Page 8 of Between Hope & Tragedy

I pulled my arm away from him violently.

“Get over yourself,Garrett.You don’t know me. You were the first one who tucked tail and ran when I needed someone the most,” I spat at him.

“That’s not fair. I told you why–”

I cut him off as I turned on my heel and headed for the office door. He had just given me enough information to find my son, and nothing was going to stop me from going to see him.

“Zaydee Lansing, I’m speaking to you,” he boomed as he reached over my head and pushed the door closed.

“Get out of the way! You have no right to keep me here! ” I screamed, turning to swat at him.

He moved quickly and caught my arms by the wrists, then held them over my head against the door. Garrett always was strong, but his height added to his strength, and then there was me, barely scraping over five feet and I was no match for him.

“I’m not letting you leave until you promise me that you’re not going to do anything stupid,” he said sternly.

“I already have one father, I don’t need a second one,” I replied through gritted teeth as I struggled to free myself from his grip.

“Stop trying to get away from me,” he said in a thick voice.

I angrily tried to shove my body against him in an attempt to shake him loose, but it didn’t work. It didn’t have the reaction I was expecting. Instead of making him let go, he pressed himself against me and crushed his lips passionately against mine.

I allowed the moment. I hadn’t been with a man since Garrett because I didn’t want to feel the pain of heartbreak again, but this wasn’t why I wanted to see him. It wasn’t why I needed to sit across from him and talk to him, but his kiss was so hungry that I allowed it.

When he pulled away from me, his breaths heavy with passion and lust, I gave my wrists a gentle tug. He smiled sadly and finally let me go.

It was my moment to leave; to walk out the door and I took it. I couldn’t stand there and kiss him, feeling what I felt for him come back to me and stay, without trying anything more.

And I just wasn’t ready for that yet.

When I woke up the next morning, I quickly put on a black strapless dress and black shrug. I found my black flip-flops and put them back on, because after I looked at the clock, I realized if I tried to stop to find a nice pair of dress shoes, I’d be late to Grandpa Frances’ burial.

I ran down the hallway and decided to take the stairs. I didn’t want to lose any more time waiting for the elevator, and by the time I got into my rental, I realized I’d probably have to drive straight to the cemetery. I reached for my purse that I had tossed into the passenger seat, and pulled out the information I had gotten from the viewing, then set the location for Saint Raphael’s Cemetery into my GPS before I took off.

I drove aggressively all the way to the cemetery grounds. I cursed loudly at people who lingered at the green lights, and drove around people I felt were driving too slow.

Once I got to the wide iron gates, I slowed down and drove the recommended five mile-per-hour speed limit. After all, what the GPS said should have taken me twenty five minutes, only ended up taking fifteen due to speeding.

The curves and bends in the cemetery lead me around in all directions. To the back, to the front, to either side, and had me to the point of such frustration that I was considering going back to the office and asking where to go, when I saw the only excavator on the property sitting in the far right back corner. I turned the truck around the bend and made my way over just in time for the funeral procession to start coming my way.

Jesus Christ. This shouldn’t have been so difficult,I thought angrily.

I waited inside until the hearse carrying my grandfather, and the cars following had stopped. I waited while the mourners got out of their cars, and only jumped out when I saw my parents. I made a beeline straight for my father.

“I want to talk to you when this is all over,” I said to him quietly, to which he nodded.

We stopped and waited while the pallbearers retrieved Grandpa’s casket from the hearse and carried it to the burial spot. Mom started to cry again and I started to roll my eyes when I spotted my grandmother. She was using a cane and walking slowly toward the chairs that had been set up, holding a tissue to her nose.

I left my father’s side and went over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Hi, Grandma,” I said softly.

She stopped walking and looked up at me. A sad smile creased her worn lips as she put an arm around me to give me a frail hug.

“It’s good to see you. I’m so glad you came. He would be happy to know you were here,” she said in a shaky voice.

I nodded and blinked back tears as I kept an arm around her tiny shoulders, walking her to the chair that sat front row center.

“Thank you, Zaydee,” she said shakily. I leaned down and kissed her on her cheek before going to the back row of the ceremony and crossed my hands in front of myself.

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