The Death of Me (4 page)

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Zaydee. It was as much my fault, maybe even more so than yours. But I’m sure that’s not why you’re here. Or is it?”

I shook my head truthfully. It really wasn’t why I was there, sitting in the principal’s office, across from my biggest mistake and greatest heartbreak.

“Then what’s on your mind, kiddo?” he asked curiously.

I rolled my eyes, but caught myself when he started to laugh. It was obvious that his “kiddo” remark struck a nerve in me.

“Well, I uh ...” I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. I didn’t know how to ask what I wanted to ask without cutting open an old scar. The one thing I learned about scars was that they never healed if you kept opening them.

“It was a boy,” he said softly.

I looked up from my lap and looked into his eyes. I felt tears immediately start spilling over and I had to bite my lip to keep from letting out a sob.

Garrett took a box of Kleenex out of one of his top drawers and set it in the middle of his desk. I reached forward and grabbed a tissue, dabbing at my eyes.

“His name is Scott, and this,” he said, pulling open the top drawer again and producing a four by six photograph, “is the only picture I have of him. He was eight in this.”

I reached for the picture and held it up so that I could see the little boy smiling on a bicycle. That was all it took for me to burst into gut wrenching sobs. I never expected that I would ever get to know what I had, let alone see his face at one point in his life.

Garrett sighed and got to his feet. I heard the wheels in his chair rolling as he pushed his chair back and came over to put an arm around me.

I rested my head against his shoulder and cried as I held up the picture of Scott and looked at him. I was thankful that someone loved him enough to make him smile and I was even more thankful that he had been taken from me. There was no way in hell that I would have ever made him as happy as he was in that picture.

“Frances always had my gratitude for what he did,” Garrett said softly, as he ran his hand up and down my arm in an effort to calm me.

I pulled away from him and took a deep, shuddering breath. I didn’t know what he was talking about but I couldn’t form the words to ask him either.

“Didn’t you know?” he asked, moving to sit at the edge of his desk. “Frances and Greta adopted Scott. They sent him to live with your aunt and uncle in Phoenix because they knew they couldn’t raise him.”

“What?” I blurted out. My voice was a mixture of rage and sorrow. How was it possible that my parents kept this from me? That they let me suffer for the last four years I lived with them without telling me?

Garrett ran a hand over his face before crossing his arms. “Frances and I became close after it happened. He came to school one day and asked me if I was the father. I don’t know how he knew it, maybe all of those times I kept you after school, but I didn’t lie to him. I knew he was an honorable enough man that he would keep the secret. I confessed to him and begged him to forgive me and he did. He told me that he and Greta had already set up the adoption but to not tell you because he didn’t want you to chase after Scott at such a young age. He wanted you to get your education and eventually they would tell you. That’s why I was such a bastard toward you, Zaydee. I had to be. I didn’t know any other way to keep my part of the deal with Frances if we continued on with whatever it was we had.”

I took another steadying breath and used the back of my hands to wipe the remaining tears from my face. I was angry now. Angry that my entire family had kept this secret from me. Angry that Garrett probably had spent time with Scott and that I hadn’t. Angry that they didn’t think I was worthy enough to know something as important as this.

“I have to go,” I announced as I promptly got to my feet.

“Zaydee wait,” Garrett said, grabbing me by my arm. “If you’re anything like I remember, your temper is going to make you do something you’ll regret later.”

I pulled my arm away from him violently.

“Get over yourself,
Garrett.
You don’t know me. You were the first one that tucked tail and ran when I needed someone the most,” I spat at him.

“That’s not fair. I told you why—”

I cut him off as I turned on my heel and headed for the office door. He had just given me enough information to find my son and nothing was going to stop me from going to see him.

“Zaydee Lansing, I’m speaking to you,” he boomed as he reached over my head and pushed the door closed.

“Get out of the way! You have no right to keep me in here, ” I screamed turning to swat at him.

He moved quickly and caught my arms by the wrists and held them over my head against the door. Garrett always was strong but his height added to his strength and me, barely scraping over five feet was no match for him.

“I’m not letting you leave until you promise me that you’re not going to do anything stupid,” he said sternly.

“I already have one father, I don’t need a second one,” I replied through gritted teeth as I struggled to free myself from his grip.

“Stop trying to get away from me,” he said in a thick voice.

I angrily tried to shove my body against him in an attempt to shake him loose, but it didn’t work. It didn’t have the reaction I was expecting. Instead of making him let go, he pressed himself against me and crushed his lips passionately against mine.

I allowed the moment. I hadn’t been with a man since Garrett because I didn’t want to feel the pain of heartbreak again, but this wasn’t why I wanted to see him. It wasn’t why I needed to sit across from him and talk to him, but his kiss was so hungry that I allowed it.

When he pulled away from me, breaths heavy with passion and lust, I gave my wrists a gentle tug. He smiled sadly and finally let me go.

It was my moment to leave; to walk out the door and I took it. I couldn’t stand there and kiss him, feeling what I felt for him come back to me and stay without trying anything more.

And I just wasn’t ready for that yet.

W
hen I woke up the next morning, I quickly put on a black strapless dress and black shrug. I found my black flip flops and put them back on because after I looked at the clock, I realized if I tried to stop to find a nice pair of dress shoes, I’d be late to Grandpa Frances’ burial.

I ran down the hallway and decided to take the stairs. I didn’t want to lose anymore time by waiting for the elevator and by the time I got into my rental, I realized I’d probably have to drive straight to the cemetery. I reached for my purse that I had tossed into the passenger seat and pulled out the information I had gotten from the viewing, then set the location for Saint Raphael’s Cemetery into my GPS, before I took off.

I drove aggressively all the way to the cemetery grounds. I cursed loudly at people that lingered at the green lights and drove around people I felt were driving too slow.

Once I got to the wide iron gates, I slowed down and drove the recommended five mile per hour speed limit. After all, what the GPS said should have taken me twenty five minutes, only ended up taking fifteen due to speeding.

The curves and bends in the cemetery lead me around in all directions. To the back, to the front, to either side, and had me to the point of such frustration that I was considering going back to the office and asking where to go, when I saw the only excavator on the property sitting in the far right back corner. I turned the truck around the bend and made my way over just in time for the funeral procession to start coming my way.

Jesus Christ. This shouldn’t have been so difficult,
I thought angrily.

I waited inside until the hearse carrying my grandfather and the cars following stopped. I waited while the mourners got out of their cars and jumped out when I saw my parents. I made a beeline straight for my father.

“I want to talk to you when this is all over,” I said to him quietly to which he nodded.

We stopped and waited while the pallbearers retrieved Grandpa’s casket from the hearse and carried it to the burial spot. Mom started to cry again and I started to roll my eyes when I spotted my grandmother. She was using a cane and walking slowly toward the chairs that had been set up, a tissue to her nose.

I left my father’s side and went over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Hi Grandma,” I said softly.

She stopped walking and looked up at me. A sad smile creased her worn lips as she put an arm around me to give me a frail hug.

“It’s good to see you. I’m so glad you came. He would be happy to know you were here,” she said in a shaky voice.

I nodded and blinked back tears as I kept an arm around her tiny shoulders, walking her to the chair that sat front row center.

“Thank you, Zaydee,” she said shakily. I leaned down and kissed her on her cheek before going to the back row of the ceremony and crossed my hands in front of myself.

I wasn’t going to sit with the family no matter how much they wanted me to. This was supposed to be about my grandfather being laid to rest and if I sat near them, it would only be a matter of time before I snapped.

The priest walked to the front and stood next to the casket. He asked us all to bow our heads as he started to pray. I looked down at my hands and clasped them. I wasn’t much for prayer these days, but I could manage one or two in the memory of the greatest man I had ever known.

Once he was done, he asked if anyone had anything they wanted to say; a special memory to share.

I heard someone clear their throat before the familiar voice said, “I do.”

I jerked my head up and saw the priest motioning the voice toward him. It was Garrett and he was dressed in a dark brown suit, white dress shirt, and black tie. His shiny black shoes crushed the grass as he walked with purpose to the front of everyone gathered.

“Greta, with your permission, I think it’s time I talk about this,” he said softly to her. She nodded in agreement and I glanced around nervously.

I had a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach on what he wanted to talk about. But he wouldn’t do it at my grandfather’s funeral, would he? He had to have more common sense than that. As soon as he opened his mouth and started speaking, I realized I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Fourteen years ago, I destroyed a life,” he began with a heavy sigh. “I destroyed a life that was very near and dear to this man that we’re here to honor today and he forgave me for it. He knew somehow, and he still managed to find it in himself to forgive my misdeeds. He, along with his wife, did something I never expected. They stepped in to make sure that the product of my mess would stay close to the family forever; that to me was the greatest gift they could have given to me. And to Zaydee,” he said looking up at me.

I was absolutely mortified. Some of my family glanced at each other and began to whisper as my father stiffened in the front row.

“Because of this man, I got to know that my son was taken care of and has been raised by people that love him. I’ll always be eternally grateful for that. I know I’m not family but he’s the closest thing to a non-blood relative that I have and I will miss him as much as anyone here. Thank you, Frances,” he said, as he placed a hand on the casket. “Thank you for everything.”

As Garrett started to walk away from the casket, Dad got to his feet and turned to watch him. I could see the rage on his rigid body; he understood now. He knew that the person that had fathered my child was Garrett and I could tell that he was trying to control himself. Even though I was a twenty eight year old woman now, I’m sure he still saw me as the terrified fourteen year old that had sat them down one snowy afternoon in December to confess that I was pregnant.

“You son of a bitch,” Dad seethed as Garrett walked past him.

“Larry, sit down,” Mom hissed through her tears.

I watched as Garrett walked away from the entire service, get into his car, and drive away. He had just sent a shock wave through the entire family and now that his work was done, he was leaving it open for me to fill in the blank spaces.

T
he rest of the morning was spent face down on the bed in the hotel room. I couldn’t believe that Garrett had shoved me in between a rock and a hard place and then just left.

God, the way Dad looked at me,
I thought with a shudder. I grabbed the sides of the large, fluffy pillow and let out a frustrated scream. I was so angry and relieved at the same time, that I didn’t know what to do.

I rolled onto my back, arms and legs spread out, and stared at the ceiling. How could he had done that? Of all the times and places, at Grandpa Frances’ funeral? With an angry grunt, I pushed myself up to a seated position and retrieved the phone book. I flipped the pages until I found the number for Rockford High School again and jabbed the numbers into the phone pad. I was pissed;
really
pissed and I wasn’t going to let this go.

“Rockford High School, this is Belle speaking. How may I help you?” the voice asked cheerfully.

“Did Principal Spears return yet?” I barked into the phone.

“Um yes. He arrived a few moments ago. May I ask who’s calling?” she stammered.

“Zaydee Lansing. Transfer me,” I commanded.

“Please hold,” she said quietly. The sound of the hold music came over the speaker and I felt like punching the wall. I hated hold music, specifically more so when I had something important to say.

“Zaydee?” Garrett asked, in surprise.

“What the fuck was that? At my grandfather’s funeral? Why did you do that?” I yelled into the phone.

“I’m not going to speak to you if you insist on yelling.”

The line clicked dead and I stared at the phone.
Did he really just hang up on me?
I was outraged and called the school back almost immediately.

“Rockford Hi—”

“Put Spears back on the phone,” I said, cutting her off.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not accepting anymore phone calls today. May I take a message?” she asked brightly.