The Death of Me

by Yolanda Olson

  I rested my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, securing my seat belt blindly. I couldn't recall a time that I had ever comfortably slept on an airplane, but I was going to give it one hell of a try. I was going to have a hard couple of weeks in front of me and I needed to arrive fresh and ready to take on whatever hell my family would be throwing at me.

  My head rolled slightly to the right and as the plane started to take off, I slipped away into another dreamless sleep. What felt like minutes later, I felt a hand gently rocking my shoulder and I opened my eyes groggily. I glanced out the window and smiled slightly at the sight of the LAX runway.

  "Thanks," I said to the flight attendant in a thick voice, stretching my arms over my head. She smiled at me and nodded before she moved on. I assumed she was looking for more potential sleepers but I didn't stick around long enough to find out. I retrieved my bag and headed out of the plane and down the runway toward the airport baggage claim area.

  I stood as close to the conveyor belt as I could and waited until I saw the blue piece of silk I always tied to my bags. It made them easier to pick out and it would also mean less time to have to stand among people I didn't know. Once I had my bags, I went down to the lower level and walked over to the rental car counters. I found the company I had my reservation with and went through whatever process they needed from me so I could get the keys as quickly as possible and leave.

  Once everything was signed and the keys were handed to me, I gave a quick, tight smile to the representative and walked out of the airport toward the parking garage across the street. According to what I had just been told, the rental cars were on the fifth floor and mine would be in the third row in a spot marked 24. When I got to the sleek black Cadillac Escalade, I popped open the trunk and threw my bags in.

  After I closed it, I turned around and slumped against the back of the SUV. Every fiber inside of me was telling me to just go back to the car rental counter, hand them their keys, and take the next flight back to Orlando, but I knew I couldn't. I had come this far and the very least I could do was pay my final respects to the greatest man I had ever known.

  Five

  I had spent what was left of my Monday picking out something respectable to wear. I had brought almost every dress, skirt, and blouse I owned. I finally settled on a pretty brand new black halter dress with a wide white stripe around the waist. I paired it off with a white shrug and slipped on my best shoes; a pair of white Nine West dress slip-ons. I left the hotel room on Tuesday morning at eleven thirty five, and drove the ten miles to the funeral home. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw that it was almost full and smiled thinking of how many other people loved Grandpa Frances besides me. I decided on an open spot near the back of the parking lot, and backed in.

  Cutting the engine, I rested an elbow against the window and rested my hand on my forehead. I had suddenly developed a huge headache knowing what was waiting for me once I went through those doors. I wanted to see Grandpa again desperately, but not like this.

  It’s too late to back out now, Zee. Get out of the car and get it over with.

  I entered the funeral home timidly. I hadn't seen my parents, or any of my family for that matter in ten years, and I wasn't sure if I would be welcome. I loved my grandfather dearly, though, and if anyone tried to keep me from paying my respects; I would leave quietly and just show up at the burial. I wouldn't cause a scene out of respect to him, but they wouldn't be able to ban me from public property.

  With a shaky hand, I pulled open the black iron door handle and walked into the dimly lit hallway full of people. I kept my head down as I walked over to the open book and signed my name, taking a prayer card and dropping it into my purse. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the casket and the top of my grandfather's head. I didn't want to go in just yet though, because the wailing coming from who I assumed to be my mother made me nervous.

  How was she going to react to my being here? Would she hug me and tell me she missed me or would she get angry and yell at me to leave?

  I bit my lip and decided to go over to the board with pictures on it. It would buy me some time and I would at least have something to hold my attention for a while. I quietly made my way past the groups of people that were standing various locations in the room until I made it to the picture board.

  The first photo in the top left corner made me smile. It was a picture of Grandpa in his early twenties, looking dapper as ever in a suit and tie, with a cigarette in his hand. I wasn't sure what exactly had happened on that day that had warranted such fancy clothes, but he was laughing in the picture and even though it was black and white, I could still see the sparkle in his brilliant blue eyes. His dark blonde hair was slicked back and every hair was neatly kept in place. Grandpa had been like that his entire life though; very proud of his appearance and always making sure the he looked neat.

  My eyes wandered from picture to picture. The one of him and Mom when she was about five years old, looking up at him with adoring eyes and a smile so wide, that you could see she was missing her front teeth. I looked at each picture in turn, a sad smile etched across my lips until I finally reached the end. The feeling of sadness gave way to anger when I saw that one of the pictures that should have been me and my grandfather had been ripped down the middle so it was just him.

  I knew I should've stayed away from this.

  A hand on my shoulder brought my attention away from the picture board of now broken pictures and torn memories. Shrugging the hand off, I turned around to face whoever it was and came face to face with the tired eyes of my father.

  "I thought that was you, Zaydee," he said quietly. I crossed my arms firmly over my chest as he slid his hands into his pants pockets and sighed. "How did you find out about this?"

  "I check the online obits from time to time to see if any of you are dead. Unfortunately it turned out to be Grandpa," I replied in a snarky tone.

  For a moment his face darkened, but he seemed to relent on his feeling of whatever had come over him because he knew I had a point. It was a miracle in itself that I was even standing there having a conversation with him, so he knew not to push me too far.

  "Are you going to go in?" he finally asked, running a hand over his face.

  "I'd like to, but I don't know how she'll react to me being here," I admitted, jutting my chin toward the room full of mourners.

  "She's so wrapped up in her grief right now; I'm not sure she thinks anyone else is here with her. Come on, I'll walk you in," he said, holding out an arm.

  I didn't uncross my arms and I didn't move from my spot. I didn't understand why he was holding out his arm to me, because I and my parents had parted on such bad terms, that I had every right to break it in five places if I wanted to. I let my eyes travel from his outstretched arm to his face to see if there was any sign of deception but I couldn't find any, so I relented and took his arm with a grunt.

  "It's good to have you home, Sweetheart," he said quietly and patting the top of my hand.

  I rolled my eyes as he walked me into the room and straight up to my grandfather's polished maple casket with beautiful white lining.

  "Take as much time as you need," he said gently, as I let go of his arm and put my hands on the edge of the beautiful box that held only death on the inside. It was a reminder of yet another masquerade of beauty that was shattered by the realism of what it had been truly made for.

  “Hi Grandpa,” I said softly, reaching up to stroke his white hair. “I missed you. I’m sorry it took me too long to come see you. I hope you know that I’ve always loved you and always will. I’ll see you soon.”

  The tears that started to fall probably made me look weaker than I felt. They weren’t solely tears of sorrow, they were tears of anger. I could have had the chance to be with him in his final moments, but because of Mom, Dad, and Mr. Spears, I ran as far as I could when the moment presented itself. Because of them I refused to come back and even see Grandpa, telling him that I wo
uld always try my best then pushing it to the back of my mind. And now it was too late. I’d never hear his gentle voice again or feel his soft, strong arms around me again. All I had with him was this moment; where he was lying in a casket void of life and looking more peaceful than I could remember.

  I felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder again and I wiped the tears away from my face quickly.

  “He always loved you so much, Zaydee,” he said quietly.

  “I know.”

  I turned to nod at Dad before I walked away from the casket and settled into the very back row of the room. He looked at me with sad eyes and shook his head as he sat down next to Mom and the priest entered the room. I was sitting next to some people I didn’t know, but it was as far away from my family as I could get so I decided to take it and just wait for the services to be over then go back to my hotel room. I’d probably spend the whole of the two weeks in there as a defense mechanism against the sadness, but I really didn’t want to. I had another reason for coming back; not nearly as important as Grandpa, but there were questions that I needed answered.

  As the priest took his place at the podium, I took a deep breath and let out a gut wrenching sob.

  I’m so sorry, Grandpa.

  Six

  After the services were over, my father stopped me as I was walking out the back door. He told me he would really like it if I came over for dinner that night and that Mom would too. It had taken everything inside of me not to roll my eyes, but I accepted because I really didn’t feel like going out to a restaurant and I didn’t know if the hotel food was any good.

  I did go back and change my clothes though. I didn’t want to go back to a place of broken memories in my funeral attire, no matter how appropriate it would have been. I chose a light blue sundress and a pair of white flip flops for the occasion. I remember reading somewhere that blue was the color for stability and confidence, and that was exactly what I needed to be able to survive dinner with them.

  Around 4pm that afternoon, I left the hotel. Dinner was going to be around six, but Dad had asked me to come over early so we could catch up. My knuckles were white because of how tightly I was gripping the steering wheel and I kept fighting the waves of nausea that were threatening to make me sick.

  This evening was definitely going to show me if I had any of that fourteen year old bravery left inside of me.

  I pulled up in front of their house twenty minutes later and hopped out of the SUV. I took a deep breath, adjusted my purse on my shoulder, and walked up to the door. My finger hovered over the doorbell button for a moment. Did I really want to do this? I hadn’t come all this way for them and I really didn’t know what good would come out of this anyway.

  The choice was taken out of my hands when the front door flew open. I jumped and pulled my hand away from the doorbell and Dad smiled sheepishly.

  “I saw you coming up the walkway,” he admitted.

  “Oh.”

  “Come in, Zaydee,” he said, stepping back and motioning with his arm.

  I nodded and walked through the open door. I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced around, realizing that not much had changed since I had left. The family pictures were still hanging on the wall in the living room which surprised me, and they seemed to have the same old couches they bought when I was a kid.

  Maybe I’ll send them some new stuff. Depending on how this goes, anyway.

  “So, how have you been?” he asked, as he led the way into the living room and sat down. I decided to sit in the old rocking chair in the corner of the room and shrugged.

  “Rita! Zaydee is here,” he suddenly called out.

  I cringed. I didn’t expect to have to see her so quickly after walking into the door, but this was their home and I couldn’t exactly forbid her from coming into her own living room.

  In she walked, a carefully blank look on her face, as she went over and sat next to my father. The silence that followed her entrance was deafening. Dad awkwardly put an arm around my mother and I looked down at my fingernails. When I started to pick the skin around them, Mom spoke up.

  “Don’t do that; you know how much I hate it when you do that,” she said quietly.

  I sighed loudly and dropped my hands onto my lap. Mom looked away, Dad looked sad, and I just looked annoyed. I didn’t come for a “you’re in my house, you’ll obey my rules” dinner. Truth be told, the only reason I came was for the free food and maybe a quick look around.

  “Sorry,” she muttered.

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look at her anymore, instead I turned my attention to my father and gave him a tight smile. I guess it would be a good a time as any to ask him something that had been weighing on my mind since I left the wake earlier.

  I wasn’t sure how to word it, or how to even bring it up, but the curiosity in me was piquing at an all time high and I needed to know.

  “Hey Dad?” I asked timidly.

  “Yes honey?”

  “Does Mr. Spears still teach over at Rockford High?”

  “No. He hasn’t been a teacher in about, oh, I’d say five years. That sound about right, Rita? Yeah, five years. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just thinking of going to see him,” I replied quietly.

  “He always was your favorite teacher,” he said warmly. “You’ll be happy to know that three years after you left, he actually got promoted to principal. He’s still at Rockford, just not as a teacher.”

  Let’s see. If I’m twenty eight and he was thirty eight at the time, he would be ... Fifty two? Yeah. Fifty two.

  “I’m sure he’d be quite happy to see you, Zay. He loves seeing his old students,” Dad said pleasantly.

  “Hm,” I mumbled.

  I was curious as to what he would look like. He had been so damn handsome when I looked at him through childish eyes, so it made me wonder if he would look the same to me through adult eyes. Did he still have the same dark brown hair or had it grayed some? Were his kind brown eyes as warm as ever, or had they grown as cold as they were after I had given birth? I didn’t know, but I decided that tomorrow, after the burial, I would go find out. I didn’t have anything to lose or gain from it and I was honestly curious to see if he would speak to me.

  Seven

  As I drove back to my hotel, I thought of how uneventful dinner was. I felt like I had been eating in a monastery of monks that had taken a vow of silence. The only sounds in the dining room were the occasional throat clearing, the sipping of wine, silver-wear on the plates, and my mumbled “thank you” when it was over.

  I sighed when I reached the red light a few blocks away and put a hand against my forehead. Of the two, Dad seemed to be the one that genuinely liked having me in the house. Mom I kind of understood. We had just gotten back from viewing her father in a casket, so I didn’t expect a parade of glitter and rainbows.

  I glanced at the time on the dashboard. It was six thirty one, which meant I had gotten out of there faster than I thought I would. I was happy about that much. I didn’t want to sit in that house any longer than I had to, making small talk with the two people that had damaged me the most.

  An angry car honk behind me shook me from my thoughts. I put my foot gently on the gas and took a left turn, catching every green light on the way back. Once I parked, I had an idea. It was a slim to none chance, but I thought I would give it a try anyway.

  I walked through the lobby doors and went up to the counter, drumming my fingers along the wooden top waiting for someone to notice me.

  “Good evening! How can I help you?” the young girl with the bright, bleached smile asked.

  “I need a phone book please,” I replied quietly.

  “Sure thing!” she said as she bounced away from the counter. I glanced up at the huge flat screen television that sat on the wall behind where she had been standing and watched the news. A few minutes later, she came back, smile wide as ever, as she handed it over to me.

  “Thanks.”

  I held the phone bo
ok tightly against my chest as I walked down the hallway toward the elevators. I punched the button to call one of them down and waited. A moment later, I heard a ding and walked over to the elevator across from me and entered. I glanced at the numbers, pushed number five, and leaned back against the elevator wall waiting while I slowly climbed to my designated floor.

  I waited impatiently for the slow doors to open before I walked out and turned right. My room was all the way at the end of the hall because I had requested it, and it was the largest one on the floor.

  I fished around in my purse until I found the room card and slid it in quickly. The door unlocked quietly and I cast a glance down the hallway before I walked in, locking it firmly behind me.

  With a sigh, I dropped my purse by the door and went over to the lush king sized bed that sat against the wall in the middle of the room and sat down. I bit my lip and wondered if what I was about to do was a good idea, if the information presented itself, but I decided I didn’t care and opened the book, flipping until I found the administration phone number for the school.

  Here goes nothing, I thought as I leaned back and grabbed the phone from where it sat on the bed and began to punch in the numbers. My hands were shaking so I wrapped one around the phone cord, waiting as the phone rang once, twice, three times.

  I had given up and was halfway to hanging up the phone when someone picked up.

  “Rockford High, this is Principal Spears,” the deep voice said.

  I panicked. I hadn’t expected him to be the one to answer. Hell, I hadn’t expected anyone to still be there at all since it was damn near seven at night.

  “Hey stranger,” I chirped.

  “Who is this, please?” he demanded, the sound of papers rustling in the background.