Page 23 of Between Hope & Tragedy

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 who 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.

He would learn to accept what I now wanted from him; he owed me for years of a stolen childhood I could never get back.

(Friday Morning)

I allowed him the luxury of sleeping the rest of the day and majority of the night in my king-sized bed, while I stayed in the living room on the couch. For what I had planned for him, I admitted to myself that it was the least I could do; to let him have a small amount of comfort.

I woke up with a crick in my neck and a rage that was swelling my heart, easily masked by my day-to-day ability to blend in with the rest of humanity. Like the automated humanoid I had trained myself to be, I went into the kitchen and decided to make enough coffee for the both of us. I needed him alert and willing to fight for what he wanted.

Reaching into the kitchen cabinet, I retrieved two mugs and placed them on the counter before going over to the island in my kitchen and hopping onto one of the stools. As I sat therewaiting, I tried to wrap my head around the fact that it had been a week since my grandfather had died, and all of the horrid feelings I had left behind in Los Angeles came back, washing over me like a torrential downpour of pain and regret.

With a quick glance toward the brewing coffee pot, I got up and decided to go to my room to retrieve my laptop. I quietly and slowly opened the door, so as to not disturb Garrett if he was still sleeping, which I saw that he still was. I pushed the door open halfway then slid into my room, found my laptop, and closed it quietly behind me as I went back into the living room and powered it on. I wasn’t going to hunt for any obituaries; I had learned my lesson the last time. No, instead I was going to open a blank Word document and see if I could put my feelings down on paper, so to speak.

I knew that nothing I said would be as eloquent as what Scott had tried to put into words, but I would do my best. I would let anyone who had the heart to read it know that I had the best of intentions with what I was going to do. I wanted anyone who sat down to read it, know that even though things hadn’t quite turned out as they should have, that I was finally happy and it was the best thing for everyone.

By the time I had filled about five document pages, I heard Garrett’s shuffling feet as he entered the kitchen. The coffee had long been brewed, but I had become so engrossed in what I was doing that I hadn’t moved. I wasn’t even sure I had heard it finish, since I had somehow managed to desensitize myself to everything thatwasn’twhat I had set my mind to do.

“Good morning,” he said groggily as he opened the small glass jar that held the sugar. I immediately saved and closed thedocument before pulling the lid down on the laptop. I wasn’t done yet but I couldn’t let him see it until it was complete.

Gingerly, I dropped my chin into my hand and watched him scoop sugar into the beige, ceramic mug before pouring coffee into it, then going into the refrigerator for milk. I smiled when I knew he wasn’t looking; it made me wonder how this tired man who had been through almost as much heartache as I had, could still function without forcing himself to be normal. Garrett Spears was an enigma, and with as much as I wanted to figure him out, I knew there wouldn’t be enough time for that.

“Morning,” I replied softly.

I watched his back as he raised the mug to his lips, and took a deep breath and a sip, before turning and coming to sit at the island with me. His eyes were still red, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he had been crying again or if he was just tired.

“You okay?” I asked, running a hand back through his hair.

“No. But I’m not worried about me right now,” he said, taking another sip then placing the mug down on the island top. His dim brown eyes searched mine seriously before he spoke again.

“Zaydee, I know that you’re a tough woman; you always have been. But I need to make sure that you’re okay before I leave and go back to L.A.”

A smile danced across my lips again. Tough wasn’t the word for what I was; empty, broken, damaged, and self-loathing were probably the words I would have chosen, but I wasn’t going to worry him over something that wouldn’t be a problem for much longer.

“I’m fine,” I replied, putting a hand on top of his. “I hope you’re not leaving any time soon though.”

Garrett’s eyes fell down to my hand for a moment. Almost as if he were deciding whether he should pull his hand away from mine, but ever since that first time in his classroom, I knew that my touch was something he always craved. Even when he shunned me and tried his best to pretend that I didn’t exist, I knew.

“I’m scheduled to return to work on Monday,” he reminded me, his eyes still on my hand. “But I can try to extend it and stay as long as you need me to. I won’t ask you to come back to Los Angeles; I know what that would do to you psychologically.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘you can’t fix what isn’t broken’? That’s kind of where I am right now, only it would be more along the lines of ‘you can’t break what isn’t meant to be fixed,’” I said, taking my hand off of his.

“Zaydee --”

“Stop,” I said, cutting him off and holding up a hand. “I know what I am, Garrett. I know what’s inside of my head every second of every minute of every day, and you don’t. I know that you love me, but I can’t say that back to you because I honestly believe myself to be incapable of loving anyone in that manner any more. Did I ever love you? Yes; at one point, I believe I did. Can I ever love you again? No, and it’s not because of your abandoning me when I needed you, it’s because of who I am.”

He grunted and took another sip of his coffee before he got up from his stool, went over to the sink, and dumped it. The mug made a dull thunk noise as he dropped it into the sink, before gripping the edges of the counter with his hands. I could tellthat he had a lot to say to me but didn’t know how to say it. I assumed he wanted to plead a case for the theory of “us” and no matter how strong his emotion would be behind it, I wouldn’t falter. I wouldn’t let myself know heartache and loss again; I refused to allow it.

“Why am I here?” he asked quietly.

“Because I asked you to come,” I answered, getting up from my stool and going over to him. I put my cheek against his back and rested my hands on hips. “I’m sorry that I can’t and don’t love you. I’m sorry that we can’t go back to what we used to be, but you just being here with me makes me feel better about everything that’s happened. Can that be enough for you?”

He didn’t answer me, not with words. Instead he took another deep breath before he turned to face me. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up into his eyes, wondering if they would ever shine with the beautiful light they once did. The same warm, shining, brown eyes that had taken my breath away when I first walked into his classroom.

“I guess it has to be,” he finally said, letting out a sigh.

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