Sandy's Saga
Chapter 17
Moving On
* * *
My parents drove me to the bus station. I had two suitcases with me, both checked in. On my shoulder was my backpack. Whatever else I needed, they said they'd send.
"I'll have your records for school sent to Grandma. You can enroll at the local school, stay for a few months then drop out. After all this is over, we'll come to get you. By then, your father's company should have relocated him and we'll have the house sold. We can start over fresh. Be good to your grandmother, remember, she didn't have to do this."
"Call when you get there," Dad said. "Give her this for me." He handed me an envelope, packing tape sealing it. Clearly, he didn't want me reading it. I nodded and put it in my backpack. In it, I had today's newspaper, some books, some toiletry items and my purse. In my purse was a picture of Sodapop and me, taken a few months ago – before the pecan grove; before I'd ruined everything.
"I can't tell you how much I wish things could be different," Mom started, her face ashen as her eyes reddened.
"Not now, Helen," Dad interrupted. "Get on the bus Sandy. It's loading, and you'll want a good seat."
I wanted to hug them, but Dad's arm on my shoulder was stiff. He wasn't going to let me give that affection. I understood. "I love you," I said to them. Their response was silence. I sort of nodded and stepped up to the bus doorway.
"Have a safe trip," Mom called.
I took a seat towards the back of the bus, where not to many people were sitting and I could be alone. Looking at my ticket, it was a little over 1,100 miles and had a few transfers, but I'd get there a little after nine tomorrow evening. I guess Dad had made sure Grandma was going to be there to get me.
The door shut, the brakes let off, and with a lurch, the bus pulled out. I noticed in the parking lot, Dad's station wagon was already gone. They didn't stay to see me leave.
The hours dragged by slowly, with me having little more to do than read or think. I'd found the crossword on page twelve of the second section of the newspaper and worked on it for a while, but made a few mistakes – and since I was doing it in pen, I couldn't fix it. Just like my other mistake. I couldn't fix that either. I drew a quivering breath and gave up.
The rest of the paper had little to pique my interest, that is until I got to the bottom of page seven, first section.
Missing local teenagers believed involved in East Side Park murder
Friends of eighteen year old murder victim Robert Sheldon Jr. were questioned at the Tulsa Police Station yesterday, claiming the death of the teenager was due to a local fight involving Sheldon and some of his friends against Ponyboy Curtis and Johnathan Cade that escalated with deadly force. Curtis, 14, and Cade, 16, have not been seen since that incident. Neither boy have police records and are at this time just wanted for questioning. If you see either teenager, please contact the police department at …
Underneath the small article were descriptions of both Ponyboy and Johnny, along with pictures of them obviously taken from the school yearbook. Like my picture of Soda and me, his was taken some time ago; before his parents died. I could see the minute differences in the picture in the paper compared to the flesh and blood friend I knew Ponyboy to be. Now he was skinnier, his smile less exuberant, and he's much quieter than he was back then. He didn't deserve this. Whatever had happened to him, it had to have been bad for him not to go back to his brothers. They're all that he has left.
Wherever you are, Ponyboy, I hope you're okay.
I folded the paper and put it away, watching the scenery pass outside the bus window.
* * *
"Sandy, honey... is that you?"
My back ached after that long ride. I stretched and smiled. Grandma! I fell into her arms, letting her warm embrace hold me.
"Grandma, it's good to see you."
She smiled. It was an awkward silence.
"Let's get your bags and get to the house. You've got to be hungry after that long trip. How was it?"
"Long!" I smiled, nodding in agreement.
I found my suitcases and put them in her car, surprised she still drove after all these years. "Is this your car, Grandma?"
"No, that's Nessie's. Honey, when you get my age, you realize you don't need but so many things. Happiness, health, a roof over your head and clothes on your back. That's bout it. Oh!" she laughed, "and food. Anyway, a group of us all pay Nessie for the use of her car. She doesn't mind. It's more a community car than her's anyway. This way she gets her monthly payment in and we all have wheels!"
Mom was right, young at heart despite the age in her face. I got in and settled back, watching Grandma drive.
"Now, Sandy, your Daddy told me you were - in the condition. Are you doing okay with it? You must not be far along."
"Yes ma'am. I'm pregnant. It was a mistake, a big one. I'm okay, I guess."
She looked at me and smiled, knowingly, then patted my hand. "It happens. I'm not going to judge, I'm sure that son of mine has done enough of that. For now, let's just get you settled."
* * *
Grandma's place was nice, small but roomy enough for the two of us. I actually had the larger of the two bedrooms, she said she preferred the smallness of her's as most of her things were just an arms length away. Since this was Florida, the cold chills I knew from Tulsa didn't exist here. Not yet.
"Oh, we get cold weather. Might even have to get out my coat this year!" The twinkle in her eye was humorous. I smiled, wanting to laugh but didn't. My heart just wasn't into it. Things were just moving too fast.
I wasn't here a week when my past reached out to find me.
"Sandy, you give someone my address?" she'd asked, holding out the envelope from the day's mail.
I shook my head, wondering who it was from. Then I saw the penmanship and knew. I didn't know how he got it, but he had. Then I remembered his buddies who would do anything for him; stoop to any level if need be. It couldn't have been too difficult. Jane worked in the school office twice a week helping out the secretary; and Dad said he'd send my records. With her there, getting Grandma's address would be a piece of cake. Besides, it wasn't like things hadn't slipped out of the office before. She must have gotten Grandma's address from my records and passed it to Two-Bit, who naturally would give it to Soda. At least, that's one way he could have gotten it. I would never be sure.
I held the envelope, smelling the familiar scent of grease on the paper. I wanted to cry, but didn't. Going backwards wouldn't help me. Nor would it help him. If I answered, he'd want to pursue this, and as much as I hated it, I knew Dad was right. Other than love, Soda had nothing to offer me. Feeling my body changing told me that love wasn't going to be enough. I needed stability, a solid foundation. With Sodapop, the ground would always be uneven, rutted, and perhaps.... leading me nowhere.
It wasn't his fault, at least not all of it. Staying in school and getting an education was part of it, and in that part he'd failed. But we were also too young. Too young to be playing adult games, too young for sex. Looking at myself in the mirror everyday reminded me of that. And in that part, I'd failed. I'd failed to hold onto my innocence, and failed to protect myself from an unwanted pregnancy.
I had to move on, steer myself in a different direction. It hurt, but I had to. For me, for Sodapop.. for everyone. I wanted to write him a big long letter explaining this, pouring my heart into it, wishing him a good future and happiness for himself; but I couldn't. It would only prompt him to write me an equally long letter, probably explaining his feelings for me, begging me to be with him. My heart could only stand being broken but so many times. I reached for a pen and simply wrote Return To Sender on the envelope, then put it back in the box.
Grandma had watched. "You okay, Sandy?" She ran her aged fingers through my hair. I nodded.
"Was he the daddy?"
I shook my head. "No, Grandma. He just wanted to be."
She nodded too. "Sometimes the heart has to break in order to be whole again. You'll be fine." She smiled at me.
"Are you sure?" I asked, unconvinced.
"I am. You're not the first to make this mistake. Nor will you be the last. But we've all lived through it."
I looked at her, wondering. She kept her smile, saying nothing. Her aged eyes twinkling an understanding words had no expression for. I had a feeling Grandma somehow knew all too well what I was going through.
"You will survive this - and be better for it. I promise."
* * *
I never heard from Sodapop again. I kept silent tabs on what was happening back home thanks to the local library getting the Tulsa Herald. Well, I paid for the subscription and the library was more than happy to add it to their periodicals for the year. I was relieved to learn Ponyboy had returned safely, mourned the loss of Johnny when I'd read his obituary, and felt the hair on the back of my neck stand when I read Dallas had been gunned down by the police. At least Sodapop had his brother back. I could only hope he and his family were doing okay now.
I had to drop out of school almost directly after coming back from Christmas break. My stomach was big, too big to be in class. My teachers stared, classmates shied away. I didn't really have friends here, none like Jane anyway. No one came to Grandma's to see me, even before I started showing.
Grandma and I had a good time together. She remembered my love of art and bought me lots of brushes and paint supplies for Christmas. She also never got upset when my stomach bulged out and knocked over something from my easel; all over the floor were speckled dots of reds, yellows, and blues.
Even on my seventeenth birthday, she and all her lady friends (those who were part owners of Nessie's car) threw me a party. It was funny, in a weird sort of way, having women in their late fifties on up into their seventies singing to me, but they made me feel good. I needed it. My parents called, of course, but they didn't know what to say other than 'happy birthday,' so the conversation was stunted and we'd hung up after only a few minutes.
Then came the day I felt wet all over, and sharp pains hit like a sledgehammer.
"Grandma!" I called. She nodded and got me to the hospital. I noticed the sealed envelope I'd brought from Dad nearly eight months before was between us on the front seat.
Labor was long and painful, but three hours later, it was over. I remember hearing the baby cry, wanting to see it, hold it, kiss it. Tell it I loved it. I did, afterall. Him or her, it didn't matter, I loved my baby. I'd carried him or her baby in my body; feeling it grow, stretch, kick. I knew the sensation when it had the hiccups, and felt the punches he or she gave me when I ate something it didn't like. When I slept it was awake, and when I was awake it slept. Already, we couldn't agree.
"Please, can I see it?" I asked the staff. They were mumbling something to themselves as they worked on my tired, stretched body. Between me and them were large green surgical drapes, drapes that also shielded the crying baby from me. They glanced my way but said nothing directly to me, their faces covered with expressionless masks. Then I heard the baby's cries fade and a door close. The baby was gone.
"I just wanted to see it, I just wanted to say goodbye!" Emotions I had never felt before suddenly came to life ... a love so deep, so pure; and suddenly their source was gone. It left me with a hole in my heart. Even the love I'd had for Sodapop couldn't compare. That kind of love wasn't even in the same league.
Grandma stayed by my side after I was sent to a room. She patted my hand and brushed my hair. It felt nice, but it didn't soothe me. My arms ached to hold my child. My breasts swelled to feed it. I'd already had to change my bra twice from the milk that soaked the pads.
"Will this feeling ever go away, Grandma?" I knew she understood the feeling I meant. She took a while to answer, and when she did, her voice was quiet, almost reminiscent.
"The ache will lessen in time, but the love will always be there. This baby will have a good home, the adoption agency assured me of that. You don't need to worry."
"I'm not. I just wanted..." my voice broke. Grandma held me closer. "I just wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl. They wouldn't even let me see! I never got to see my baby!"
She rocked me, saying nothing. There was nothing to say.
I stayed in the hospital a day and a half then was sent back to Grandma's. I was never told anything about the child I'd carried and delivered. The next week, my parents showed up.
"Mom, thank you for taking care of Sandra. I hope she...her situation... wasn't too stressing."
"Ted, you should know better than to even ask." Grandma rebuffed him.
"Feeling okay, Sandy?" Mom asked.
I nodded. "Yes, thanks. How was the winter?" I didn't know what else to say or ask. The last nine months of my life were being ignored by my parents, as if this was a vacation trip and nothing more.
"Cold. Too much snow. Glad we're moving away from there." Dad smiled, putting my suitcases in the car.
"Where are we going?" Suddenly I didn't want to leave. Grandma had been my haven, my oasis from all that was wrong. Now I was losing that security again.
"Your father's company relocated him to Wilmington, North Carolina. It's on the beach, plenty of sunshine and good weather. We've bought a house already. Everything from Tulsa is already on a moving van headed there."
I looked at Grandma, my voice gone. She came and gave me a hug.
"Remember, you will survive this and be better for it. I promise. I love you, Sandy. Write me, tell me all about your new school, your new friends. I want to hear everything."
I nodded, getting in their car. Mom got in and Dad started the engine. Leaving Grandma's, I felt a sense of sadness, but I also held her words in my heart.
I'd be fine. It might take a while, but I'd be fine.
XXX
Calla Lily Rose.