Lifeless

by Jennifer LaRocca

  Chapter 16

  I woke up the next morning with a killer headache. With all the stress and crying from the previous night, I wasn’t surprised.

  After getting home, I retreated to my room so I could freak out privately. Jules went to her room, telling me that if I needed anything to just let her know. She was so sweet for trying to take care of me, but I felt horrible for lying to her. When she asked me what was wrong in the cab on the way home, the only thing I could think of to tell her was that I had food poisoning. So when my stomach started cramping up after I woke up, I was hoping karma wasn’t coming to bite me in the ass.

  Since I didn’t have to go to the studio that morning, I had to get up earlier to be at work by eight. I slowly peeled myself from the security of my bed and got up to take a really hot shower, hoping that it would make my head stop hurting, but all it did was make me relax. And relaxing in the shower was never a good thing. All it did was make my mind turn on and think about all the things that had happened in the past few days.

  How in the world did I get here? This all seemed like some kind of fairytale dream. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Rock stars dated models and actresses or famous people in general. Bad guys went after bad people, not people like me. Only one word could describe how I felt about this situation: scared. I didn’t know how else I was supposed to feel when some guy threatened to stalk me at my house, where was I supposed to feel safe.

  After getting out of the shower, I realized that I was in there way too long. I was feeling sluggish, and it was making me late. I put on some comfy work clothes, and I opted to wear flats just in case I had to run for my life. I knew that was highly unlikely, but my mind was going nuts with scenarios.

  Jules stopped by my room before she left for work to check up on me. I told her I was feeling better and that I’d just be running behind this morning. She said she’d let Matt know for me and then headed out.

  Grabbing my purse on the way out of my room, I dug my phone out. I had forgotten to put it on the charger last night, so I’d have to charge it on the way to work. Pressing the home button on the phone to pull up the screen, I saw that I had missed several texts and phone calls, all from Kade.

  7:32 p.m. (text) I’m so sorry for the way I acted today. I was wrong. U R probably the only one that can help me. U help me see straight. Plz call me.

  7:40 p.m. Missed call

  7:49 p.m. (text) Please call me. I miss your voice.

  8:30 p.m. Missed call

  9:13 p.m. Missed call

  I stared at my phone, wondering what I should do. I really needed to talk to him. I deserved to know why I was being cornered in a bar and threatened. So I sent him a text.

  Scarlett: We need to talk. Lunch?

  That was all I could think of to say, and I was surprised when I got an immediate reply.

  Kade: Yes, text me where u want me to meet u. Or I can come pick u up.

  Did I want him to pick me up? No, just in case things went badly, I’d have a way to leave.

  Scarlett: I’ll meet u at Lou’s. 1:30?

  Kade: See u there, beautiful.

  Leaving the house for work was like having paranoid schizophrenia. I looked everywhere and anywhere to see if I noticed any one staring at me in a weird way. I knew I was being stupid, but I couldn’t help myself. I was still freaked out.

  When I got to work, I was glad to be out of the public eye. I walked to my desk and sat down with a sigh. My head was still pounding away even after taking some Excedrin. Today was definitely going to be a long day. I should have just taken the day off.

  While my computer booted up, I picked up my phone to listen to my messages. I was writing down information from the first two messages when the third message started.

  “Hi, Scarlett, my name is . . . Joan Moore.” Sigh. Sniff. “I’m your father’s wife.” Sniff. “He’s . . . I have some information I’d like to share with you . . . if you could please call me back.” I listened as she recited her phone number while I just stared at my computer screen.

  I must have heard that message wrong, so I listened again.

  Why the hell would my dad’s wife be calling me?

  I debated whether to call her back or not, but my curiosity got the best of me. I dialed her number and looked around to make sure no one was coming over to my desk.

  The phone rang three times before someone finally picked up.

  “Hello,” a deep male voice answered.

  I froze. What did I say? I was about to hang up, when he started talking again.

  “Hello, are you there? I can hear you breathing in the phone,” he said sarcastically.

  What? I wasn’t breathing that hard.

  I cleared my throat, “Yes, hi . . . is . . . um . . . Joan Moore available?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  I took a moment before I answered. “Scarlett,” I said softly.

  Then it was quiet on his end. I started to think that maybe I had dropped the call, but then I remembered that I called a landline.

  “Hello?”

  “Yeah, sorry . . . hang on a sec. I’ll get her for you.”

  I heard rustling over the line as if he were carrying the phone with him somewhere.

  “Hello,” a soft feminine voice answered.

  “Hi, this is Scarlett. I’m returning your call.” I was fidgeting in my chair, drawing circles on a piece of paper that was on my desk. I was tempted just to hang up.

  “Scarlett, thank you so much for returning my call. I hope you don’t mind my calling you at your work. It was the only number I could round up. I tried calling your mother, but she wasn’t very helpful.”

  I let out a laugh. I was sure my mother was thrilled to have Joan call her.

  “No, it’s fine. But I am very curious as to why you’re calling me. I don’t know you, and I haven’t spoken to my father in fifteen years.” I tried not to sound rude and annoyed, but I wasn’t sure how well I pulled it off.

  She sighed. “I know it probably seems strange to you that I’m calling, but I wanted to call you and tell you what has happened, because your mother told me she wouldn’t.”

  Okay, now she had my attention. “Okay?”

  “Honey . . . your father . . . he passed away two days ago.” That was all she said as she choked on her words.

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I was at a loss for words. What do you say when someone tells you that the man you once loved and called dad was now dead and gone—no longer on the earth. You’d never be able to talk to him and ask him why.

  I stared at my computer screen as I tried to process what she’d just told me. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. I would have never realized that after so long, hearing something like this would make me upset. But he was my dad and even though I’d been pissed off for years about him leaving me, I still loved him. He was my dad. He was my dad.

  “Scarlett?”

  “Yeah,” I croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Scarlett,” she sighed, “I know this must seem awful of me to call you and tell you this news.” I could hear the sadness in her voice. “But your father . . . He wanted to talk to you before he passed away, but I couldn’t get your number from your mother. I’m so sorry, dear.”

  Wiping a single tear from the corner of my eyes, I sniffed, “How did he die?”

  “He had lung cancer. We didn’t find out until it was already in its final stages, and he opted not to do anything about it. We tried for a while to get ahold of you, but we didn’t know you had moved. There was so much he wanted to say to you—so much you didn’t know.”

  I was silent. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all. I could hear her softly crying on the phone. I could only imagine how sad she was. She’d been married to him for fifteen years.

  “I . . . I called you to let you know that his . . . his funeral is tomorrow.” She cried. “I would love for you to be here.”
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  She gave me the address to the church where they would have Mass and then told me that they would go to the cemetery afterward. I told her I’d think about it and hung up the phone.

  I leaned back in my chair in a daze. My dad was dead. I’d never get to talk to him again. There were so many things I wanted to ask him and share with him that I’d never get to.

  Guilt hit me too because, when I was seventeen, I found out where he lived and worked, but I had decided that if he really wanted to see me that he would come see me. I shouldn’t have had to make the effort. Now there would never be that chance again.

  I cried silently at my desk, trying to decide whether or not I should go to his funeral. She told me before we hung up that he wrote a letter for me and she wanted to give it to me personally.

  Ugh, my headache was back in full force now. I propped my elbows on my desk and started massaging my temples to help alleviate the pressure.

  “You still have a headache?” Jules asked as she leaned against my desk.

  I stopped rubbing my head and looked up at her.

  She gasped. “Shit, Letti, if it’s hurting that bad, you should go home and lie down.” She frowned at me.

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “It’s bad, but it’s not that bad.” I opened my top drawer and took out my travel-sized tissue to wipe my nose.

  “Then why are you crying?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  Leaning back against my chair, I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes. I sat there like that for as long as I could.

  “Letti,” she said, kicking my chair.

  I opened my eyes and looked at her. “My dad’s dead,” I blurted out.

  She just looked at me with her mouth hung open. She knew all about the feelings I had about him. So her reaction to me blurting it out was not surprising.

  “Oh, Letti, I’m so sorry,” she finally said. “How did you find out?”

  Sitting up, I grabbed another tissue and blew my nose. “Joan, his wife, called me and left me a message yesterday. I didn’t get it until today. So I called her back. She wants me to come to the funeral.”

  Jules ran a hand through her hair. “Wow, girl, are you going to be okay? Are you going to go?”

  I didn’t know how to answer this. Was I okay? No, I wasn’t. But I really had no other choice but to be okay, since there was nothing I could do about it. Was I going to go? I wanted to go, but then again I didn’t. I was undecided.

  “I’m fine,” I said, staring at the computer.

  “Look, I know you’re avoiding my question, but you have to go, Scarlett. If you don’t go, you’ll regret it, just as you regret not going to him all those years ago.”

  There it was: the kill shot.

  I held my head in my hands, running my hands through my hair. She knew me too well, and sometimes I didn’t like it.

  “When’s the funeral?” Jules asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Then get your butt up, go talk to Matt, go get your shit together, and go to your dad’s funeral. I’m not going to let you stay here just so you can regret it. I know you, Letti. You’ll hate yourself for missing it.”

  She was right. I knew she was right. Ugh, I hated when she was right.

  So I did what she said. I cleaned up my face and went to talk to Matt. I took the rest of the day and the next day off. Then I made flight arrangements. I’d leave the airport around one Atlanta time and arrive around one fifteen Alabama time, since they were an hour behind.

  Next, I went home and packed a small bag. I was only staying for the night, and then I’d leave after the funeral. I didn’t want to stay any longer then I had to. I’d be home Friday night to sleep in my own bed.

  Then, when my cab arrived, I headed off to the airport. I didn’t realize until I was sitting in the terminal that I was going to miss lunch with Kade. So instead of texting him, I called.

  “Hey, beautiful, I’m so glad you called.”

  God, I loved his voice.

  “Hey, I can’t talk long. There’s been a change of plans. I’m not going to make it for lunch,” I said just as they announced my flight for boarding.

  “Where are you? Are you at the airport?”

  “Yeah, I am. Look, I know we have a lot to talk about, but I have to go to Alabama for a day. It’s family stuff. I’ll be back tomorrow night. Can we talk then? I’ll text you when I get back.” I grabbed my carry-on and got in line to get on the plane.

  “Uh, yeah, that’ll work. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I will be,” I said softly. “I’ve got to go. I’m boarding. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay, beautiful. See you soon.”

  I turned my phone off and boarded the plane, trying to think about what I was going to say to Joan when I got there. I knew then why my mother tried to call me the other day.

  Chapter 17

  I knew I had arrived in Alabama when I walked outside and the humidity hit me right in the face. Even in the middle of September, the air still felt muggy.

  Getting into my rental, I mentally prepared myself to meet Joan.

  While I was waiting at the rental car counter, I had to call Joan again to get the information for the funeral. I had left it all at home in my rush to get to the airport on time, and I wanted to stay at a hotel close to wherever it was being held so I could make my escape quickly once it was over. She had insisted that I stay at her house because she had more than enough room. I had declined, but then she started rambling on about the letter Dad wrote me and how I would probably have questions, so she insisted again. Not wanting to argue, I agreed since it was only for one night.

  ~*~

  Arriving at the house was surreal. To think all those years ago, I had driven past it, but never took the chance to knock on the door.

  Getting out of the car, I grabbed my small bag and then studied the house before me. It was a white two-story house with a wraparound porch. The front yard looked as if someone had a green thumb or paid a pretty penny to have it landscaped. Either way, it was a beautiful yard; flowers were planted everywhere. This was the kind of house I had always wished I’d grown up in.

  Making my way up the porch steps, I stopped to take a deep breath. I needed to ease the tension and nervousness I had rolling around in my stomach. I reached up to knock, but the door opened before I had a chance.

  “Scarlett.” She smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please come in, dear.”

  Joan was a petite woman about 5’3” with short blond hair. She was very pretty and didn’t look as if she were in her late forties. I smiled back at her, not saying a word as we walked into the house. She escorted me into what I assumed was their family room, and we took a seat on an ugly floral couch.

  “Are you thirsty or hungry? I could get you something real quick.” She looked determined to make me feel comfortable, but I wasn’t sure that would be possible.

  Shaking my head, I said, “No, thank you.”

  I looked around at my surroundings. There were random pictures of flowers up everywhere and a big flat screen TV on a stand against the wall. Judging by the garden, couch, and pictures, I’d say Joan really liked flowers. It reminded me of something you’d see in a really old person’s home.

  Turning her body toward me, Joan folded her hands in her lap. “I know this must be a lot for you, getting a call about your father. I can’t imagine what must be going through your mind. If you want to ask me some questions, please just ask, and I’ll answer them as best as I can.”

  She was getting straight to the point. There were so many things to ask, but there was only one I wanted to know.

  “Why did my father leave?”

  I watched her reaction to my question. From the look on her face, she wasn’t surprised that that was my first question.

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Scarlett, there is so much about your father and your mother’s relationship that your mother kept from you. It was really rather complicated. Your father mentio
ned it in his letter, but I’ll tell you what I know.” I nodded my head at her to continue. “Your father met your mother when she was seventeen and he was twenty-four.” She started.

  I looked at her in shock and she laughed.

  “Yes, dear, I know. They met at a party where alcohol was being served. She told him she was eighteen, and she looked old enough, so he didn’t question it. One thing led to another and you were created. It wasn’t until your mother was about four months pregnant that she finally told her parents. You can imagine how they took the news. Your grandparents ended up contacting your father and told him that if he didn’t take responsibility for her and you that they would slap him with statutory rape charges.”

  “Hmph,” was all that came out of my mouth. I wasn’t surprised that my grandparents threatened him. When I was younger, I considered them to be possessed by evil spirits.

  “Your father did what was right, and with your grandparents’ blessing, your mother moved in with him, since she was going to turn eighteen within a few months. They never got married, but he was there for the both of you. He loved you so much.”

  “What?” I said cutting her off. “What do you mean they weren’t married? My mother has a ring.”

  “They never got married. He wasn’t in love with your mother; although he did try,” she said the last part softly. “The ring she wore was given to her as a Christmas present one year. So she wore it on her wedding finger so people would think they were married, and she would tell people her last name was Moore, but it’s not and never was.”

  I could tell she was trying to be gentle about the whole situation, but this was a lot for me to take in. “Okay, well, how did you come into the picture then?”

  She smiled. “Well, we worked together. You see when your father met your mother he had just passed his accounting test, which was why he was out celebrating with some of his buddies. He started at the firm I worked at the following week. We met then, but I was married with a little boy at the time. Things didn’t progress with your father until after I was divorced five years later.”