4th Grade Conclusion Pt. 1

after a month or so, mrs. wexler came back to us and we explained the broken mug and continued on for 4th grade. we behaved better around her, but still, things were never really the same after that. people still could act like jerks and i just sucked it up and gave them tastes of their own medicine which probably wasn't the wisest thing to do but for the first time--maybe only time in my life--i was sticking up for myself. and brad smiled at me when i did this. he liked my fiest. he liked that i never tried to impress him and that i was just myself. he laughed at my wit and he lingered on things i said. at that age, boys liked when you behaved like you were one of them. it was appealing to have a girl not be all about staying clean and know what was going on with sports and being able to talk about things, regardless of how strange or disgusting it may be. 

there were many things about brad that drew me to him. he had beautiful eyes, dark hair like mine and a great smile. it wouldn't have mattered if there wasn't a perfect set of teeth and nice lips (and there was), he just had a smile that made me smile and my heart flutter. and i loved his laugh and the fact that he could make me more confident somehow. and he became the only person that could tease me where i wouldn't mind. when he made fun of me it was different. i didn't feel ridiculed. i felt like maybe the things he was teasing me about were the things he actually liked, but that of course you could never admit that at 10 years old with your buddies around. i thought maybe with age that changes and it wouldn't be uncool to do that anymore. it hasn't.

i've always liked boys and have felt comfortable around them since i was about 4. but i never really genuinely felt this way about a boy before. and so, i have brad to thank for my early puberty i guess.

when i mention to people that one of the best years of my life was in 4th grade i get a lot of strange looks for the obvious reasons. it's hard to imagine how life could be so thrilling at the age of 10 and why something that long ago could impact me so much. truth be told, that year probably had a lot to do with the way i am now. ever since then i've looked through the lense at love cautiously. i've learned what it meant to experience big changes and how coping with them takes a lot of effort and that with growing up doesn't equal growing happier.

not long after mrs. wexler returned to school, my mom informed me that my brother and i wouldn't be in public school anymore and that she would be homeschooling us. alec had wanted this for a long time while i was opposed to the idea, even though i complained about having to go to school in the morning. it broke my heart to realize that just when i'm making friends, liking a guy, and fitting in--i was going to be leaving it all. some good news was that it wasn't going to be until it was time for spring break. that way i would get to finish smile-a-mile and have a chance to get used to it and spend a little more time with people before it was time to get pulled out and say goodbye. plus, my grades were starting to really suck in math and social studies. i would get Fs in math and if i hadn't been pulled out when i was, i would've gotten my very first D on a report card, and it would've been in social studies. i don't remember telling everyone or anyone for that matter that i was going to be leaving and become homeschooled, but i remember that nobody really reacted in any certain way. except brad seemed to get quieter and pretend like it wasn't happening and that he didn't really care, which scared me. it led me to believe that i misread our friendship and he really didn't care all that much about me and i was just somebody to entertain him between the hours of 9 and 3.

mrs. wexler loved me but she told my mom that learning at home would be the best thing for me. she never elaborated what she meant, but my mom says she thinks that she was on her side on what we thought was happening to bedford and how things were falling apart. or maybe mrs. wexler thought i needed to learn at home because my grades were slipping. either one is likely.

Chaos Ensues

not too long after i returned to school after my grandfather's passing, mrs. wexler's dad died. i didn't know a whole lot about the situation, except that he had been hospitalized for a while and that she was taking some time off and leaving us with multiple substitutes. during that period of time, i wondered why there were so many. it wasn't like she was going to be gone very long. ...was she?

our first sub was ms. kilometer and we all thought she was very cool. she let us goof off on our papers and get creative, she made things fun, we could laugh with her and she let us sit on our desks and toss a ball around (and each time someone dropped it they would be out) as a game.

it wasn't until mrs. wexler that a lot of people's true colors began to make their appearance. people got cockier, more obnoxious and rough. i have plenty of examples, but i must start slowly so you can grasp how serious this all was.

first of all, our school was falling apart under the supervision of our principal, mrs. warns. plenty of kids were upset about the transition since we loved and missed our old principal, mr. redfield, so dearly. how ridiculous that someone could've thought that he was a pedophile.

but mrs. warns wasn't going anyplace, and she was making our lives a living hell. she was mean.

people started acting out within the week of mrs. wexler's absence.

thomas' grades (if it was possible) were getting worse and he was getting more obnoxious, and that went for tom myers too. adam got obnoxious and "smart" for attention, new crude jokes were invented, chris was getting to be overbearing, sean was cussing and even caitlin was getting to be not as sweet.

everything was going crazy. brad and i were getting intensely into smile-a-mile (doing really in it i might add)...and into each other. we joked around a lot, i guess now that i think about it..it could've been considered flirting. we'd play tic-tac-toe cutely and innocently, look at each other with these secret smiles, make each other laugh and talk a lot. i wanted so much to believe that he felt about me the way i felt about him, but i wasn't sure. pretty soon he would always sit right across from me at lunch, want to play soccer or go running with me,we chilled together in gym and he was starting to drift from his friends that didn't care for me too much to spend time with me. he would make annoying marks on my drawings, mess with my hair, say my name in annoying ways and provoke me to chase him around to prove that i could kick his butt just as easily. but i knew he wasn't being mean. he was just being...a boy.

once ms. kilometer said she was going to the office to drop something off, and while she was out i went to the bathroom and when i returned, i witnessed something entirely new.

chris and patrick were on the floor beating each other up and drawing a crowd in the class. it wasn't long before chris grabbed a desk and tossed it on patrick knocking him back onto the floor. patrick had a speech problem but was all in all a nice kid, and he and chris were friends. so i didn't know what brought on the fight, but i knew we needed mrs. wexler back in class. this never would've happened if she hadn't left. we were all kept in line because of her. without her, chaos ensued. without her, we could get away with stuff.

after a couple weeks, mrs. kilometer was done and we got a new substitute. a big woman with dark hair that was tough on all of us. she told me i had poor handwriting. she yelled at a couple of the boys. and they were mean right back to her. i caught her sitting at her desk later on crying quietly. this was getting out of hand.

that teacher was our substitute...for two days.

then we had a new substitute i can't remember for a little while.

then mrs. kilometer came back. i remember once while she was out and i was working on some reading, a couple of people were getting under brad's skin and egging him on.

i looked up and saw sean, pulling popsicle sticks from the little apple mug that would sit on mrs. wexler's desk. all the little popsicle sticks had all of our names written on it and magnets on the back to stick to the board to answer a daily question sometimes. sean had taken out all of the boy's sticks and stirred up the girls and every once in a while pulled out a stick with these words off his tongue, "brad's gonna marry..."

brad had this amused and "oh whatever" look on his face as he walked around being followed by sean.

"brad's gonna marry...adrianne," sean read off the stick.

my heart skipped and i anticipated brad's reaction.

brad laughed. "it doesn't say that," he said, trying to grab the stick from sean.

"brad's gonna marry adrianne!"

"gimme the mug," brad said, trying to reach it from him.

in an instant, the mug dropped and broke in pieces on the floor.

the room grew silent and our assistant teacher (sometimes) walked in the room and saw the mug and looked at all of us angrily.

"you're telling me how this happened. right now."

a bunch of us swallowed.

sean confessed, "it was a joke. i was taking out sticks and reading off the names to brad."

"what for?"

sean muttered embarrassed, "to, um...tell him which girl in the class he'd marry. i told him the stick said adrianne when it really said hilary."

"well, however it happened, you're going to explain it to mrs. wexler when she returns what you did to her mug, because i'm not doing it for you." 

i drew a deep breath. mrs. wexler had been gone for a month. she needed to come back. 

Returning To School

when i returned to school, people wondered where i was and why i seemed so different. i wasn't planning on telling anybody. but for some reason, the first of three people i'd tell it to was a very unlikely person.

i sat down at my desk when chris baltrip (remember the rebellious kid?) looked at me intently and curious.

"what's wrong?" he asked nicely.

"nothing," i answered, "i don't want to talk about it."

"are you sure? you can tell me."

i turned to face him, moving my hands from my lap up onto my desk and massaged my fingers together while i studied him. the school year was almost over and never was chris so solemn, so serious, so...caring? his eyes were loyal. i felt like i could trust him.

"will you promise not to say anything to anyone?" i asked.

he nodded. "yeah. i won't."

i looked at my hands and then back at him. "somebody in my family died."

"who?"

"my grandpa."

he looked a little taken aback, he grew quiet and his face sympathetic.

"i'm sorry."

i wondered if i'd heard him right. this was not the chris we all knew.

"really. i'm sorry," he said quietly again.

i gave a short nod and managed a small smile. "thank you."

the truth was, i felt bad for chris. he did have feelings, he was like the rest of us, but rebellious and angry chris was the only one he'd let any of us see. it was his guard. his protection. his way of not allowing people to get close enough to hurt him. some days i'm reminded of him and i hope that he's changed.

later, i told katelyn who sat behind me because she was being really sweet, and so i smiled and said, "hey, wanna see some of my rings i have in my desk?"

i pulled out some rings and tried them all on for her and she selected her favorite on me.

"i like that one too," i said. "although, it's kind of small so i have to put my hand underneath the faucet so it can come off."

brad was looking in my direction, seeing me happy, seeing me back in class, and he was smiling approvingly.

later he came up to me and asked, "is that why you weren't in school these last few days? because you got your hand stuck in the faucet?"

i can understand just exactly how far away our seats were from each other and it was a little difficult to hear, but that made me crack up.

i told mrs. wexler before class that i didn't want her telling people that my grandfather died and she said she wouldn't and so i trusted her.

she did announce to the whole class though that i was absent for almost a week because "someone" in my family died and that she was sorry.

i moaned, and forced myself to look all the way into the back row at brad. he was looking right at me and his face was filled with confusion. i knew i would have to answer to him later.

in art class, he pressed. matt, hilary, brad and i all sat there doing our paper meshe and i kept trying to change the subject.

"adrianne, come on. i just want to know. who in your family passed away?"

"brad..."

"was it your brother?"

"no."

"an aunt or uncle?"

"no.."

"your dad?"

"what?! no!"

"your mom?"

"...brad...if my mom died, then how would she have been able to drop me off this morning?"

My First Real Death Experience Pt. 3

there wasn't anyone looking back fondly at the funeral. even some of the people dad worked with came by to send their condolences. the drive there was desolate and lonely. when we were inside my mother warned alec and i that it was an open casket. alec didn't want to see him, but i didn't mind. i looked at my grandfather's body and was struck by how he looked like he was sleeping. it was peaceful. i couldn't stop staring. when i pulled myself away, i took off my shoes because they were hurting my feet and i writhed around in my dress uncomfortably. i was never good at this looking nice stuff. i felt guilty at the moment because i was wishing that i was in school with brad and the guys playing soccer in all the mud. 

i remember looking for a drinking fountain and walking away from the crowds to clear my head, and i pushed open a door into a quiet room and i walked in on two of my cousins over twice my age. jody was just standing there, watching cris cry. cris' tears scared me so i slinked out of the room without being seen.

i sat in the front pew at the funeral, alongside close family in silence. my hands were in my lap. my cousin cory (my only blood cousin on my dad's side) read a poem he wrote for school aloud. it was about the seasons changing. my dad went up and read a eulogy about my grandfather, and his memories with him. i looked around the room. my grandma carol (grampa jim's ex-wife, my dad's mother) had a face of stone almost. you could see in her eyes a quiet remorse for her kids but she didn't seem to really appear like she was feeling anything. yes, she was married to someone else and to this day i still don't know what kind of marriage she had with my grampa jim or how bad it got or if it even really did before the divorce, but this still really bothered me. i wanted her to hurt like the rest of us. she knew him better than most of us, so she had to have known what kind of good person he was. why was her pain non-existent?

relatives had traveled from georgia, from alaska, from texas, just to be here today.   

that week sucked. i missed i think 3 or 4 days of school and those days i had to do my homework back my grandfather's house with all the relatives visiting. we were there all day long until really late and alec and i would end up falling asleep in the car on the way home uncomfortably because our parents made us wait until almost midnight to get us home. it was miserable. i wanted to not dwell on this tragedy and it just kept getting beat on me like a stick for the rest of the week.

when i finally did return back to school, i didn't want anyone to know. i didn't want anyone to talk about it. i had made my peace with it and i was ready to just not deal with it anymore. it's not that i wasn't insensitive, but i didn't need a constant reminder anymore. i wanted to finish being sad and i wanted to finish up 4th grade. 

My First Real Death Experience Pt. 2

i don't know how long my dad and i were sitting on the steps. or how long it'd been since we heard the news. i didn't know how many days of school i'd miss, or if i even cared. i wasn't thinking about anything right now except for what people were feeling. and about what i was supposed to be feeling. my grandpa's face was a picture in my head that kept making its appearance. i could hear his laugh. feel his tickles. i could see him eating my cookies, smiling when i made him a gift to cheer for ohio state so he wouldn't feel left out, even though i was cheering for the other side. i didn't know how he died at that moment and i didn't ask.

i was 10. i didn't know the things about my grandpa that i wish i would've known then. i knew that he loved his recliner, he needed reading glasses, he loved to pick on all of us--his whole family--in the kindest most good-natured way, he tickled alec and i until we screamed and he smoked for as long as i've known him.

i felt guilty for not crying, the way alec had. but the truth of it was, i didn't feel like i really knew him. for instance, i didn't know the kind of relationship he had with my dad which in time would become very important to me. i didn't know what traits or characteristics i got from him. all i knew was that my grandfather was a well-loved person. he was the glue that held my dad's divided families together. even as a small child, you pick up on these things. kids are smarter than people give them credit for. a child has the instinct of knowing when something has gone wrong, when things are about to change. i knew our christmas gatherings every year would be broken. he was the star of the party. even if i hadn't been old enough to know him as a person other than my grandfather, i hoped that on some level i could be cherished like that. like he was. like my father was. like everyone thought alec would be.

my dad went into my parents bathroom where my mother was. it looked like she had finished getting off of the phone. she quietly grabbed a jacket and told me gently to go put on my shoes and grab a coat, that we were going over to the house and that a bunch of family was going to be there.

i swallowed, and frowned a little surprised, though i shouldn't have been. "tonight? right now?" it had to be 9:30 or so.

"yes," she answered.

while my dad was getting his keys and stuff nearby, i unparsed my lips and felt a sense of guilt flooding over.

"mom...?" i asked.

she looked at me.

"i don't know what to do."

"it's okay, sweetie. you don't have to do anything." her eyes drilled through me as if to say a very sad thing just happened. it's nobody's fault. you're born, you live and then you die.

"it's just..i mean, he wasn't even a christian. he--he could--we didn't even--"

i was already in tears before i could finish.

my mom had that look of expectance. "honey, it's all right. you're allowed to cry."

i felt embarrassed. i didn't want to be crying. i wanted to be strong. those five minutes were all i needed and then i was done.

the drive to swanton was the most silent one i've ever been on. nobody talked, nobody moved, nobody cried. the night was dark and chilly, to match the way we were feeling. i remember vividly pulling in the driveway to see an ambulance just finishing up their duty. closing doors and getting inside. walking up to the house, i looked away. i couldn't watch. my grandpa's body was in there. he was going to the morgue.

i don't remember going into the house or if i hugged anyone, or how many faces i saw. plenty of people were there. my aunt kathy and uncle anthony were on their way into town, and aunt sue and uncle dean were long already there.

i sat on the floor in the family room with my knees pulled up to my chest. i rested my chin on them and wrapped my arms around them. i was silent. the fact was there was nothing i could say, or wanted to say. for a couple of minutes, i looked into the kitchen in front of me and i saw grandma mary lou (my grandfather's second wife, my dad's stepmom from when he was a few years younger than me) sitting at the table with two of her sisters touching her shoulder and handing her a tissue. my grandmother, was undeniably in tears. it was the first and only time i would ever see her cry. and it was something i actually needed. i knew she had married grandpa jim and they were the significant other side by side at every gathering and that they shared some laughs but they never really had that noticeable spark if you know what i mean. these tears showed me that she wasn't always a strong person. that her wit didn't always win over. she really did love him. something i never quite saw before, but she loved him very much. i have never forgotten that image up to date.

after some minutes, one of her sisters recalled a memory and my grandmother laughed a little gently, and then wiped her eyes. i looked around the house. everything looked so bland and the room didn't have the same bright welcoming effect as it always had on me growing up. i knew that things weren't going to be easy for a while.

then my grandmother looked right at me sitting on the floor, and blinked like she was trying to clear her tear blurred vision.

"adrianne..." her voice trailed.

i looked at my mom also in the kitchen for approval. my mom nodded and motioned that it was okay. i got up slowly and approached my grandmother, she came closer to me and sat down on a chair and gave me a hug and sort've set me on her knee.

"did you have to be pulled out of bed, hon?" she asked gently.

"no," my mom answered for me, "she was already awake."

"oh, okay," grandma lou answered. "i'm sorry this had to happen tonight."

i let her words sink in for a few moments.

me, too.

i was only there for a minute or two, before i left her to be with my mom.

"mom, where's daddy?" i asked sincerely.

"i don't know," she sniffed. "i think he's in the laundry room."

i found my dad sitting on the washer, still distraught, still devastated and frightening almost. i asked if i could come in and he let me sit beside him. this time i wasn't silent.

"dad...do you think grandpa jim ever got saved?"

such a long pause.

"i don't know, sweetheart. i talked to aunt mac earlier. she said for the past couple of weeks that he had been acting differently. happier and not like himself. she thinks that he became a christian."

i nodded slowly. i wanted nothing more than that to be 100% accurate. at that age, any hope was what i needed. for years i refused to think otherwise. making myself convinced that he was in heaven instead of hell helped me sleep at night. now after much information i needed years later, i still believe it.

this is the moment i learned that sometimes lingering questions could go unanswered for as long as i'd be on earth. it was another part of life. and life wasn't always fair.

"maybe we helped him..." i offered softly.

maybe we helped him after all.

"maybe, sweetheart. maybe."

my father and i would witness to grandpa jim for the last few months every time we visited. my dad had this witnessing technique on paper with helpful verses and basically the whole basic picture of how to become a christian on a piece of paper with a drawing. he called it "the bridge." what the bridge was, to be exact, was of a cross. one end of the wood across represented us mortals on earth. the other end was heaven. we couldn't get to heaven without believing in the love of Jesus Christ and what He had done for us. and once we did, we could be immortal. but my dad was so much more with the words. he was kind, filled with the power and spirit and compassionate and patient toward my grandpa. and grandpa jim would squeeze his shoulder, listen without minding, and smile at each of us and say, "thank you both. i appreciate that."

after a little while, my dad said, "come on, i want to show you something."

he led me into my grandparent's bedroom and we sat down on the bed.

he told me to look at the vanity and at the mirror. there taped to the mirror was that ohio state ribbon i made for grandpa jim. taped beside it...was the bridge.

my dad swallowed. "he kept them, adrianne. they meant something to him."

my face shriveled up in sadness. i missed him.

dad grew quiet for a moment and then i asked, "daddy? how did grandpa jim die?"

"i don't know, adrianne," he said, wishing he could explain this to me. "you know how grandpa jim had bad heart problems? they think that was what happened. that it just stopped. that it wasn't strong enough to hold up anymore. he had been throwing up and feeling bad all day, and then told grandma lou that he was going to take a nap. she came in her some hours later and...adrianne he was all curled up in this bed with that blanket right there. he had died peacefully in his sleep. no suffering. he didn't feel a thing. i'm so relieved and that's the best way for someone to die. know that. there wasn't a better way for him to go."

it felt so weird sitting on the bed where someone i knew had just recently died. i felt like i was violating space. i was disturbing my grandparents' sacred place. somehow disrespecting the dead.

"all right, sweetheart?" he asked, to make sure i followed.

i nodded. "okay."