April 4, 2015

Roslyn Heights Funeral Home

75 Mineola Avenue

Roslyn Heights, NY

“Burgundy is suiting.  A nice touch.  I think she’d like that.”

“Burgundy? She’d never agreed to that.  She hates dark colors.”  

“It’s not meant to be festive,” Benjamin grits.  “It’s a wake.”

The funeral coordinator, a pale, skinny man who’s personality matches this place, shifts his gaze between Benjamin and myself.  Sure, he’s tired.  We’ve been disagreeing about every aspect of this for weeks.  It was supposed to be cut and dry, give the guy the details and the funeral home would do the rest, but it’s been far from that scenario.

There’s not much time left to put all of this together.  He knows that.  Benjamin knows that, and by now, I should know that.

But I can’t let go.

“Perhaps royal blue?” The funeral coordinator suggests.  “Not too dark, just the right amount of brightness to lighten things up a bit.  I have talented staff who will make her look lovely in that color dress.  We can coordinator the color of the flowers to match her outfit as well.”
 
I’m up nights, thinking about the last spoken conversation my sister and I shared.  I think about how much I regret it.  How she was right about me all along.  I am a quitter.  I gave my father exactly what he wanted.  Tyler is up at Valley Hill and my father has taken complete control over his courses, his friends, and his future plans.  I have no say.  I try, but I’m quickly talked down, told to focus on my own life.

I’ve let him take over.

I’ve failed her.  I haven’t had the heart to tell her, and my father…he says that Fay is better off not knowing what’s happening in our lives right now.  She can understand everything we say, she just can’t respond, or move, or breath without a machine, or live her life, so telling her would do more good than bad.  

I’ve asked for an hour alone tomorrow, just me and Fay.  There’s some things I’d like to talk to her about, apologize for, even if she can’t talk back.  Benjamin has granted me that, begrudgingly.  He told me I’m making things harder on my mother.  It’s always about someone else.  Never once has he asked how I’m handling this.  He should know more than anyone how close Fay and I have always been, how fucking hard it’s going to be for me when she’s gone.  He doesn’t care about how I feel.  He thinks I should learn to deal with it, because that’s what he’s doing.

Tomorrow, we’ll pull Fay’s life support.  

There’s nothing I can do.  I stopped fighting weeks ago.  I had to, because it was the only way I could force myself to stop drinking, and I had to stop if I wanted Maggie to stick around.  I had to stop if I wanted to focus on the restaurant too.  Despite all of this, the business is the one thing that hasn’t fallen into disarray.  The construction is going as scheduled, we just hired our head chef and are almost finished hiring our sous chef, maître d' and wait staff.  Maggie is mostly to thank. While I’ve been a mess, fighting with my father and crying myself to sleep, she’s taken charge and made sure things continued to go as planned.  Sure, it’s her livelihood on the line as well.  If this fails we’ll both be scrambling back into law practice, but I think she’s putting all this effort in for other reasons.

Reasons that are more important than money.

I mean, she said yes.

She said yes and I’m still baffled.  I acted like a complete fucking idiot, and I had no business proposing that day.  In fact, I had no business buying a ring at all during that time frame.  To think she would want to marry me while I was off drinking and giving her a bad attitude the rest of the time was selfish.

But she still said yes.

No one has ever really loved me before, not like this.  When I was a kid, my parents idea of compassion was a pat on the head and a small smile.  There were no hugs or kisses, no bedtime stories or coddling when I was sick.  When I grew older women were always attracted to me physically, but they never wanted to get to know me.  The me inside.  It’s always been about my looks and my status, apart from Mags.  She sees the me inside, like Fay always has.  She’s the only one and I love her so much for that.   Am I desperate? Is that why I proposed to her, so I’d have more reassurance that I wouldn’t lose her? I ask myself the question all the time, and that’s bad.  I shouldn’t be this insecure.  When Maggie decides to do something, it’s because she wants to.  There’s no second guessing with her.

But am I second guessing this? Am I not ready for this?

I don’t have much time to think about it.  I’m tangled in a web of emotions that I can’t escape from.  I think about Fay, my father, and the fact that I’m not around for Tyler, constantly.  At the end of the day, Maggie is there with her arms open just for me, and I only have the strength to fall into them and try to hide from everything.  She’s letting me do it, doesn’t complain about how much work I’m not doing when it comes to the restaurant, and that alone proves she’s completely committed to our relationship.

If she knew how I felt, she would probably laugh and tell me I worry too much.

“Justin, I don’t agree with the color, but I’m exhausted, and ready to put this thing to bed,” Benjamin finally says.  “If you want a brighter color, so be it.”

I glance up at him. “This thing?”

He lets out a disgusted chuckle and sticks out his hand for the funeral coordinator to shake.  “Mr. Becker, thank you for your time.  I’ll be in touch shortly.”

I rise up from the chair, and stand in Benjamin's path before he can walk away.  “That’s what Fay has been to you all this time? A thing?”

“Son, I really don’t have time for this.  Your mother is a wreck and I need to get back to the house.”

“You never gave a fuck. I don’t see why you suddenly care now.”

He shoves past me, but I turn and catch him, yank him hard on the shoulder so he’s forced to spin around.  “Stop ignoring me!  All you ever do is walk away!”

“The thing I was referring to was Fay’s dress color.”  He doesn’t raise his voice, or cross his arms, or even stare me down in that intimidating way that I’m used to.  “I have never referred to your sister as a thing, nor am I about to start.  Justin, I understand that you two have always shared a special connection, and I’ve known from the beginning how hard it was going to be for you when Fays time came.  I’m not a compassionate person, I’ve never been that kind of a man, and I’m never going to be.  I’m sorry that you’re losing her.  I don’t want to lose her any less than you do, as much as you might like to think otherwise, but fighting with me at every turn isn’t going to change the fact that she’s basically gone.  You have to accept that now, son, for your own sanity.”

The truth hits me hard, ripples through my body and shakes me to my very core.  He’s never been this open with me before, this real with me before.  It’s the closest I’ver ever come to receiving some sort of fatherly compassion in my life, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach.  Part of me wants to punch him, another part wants to scream and tell him that I hate him, and then the smallest part of me wants to tell him that I love him.  

But I won’t do any of that.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”  It’s barely more than a whisper, and then I’m the one turning my back on him.  I walk away, out of the funeral home, and out to my car.  He doesn’t come after me, doesn’t try to stop me, and I wouldn’t have expected anything else from Benjamin.  He just doesn’t have it in him.  That conversation right there, is probably the most we’ll have to say to each other for a very long time after tomorrow.  

I try to think of my mother as I get into the Ferrari and start up the engine, how she might be feeling and how I can help her through this.  But it’s almost the same thing.  While we’ve been a little better lately, we’ve never been that close.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin a conversation about Fay with her, or about anything really.  I can’t talk to my mother.  I can’t talk to Benjamin.

There’s only Mags.

I’m terrified that I’ll forget how to talk to her too.  It’s messed up.  My fucking dream girl.  The one I seemed to love more than life itself just a few months ago, now seems almost distant to me despite the fact that we’re engaged.  I swore to myself that I was going to be the man for her.  The one who would show up Hunter in so many ways, and treat her the way she deserved.  It’s seemed so forced these last couple of days, every smile, every sentence.  I’ve been trying to keep my fiancé face on in the wake of my sisters death.  I mean, is that right? Does Maggie expect me to keep on smiling despite what’s happening tomorrow?  I just…I have no clue.  I don’t know how to talk to her about it.

I feel like I could push her away at any moment because that’s how I deal with shit, and at this point, that would make me even worse than Hunter.  I’ve already crossed the line.  I went to meet her parents, naturally we hit it off great.  They’re normal, down to earth, and seem to care about Maggie a lot.  They want to help with the wedding plans, and were adamant about coming down to pay their respects to Fay even though they weren't able to meet her before she got sick.  That means their invested in me…in us.  They’re like family now.  I’ve never had that…a kiss on the cheek from her mother who looks at me like she would her own son, or a pat on the back from her father who gives me that ‘atta boy’ smile and offers me a beer while we watch the basketball game together, like father and son.

In those moments, I’ve almost been able to forget Fay, and the pain.  It’s felt good to see Maggie smile at the end of those days as she’s leaned her head against my chest, telling me she’s glad that she can share her family with me.

But those moments can’t last forever, and then it’s just me and the pain again, and I hide it from the love of my life, because I’m terrified of what I’ll do if I show her just how bad I’ve gotten.  I couldn’t hide the drinking.  Not with the stench and the bloodshot eyes, and the fatigue.

But I’ve found that it’s extremely easy to hide this from her…from everyone.  It’s not the first time I’ve gone on a binge with Cocaine.  Studying for and passing the Bar takes a lot of effort when your Benjamin’s son, and sometimes, a little bit of artificial stimulation is the only option I had to keep me going during that last year of law school.

I’m not saying it’s right and I’m not saying that I’m a great guy.

I just need something.  

I take it out of the glove box, and my phone rings.

“Hey baby.”

I feel the smile pull at my lips as I tap some out on the top of the dash.  “Hey.” I cradle the phone between my neck and shoulder, and begin to roll the bill up into a tight tube.  

“How’d it go,” Mags asks, the hesitation seeping into her voice.  “Did you get everything settled, finally?”

“For the most part.  Can you hang on a sec, baby?”

“I uh…sure.”

“Hang on.”  

I put the phone on the back seat, and take my time snorting up the white lines from the dash.  I lean back against the seat after, close my eyes, and let the rush hit me.  It all melts away, how angry I am, how tense I am…I feel my body start to go numb and it makes me smile.  I reach for my phone and press it back to my ear again.  “Hey sorry.  I was just getting situated in the car.  I’m on my way back.”

“Oh okay, well I shut things down at the construction site for now, until…we’re ready to start up again.”

“Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“Well…let’s just see how things go.”

I lick my lips and stop at the first traffic light.  The sweat begins to bead on my forehead, my mind is swimming in numbed bliss, and I can’t think about how things are going to go, only that everything is just going to be fine.  “Everything is gonna be fine, Mags,” I promise her.  “I’ll be home soon and we can have dinner.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“All right.”  

“I love you,” she says quietly.

“I love you too.  See you in a bit.”

I click off.  It takes literally seconds, before I start to feel like a lying piece of shit.  There’s a lot the drugs can hide, can numb, but they can’t change the fact that I’m not being honest with the one person who has always been honest with me.
*******************
April 11, 2015

Timberlake Estate

10 August Ln, Old Westbury, NY

“Cake?”

“I’m okay.”

“Oh come now.  Have some cake.”

“No, thanks.”  I flash her a tight, but thankful smile and it’s enough to make her move on to the next person.  

What is it about post funeral receptions and cake? Is it the magical solution to the loss of a loved one? Will stuffing your face full of calories and adding on a few pounds drown out the fact that you’re a raging mess of emotions?  I’ve had four pieces since this thing started, because I was too polite to say no, and I don’t feel any better about this situation.  Maybe I’m not supposed to feel better though, just slightly comforted, a little warmer inside?  It’s so fake.  Why cover it up? It’s shit.  All of it.  She was too young, her son is too young to grow up without her, and her brother is lost now that she’s gone.  There’s no reason to cover all of that up, because eventually, it’s going to come rushing back, probably even worse than before.  

I didn’t go to Verdan with Justin that day they pulled her off life support.  I thought it best to give him his space.  He didn’t beg me to go with him, not that I thought he would.  Actually, he seemed thankful to have that time just for himself.  The night before had been strange.  He’d come home after that meeting with the funeral director, and I could tell it had worn him down.  Justin wouldn’t admit to it.  He devoured dinner, and then, when I said that we should talk, all he wanted to do was take me to bed.  He had so much energy, it seemed like it was coursing through his veins, ready to explode, as he devoured me in our bed.  I let him.  I didn’t know if it was healthy, or the best thing, or whatever…but I just…let him.

It’s been this way between us in bed for awhile, but I haven’t said a thing about it.

It’s been a week.  My parents were here yesterday for the wake, and it was the first time I saw Justin smile since the day Fay passed.  I knew it was a show.  He was good at that.  He wanted to please them, for my sake.  I wanted to tell him that it was okay to be in mourning, but didn’t want to push things.  We had barely talked since the day she passed.  All he wanted to do was sleep, curled into me, and I didn’t hold it against him.

“Broccoli cheddar casserole?”

It’s another relative or family friend that I’ve never met before.  Justin has pretty much failed in the ‘introducing me around’ department.  To be honest, when we arrived here at his parents estate following the funeral, he left me to fend for myself.  I don’t have the heart to be upset with him, though.  Not today.  “No…no thank you,” I smile gently.  “I’m pretty stuffed.”

She shrugs and wanders off, and I take the opportunity to escape and find my fiancé before I can be bombarded by another wandering comfort food confidant.  I wander through the massive downstairs rooms that makes up Justin’s parents estate, and only find more people, cakes, and pies.  At one point I spot Benjamin and his wife standing with Tyler, talking to a group of relatives, but Justin is nowhere to be found.  I’m about to ask if they’ve seen him, even though they are the last people he would want me to ask at this point, but then I spot him through the french doors that lead out to the back of the house.  He’s sitting alone, on a stone bench in the garden, and I can already see the plates of food stacked beside him.  I don’t hesitate to go to him, and nobody pays me any mind as I make my through the room and out the doors.  I may as well be invisible.  Justin may as well be too.

“Hey.”

He slowly looks up, and his eyes widen slightly when he sees me standing there.  It’s almost as if he’s surprised I made the effort to find him.  I’m not sure I understand.

“I um…I thought you would have been making the rounds with my folks.”  He quickly looks away, and picks up the beer bottle sitting between his feet.

“Are you kidding? Your parents don’t want me around.” I scoff slightly and move some of the cakes over so I can sit at his side. “I stick out like a disease in there I guess, because people have been trying to pawn their food off on me for the past three hours. Other than that, no one has made an effort to find out what I’m actually doing here.”

“Sorry.”

His tone is less than believable, and he begins to chug the beer down.

“Justin,” I sigh, and put my hand on the bottle, forcing him to lower it away from his mouth.  “You don’t have to be sorry, okay? Today, this week…none of it is about me.”

“Yeah,” he whispers but won’t look me in the eyes.  “I know that.”

“I just wish you would talk to me a little bit.”

“What do you want me to say?”

I chuckle a little bit, slightly annoyed at his response.  “It’s not about me wanting you to say anything.  I just know that you’re bottling up…a lot right now.  We’ve barely spoken at all this week, and I’m fine with giving you space.  You know that.  It just worries me, that’s all.”

“I’m fine, Mags.  I’m handling it fine.”  

He seems almost put off by my little speech.  Should I have expected this attitude from him? I’m not sure.  It’s been so up and down lately.  “Well I figured we were engaged, so you might be comfortable talking to me for just a few minutes.”

He glares at me.  “Just because I put a ring on your finger doesn’t mean I have to talk to you about every single thing.”

It’s something we’ve talked about, this attitude of his.  I told him I wouldn’t tolerate it, but today…today I should be able to give him a pass.

It hurts though.  I can’t deny that hearing him say that to me, after everything, really hurts.

“Okay.” I nod slightly and get up, fix my skirt and sigh.  “I’m just going to head back home, all right?  Take however long you need, and I’ll just…see you later.”

He sighs harshly.  I know he’s at war with himself right now, but I don’t have a clue how to help him, because he isn’t letting me in.  Fay warned me.  She said this is what Justin does best, but I stuck with it, because I fell in love with him.

Did I make a mistake?

“Look.” He stands up and looks me in the eye this time.  “I’m going through something right now.”

“I know.  I just hope that eventually, you can talk to me about it.  It doesn’t have to be today, but if this is going to work…you can’t…you can’t hide from me forever.”

“And if I can’t talk to you about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I decide I can’t talk to you about it, then what?”

The tears sting my eyes but I hold them back.  This isn’t the guy that I fell in love with.  This isn’t my best friend.  The fun loving guy that used to take me to happy hour and laugh the week away with me is gone.  He’s been replaced with this stone cold, semi drunk, depressed mess.  I can’t blame him right now, but I have the worst feeling that he’s not going to bounce back, and how the fuck is our relationship supposed to survive like that?

“Why would you decide that?”

He looks away for a moment.  “I have my reasons.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“I love you more than anything.”

He’s officially confused the hell out of me.  “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know if…”  He shakes his head and sucks in his bottom lip for a moment.  “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Ready?”

“Mags I—“  This time he sobs.  “I don’t know if I can marry you.  I don’t know if I’m the right guy for you.  Maybe I rushed it.  Maybe I was afraid if I didn’t, I’d lose you.”

“What…”  I trail off and shake my head in disbelief.  Is he being serious? He can’t be.  It’s gotta be the emotions of the day.  “Justin, it’s been a rough week okay?  You’re not thinking straight right now.”

“I need some time, probably longer than you’re willing to put up with, Maggie.  I’m not about to make you wait around for me.  You deserve better, all right? I—I love you enough to let you go.”

I feel the first tear glide down my cheek.  “You’re serious,” I whisper.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m not letting you do this to us,” I whimper.  “No!”  I shove him a little, and he lets me do it.  “You’re confused…you—-“

He pulls something out of his pocket then.  A small glass vile filled with a white powder, and I’d be a fool to pretend I don’t know what it is.

“This is how I’ve been coping.” His voice trembles.

“How long?”

“Months. Since I stopped drinking.”

I just stare at him, disappointment more than resentment, filling my mind.  I didn’t catch it, but maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.  I turned a blind eye to his paling complexion, to his sudden lack of appetite, and his sudden urges for hours of sex with me during some of his most depressing days.  I should have questioned it a long time ago.

But I didn't want to.

“I can’t do this and be with you, Mags.  I can’t do it anymore.”

I stare at the vile again, and then back at him.  “Then stop.”

His nostrils flare and he puts it back in his pocket.  “I need it.”

“More than you need me?”

His eyes meet mine again, and for the first time, I see something inside of him crack.  “I wish I knew.”

It’s the last thing I expected him to say.  

“We can still be business partners,” he says softly.  “The restaurant can still work out.”

“Keep it all,” I spit at him. “I don’t want any part of it.”

“Mags.”

I tug at the diamond around my finger, and throw it at him the second it comes off.  “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

His shoulders slump in defeat, but I don’t even give him a chance to try and explain himself.  I know it’s too late for that.

So I make myself walk away, head held high with my tears wiped away.  The strongest lesson my best friend taught me was that letting a relationship die shouldn’t be the end of your life.  You have to pick yourself back up again and move on, because life should be worth more than that.

I really miss that guy.

I always will.