by C. S Luis
We got out of the car, making our way along the noisy parking lot and walked into the building. Michael held the door for me as I walked into the hallway. The place seemed like a totally different building, much darker than usual. In fact, it even seemed colder; there was something entirely different about it, like the life had been sucked out of it. One could surely agree with that; with my grandfather gone, it sure might have seemed that way.
We came to the end of the hall, where to my left, the main office was, and to my right, the library sat with its abundance of literature calling to me.
It was only six in the morning when Michael opened the door to the office, but he seemed to remember something suddenly, and with that, he closed the door hastily and turned to me. We’d both forgotten how early it was, too early mainly for any teachers; in fact, only the administrators and bus drivers were arriving.
“I’m sorry, but I have to get to work,” he said. His face filled with guilt and worry again.
“I know,” I said to him. “Don’t worry about me.”
I thought of going into the library to read before he said, “But it’s my job to worry.” Then he smiled. “I know you don’t want to wait in there,” he said, referring to my grandfather’s office.
He then reached into his pocket and took out a pair of keys. I thought they were keys to my grandfather’s office, but instead, he handed them to me.
“Ms. Witherson won’t be in for another few minutes, but I’m sure she won’t mind if you sit in the classroom and wait in there for her.” I took the keys from him as he smiled warmly at me.
“You know where it is, right?” He asked again and then seemed to regret when I folded a lip up at him.
“Michael,” I said, gripping the keys in my palm and moving to leave.
“Sorry, I’ll be in here if you need me,” he added. I nodded and began to walk away before he opened the door to the main office. And as I turned the corner, I gazed back at him; he was disappearing through the door. I continued down the hall, finding the dark stairwell and passing the library to my right.
It was still slightly dark outside. The sun seemed to be barely coming up, but soon there would be life in the building, and it would seem like a new life all over again.
I reached the top of the staircase and walked down the dark and eerie hallway to the end where I knew Ms. Witherson’s class was located. Even before I reached the end of the hall, I could see the door of the classroom was wide open, and there was light coming from inside. I was sure it was hers.
I smiled, “Oh, she’s here.”
I thought of returning to the library, but instead, I continued walking towards the lit classroom doorway, considering asking for permission to return to the library to work on makeup work. I thought I’d do that first before Michael worried about me and started panicking. I had to be careful with that man; he was a mess of worry, and he had to be handled with care at times.
I came closer now, directly facing the entrance, and the first thing I saw was Ms. Witherson standing alone among the classroom desks and decor. She was writing an assignment on the chalkboard when I appeared at the entrance of her classroom. She merely glanced over at me, sensing her first thought of dislike creep into her mind. She didn’t like me.
Ms. Witherson was a slender, brown haired woman dressed in a tacky pink pastel blouse, and black slacks, possibly in her thirties. She had never been married and was slightly bitter because of it. It was hard to see all her other friends married off while she stayed the bridesmaid. God, I hated that I could do this so well; it was disgusting, and I couldn’t avoid it because some people were so easy to read. It was more of a challenge not to read them.
She seemed to want to make a first best impression with me for the needs of getting ahead among the faculty. She stopped writing and directed her attention towards me as I took a step into the classroom.
“You must be Claudia Belle,” she said before I could open my mouth to introduce myself. She already knew me. Of course, it seemed to be something going around. And I hated every bit of it. I was never much for being the center of attention. Although, I’ll admit part of me liked it.
“Michael has told me so much about you.”
She was a liar; I could see that in her eyes. I hated that because I could tell when she lied. It was mainly the way she tossed her head back, the way she spoke, and the sound of her voice. The vibrations of one’s voice and its tone always revealed a lot to me. Body language always told me a lot too, but most importantly, it was her mind that offered the most of her dislike towards me.
Her thoughts kept repeating like an endless echo channeling the words spoiled little rich girl.
Why did she hate me? But it was as simple as the money; at least, that’s what her mind kept saying. I had money because of my parents’ deaths and my grandfather’s passing. I had inherited a large fortune and she was jealous of it. The idea that I had lost people I loved had never even crossed her thoughts.
It didn’t matter. She just didn’t like me.
“Michael said it would be alright if I waited in here until class starts. I honestly didn’t think anyone was here yet,” I said as she gave the most surprised expression. Her eyes became large and round.
She laughed softly, a very fake, childless laugh, phony as the smile on her face. “Of course there would be someone here. I take my work very seriously. You make sure you tell Michael that,” she added.
“Mrs. Witherson—” I began to say when she suddenly interrupted me.
“Ms.” She corrected me. Yes, of course I knew that. I figured she wouldn’t make it so obvious, though.
“Would it be alright if I make up my work?” I asked.
“Of course!” She immediately answered.
“In the library?” I added.
She didn't like me: Spoiled little rich girl, her mind kept repeating. Why is everyone so worried about her?
“Oh,” she said, happy with an excuse to get rid of me. “Sure, dear,” she suddenly said.
I turned away, walking to the door and feeling the hair on my arms rise at the emotions I was feeling.
“Miss Belle,” she said, and I stopped halfway out the door and turned slowly, catching sight of her by the desk as she came around it.
“I’m so sorry for what happened to your parents and your grandfather. Dr. Edwards was the kindest and most generous man I had ever known. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. If you ever need a friend or someone just to talk to, I’d like you to consider talking to me. We women have to stick together and offer each other comfort. Remember that, okay?”
Perhaps I was wrong about her, but then, her inner voice cleared that thought away quickly: Spoiled little girl. You think you’re so much better than me.
I angrily rushed away from the entrance, stopping only briefly when I heard a crashing coming from inside of the classroom. A scream, then muttered, cursing from inside. The firm line on my lip spread into a smile; she was alright. The only thing broken was her shelf and a mess of books now scattered all over the floor for her to clean.
That’ll teach her, I thought.
Why was I misbehaving? I had never done anything like that before, but now, coming down the steps towards the entrance of the library I was feeling guilty for doing what I had done. Sure it was just a stupid shelf, but I had done it out of spite, and I had never done something like that. Hell, I couldn’t even control it most of the time, but this time, it seemed as though I had executed a perfect movement.
Daddy would be so pleased.
No he wouldn’t; he would scold me.
Claudia, you know better, he would say. What were you thinking?
Oh God, I was spending so much time alone I was having hallucinations of my father scolding me.
In the library, I sat with a book barricading me from the main office entrance that of course faced me. No, I wasn’t hiding. Okay, maybe I was. I needed time alone without Michael’s nervous worrying. I also couldn’t see
the entrance of the main office without thinking about my grandfather stepping out of it and looking over at me. Both my father and he now seemed to haunt me, scolding me for scaring Ms. Witherson with my abilities. But was it them or my own guilt that was eating away at me?
I looked now, and they were both wagging a finger at me.
Claudia, you know better.
I hid behind the book, ashamed. I could apologize, but Ms. Witherson would think I’m nuts, and she didn’t like me already. Why? How could you not like me?
I looked again, but this time, instead of my father and grandfather, I saw a man in a blue suit standing facing the door. He had his back to me, and I immediately hid behind my book. The idea that my father or grandfather had materialized seemed to be impossible.
I stayed like that until I heard voices, Michael’s mainly, and hurried to the back of the library before he saw me. Ducking behind one of the bookshelves and through the spaces between the books, I saw them, Michael and the man in the blue suit. I couldn’t clearly make him out, but he was a very tall fellow with honey brown hair and very clean clothing. He carried with him a beautiful black leather briefcase.
They stood in the hallway with the man in the blue suit looking back towards the library, so I ducked back away so as not to be seen. They soon disappeared into the entrance of the main office, and as I stood there for a few minutes deciding whether or not to take my seat again and get to work, they came back out from the main office entrance and into the hallway. The stranger in the blue suit wandered closer to the glass wall of the library, looking inside as he had before. Had he seen me?
I felt stupid now for hiding. What could he be thinking if he had? Then, just like that, they started walking away and disappeared around the corner heading to the other end of the building. They probably had more principal duties. Perhaps it was best if I just stayed in the back of the library, especially considering the fact that I had a lot of work, and everything seemed to be so distracting.
I nearly dozed off a few times, bored by the school work until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I wanted my mind in another realm to keep me from thinking of what had happened. But who was I fooling? This would never be something I could simply lock away and forget. It would take time.
First the incident, as I had come to call it, confused me to this day. It had to be real. I knew it was. If it had all been a dream, why had he felt so real? Him, my handsome rescuer. His face kept flashing into my thoughts as if he were trying to channel me. But how foolish did that sound? Did I want to believe in him so badly? And it’s when I thought of him that I had a strong will to find him, and nothing I did could distract me from that desire. I couldn’t concentrate any longer.
I closed the book in front of me, giving up on the book report that was due in two days and glanced out the library windows into the hallway. I hadn’t noticed that the main office entrance was wide open until I saw a few men in overalls taking out boxes and furniture.
I jumped to my feet and took a step forward and realized the boxes and furniture were coming from my grandfather’s office. Suddenly, an uncertain anger and sadness filled me; a feeling I had never felt before overwhelmed me. I raced out of the library towards the door, nearly crashing into the men coming out.
When I entered, Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez were standing at the entrance of the office. Michael certainly had never said a thing about moving anything from my grandfather’s office when we had arrived earlier in the morning. Had they not realized it was important to me? Had they not realized it was something worth mentioning? But why was this uncertain rage in me now? This, I couldn’t explain as I stood there glaring into the main office towards the open office door of a man I had never truly known.
When Mrs. Wallace saw me, she blinked nervously and questioningly back at me as though she hadn’t expected to see me. She seemed like a nice person, I often wondered if she considered me one of her grandchildren.
"Oh, my dear, how are you?" She asked as I stepped up to her desk, looking towards my grandfather’s office.
"I'm fine,” I firmly whispered. I thought she hadn't heard me when she gazed up at me and then back at the commotion from behind as the movers brought out several boxes that had been in my grandfather's office. They set the boxes outside onto a dolly, and another mover hauled the boxes slowly out of the main office entrance and away from my eyes before I could see what they were.
Mrs. Wallace saw my eyes dance over to the office; I hadn't wanted her to see that. I was noticing them moving things out. How could I not? It was clearly happening right in front of me.
"What can I help you with?" She politely asked, slightly embarrassed with what was happening behind her. She could see the uneasiness on my face, the reluctance to ask what was happening. He had just about been gone a week; yet here they were, removing decades of memories from his office.
"What's going on?" I asked, moving forward. She made a motion to rise, but I stopped before she could.
"My dear, they're clearing a few things out of the office for the new principal," she softly answered; it became a whisper when she saw the look of shock on my face.
He was my only connection to a life I had never known. Now, as late as it was, I wanted to know everything about him and they were taking that away from me by packing his things into boxes and sending them off.
"New principal?" I asked, glaring towards the open office door. I could see the backs of Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez from where I stood.
"Yes," she softly answered, looking after me with the care of a mother hen.
I saw them pull out the bookshelves, pack my grandfather's books into a box, and gather his pictures into another near the entrance.
"Those are my grandfather's things; those are his books. What are they doing to them? Where are they taking them? You’re not tossing his things away, are you?" I yelled, feeling my face burning as unexplainable rage gathered inside me like I was on fire. I noticed the pens and pencils on her desk begin to move; the desk itself slightly rattled. A few pens and pencils managed to hit the floor before I could stop it.
Mrs. Wallace put her hand over the top of her desk, unsure of what she had seen, but she seemed more embarrassed with it than surprised it was happening at all.
"Of course, we would never do that. We just need to clear out his office for the new principal. You'll get those things back,” she tenderly said, reaching a hand out to me, but I was moving away towards the entrance of the office to have a closer look. My blood was boiling as they picked through his things and piled the items inside the boxes like old junk. Mrs. Wallace came up behind me, trying to dart in front of me, but I was quicker than her, and I felt guilty for pulling away from her when she moved towards me.
When I walked in, Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez suddenly turned and saw me standing at the entrance. They smiled at first in greeting until they realized that I was upset. I came to the side of the office where the boxes sat and picked up a picture from inside one of them. It was a picture of me. My grandfather had framed an old photograph of me a week before the accident.
I had no idea where he had gotten it, but it was the fact that he had taken the time to frame it and put it in his office that meant so much. He did it even after how I had behaved with him. I felt horrible that I treated him so badly when all he ever wanted was to get to know me. Now, he was gone forever.
Perhaps it was my own guilt that had exploded in me, but I had never felt so full of rage that I had trouble controlling my emotions. Above, the lights flickered repeatedly like they were going to go out. The desk was still rattling, and poor Mrs. Wallace was trying to keep it steady. She seemed to be doing a good job because others walked past without noticing.
"Claudia?" Mr. Claypool called over to me, curiously looking up at the lights, but I didn't answer, nor did I look back.
"Why wasn’t I told?” I asked, now facing Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez. Perhaps he hadn’t meant anything before. A switch had gone off, and
now it was all I could think of; he was the connection in some form, my history, and the one that was to complete the mystery of me.
"Claudia, my dear, we didn’t want to upset you," Mr. Claypool tried to say as he walked slowly towards me.
“Upset me!” I yelled, and some of the lights blinked out; one or two others flickered. Mr. Vasquez started pointing up, but Mr. Claypool wasn’t listening. The desk in the office started rattling as Mrs. Wallace’s had done and was still doing outside the office. She was now sitting on top of it, looking slightly ridiculous.
“Mr. Claypool!” I could hear her calling him from outside the office, but he was dismissing her, trying to calm me.
"Claudia," Mr. Claypool said, grabbing hold of my shoulder. He looked up at the lights above us, the desk to our right, and then over at me. Did he know? Did he know it was all my doing, the lights, and the desk shaking? I couldn’t control it, and it worried me, but somehow, I was also relieved.
“We just didn’t want to upset you. I’m sorry we didn’t say anything,” he again said and then released me. I took a deep breath, and almost immediately the lights above stopped flickering and the desk stopped moving. I moved back, picking up a framed picture of my grandfather in the nearest box.
“I wish I had known him,” I simply said. “I wish we had more time.”
Mr. Claypool nodded. I could sense he understood the guilt that had gathered within me. But I could also sense he didn’t want me to blame myself for it. But who was to blame if not me? I glanced back at them before I moved to leave, but I didn’t get far, only to find Michael and a stranger blocking my path to the office door.
8
John Slater