Leaving the change room area, I’m told that it’s 'standard procedure' to be escorted by security to the check-out, when buying and wearing the clothes outof the store. That makes sense,‘cause people steal stuff all the time.
While walking, I talk to the security guard who is escorting me to the check out. He offers to carry my old clothes and heels, my other new clothes, and the tags for the clothes I'm already wearing. He even lets me hold his hand as we walk to pay for my items. I'm so excited; I want to kiss him for being so nice. I can't wait to see Z.
When we get to the check-out room, another woman joins us. Reaching in my purse, I smile and hand over my American Express. This is awesome. I haven't done this in years. Sure, I buy clothes, but it's usually one item at a time, and one week or even one month at a time. I can't remember the last time I bought a bunch of clothes at once. Ooops, pay attention.
"I'm sorry?"
"Mam, would you like us to call anyone for you?" Why?
"No, thank you. Z is meeting me here. He’s probably looking for me by the change rooms on the fourth floor. Um, Mr. Zinfandel." Little giggle. "Honestly, that's his name. Mr. Zinfandel. You could page him if you like. I don't know his first name though." Oh, that's bad. What the hell IS Z's first name? “Maybe it's 'glass of' or 'bottle of'... I really don't know, but who has the last name Zinfandel anyway? Honestly, you could page him. Please, go ahead."
I'm feeling a little giddy but shaken suddenly. I haven't eaten since yesterday, and god knows shopping should be classified as an Olympic sport.
"Would you like us to page him?"
"Yes, please. I'm sure he's here already."
And then there is just silence. What the hell? Just do it already. "Jesus! Just page him! He'll be here in a minute."
Why is she so quiet? I can’t handle anymore silence. Ugh, I HATE this bitch. Stop staring at me!
==========
However long later, there’s a knock on the door. Jumping up quickly, I strike my best pose for Z. When he opens the door, he looks shocked, and then smiles at me. Oh, thank god. He likes my clothes, I think.
"Do you like my clothes? I'm buying them for you because you like color." Please, like them!
"You look beautiful, Sweetheart. Have you paid yet?"
"I gave my credit card... Have you rung it through yet?" The woman shakes her head, but my security guard smiles kindly at me. I really like my security guard. He’s just so kind.
"You've been so nice to me, like Z is. Can I hug you? Please?" He looks at Z for a second then nods. Thank god. That would have been embarrassing if he’d said no.
Walking over to the security guard, I whisper, "What's your name?"
"Brian, Mam."
"That's such a nice name, for such a nice man. Thank you for not being mad at me Brian."
"My pleasure, Mam. What is your name, if I may?"
"Sweetheart."
And leaning in, I give him my very best hug. Wrapping my arms around him, I squeeze tightly and rest my cheek against his chest. He even squeezes me back.
"You are just so good, Brian. Do you have a wife?"
"Yes, Mam."
"Do you hug her like this?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Brian, she’s so lucky. Would you tell her for me please? Would you tell her she’s very lucky to have someone hold her like this? I’ve never had that before, Brian. No one’s ever held me or loved me before, and it’s really nice."
"Yes, Mam, I'll tell her." I can't let go of him.
"Please call me Sweetheart. It's better. You're so warm Brian, but I should go now. Can you charge my credit card now?"
"Yes, Sweetheart." Finally, I let him go.
"May I give you a little thank you kiss Brian? Nothing bad or dirty, I promise."
"Absolutely, Sweetheart."
And then I kiss his lips gently. Just for a second. Nothing slutty or inappropriate- just a chaste little kiss. And I feel so happy, I think I’m going to cry a little, but luckily I blink and hold the tears in. Wow. That was close.
"Thank you, Brian." And turning from my nice Brian, I walk over to Z. "Are we ready to go?" I ask while taking his hand.
Nodding, Z hands over his credit card to the ugly woman, and smiles at me. I hear her. She says something weird, and then Z nods. How much of my 'Rainy Day Fund' did I spend?
"What was the total please?" Z slightly shakes his head but...
"4,388.46," she says in return.
I see Z shaking his head at her again. I think he's being sneaky. Why? What's he doing?
"What? I'm sorry? How much did you say?" Seriously?
"Everything’s fine, Sweetheart. We have to go though. I want to change quickly at home before dinner. Okay?" Oh. Dammit.
"But I'm already ready. I made sure I was good for you. You wanted to go for dinner from here, so I got dressed here for you. Let's just go to dinner, please?"
"I would really like to change first. I hope you understand. You look so beautiful- I want to dress up too."
"What? Why? You look very nice, very professional… and really sexy, too." Did I just purr at him? Cool.
"Why, thank you. But I just really need to freshen up a little. Please understand."
"Sure. But can we hurry? I think these shoes are going to kill me soon. Oh! Do you like them? Please like them. They’re FABULOUS!”
Winking at me... Oh, how cute, Z whispers, "Yes, I love them."
"Okay. Let's go then. Thank you again, Brian. You made me very happy today. And you- YOU’RE FUCKING MEAN!" I scream at the ugly woman. Startled, she jumps, as Z tugs my hand to leave. Did he just apologize to her? I really, really hope not.
Once we leave Macy’s, Z hails a taxi immediately. Once inside, he pulls me into his arms and gives me a tight hug. Oh, he feels so good. I love his warmth. Z is like so warm and clean or something. I don’t know how to explain it.
Breathing into my hair, Z asks, "How are you Sweetheart?"
"I'm very good. I love your hugs, you know? I really hope you do like my clothes. They’re special for you." I can’t help my blush.
"I do, very much. You look stunning."
I see the taxi driver look at me in the rear view mirror when Z speaks. "Do you think I look nice, mister?" He looks at Z, then back to me, and then nods without a word.
"Wow. That feels so good, Z. No one ever notices me or thinks I'm good. I only like it when you're happy. Oh! ARE you happy?" Shit. What if he isn't?
"I’m very happy, Sweetheart. We're almost home, would you like to rest while I quickly shower and change?"
"Oh, god no! I feel so excited. I can't wait to go out." I'm almost bouncing in his arms.
"Okay. I'll hurry then," he says into my ear with a light kiss on my temple.
When we arrive, Z walks me quickly into the building, and into the elevator wrapped tightly in his arms. I feel so happy here, it's going to be awful when I have to go back, I just know it.
"I'm going to be really sad when I have to go back."
"Who says you have to go back?"
"I'll have to. They'll make me," I whisper quietly.
"Well, let's not think about that now. Could you try to be happy for a little while?"
"I AM happy... That's what makes me so sad." Huh? “That made sense, right?”
“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.
What the hell did I do? Actually, more importantly, how the hell do I explain away what I’ve done? Jesus Christ!
CHAPTER 17
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.<
br />
"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."