Our Disappointed Hearts

The house was empty, as usual. My mother was gone on duty, according to a note left on the table, and I was absolutely miserable.

Zepplin left in the dead of the night, and took only money, which was better than nothing, but drugs were more than likely her motive. I shoved my face into my hands and cradled my head as my heart tore at itself. I didn't care about the money, I had heaps of it. Two hundred dollars with me at all times, at least, as well as my bank card with a couple thousand dollars backing it. No, the money didn't matter; I cared about her, and how I failed.

I laid my head in my arms on the table, smothering my face, and tears tore themselves from my eyes.

Why couldn't I do anything? Why wouldn't she let me help her?

That was all I wanted, but she refused me...

I cried for a few minutes until I remembered that I was being stupid and selfish again. She hadn't cried once since I saw her, and according to the phone call I made to my mother after I found the note, her brother had been killed the night before. A feat I could not imagine, aside from my fathers death years before. She was so much stronger than me...or seemed to be. So how was I to help her if I was the one crying?

I sat up in my seat, wiped my eyes, and got up. I needed fresh air, a walk, a jog, anything to clear my head and begin to think straight.

Zepplin was gone, and I had to accept that.

I clumsily climbed into my clothes, preparing myself for the cold with two jackets, and a beanie, and set out the door without further thought. I didn't know where I was going, or why, I just knew I was. I'd be back, somehow, sometime. Not that it really mattered.

-

I tread softly upon the sidewalks that accompanied the streets of the cold town, taking in every scene, and refusing to think about Zepplin as I had the night before. Or trying to refuse the thoughts. However, such a task was seemingly impossible- she plagued my every thought as I walked. She invaded my thoughts, and made me think as I had not before.

I began to think I was going crazy when I heard a muffled cry somewhat distanced from myself. It was coming from the cemetery to my left.

I approached the sound, curiosity and fear being my only concern.
As I got closer I saw a smaller figure, a young girl, sprawled on the ground in front of two identical tombstones. It was Zepplin, crying in despair, and shivering with immense cold. The cover had been broken.

“Zepplin!” I cried, rushing to her side without hesitation.

On the ground I immediately removed my jacket and draped it over her shivering, shaking, and broken body.

She mumbled something over and over, and pushed me away, my jacket falling on the ground. She tried to get up, but her arms buckled under her body, and instead she pushed me away pathetically, her arms protesting nothing- the air.

“not that kind of help” she sobbed “not that...”

After a minute or so she was laying on the ground without protest, and was simply sobbing. Her face was stained red and warm, moist tears left trails along her cheeks. She cried in silence, and no longer resisted my comforts and wants of help.

I secured my jacket around her body and I let her cry in my lap, desperately and despairingly, until I realized she was too cold. Her body was shaking rapidly, and she could not move without another bout of shivering.

My heart wrenched itself apart once again at this sight... I could not take it. I had to do something.

I rearranged my jacket over her and warmed her shoulder.

“Come on,” I whispered so that only she may hear, and she would know that “Let's go get warmed up, and you can rest...” I paused, and helped her up “everything will be okay...”

I wasn't so sure, but even if they weren't, I was going to do everything in my power to make it so.

She walked in silence, allowing me to support her by the waist, and she wrapped her arms around her body with my jacket. She did not reject it...

I led her back into my house, and immediately into my bedroom instead of the one she was in the night before. My room was warmer, and the sheets were softer, and she could be more comfortable there.

In my room I unmade the bed, and let her lay down, engulfing herself in my soft blankets. She still shivered and shook, but color had returned to her face, and she was no longer sobbing, though tears were still evident in her eyes.

I sat on the side of the bed for awhile, and looked at her. I wanted to stroke her hair, and let her know that I was there, but I couldn't. She wouldn't want it. Instead I looked down at her, and whispered to her

“You can stay as long as you need.”

She looked up at me for only a moment until her telltale bloodshot eyes became heavy and her eyelids drooped in exhaustion, and she was asleep.

I looked down at her longingly, with a heavy heart full of despair, and I climbed off the bed. I realized then that her shoes were still on, along with the rest of her clothes. I removed her shoes carefully, along with my jacket, and tucked the blanket back over her sleeping figure securely.

I then climbed down onto the floor, laying down with my head in my arms, and I fell asleep next to the bed.

I wanted to be there when she woke...