A Tragic Heart (35 page)

I carve the name
PEYTON
in my arm in all caps with a slash going through his name. I am angry and grieving at the same time.

Woe has destroyed me.

I clean the blood off my arm and stare at the wall for the next hour.

Jackson comes into the room and sits next to me on the bed. I continue staring at the wall. I am unresponsive, sort of like a vegetable. At least that’s what I feel like. I have no ambition, no faith, no hope, and no love left in me. Peyton took it all with him, and I know he didn’t mean to.

“Taylor, we have to go now. You have an appointment with Kate.”

I don’t answer him. I just stay in the same position and keep staring. If I were able to send the wall crashing down with just my eyes, it would’ve crumbled a long time ago.

“Tay, we have to go. You have to speak with her. Promise me you’ll speak to her even if you don’t speak with anyone else.” Jackson is keeping his composure and doing a great job of handling this situation. I feel guilty for making it so hard for him.

Jackson forces me up and walks me out to the car. Although he’s forceful, he’s still gentle. The drive to Kate’s seems long, but what doesn’t feel long about this day?

***

I sit in Kate’s office quietly without saying a word or moving a muscle. Today I am a mannequin. I feel like one in more ways than one. Kate takes her usual seat. I remember I used to walk into this very room right after Peyton walked out. Peyton will never walk in, ever again. A few blinks later, Kate finally breaks the silence.

“I heard about Peyton, and I must say I was entirely saddened by what Mason told me. Peyton was brilliant in so many ways, and it’s sad to have someone like him leave us so soon.” Nothing but sincerity is present in her voice.

“At least you didn’t say ‘sorry.’” I speak softly for the first time in hours.

“And why is that?” Kate asks me, concerned.

“Peyton once told me that he hated when people said they’re sorry for deaths. We can’t change anything and neither could the person saying they’re sorry. Plus, they didn’t have anything to do with the death in the first place, so it’s kind of foolish to say you’re sorry for something you didn’t cause or can’t change. It only made him angry. He was right about that; he was right about a lot of things.” This is the first time I’ve actually said Peyton’s name aloud since I found out he’d moved on.

“I felt the same way when my dad died when I was only fifteen. I was angry and I hated to hear people apologize for his death. I felt as if they couldn’t come up with anything better to say so they said, ‘I’m sorry.’ But then I realized that they probably really were sorry;
and that sorry isn’t just an apology, it’s an act of melancholy and it’s someone else’s way of mourning with you so you don’t feel so alone. I told Peyton those exact words when he told me the same thing about when his mom died,” Kate says, sharing an intimate secret with me. Somehow, a part of me comes alive again.

“Your dad died? I never knew. Is that why you decided to help people like me?” I ask.

“It’s part of the reason I decided to help
people like us
, yes. I was so angry at my father for leaving me that way. I hated him for getting cancer and dying before I turned sixteen, before I graduated high school, and before I was able to get married. Out of all the people in the world, why did he have to be the one to go? That’s when I realized how selfish that sounded. I was wishing death on someone else’s father or mother and I didn’t want anyone to go through that pain. Maybe God, or whoever it is that controls all of this, picked my dad because he knew I was stronger than anyone else in the world at that time. Maybe he just wanted me to learn how to live with pain and frustration, because there was more to come—there’s always more to come. But I knew my dad wanted me to be strong and live on, so I did what he wanted me to do—and now I’m here with you. Now I know why my father would’ve wanted me to live. Life throws curveballs at you sometimes. It’s up to you whether you’re going to swing at them or not.”

Kate’s words force my eyes to tear up, and I start softly crying. Her words were the truth and they touched me somewhere inside. I think about Peyton’s words, how he kept telling me to live on without him because I deserve to. It was as if Peyton was speaking through Kate.

“Taylor, can I ask you a question—a personal one?” Kate asks, passing a box of tissues to me.

“Yes,” I say, crying and nodding my head at the same time.

“Do you believe in God? I don’t mean to get religious or spiritual with you right now, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but—”

“No it’s fine,” I say, interrupting her. “I do believe in God—again—thanks to you. I stopped believing as soon as Mason gave
me the news, but I’m back again,” I inform her as I wipe my tears from my face.

“Well, that’s a start. It doesn’t matter what God you believe in, just as long as you believe in something. That always helps through times like these. Just believe that Peyton is happy now and he’s much better off where he is now. Maybe he was just simply too good for this earth.”

I believe that last statement. There were more ways than one in which Peyton was too good for this world. I know he’s happy, too; he told me so in my dream. The only thing I really have left to do is to learn to live in a world where he doesn’t exist…that is the hardest part.

My time with Kate ends, and before I leave she gives me a hug and tells me just to hang in there and things will start looking up soon. I pray that she’s right.

“Oh yeah, and Taylor?” Kate stops me just before I walk out the door.

I turn around and acknowledge her.

“I’m sorry to hear about Peyton.” She doesn’t smile or smirk or anything; she is serious.

“Thanks. And I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” I respond, just as serious as she is.

“Thank you. I’m fine now, and you will be too.”

With that, I walk back to Jackson’s car and get in on the passenger side. I stare out the window and keep thinking about how Peyton is in a better place. It’s a cliché, but it helps a little with the pain.

***

I sit in the front row, looking at the white coffin that holds my savior. I don’t cry; I just look at the flowers on top of his casket. This still feels surreal to me, but it is hitting me more and more as each day goes by. Kate is here to show her support, along with Jackson and his band, Mitch, Mason, and his family, of course. Peyton’s dad is surprisingly strong and doesn’t shed a tear. I can’t say the same for his half-sister, though. She’s only known him for
a short amount of time, but so have I, and I learned to love him just as quickly. John and Riley are also in attendance, along with Peyton’s old band.

I look at the tombstone next to Peyton’s grave. It belongs to his mother. I wonder if she knows her son is lying next to her; and if she does, how she feels about it. I think about a lot of things to try to keep myself from shedding a tear.

We all watch as they lower Peyton’s coffin into the ground.
This is it; the final good-bye
. Mason takes my hand for support. I’m not sure if it’s for me or for him.

After the burial, everyone comes up to me to see if I’m okay, including Peyton’s family. I should be asking them if they’re okay. Of all of them, the one who stands out the most is his dad.

“I just wanted to tell you that things are going to get better. This came as a surprise to all of us, and we are all hurting with you. You’re a great girl, and Peyton was lucky to have had you. You made a great difference in his life, he told me so. And I just wanted to thank you for that; I know you were the one who convinced him to meet me again. Taylor, if there’s anything you need, just call.”

It’s shocking hearing this from Peyton’s dad, but it’s also flattering.

“Thank you, Mr. Giordano. That means a lot coming from you,” I say, trying not to tear up in front of him.

“No—thank you for taking care of my son. And you can call me dad if you want. Peyton always saw you as his wife anyway.”

I just smile and thank him again before he gets into his car with his present wife and two children. They’re the only ones he has left, and I hope they stick around for his sake.

Jackson comes up to me and touches my shoulder. “Tay, I have to leave tonight. I have to be in Los Angeles by tomorrow morning. You’re going to have to spend some time with Mason for a while. Are you okay with that?”

I try to be strong. “Jackson, I’ll just stay at Peyton’s—I mean, my place—from now on.”

“No, I don’t feel safe letting you stay alone just yet. You need to be with someone.”

“I’m not a kid, Jackson. I don’t need anyone to look after me. I can do this on my own; I have to do this on my own,” I say, trying to prod him into believing me.

“Just for a few days. Please, Taylor.” Jackson rarely begs, so I know he’s serious.

He motions to Mason, who comes over. “Mason, Taylor is staying with you, just for a few days,” Jackson tells him without my permission.

“That’s fine,” Mason answers.

“No, it’s not! I’m staying where I always stay!” I say to both of them. They’re planning for me as if I can’t make my own decisions.

“Taylor, can you even afford that apartment?” Mason asks.

“I can now. Jackson paid me for the apartment he’s in now and—” I hate saying the next part, “Peyton left me everything.” They notice the sudden change in my tone. I went from frustrated to depressed, all in five seconds.

“That’s why you’re not staying alone—you’re still hurting,” Jackson says, trying to prove a point.

“I’m always going to be hurting from this. This isn’t fixable or likely to mend,” I respond.

“It’s only for a few days, Taylor.” Mason looks at me, and I can tell he needs the company.

“What happens when a few days turns into a few months? If I leave it up to you two, I’ll never be able to live on my own.”

“A week,” Mason says, negotiating.

“A week sounds good. It’s just for you to prove to us that you’re better,” Jackson adds.

They’re ganging up on me. I have no choice but to obey their wishes. “Fine. A week. But after that, I’m going to stay on my own.”

Jackson takes me back to his apartment so I can get my things. From there, he takes me to my lonely home so I can pack some more belongings. Right afterward, he drops me off at Mason’s. I hug and kiss him good-bye. Who knows when we’ll see each other next—possibly not until Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Mason comes down and helps me with my bags. I know he needs someone to be there for him, too. It’s just us against the
world now. We have to figure out a way to go against the odds without Peyton being here.

“You can have my room. I’ll stay in the guest bedroom,” Mason says as he carries my bags toward his bedroom.

“No! I’ll stay in the guest room. It’s only fair. This is your home, not mine.” I object.

“I know—but I just want you to be as comfortable as possible. I know you’d rather be at your place.”

“Well, I’ll be just as comfortable in the guest room.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He heads toward the guest room and places my things on the bed. When he comes back to the living room, he sits next to me and looks at the TV I have just turned on. I have to get my mind off of Peyton. I can’t believe I just buried the man I was going to marry. If that’s not enough to make a person lose hope, then I don’t know what is.

I begin feeling sick from my thoughts and I run to the bathroom and vomit, making it to the toilet just in time. Mason hurries after me to see if I’m okay and he catches me in the middle of throwing up. He pats my back so I won’t choke, and when I’m, done I thank him.

After I brush my teeth and rinse my mouth out with mouthwash, I go back into the living room to sit with Mason. There’s an awkward silence.

“It’s because I’ve been stressed lately. My thoughts are literally making me sick,” I tell him.

“Do you think you need a pregnancy test?” The words come out of Mason’s mouth suddenly.

Pregnancy is the last thing on my mind. I can’t be pregnant, not now.

I raise my voice at him. “No! I’m not pregnant, Mason!”

“Sorry, it was just a thought. You know your body better than I do.”

The thought of being pregnant lingers in my head. What if Mason’s right? What if I am pregnant? What if Peyton was going to be a father and couldn’t even be here to see it?

I look through the calendar on my phone and my heart stops. I am late. Mason could be right.

I wait for a few minutes before asking him for a favor.

“Mason?”

“Yes, Taylor?”

“Would you mind getting me a pregnancy test?” I ask nervously.

“But I thought you said you weren’t pregnant.”

“Yeah, that was before I looked at my calendar and realized that I’m late,” I admit.

The expression on his face spells out what I am thinking.
If I am pregnant, I’m screwed
.

***

“Are you?” Mason asks me as I walk into the living room from the bathroom.

“We have to wait a while.” I sit next to him and shake my leg nervously.

“If you are, I’ll help with the baby. You would keep it, right?”

“Y-yeah. I don’t believe in abortions. Plus, Peyton would want me to keep it.”

A few minutes pass. I begin to walk to the bathroom. Mason follows. Before I look at the test results, Mason tells me that he is here for me, no matter the outcome. I pick it up and my heart skips a beat or two. I just stare at the test and sigh. The eight-letter word sticks in my head as I closed my eyes for a second.

“So…what does it say?” Mason asks anxiously.

I show him the test without saying a word.

“Oh.”

Positive
is spelled across the little screen. This starts a new chapter in my story.

Mason

“Y
ou still have to go to the doctor to confirm it,” I tell Taylor, who is beginning to freak out.

“I took two different tests and they both came out positive! I’m pregnant, Mason!”

I watch her as she paces back and forth with her hand on her head.