Chapter 22
Zelda
One thing you probably didn't want to know about me was the hellacious nature of my premenstrual syndrome. You could set a watch by that bitch. Without fail, ten days before my cycle was due to restart, an eighteen-wheeler of symptoms backed right over me.
There was the infamous duo of cramps and moods, and I always had a day or two of exhaustion before it was on to headaches and hunger, chills and digestive wonkiness, and loose clothes on account of the bloated belly and milkmaid boobs.
Oh, and the horny thing. That part was extreme.
At this point in my reproductive life, I was well acquainted with the way my body worked and I knew how to manage through. It was an inconvenience, for sure, but I knew enough tricks to keep going.
Except when everything hit at once. It was only on special months when those symptoms converged on the same day rather than ambling out over several.
That was why Ash found me draped over the printer on Thursday afternoon like I was washing ashore after a shipwreck. In truth, he first passed without looking up from his phone but then jogged backward, asking, "What's happening here?"
Still flopped over the machine, I said, "It's warm. Like a heating pad."
He reached out to settle his hand on my back but changed his mind at the last minute, shoving it in his pocket instead. "Are…are you all right?"
"Yep." The machine's heat offered such glorious relief. "Just taking a minute."
"With the printer?"
"Yep."
Finally, he brought that hand to the small of my back and I almost cried with joy because the light pressure he offered was perfect. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
"Because I'm all good. Promise." I pushed off the machine and forced my shoulders back.
What I wouldn't do for a big, slouchy sweater right now.
Something fuzzy and gray and shapeless. The best slouchy sweaters were always gray.
"Did you need me to get something from the records room? You were headed that way."
He tucked my hair over my ear, frowning. "Stop lying to me. You look pale and you're hugging the hardware. No part of that qualifies as 'all good.'"
As I didn't have the energy to shelter Ash from the reality of women's bodies and their assorted functions, even if I didn't know how to forge this territory with him. I made a vague gesture toward my abdomen, saying, "It's just some cramps. They'll pass."
There were seven seconds of total, blank confusion in Ash's eyes before he understood my meaning. Seven. Then he nodded to himself and consulted his watch. "Let's head out for the day. We'll get something delivered. What would you like?"
I pointed toward his office. "You need to finish the—"
"I did," he interrupted. "I printed the last draft to give it a final read tonight." He reached into the output tray and held up the papers as proof. "What do you want, love? Please tell me."
I stared at my shoes because I didn't know how to do this.
How to share this part of myself with someone else though it wasn't a matter of shame.
Rather, I'd always handled it on my own.
I'd managed through my first period by myself and all the ones that followed.
I'd escorted myself to the gynecologist when I was seventeen and managed my birth control choices without the guidance or support of anyone but my doctor.
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," I said.
When it came to divulging these things with my boss-roommate-sex-monster, I didn't know what was normal.
I was aware the polite obliviousness thing was a sketchy way for men to pretend vaginas were only intended as their playgrounds but I hadn't realized some men didn't plug their ears and la-la-la it away until this conversation.
I didn't know there were real men who cared.
"Not being able to make it better is uncomfortable for me," he replied.
I wrapped my arms around my torso and offered him a quick shoulder lift. "Maybe we could order pizza."
Ash winced, shoved his hands in his pockets. I didn't know if that was a reaction to pizza or something else.
"What kind of pizza?" he asked. "Thin crust, deep dish, brick oven?"
"Thin crust," I said. "If that works for you."
He made a sound of approval. "What are we putting on this thin crust pizza, love?"
The air-conditioning vent above us roared to life and I was presently dying of hypothermia on a summer day. Good god. Whenever a chill struck me, there was nothing I could do to get warm. I just had to wait it out. "Peppers, mushrooms, and pepperoni," I managed.
He offered another rumble, another nod. "And what are we drinking?"
I rubbed my palms up my arms. "What about beer? Something like Blue Moon."
"That's going to be a Trillium wheat in this neck of the woods but sure," he replied, swiping his phone to life. "Anything for dessert?"
I shook my head as goose bumps climbed over my chest, down my legs. "No, I won't need chocolate for a few more days."
"For fuck's sake, come here," he said, thumbing away at his phone. "You're shivering." I went into his open arm and slumped against him. "Do you need…anything? We have over-the-counter pain relievers at home but I don't have anything else you might require."
I flattened my palms on his torso because he was so damn warm, like a human hot water bottle. "Not until later next week. This is just—it's just the prelude," I replied. "If it helps, please know the opening act is worse than the main event."
Ash finished with his phone, returned it to his pocket, and kissed my temple.
"I've tossed this over in my head a few times and I don't think there's a way for me to tell you to stop apologizing without sounding like a tyrant but I'm saying it.
I don't care if the entire show is difficult.
In case you haven't noticed, I can't get enough of you and your body.
And I'm sure you haven't forgotten how you looked after me when I needed it.
I plan on returning the favor and you need to accept that.
No apologies allowed. No pretending you're fine.
No protecting my fragile male consciousness because you're worried I'm squeamish. "
If the emotion filling my chest at this moment wasn't love, I didn't know what was. In fact, I didn't want to know. I didn't want to live out my days waiting for something better than the vast, glowy feeling cracking my chest open.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't mention it." He ushered me into his office, pointing at the pair of seats in front of his desk. "Sit down."
After snatching his suit coat from its hanger on the backside of the door, he cloaked it over my shoulders. "Give me a minute to pack up."
I nodded, my hand clutched around the lapels to keep the coat from sliding off.
I watched while Ash filed away his laptop and the report he'd fetched from the printer.
He cast a hesitant glance at his desk, as if he couldn't decide whether to straighten the stray documents or take another project home with him.
Eventually, he turned his wrist and blinked down at his watch, saying, "Our car will be here in five. "
"We don't have to take a car," I replied. "I can walk. Or take the subway. Really."
Ignoring this protest, Ash tipped his chin toward my desk. "I'm going to grab your purse and log you out of your computer. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"
I pushed to my feet, saying, "I have systems. Don't foul any of that up for me."
I swatted him away from my things and made quick work of closing out. Once I was finished, I followed him out of the suite and into the elevator. When he held his arms open to me, I paused, first shrugging out of his suit coat before nestling up against him.
"Did you warm up?"
I shook my head. "I don't want to walk through the lobby looking like tonight's A-block on the evening news.
You know what I mean. There's always some tragedy porn in that segment.
A dead-eyed woman swallowed whole by an oversized coat or blanket.
People on their front lawn in pajamas. Someone who lost their shoes in an accident of some type. That sort of thing."
"You don't have dead eyes," he said.
"You're kind." I leaned my head against his bicep. "And tolerant."
His scruffy chin scraped over my cheek. "No. Neither."
"Then your mother and sister taught you—"
"No. Not that either." He held his arm over one side of the elevator door when it opened, gesturing for me to exit first. "The car should be here now."
He led the way, his hand steady on my back as we crossed the lobby and stepped outside into the wall of summer humidity.
That left me cold yet sweating, an ever-pleasant combination.
A spasm curled down my abdomen as he swung the SUV's door open and boosted me onto the bench seat.
I went with a grunt that was graceless even for me.
Ash hopped in behind me, asking, "Could you dial down the air conditioning?
Thanks, man. Appreciate it." He smoothed a hand over my hair and folded me in his arms. "What else can I do for you?
" As if he knew I was about to shut down his offer, he added, "By that, I mean do me a favor and let me feel useful right now.
Give me something to do for you, some way to help.
If you don't, I'll invent my own solutions and god knows those will be some hot fucking messes. "
A laugh worked its way up my chest. "There's one thing you can do."
Ash tipped his beer bottle back, drinking deeply. He released a satisfied groan when he set it down empty on the floor. "Fuck, this is nice. Is it inappropriate for me to request we do this every month?"
I flicked some water in his direction and reached over the side of the deep soaking tub in his bathroom for another slice of pizza. "Not inappropriate. Just…unusual. I'm not accustomed to being open about certain things."