Destroyed

Chapter 20: Saying Goodbye

On cue, we got out of the car and entered the small brown building. The lobby was filled with chattering people. Black heels smudged away the smooth crimson carpet.

People were sitting patiently in the couches while others just stood up not minding the tired bags under the eyes. I saw Jerry and Isabel leaning their backs against the cream colored walls.

I saw them holding their hands tightly and avoided their gaze. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Triton's ex-husband outside, lighting his cigarette and breathed out two clouds of smoke.

He wore a million dollar black suit, a greedy look on his face, and his dark hair is buzzed short. I knew it was her ex-husband, because I once saw Mrs. Triton having an argument with him while I was taking a jog with my father.

I remembered that the fight took place outside a small library. While we stopped to get out our water bottles, I saw her ex-husband smack her across the face. It left a huge bruise on her cheek. "Mrs. Triton," I cried, walking over to them. "Are you okay?" I tried to touch her arm, but Mr. Triton yelled at me to get lost.

Instead of leaving them alone, I told Mr. Triton the same words. In anger, he smacked me across the face. "You think you can protect this cow?" Mr. Triton shouted. "You're crazy!"

I remembered him taking my arm and tried to break it with his strength, but then Dad came along and punched him hard in the stomach. "Cleo, are you okay?" Dad asked urgently, touching my face.

I nodded carefully, wrapping my arms around him and gave him a long hug. Meanwhile, Mr. Triton pressed his hand onto his sore stomach. His face is shaking, like he is having a seizure.

"Dear Goodness!" Mrs. Triton shrieked. She stooped down to comfort him. It allowed  Mom to take me by the arm and led me straight home. 

The next thing I knew is that Mr. Triton wanted to sue Dad for punching him in the stomach, but Mrs. Triton didn't let that happen.

She confessed the entire truth the judge, agreeing not to press any charges against us. After the court sentenced Mr. Triton to jail, she filed the papers for a divorce and moved to Washington D.C. where she began her career as a schoolteacher.

I still didn't understand how he got out of jail so quickly. Maybe, he just wanted to prove that he wasn't scare of Mom or maybe he just couldn't resist the temptation of putting money in his pocket.

I hated and feared the sight of that Gold Digger. Mom noticed me staring at Mr. Triton then took me by the hand. As soon as we were alone, she gave me a look. "Cleo," Mom began. "You know it is rude to stare at people." "I know," I sighed. "But why Mr. Triton here? Is he still gloating that he's rich now?"

Mom tucked a strand of hair right behind her ears then touched my cheek. "Cleo, we are here to honor your teacher." she reminded. "Not to reopen old wounds. You sound like your father sometimes." I tilted her head then asked if she felt the same way about Mr. Triton.

"Cleo," Mom repeated, looking behind me. "Not now, it's time for the funeral to start." I reluctantly nodded as I followed her inside of another room, probably where the funeral will take place. I clutched the hems of the canvas with my two hands then maneuvered around the crowd.

I was desperate not to let my teacher's painting slip out of my hands or even break it. After I handed the priest the painting, I wedged myself between my parents. Uncle Seth sat besides Dad, staring at the patterns of his shoes.

Without a warning, someone tapped his or her finger on my shoulder. I turned to see Jared and Paige sitting behind me. While Jared wore his solemn black suit, Paige wore a frilly black dress, that made her look like a toddler.

Her golden hair is now in curls and her face is covered in makeup. Her pained look tells me that her Mom made her wear it. "You got out of the hospital?" I whispered in amazement. Paige gave me a cheery nod.

"I thought the doctors say that your coma will wear away for ten weeks," I said in confusion. "I woke up before then," Paige explained. "The nurse saw nothing bad in my system, so she lets me go."

I reached for her hand and grasped it. "I really did miss you," I murmured. "Same here," she agreed. After a long prayer, the funeral service had begun.

Each of Mrs. Triton's classmates, friends, and family went up on the podium and say nice things about her. Most people were crying while others they just sat and listened.

As soon as my name is called, I stood up awkwardly then made my way into the podium. For a while, I glanced at Mrs. Triton's beautiful coffin, a photo of her taking a hike up the mountains, and my painting covered in a dark cloth.

Like the photo, It was secured on the three legged canvas stools. Clearing my throat and looking at the crowd, I started my speech. "Mrs. Triton is a good woman," I began. "Everyday at school, we were taught things that we had never knew all because of Mrs. Triton."

"She is just like any other teacher," I continued. "Mrs. Triton is strong, she is smart, and mostly she is one of my favorite teachers." Pulling off the black shroud, I saw everyone's eyes seem to lit up.

In the painting were two women, leaning their shoulders against each other. One of them is Mrs. Triton and the other is Rosa Parks, her favorite idol. Dark purple flooded  background behind them. It was symbolic because Mrs. Triton loved The Color of Purple when she was little.

She wore her favorite white dress while Rosa Parks wore a brown trench coat and glasses. Her dark hair is in a bun while Mrs. Triton's hair rested on her back.

Above the women was a quote from Nelson Mandela: Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.

After my speech, I came downstairs and headed back to my seat. I hoped Mrs. Triton loved it as much as we all love her.