I knew that I would never have a reason to come back to this place and it made me feel a little less broken. As I pulled onto the highway I decided to turn on the local rock station. I needed noise to fill the short drive to LAX or else my own thoughts would consume me and it would drive me crazy. In my heart I knew that I wouldn't have time for torturous thoughts; not now at least. That would have to wait until I got home.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music and glanced up to see the LAX signs starting to appear. I sighed and glanced at the letters, then raised the volume of the radio and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were starting to turn white.
Easy Zaydee, I told myself. Deep breaths will keep the path clear and you need to see now more than ever.
Three more miles and the highway opened into the huge airport parking lot. I drove past all of the airlines that were sectioned off for easy arrival and departures, and went straight toward the garage I had gotten the rental from. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going to leave it, but I figured as long as it was close to where I got it from then it should be okay.
I pulled into an empty spot on the third level and reached over for the stack. I glanced in the backseat and reached for my carry-on bag, so I could put the envelopes in it. I didn't want to lose any of them because they would be the best way to explain everything that I was going to do. Forcing a smile onto my face, I dragged my luggage behind me as I walked over to the rental car attendant in the small booth he was sitting in.
"One moment while I look the car over, please," he said pleasantly, walking past me with a clipboard in his hand.
I waited, the envelopes boring a hole through my bag and onto my hip, while he looked over the truck with a fine tooth comb. When he was satisfied that no damage had been done to it, he had me sign the clipboard attesting to that fact, then let me go on my way.
I glanced at the clock mounted in his small booth and realized that if I didn’t get a move on, I would most likely miss my plane. All of the damn daydreaming in the car had made me lose time and I hadn’t realized it until now.
I hoisted my baggage onto my back and ran down the stairs as quickly as I could, readjusting them when I reached the ground level. I knew that airport security wouldn’t be too excited about me running through the airport, so I decided to power walk my way to security after asking a guard where my gate would be.
I went through the same scrutinization I always did when I handed someone my identification before I was able to get through security. I knew I would have to pay extra at the gate for my bags, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get the fuck out of California and go home.
The lounge area was damn near packed by the time I got there, and I ended up sitting next to a man that seemed engrossed with his cell phone. I dropped my bags in front of the chair and fell into the seat, a relieved sigh escaping me, before I glanced over at his phone.
My curiosity was soon satisfied when I saw that he had been texting someone named Jim and the last text message received from him made me roll my eyes. Apparently, the man next to me was being told about a strip bar where all of the strippers had “huge tits” and would most likely let them do lines of cocaine off of them once he got to Miami.
This is gonna be a long flight, I thought with another deep sigh as I closed my eyes and waited for the flight attendant to start calling rows.
Nineteen
(Wednesday)
It had just been my luck to have the seat next to the man with the huge plans once he got to his destination and I forced myself to sleep for the entire flight. Once I landed in Orlando International Airport though, I felt a sense of relief wash over me like a typhoon. I was happy to be back in a place where there was no heartbreak and no one would be able to give me anymore shitty news. I was back in a place where things made sense and no matter how bad things seemed, a bowl of ice cream, and a chick flick session would fix it all.
I went outside and waited in the valet line after retrieving my luggage from the baggage area. Ten minutes after handing my ticket to the same young man that I had tipped to keep my baby safe, he pulled around in my car. I threw my bags into the backseat and gave the car the once over, before handing him an extra one hundred dollar bill for a job well done.
Two hours later I was pulling into my driveway. I was finally home and I had zero plans on ever leaving again. I didn’t care who died at this point; I had made it to the most important funeral I would ever have to go to and that was enough for me.
After fidgeting with the locks on the front of my door, I stepped in and looked around happily. I let the bags drop on the side of the couch, before I closed the door behind me and locked it firmly into place. I hadn't made it very far into the actual house, when there was a knock on the door. With an eye roll and a groan, I turned around and went back to the door and pulled it open.
"Yes?" I asked, the man who was holding a flower arrangement.
"Ms. Lansing?" I nodded. "These are for you. I just need you to sign here please," he said, placing the arrangement down and holding out a clipboard. I signed where he indicated and then took the arrangement from him.
"Have a good day, Miss!" he called out as he walked back down toward his waiting van.
I took the flowers straight into the kitchen and sat them down on the island. Not very many people knew where I lived now and I was curious as to who would have sent them. Grabbing the card that had been attached, I flipped open the little envelope and smiled. I went back into the living room and fetched my cell phone, dropping down onto the couch and stretching my legs out, as I dialed. Three rings later and I was greeted by a familiar voice.
"Hey, Darlin'," he said happily.
"You've been living in Oklahoma for way too long," I replied with a laugh.
My cousin returned my laugh good-naturedly, "What's up, Zee?"
"I just got your flowers and I wanted to say thank you," I said.
"No problem. I told them to keep going back with them until you opened that damn door. It sucks about Frances; did you end up going back home?" he asked. I heard a dog barking in the background followed by a quiet shushing.
"Yeah; you didn't miss anything. Mom was a mess, Dad was trying to win the Father of the Year award, and Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose were part of the great family conspiracy," I replied dryly.
"What conspiracy?" he asked curiously.
"Remember when I got knocked up and they wouldn't let me keep it?" I paused for a moment. I had always been really close with him, so I knew I wouldn't have to sugarcoat my feelings about this, regardless of the fact that Bill and Rose were his parents.
"Yeah."
"Turns out Grandpa and Grandma adopted him. It was a boy they named Scott and Bill and Rose raised him, and all signs point to suicide on his end," I explained with a shrug. Not that he would be able to see it.
There was silence on the other end of the line. He had left when he was still a young man, so I knew that he couldn’t have possibly known about his parents and my child. But the silence was still unusual for him. Almost as if he were trying to think of what to say without triggering anything inside of me. One of these reasons we were both so close was because we were both prone to fits of blind rage if pushed too far.
"Are you okay? Do you want me to come out there?" he asked quietly.
"I'll be fine. Don't waste your time worrying about me; it'll all be okay soon enough," I replied with a small chuckle. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for the flowers, Cowboy."
"You're welcome, Zaydee," he replied warmly, before we said our good-byes and hung up.
I let the phone drop onto the carpet next to me and draped an arm over my forehead. I was tired, but I didn’t want to take a nap because all I really did the past few days was sleep. I could’ve unpacked my stuff, but I hated that more than packing, so I decided to lounge around for a bit until I got some energy to do something; anything.
I thought of my cowboy cousin and how m
uch I missed him. Maybe I should have told him to come see me after all, but I knew better. Something about him had always been unstable so I believed that him being alone in rural Oklahoma was always best for him.
I pushed the thoughts of him out of my mind. With as much as I loved him, and with as much as it was nice to have family I could still say that about besides Grandpa and Grandma, I knew that I had to figure this out on my own.
Well, maybe not completely alone.
I leaned down and scooped my cell phone off the carpet. When I checked the battery life, I saw that it was almost dead, so I went over to my carry-on bag and fished around until I found the power chord. Once I had everything I needed I went back to the couch and unplugged the small lamp on the table at the end of the couch and plugged in the phone. I figured I could wait until it was fully charged before I made my phone call.
After all, there was only one person that would fully understand my internal torment right now and I didn’t think it was fair to suffer this alone.
Twenty
(Thursday)
It was 12:01 in the morning and I had decided to stop flip flopping with the phone call. The device had long since charged, but I didn’t know if what I was intending would breed the intentions that I wanted, so I spent the rest of the day and the night sitting on it.
I had managed to make one phone call, but not the important one; not the one I needed that would help quell the pain. I took a deep breath and got up from the carpet of my bedroom floor that I had been sitting on and walked over to the other side of the bed, where my phone had been charging on the nightstand.
With unsteady hands, I brought the screen to life and plopped down on the edge of the bed. I glanced back at the nightstand and grabbed the paper that held the phone number on it, then used the light of the phone screen to read it and punch the numbers in.
After the fifth ring, I was ready to give up, but a froggy voice came onto the line.
“Hello?” he asked.
“Hey. Sorry I’m calling so late, but I can’t sleep,” I said softly.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Past midnight. I’m sorry that I woke you up, but I needed to talk to you.”
“Zaydee, there’s something you should know,” he said in a slightly clearer voice.
“I already do know, Garrett,” I replied with a sigh. “That’s why I wanted to call you. You still have some time off this week don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he responded with a heavy sigh of his own.
“Will you come see me? Please?”
“Text me your address. I’m still in Arizona, but I’ll take the next flight out to you,” he promised.
“Okay. Thank you. Sorry again for waking you up,” I said quietly.
“It’s okay. I’ll see you soon,” he said softly as he clicked off of the line.
I waited about ten minutes before I sent him my address. There was something inside me, something that was once good and pure, something that cared, that was trying to get me not to do this, but I pushed it away.
I wasn’t pure and good; not anymore and I knew I never would be again. I knew that the only way to end the pain of losing Scott, the little bit of pain that I felt, would be with Garrett. It was probably hurting him more than it hurt me because he couldn’t understand that the boy was better off without us. He was better off dead. With as much as I hated to admit it to myself, he really was.
Once I got the response from Garrett that he had received my message, I shut my phone off, and put it back onto the charger before splaying onto my back on the bed. I wasn’t sure when he would be arriving, if it would be later today, or tomorrow, but I had to make the most of what was yet to come.
***
It was noon when I finally woke up. I don’t know how I had managed to sleep for almost twelve hours, but I felt refreshed and more sure of myself. The doubt of what needed to happen was gone and I found myself actually looking forward to Garrett’s visit.
I got up and went into the bathroom humming a happy tune to myself, as I retrieved the toothpaste and my toothbrush. Running it under the water for a moment, I put a quarter sized amount of paste onto the bristles, before running it under the water again, then proceeded to brush my teeth.
I was still happily humming to myself and scrubbing my teeth when a knock came at my front door. I rolled my eyes and spit the paste into the sink, grabbed my small plastic cup, filled it with water, and swished. The knock came again more persistent than the last time and I spit the water into the sink before running the brush under it again and placing it in it’s holder. I quickly turned around and pulled a small washcloth out of the linen cabinet behind me to wipe my face, then tossed it into the hamper as I walked out of the bathroom.
I glanced at the time and sighed. It was quarter after twelve, I had woken up only moments ago, and it seemed that Garrett was already here. I knew it was him because I recognized the heavy handed knock that mimicked the one from the hotel room door.
I stopped in front of the door and waited a few moments. I wanted him to knock again for no other reason than to prove to me that he wanted to be inside with me. It would be a small consolation in the downfall that had been my life; to have someone that actually wanted to be in my presence.
I placed my hand on the doorknob and closed my eyes, waiting for the knock that I knew would come. Garrett had only let me down once in my life before and I think that now that I was back in his, he would do his best to make it up to me for as long as he could.
“Zaydee?” his tired voice rang out, followed by the knock.
I smiled and closed my eyes for a moment before I pulled the door open. There he stood on the other side, a luggage bag hoisted over his shoulder and a decorative vase in his hands. His eyes were dim; as dim as I saw the world that night in the hospital and he looked like all he wanted to do was just lay down and sleep for the rest of his life.
“What’s that?” I asked, stepping back and letting him walk in.
Garrett cleared his throat but didn’t answer my question. Instead, he glanced around the living room before walking away from where I was standing. Curiosity would’ve made a normal person follow him to see what he was doing, but I was far from normal so I went to the couch and turned the television on.
A few moments later he returned and sat at the other end of the couch, the vase still in his hands. I knew he wanted me to ask again, even though I knew full well what it was at this point. I assumed I should show some kind of sadness and pity considering he had remembered to bring Scott with him, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without sounding insensitive about it.
“How was Arizona?” I asked, my eyes on the screen as I started flipping through channels.
Garrett scoffed and put the vase on the living room table and turned to look at me. I didn’t meet his eyes until I found the history Channel. The current program was something about archaeology in Ancient Egypt. It seemed interesting enough to keep my attention away from the inevitable hurt I was supposed to be feeling.
“Bitter to say the least,” he finally said. “Your Uncle Bill and Aunt Rose seem like good people.”
“Yeah, my favorite cousin is their son,” I replied distractedly. Wow, they were really advanced for their time, I thought becoming engrossed in the program.
“And Scott is dead,” he said bluntly.
“I know.”
Garrett reached over and snatched the remote control from my hand in a quick motion and shut the television off. I looked at him in outrage but softened when I saw the angry tears streaming down his face.
“You know?” he repeated incredulously. “How long have you known? Did you know what I was walking into?”
“Not until you left,” I admitted with a sigh. “That box that Grandma gave you had some notes and letters in the envelopes. One had pictures too. Anyway, his suicide note was in one of them. At least that’s what I think it was.”
I jumped when he quickly got to his feet, sw
earing loudly. It was almost as if I had killed Scott and kept it a secret from him. But to be honest, had I known ahead of time, I wouldn’t have told him. I wouldn’t want to kill his hope of maybe meeting him and I think that finding out separately as opposed to together was better anyway.
Was I hurt by it? To some extent. Was I willing to show it? No and he would have to accept it.
“Sit down and stop yelling,” I said, suddenly developing a headache. I put my fingers to my temples and began to rub them in a circle, but Garrett was obviously far from done in his sudden rage.
“Zaydee, I refuse to believe that you aren’t bothered by this. I refuse to believe that this doesn’t hurt you as much as it hurts me. How can you sit there and act so cold about it?”
I chuckled and shook my head, getting to my feet to face him.
“Because Principal Spears, this should never have happened. If I hadn’t been late to class that day and hadn’t decided to try to fuck the sexy history teacher, we wouldn’t have kept our little rendezvous going, I wouldn’t have ended up pregnant and shunned, and we wouldn’t have a dead child as a result. So as you can see, I can’t let something bother me that was never meant to be in the first place.”
The anger left him almost immediately. He knew I was right and I was willing to say what neither of us would. I never loved Garrett after my baby had been taken from me. I tried and he turned a cold shoulder to me when I needed him the most. My family shunned me and the only person that ever understood me and gave a shit about me, lived hundreds of miles away.
To say I didn’t have a chance at a meaningful life after that incident was beyond an understatement. Nothing he could say would break me now and nothing he could put in front of me would make me feel something I never should have felt to begin with.
The only thing I wanted now was revenge for a life taken that was born out of ill intentions, desperation, and the need to feel loved.
The Death of Me Page 7
