with me. But I didn’t buy all this lotion, and it offends me that you think I would, or that I would lie to you about it. I really want you to believe me. Do you?" Nope.

  "Of course I do! Let's go! I'm ready." Hurry up, before he changes his mind. I don’t want him to change his mind. I want to see his apartment. I want to be in New York. God, I really want to be away from Chicago and my parents and Marcus. Chicago sucks for me right now.

  Grabbing Z's head, I kiss him hard and deep. I want him to still want me. Pushing myself on his body, I try to straddle his thighs, but he stops me. Dammit! Fighting a little harder, I start rubbing myself on his crotch. Moaning, I try for more of a kiss, but he has stopped moving completely. His lips are motionless beneath my own. How embarrassing.

  "Um, what's wrong? Don't you want me anymore?" I whisper.

  "Of course I want you, but not on the bathroom floor, not when we’re leaving in less than 5 minutes, and NOT when you're scared." What?

  "I'm not scared of you right now." Not at this moment, but sometimes.

  "You're frightened that I'm mad at you, so you’re trying to please me, in any way you can. I don't want that, nor do I need it. I want you only when you want to be with me- NOT when you are desperate to make me happy." Fine!

  "Okay. Never-mind. I'll be out in a minute. I just want to use the bathroom before we go."

  "2 minutes, Sweetheart."

  "No problem." Asshole.

  After going pee, I throw all the vanilla-jasmine bottles into the garbage, except for 4... just in case. Everything is ready. My make-up is fine... No raccoon eyes. My hair is in another semi-perfect chignon. My clothes are neat and clean. Nobody would think there’s anything wrong with me. I look okay. Everything is going to BE okay. So, I'll just pretend I'm okay.

  ==========

  Z drives my car over to the Marriott, of course, to be left there for the rest of the week. After we enter, he escorts me to the ATM in the bar, and also to the second ATM in the gift shop. I withdraw $1000.00 total.

  I'm still good. Marcus can't find me. No one saw me here, or at the Super8. I'm okay for now. No one can find me. Ha!

  While Z packs his room up, I stay quiet counting my money in my head smiling at him frequently. Maybe too frequently? Maybe I should stop smiling for a bit. Maybe all my smiling is making me look crazy or something. I don’t want him to change his mind. I CAN’T have him change his mind. I know, I’ll just smile if he smiles at me first, that way I’m not smiling all the time. Yeah. I’ll use Z’s smiles as the basis for my own smiles. Good plan.

  My old hotel charged me 4 nights at $120 after taxes, so I'm down $480. I had $1,900 when I arrived. And I just ATM'd another thousand. So, I'm still actually up to $2,420, plus my $425 'Rainy Day Fund'. I spent $10 rainy day dollars on my dirty book, and $15 on the breakfast I didn’t eat. I like this. I'm not down anything. It's like the week-end and today didn't count. Oh, except for the Z-sex part… That part counted for sure.

  After Z packs quickly, placing his carry-on and luggage by the door, he sits down and looks at me closely. Oh, no. Now what? I’ve been totally unsmiling and uncrazy for the past ten minutes at least, I think.

  "Are you feeling well, Sweetheart?"

  "Yes. Why? Don't I seem well to you?"

  "No. Not really. You seem to be struggling with something, but unable to talk to me about it. Am I correct?" Totally.

  "No. Not at all. I really am fine. Honestly, Z. I would tell you if something was wrong. But there’s nothing. Can we just go now? Please?"

  "Can you promise to talk to me before you panic, or before something becomes too much for you? I realize you still don't trust me, but I don't think I've hurt or betrayed you yet... Have I? Do you feel as though I have hurt you in some way?"

  "No. You’re wonderful, Z. I'm so sorry I'm bad, I promise I'll be very good in New York."

  Christ! I'm crying again. Why did he make me cry on Sunday? Before Sunday I never cried. I didn’t even know I was capable of crying. Now I cry endlessly. Not only is it annoying, but I’m super ugly when I cry. No one with this pale skin color is attractive when they cry. I know it and now Z knows it. I have GOT to stop crying all the time.

  "You're not bad, and I know you'll be good. But are you happy?" Not really.

&
nbsp; "Of course I am. Why? Aren't you?"

  "I'm fine, Sweetheart. I'm just concerned with you. You're crying again."

  "Well, that's your fault. You made me cry on Sunday, and now I don't know how to stop," I say with my best smile.

  "Cry whenever you want to, but if you could talk to me about what's bothering you at the time, I would really like that. It would be helpful if I knew why you were crying. Maybe I could even help you." Doubtful.

  "I really am fine. Can we please go?”

  "Yes, let's go." Thank god!

  ==========

  Everything is moving smoothly. Z looks happy again and I feel the same. No better, no worse. We have boarded the plane, first class, of course. Is the company paying for my ticket as well, or is Z paying? I should ask.

  Z orders a scotch, and I shake my head no for a drink, then change my mind and order a glass of Zinfandel, naturally.

  We’re quiet on the plane, but Z seems okay with the quiet. He’s even holding my hand which feels very nice. Marcus never holds my hand. Hand-holding is ‘antiquated, and unnecessary’ Marcus told me. Well, I guess Z finds it ‘current and necessary’. Ha!

  It's weird. I'm starting to think of Z and I as a couple- like married or together or something, but actually happy. Thank god it's a short flight to New York, so I don’t get all loopy with thoughts of Z and I. I have to remember that this is just a vacation. There is no love or even a relationship in my future with Z. He hasn’t offered anything like that, and I seriously doubt someone like Z would want a relationship with someone like me.

  Z even told me that the taxi ride into Manhattan will probably feel longer than the flight, and he was right. I don't care though, I just want to get there.

  Z is always a gentleman. He opens doors, helps me to and from, and lifts or moves things when needed. He is usually polite, and even when he's a little aggressive or overbearing, once the initial fear fades, I always find him charming. He speaks to everyone with a kind of polite authority, a dominance that seems a little out of place in my other life. But he makes me smile when I'm with him, and he makes me proud to be with him.