by Sierra Rose
“He seemed fine, Charlie.”
“No, no there was no indication things were going south. It was sudden.”
Jack sighed and Britt put her hand on his arm, just to show that he had her support. She rather hated that he had to explain recent events to a man who hadn’t cared enough to hop a flight and see his own ailing father in the hospital. She’d taken a dislike to Jack’s careless brother Charlie. He seemed disrespectful and selfish.
Jack swallowed hard. “I’ve not finalized any funeral arrangements yet, no. It’s only just happened about an hour ago. I did loads of paperwork just to get the—the body released to the mortuary. Thank God Britt was here to help me.”
She felt a triumphant sense of accomplishment at having made anything at all easier or better for Jack. She also thought his statement was a bit pointed, suggesting that Charlie, not she, ought to have been the one at the hospital to complete paperwork. He was silent for a moment and then answered.
“No, that was my girlfriend.”
“Because I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. Because saying it makes it worse to me.”
“It’ll be in a couple of days. How soon can you be here?”
“No. No I don’t think we can wait that long. Hop on the next flight. Get your ass here now.”
Jack raked his hand through his hair, visibly agitated.
“Fine.” Jack pressed the end key and passed Britt’s phone back to her.
He sank into a plastic chair and she sat beside him.
“I want Charlie to come as soon as possible. But he needs a few hours to sober up before he can start making arrangements. Dad—Dad adores—adored Charlie. He was disappointed when he skipped out on the company to go run a bar halfway around the world, but Dad went down there to visit him. He should’ve come when he found out Dad was in the hospital.”
“He should’ve. But maybe he didn’t know how serious it was.”
“He knew. I told him. But he blew it off. Charlie is wild and crazy and not very responsible. I wish he were different, really I do. But he’s my brother and as much as it would please me to tell him to fuck off, he has every right to be here for the funeral. Otherwise it’s only me alone, Britt.”
“There’s me, your friends, plus everyone from work and every other person who thought your dad was an amazing guy. There are lots of people who will miss him, Jack. It feels lonely, I know, but you’re not by yourself and Charlie isn’t your only option for support here.”
“I know, I know you’re here and I can’t thank you enough for it, but it’s his place to help me with this, it’s his job as the oldest son, the damn apple of my father’s eye to step up and do some of this. Maybe he doesn’t care.”
“Does he care so little or does he just care about himself more?”
“That’s probably the case. I just—wish it was different.”
“I think we all wish our families could be a little bit easier to deal with, see things more the way we do.”
“You’re right. It’s hard now, though.”
“Of course it is! You love your dad and it’s horrible for you to go through this. Your brother left you to make arrangements alone at such a time and then trying to dictate. If you want to wait for him, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“What I want isn’t any part of this. What I want is to go back and just have my dad wear the stupid ankle things in the bed. What I want is for this never to have happened. He was FINE.” He looked away as his lips pressed into grim lines. “I’ll never get to talk to him again. And the thought of never seeing him again is killing me. I would be nothing without him. And he meant everything to me.”
She kissed him softly.
“I’m so sorry. There’s no way to make this right. If you’d rather I bow out of the funeral and things—I was going to go with you to the funeral home to pick stuff out but if you’re more comfortable doing that when Charlie gets here...”
“No. I’m not comfortable. Not with any of this. It’s bullshit. There were plenty of things that could’ve prevented this and I didn’t make him do them. I didn’t make him wear the cuffs, didn’t call the nurse when the PT guy said he’d be in to take him for a short walk and then didn’t show up. I figured it was better for him to rest and not be bothered so I didn’t follow up on that. I should’ve been more vigilant and spent less time playing on my phone and texting you and wondering why it is always so fucking cold in hospitals and why they can’t manage to have any decent food. I took for granted that he’d be okay because he always was before. And the more I think about it, maybe that’s what Charlie thought, too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“He’s always been there, kind of telling me who I am and pushing me to try harder and I just feel like my world is crashing down around me.”
“You were so close to him. You were his good son who stayed behind and worked with him and tried to get him to slow down. You were the designer and marketer and the musician...you are insanely good at like three or four different things because, I’m guessing he encouraged you not to limit yourself and you learned how to be curious and brave, from him.”
“You’re right. I never put it into so many words like that before, but that’s what he is. What he was. I hate this! He made me who I am and I’m not sure what I’ll be without him. And now. I’m going to have to go pick out a coffin for my dad,” he said bleakly. “Will you go with me?”
Wiping her eyes, Britt nodded. “Yes. We’ll go first thing in the morning. Why don’t you give me your keys? Let me drive you home. I’ll come back later for my car.”
“I can’t impose.”
“Baby, you’re not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I just care about making sure you’re okay.”
His eyes fluttered shut as he handed Britt his keys. She knew he was in no shape to drive.
Chapter 5
Britt drove him to his apartment and unlocked the door when he fumbled with the key.
Jack covered her hand with his. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Britt,” he said fondly.
He talked through the pain. She held Jack close and he cried in her arms. Whatever storms he faced, she wanted him to know she would be his anchor. Always and forever.
They stared into each other’s eyes and no words were needed. He kissed her so thoroughly that there was no mistaking his intentions.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.
“I need you now more than ever. I can’t tell you how much,” he said. “I just want to be wrapped in your arms.”
Engaging in sexual intimacy might help ease his pain a tad. He wanted to be comforted by sex. And Britt wanted to take away his pain, she desperately wished she could. She could only imagine the heart-wrenching pain he was going through.
Jack got to his feet without letting go of her. Never releasing her from the circle of his arm around her waist, he unbuttoned her jeans and worked them down her thighs. She tilted her head back so he could kiss a more satisfactory spot on her neck while she fumbled with his jeans and shoved them down. Within seconds, Jack had scooped her up and set her on the table, stripped away her jeans and panties.
Panting at his touch, she was carried away with the fervor, the frantic need she felt from him. Britt set her hands on the back of his neck. He dipped his head and kissed her neck. She wound her legs around him and kissed his mouth. He reached down and fumbled through his wallet for a condom and slid it on. Before she could catch her breath, he had entered her. His thrusts were fast, plunging deep and hard, relentless. The tide of emotion, of passion swept her along to the finish faster than she could have believed. She shuddered as he pounded in to her, climaxing with a cry almost of anguished release.
Britt held him then, stretching and straightening until she stood, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He crushed her against his chest, shuddering with sobs. She kissed his hair, whispered
to him. She held him up, strengthened and supported him and in that moment she felt braver and more right than she ever had. She knew beyond a doubt that she was meant for him and that she was in exactly the right place, with Jack. He needed her and she would be there for him. She kissed his cheek and took him by the hands and backed slowly out of the kitchen, leading him to the bed.
They curled up together, his arms enveloping her, his sobs against her hair. She gripped his hands and kissed them, crying along with him. There were no words for the depth of his grief, no reassurance profound enough that she could speak it. So she held him and he held her and at last, at long last, he fell asleep. Britt turned in his arms to face him. She brushed his sweaty hair back from his face and kissed his brow and held him. He rolled over toward her, his head pillowed on her chest and she lay there on her back, stroking his hair and his shoulder, wishing she could do more. He gave way to peaceful sleep and after a time she slept as well.
When they woke it was midafternoon. He stirred, smiled up at her and then she saw his face crumple as memory and awareness crept back into his consciousness. He swallowed hard, set his jaw, did not give way to weeping, to sorrow this time. He levered himself up into a sitting position and she rested her hand on his back reassuringly. He raked hands through his messy hair and got up and dressed again.
“I’m going to call the mortuary if you’ll go with me. I need this to be over with. Charlie—can come or not come. It’s too horrible and dragging it out will only make it worse, make it more endless.”
“Whatever you think is best, Jack,” she said.
Britt retrieved her clothes from the kitchen and put them on. She sighed with a bit of sartorial regret, wishing she had something a bit more professional to wear to the funeral home for what seemed a solemn occasion. The idea of coffin choice didn’t much lend itself to flip flops and jeans, but she supposed what mattered was that she would be there for Jack, not what she wore. When she stopped to pull her hair back at the mirror, she heard him talking on the phone.
“Look, I know what you mean, but you’re not here and she is.”
Britt narrowed her eyes and listened.
“If you want to be here, then be here. Otherwise let me deal with it however I have to. Fine.”
She busied herself with her ponytail and stepped out to meet him.
“Ready?” he asked.
“As I can be, I guess.”
“If you don’t want to go with me...”
“I can go or not go, whatever feels right for you.” She gripped his hands. “I want to be here for you.”
He embraced her in a hug. “Please come with me.”
So she nodded, kissed his cheek and walked him downstairs. They drove off toward the mortuary to select a coffin for his father. Britt comforted him through the entire process. Then Jack took her back to St. Teresa’s Hospital so she could retrieve her vehicle. She felt shaky and sad. The world had lost such a great man and she truly grieved his loss.
Chapter 6
Britt went home, took a long bath and turned on the house channel. She watched some remodels and house flips, ate a Thai takeaway, and decided to do something constructive instead of being a couch potato. She popped down to the shop and got cookie dough to bake. Surely, warm cookies would be comforting for Jack.
Back upstairs, she discovered the roll of refrigerated dough was intended to make forty-eight cookies and her pan would only accommodate twelve at a time. She was going to have to make four batches of cookies. She started eating cookie dough after the first batch, and then reminded herself about those scary salmonella outbreaks that were always on the news and she made herself stop. She burned her mouth on a cookie straight out of the hot oven and thought with self-awareness that this was in fact why she never baked...she’d eat the food! When she’d baked, cooled and bagged the cookies, she texted Jack to see if she could drop them off.
“Baked u something good. Can I drop off?” she messaged.
“Ty too tired maybe 2mro,” he replied.
“Won’t stay long. I’ll just bring u treat,” she tried again.
“No ty,” he said in response.
Sighing, she dialed his number.
“Hello?” he answered, the noise of music and voices behind him.
“Hi. It’s Britt. I guess you’re out someplace.”
“Dave wanted to take me out to hear this band. He thought they might be good opening for us around the city before our new album drops. I thought it might cheer me up.”
If he needed cheering up, she would’ve been happy to help. She would have at least liked to be included in the outing so she could be with Jack.
“I hope it helps,” she said.
“Hey, thanks for the cookies.”
“You’re welcome.”
“This group is totally our jam.”
“That’s fantastic,” she said.
“I’ve gotta go.”
She said goodbye and hung up, shoving a cookie into her mouth, whole. Maybe he needed some space. She wouldn’t push. Her phone lit up and she hoped it was him, but it was Marj’s number on the phone.
“Hey, girl, since you weren’t there today, I didn’t know if you heard Fitzsimmons died,” she said.
“Yeah, I heard. It’s really sad.”
“Total shame, I know. Listen, we’re all chipping in to send a meat tray to the family. It’s ten bucks each. Are you in?”
“Sure. That’s a really nice idea.”
“We were gonna send a flower arrangement but we got to talking in the break room and Luke mentioned how much Fitzsimmons loved the bacon and stuff at his welcome party. So we thought, why not meat?”
“That’s nice. Very thoughtful.”
“It is. It’s really sudden, too.”
She tried to hold back a sniffle.
“Are you okay?” Marj asked.
“Yeah. It just makes me think about...mortality.”
“Wow, totally. It’s scary, how we could all be dead tomorrow. Like, boom, zombie apocalypse. Makes me want to seize the moment.”
“The moment or Luke?”
“Both, actually. I think I’ll go do just that.”
“Have fun. Thanks for calling me, Marj.”
“Anytime, babe. Love you.”
She hung up, leaving Britt to assume that Marj and Luke would spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms while she herself whiled away the hours imagining Jack partying at a club with Dave, the talented band member who had a problem with monogamy. But that’s not Jack, she thought.
She chose a new e-book to read on her Kindle app and took just one more cookie with her to bed.
The following day, with no word from her grieving boyfriend, she went to work. The office was unusually quiet, the staffers more sober and businesslike than an ordinary day. They were subdued by the death of their boss. She shuffled through the backlog of work on her desk from her absence and was finished in no time. She scrolled through emails, fulfilled requests for extra information on insurance forms and double-checked payroll. By noon she was essentially finished. It had always been a tendency of Britt’s to throw herself into her work with hyper efficiency when she was upset and this was no different.
After a morose lunch of a microwave burrito, she decided to call him.
“Hey, Jack. How are you doing?” she asked with forced brightness.
“Ah, I’m okay. Just a little tired.”
“Stayed out late?”
“I got loaded.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Still drunk.”
“Oh, Jack.”
“I needed to get drunk. I’ve been to hell and back. I think I deserved it, don’t you?”
“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Right, well, the funeral’s day after tomorrow at one. The office will be closed that day, obviously.”
“I heard.”
“Hey, Britt...”
“Yeah?”
�
�I need a little time alone...to sort this all out. Okay?”
“I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m only a phone call away.”
“Please don’t be mad,” he said.
“I’m not. I understand how difficult this is.”
“I’ll see you at the funeral.”
“See you then,” she said, her heart aching.
Jack was going through so much. She wished he wouldn’t block her out and that he’d let her in. She met Marj for coffee and they talked over the visitation and funeral and what to wear and when to meet at the funeral home.
“What are you going to do tomorrow since the office is closed the next two days?” Britt asked.
“Mani/pedi. Maybe get my highlights touched up. Want to go to the movies?”
“Nah, thanks. I don’t feel like it.”
“It’s not disrespectful to enjoy your time off, Britt. I mean, Fitzsimmons struck me as someone who loved what he did and made no compromises about that. So wouldn’t he want us to live life to the fullest?”
“That is the flimsiest most self-serving excuse for a pedicure I’ve ever heard from you. But that’s why I love you. Your logic is so...unique,” Britt said with an eye roll. “I don’t think it would fill Fitzsimmons and his surviving relatives with joy to think I was using the chance to have my nails done. I think I’ll pass on the beauty treatments.”
“Are you going to gorge on caramel corn, romantic Netflix movies, and M&M’s again? We all know what that got you.”
“You mean four pounds heavier and with a misguided belief that all men are truly sincere?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“No. I promise I won’t watch any romantic movies.”
“No weepers either. Read something improving.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. Check your local library,” Marj teased.
“Who needs the library when we have e-books?”
“Maybe we’ll go get drunk after the funeral. Throw back some margaritas, get you out of this mope.”
