Page 6 of Between Hope & Tragedy

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

“Oh yeah. Ha-ha,” I replied nervously with a choked giggle. “It’s um, Zaydee Lansing.”

The papers immediately stopped rustling as Mr. Spears tried to process the information. I felt like years passed before he finallyspoke again, and in that time, I’d convinced myself over and over not to hang up on him. He already knew who I was, so it wouldn’t serve anything to disconnect the call before I had my answers.

“It’s been a long time, Zaydee,” he said, quietly.

“Yeah. So, principal, huh? Congratulations,” I said. My voice was shaking and I had to clear my throat a few times to get a better grip on myself.

“Thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked curiously.

“Um, I’m back in town. My grandfather died, so you know, I had to make an appearance,” I replied.

Stop sounding like an imbecile,I scolded myself.

“And I was wondering if you’d be interested in lunch tomorrow?”

He stayed quiet. Probably trying to decipher my intentions for getting together, but truth be told, I knew no matter how much I wanted to, I’d never be able to ask him what I wanted to know over the phone.

“Why don’t you just come over to the school? I’ll be here for another few hours getting some paperwork straightened out,” he finally said.

“Sure, I guess. Give me a little bit to change and I’ll be right over,” I replied.

“See you soon, then,” he said kindly.

“Okay.”

Neither of us hung up right away. We both sat there listening to the other one breathing until he finally relented and disconnected the call.

I got up from the bed and sat right back down. I didn’t realize I was so unsteady after what I had just done until I tried to get to my feet.Why was I doing this?He was the only man who had ever broken my heart, and I was wanting nothing more than to sit down with him.

I gave myself at least ten minutes before I got up again and went to my bags. I pulled out a pair of fitted, yellow denim shorts and a white fitted V-neck shirt. I was pretty sure I had brought my yellow flip-flops with me, and that would make the outfit. I rummaged around the bag for a fresh pair of panties and bra before I headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

As I turned on the water and undressed myself, I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror and sighed. I didn’t even realize I had been smiling. No matter how bad this was going to be for me, it still apparently made me happy that Mr. Spears had agreed to meet with me.

I shook my head as I undressed and stepped into the stream of hot water.

Better late than never.

The security post at the gates of the high school was empty so I drove right by it. I parked in the student section of the parking lot, and gave myself one last glance in the rear-view mirror before I hopped out and headed toward the main entrance. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get in, because the school had been closed for hours, but the closer I got, the more nervous I became.

“I almost went back to my office,” he said, pushing one of the double doors open for me.

He hadn’t changed much, with the exception of a few extra lines on his face, and his hair having a few gray patches here and there. He was still the same man I remembered from my teenage years; ruggedly handsome, tall, and slightly built.

“Sorry. I had some stuff to do first,” I mumbled, looking at my feet.

“It’s good to see you again, Zaydee,” he said, reaching forward and giving me an awkward hug.

I patted his back a couple of times before I pulled away and glanced up at him. His eyes had that warm smileI ended up missing during the rest of my years at Rockford High. Maybe he wasn’t angry with me anymore, maybe he was just trying to be nice. I would find out soon enough.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping back. I walked just inside the doors and waited for him to lock up again, before he motioned for me to follow him down the hallway.

Mr. Spears led the way past the secretary’s desk and into his office, and sat down in his big leather chair. He smoothed out his black and white striped tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt before crossing his hands on the large, polished oak table.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, giving me a sympathetic look. “Which grandfather was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Frances,” I replied. “My mother’s dad.”

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