by Eden Butler
I didn’t want to. God, I didn’t want to. But I had to. I couldn’t disappoint Erik, not now. But I wanted to. With all my heart, I wanted to run away and pretend this wasn’t happening.
I heard a rustling behind me, someone settling into the pew. “Oh, Will,” Jojo said, turning around when my former best friend reached out to touch her shoulder. I just sat there, staring forward. I was already angry. I couldn’t deal with this now.
“Jo.” Will’s voice cracked as Jojo stood, hugging him tight. He didn’t miss my sideways glance, locking me with his stare as he let Jojo hug him. I ignored him, preferring to cross my arms and debate the safest course of action—risk meeting Erik’s desperate “save me” expression and the long throng of overdramatic drag queens from Miss Gypsy’s Review who were carrying on over the coffin, or stand like a grown up and face Will.
Damn that. I was Southern and prone to bouts of immature stubbornness.
“Excuse me,” I said, weaving down the pew and away from Will and Jojo and the drag queens and the stoic Viking and that damned white coffin.
There was a crowd overflowing at the back of the room, that didn’t surprise me. Of course there would be and I wondered if I’d be able to hide among the mourners, to lose myself in the throngs of people who just needed a chance to say goodbye, or more caustically, to slip between the industry types using this service as an excuse to network. Mostly, I prayed that the day was some horrible mistake. That wasn’t my friend in the coffin. That wasn’t J.J.
“Oh, Raine, honey, how are you holding up?” I bristled at that voice—Millie Avery, of all people. There was a sneer on Millie’s face even as she leaned in for a hug. I didn’t respond and she ended up doing this weird one-shoulder touch gesture as I kept my arms at my side. It didn’t stop the gossiping casting agent from keeping me in her crosshairs. She was one of those assholes who’d come to J.J.’s funeral to network. “I hear it was his heart? Something congenital?” I didn’t know what Millie expected to get out of this one-side conversation.
Ten years ago, Millie Avery had sworn that she’d make sure no one hired me for a single job. Just because she thought I had blown her off. It hadn’t even been my fault; Ellie had lied and schemed and made sure I had missed the audition; I had tried to apologize, but Millie and her wounded pride would have none of it. Thankfully I’d met Coop and Jojo and their welcoming circle, and she had been unable to make her threat a reality. Since then, I had come to realize that Millie didn’t have the clout she liked to pretend she did. Still, she was a pain in the ass, and today she was even worse.
“I understand he was with Erik, out in Santa Barbra?” She kept that pathetic half-attempted smile on her face, undeterred when I only glared back at her. “Do you know if Erik’s going to sell the place out in the Hills?”
“Millie,” I heard behind me, keeping a non-expression on my face when Will came to my side. He might be tops on my Shit List, but I wouldn’t let Millie Avery know that.
“Oh, Will, darling, how are you?” She reached her hand toward him, then dropped it to her side when Will crossed his arms.
“I’d be a lot better if you left.”
“Leave?” She looked between us, as though surprised at his attitude. “What on earth…”
“At least,” he said, not letting her continue, “leave Raine alone. She’s not going to nibble at what you’re casting.” God. Fishing analogies. I managed to refrain from rolling my eyes, but only just. I could kill my father for taking Will out on Lake Waco. He’d been obsessed since that first fishing trip.
By the time Millie had stomped away from us, setting her sights on Erik’s sister, Alena, Will had changed trajectory, abandoning the hero bit to stand at my side, watching the crowd. He was waiting, I knew that, likely itching for me to explain myself. But Will knew me and he knew the truth behind my legendary stubbornness. It wasn’t exaggerated and the longer we stood there, the shorter Will’s patience became.
In my periphery, Will glanced at my profile, then back to the crowd. He nodded to several suits I didn’t know and we both accepted kisses on the cheek from some of the old waitresses from the cabaret that J.J. had kept friendly with over the years. Despite the distractions, Will kept glancing at me, not speaking, not asking a thing and I could almost count the seconds until his patience left him completely and he started in on the bickering questions I knew were itching on his tongue.
Five…
Four…
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to begin in just a few minutes.” The petite funeral director waved to her staff and several ushers guided guests to the pews.
Three…
Two…
“Raine, how are you?” Dane Ripley held my hand, sparing the smallest glance at Will before he kissed my cheek. Dane had a few guest spots on Clockwork and had worked with J.J. on a Netflix musical. He was a handsome party boy when he first came to L.A., but had settled over the past few years. He also had done his level best for years to get me naked on numerous occasions. He never had succeeded, and I suspected Dane had suspicions as to why I always turned him down. That might be why he ignored Will completely.
“I’m okay, Dane, thanks,” I managed. Beside me I felt Will slipping closer and I caught the sweet tang of nutmeg. It was November and Will favored Sailor Jerry rum around this time of year, had even taken to drinking it when things got rough and he wanted to break his five-year ban on cigarettes.
“Why don’t you…” Dane stopped speaking when the organ music began, and grabbed my fingers, nodding toward the pews. “I’ll catch you later.”
One…
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He had a tight grip on my bicep, despite how much I jerked away from him. “I swear to Christ, Rainey, you’re going to fucking talk to me.” Will pulled me back into the hallway, away from the mourners who had congregated back in the service room and were presently singing a melancholy version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
My anger broke.
I turned on him. “You think we’re going to do this, now?” I wanted to yell, I wanted to scream. I wanted to lash out and slap him with all I was worth, but instead I leaned closer and spoke low, through clenched teeth. “You listen to me, Will Callahan, and you listen well. I will not debase the last moments we all have on this earth with J.J. on some petty argument about how I’m not talking to you, or anything else, you hear? Get over your own fucking self. All his friends deserve better. Erik deserves better. J.J...” My voice cracked and unwanted tears started to fall down my cheeks, which only made me even angrier. “J.J. deserves a helluva lot better. You want to talk, fine, we'll talk, but not here and not now."
I turned and walked away without giving him a chance to answer, swiping angrily at my face. I did my best to compose myself as I slipped back into the pew next to JoJo, but she gave me a concerned frown when I sat down and she handed me a tissue.
“Thanks,” I managed, and dabbed at my eyes, blew my nose. I heard Will settle into the pew behind us, but my anger was fading, as the realization that this really was happening sunk in. J.J. was gone, and soon he wouldn’t even be a still figure lying in a white coffin. Soon I would have to say goodbye for the last time, and there would never be a chance to see his smile or hear his laughter ever again. Grief settled over me like a weighted blanket, but so did my resolve. If I was going to be forced to say goodbye to J.J., I was going to do him proud.
I listened to the other speakers. I cried, I smiled, I even laughed a few times as each treasured memory was shared. All too soon, it was my turn to speak.
I met Erik at the foot of the chancel, where he gave me a quick but close hug and then guided me to the podium. It was only then that I found the strength to look down at J.J.
I wished I hadn’t.
In truth, he looked like every other time I’d caught him drifting off to sleep on my front room sofa. He’d never spoken about his childhood or the family he’d run away from at sixteen. It wasn’t until I met
Erik at the Santa Barbra ER that he admitted to the heart problems J.J. had tried to keep from everyone for years. Erik had been the only one who knew about J.J.’s condition, and he had promised to keep the secret to the grave. He had kept that promise.
“It was endocarditis.” A leaky heart valve detected too late and a bad bacterial infection had killed our friend. “He didn’t want anyone to worry.”
Now we never could again. Now it was too late to worry.
“This seems so surreal to me,” I started, glancing twice at J.J. before I faced the funeral crowd. There were only a few faces I sought out. Jojo and Coop, of course. They both smiled and Coop nodded, always encouraging, always supportive. Then Erik, too, offering his silent support, a brief nod and smile that came when I mentioned what a drama this whole ordeal had been…just like J.J.
“God, look at all this white,” I managed, taking a tissue from the box on the podium to dry my nose, then waving it around the room. White or beige or the combination of the two covered every surface of the room and even the coffin itself. Erik had decked his partner out in a white suit with white roses situated around the coffin. “J.J. always fancied himself an angel. The little shit would be so damn smug with all the white.”
The laughter was sweet, and genuine. Yes, there were industry types who were here just to be seen, or to work their own private agendas, but most of the people filling this room were here because J.J. had been more than an actor, more than a celebrity. He’d been their friend. For some of us, the lucky few, he'd been much more than that.
“I feel like I’m floating somewhere above myself. Like this is some weird alternative universe I’ve fallen into. One where I am here, alone, without…without my friend.” I paused. “So many people knew J.J. Fans saw him as the campy, sarcastic Second in Command in AURA.” Another swipe of my face with that crumpled Kleenex and I glanced back to Coop and Jojo. “Some people knew him from his films and the musicals he did, God, how many Broadway shows did we have to hear about? How many auditions?” I smiled at Erik, sharing a brief laugh with him.
“But for me, for those of us who loved J.J., who came up with him before the fame and money, before…everything…it’s not a sad day because Jack James is gone. I can live in a world without Jack James.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the slack face in the coffin, but remember the vibrant face he wore every day that he lived. “I…I just don’t think I can live in a world without J.J. It hurts like hell that I’m expected to.” I stopped, because it was necessary, because if I didn’t, I’d go on and on sobbing because the weight of this loss was too great.
I wasn’t alone in my grief. In those few seconds, all around me, a lull moved through the room, peppered by the nearly silent sniffles, the clearing of throats as the grief came in waves, then slowly faded.
When I was able to speak again, it was with a voice that came out in a rasp and words that struggled past the clog in my throat from so many tears. “I hate that any of us are expected to live without him.” Another cough and I dried my face, glancing up this time feeling a bravery that wasn’t mine. It was the nerve I remembered coursing through my friend. The strength J.J. wore like a hot pink boa. “So, for now, I hope we can remember how remarkable he was. How we laughed…” I closed my eyes, inhaling as years of memory and love filled my mind, brought into sharp focus what this loss meant for us all. How badly it stung. “So, let’s not. Let’s not live in a world without J.J. Let’s let him live in our hearts and our memories, let’s let him live in our actions and how we give of ourselves to our craft, to our audiences, to our friends and those we love, to ourselves. Let’s not let the fact that he is gone keep him from living on, in us.”
In front of the coffin Erik had a break down, letting his sister hold him as he cried. Coop held Jojo close, right until the moment she couldn’t stay in that room any longer, and made a hurried break for the side door. I couldn't return to the pew, either, I just couldn’t find it in myself to sit down and wait with the sounds of the somber music and the rustling of the programs and the soft sniffles, so I made my way up a side aisle to the back of the room where I could stand and watch as the funeral director asked that friends pay their last respects. I could feel Will's eyes on me as I passed him, but I kept my own eyes forward and my heart clenched.
Standing at the back of the room was hardly any better. I watched people line up for their chance to file past that damned white coffin, watched them shuffle by, or reach out a hand to touch that which had once been J.J., a few lean over to give him a kiss, but I didn’t really see any of it. I knew there were tears, and sometimes wails, an occasional bout of laughter, but I didn’t really hear it. I was there and not there at the same time.
I was trading riffs with J.J. at the cabaret, while the lights were strobing and we were so incredibly on, I was in his trailer on the AURA set, helping him scheme on the next prank he was going to pull on one of his castmates...I was sitting at the beach with him the day he told me that he was madly in love with Erik and he was scared to death that Erik would turn him down - it was the only time I had seen J.J. beside himself with fear and doubt, which we all knew was unfounded, but who can deny the fools love makes of all of us?
Memories came thick, one of top of the other, of good times and bad times and times that were epic and legendary in my own life because of this man, because of these people with whom I had surrounded myself. And then I remembered that first night, when J.J. introduced me to Coop and Jojo, and Will was there with some blonde bimbo who just kind of disappeared as the night went on. I remembered the ridiculous Star Wars quotes, and then the cosplay at the Comic-Cons and the thrill of sharing a deeply felt connection with someone else. And then I remembered…I remembered…
I remembered Will’s voice rough against my body, and his hands pulling me closer, touching me, my opening up to him and him…he…
“You feel perfect, Pinkie. So perfect around me.”
“Hey,” I heard, my reverie shattered, and I jerked my head towards Coop as he stood there, hands in his pockets, his eyes soft and kind.
“Where’s Jojo?” I managed to stammer, as I took the handkerchief he offered, smiling at the embossed initials embroidered on the corner.
“Still in the Ladies. She wanted to be alone.” Coop skillfully shifted us away from the stream of people who had paid their last respects and were now leaving the funeral home. “I do what my lady asks.”
“I know,” I said, wiping my eyes, smiling when I offered the handkerchief back to him. He waved away my offer, moving his head at my smile. “J.J…you… you didn’t know, but he thought you were from another time or something.”
“Why’s that?” Coop nodded a greeting to a few stragglers that passed by, but thankfully, no one approached.
The initials on the handkerchief were in script, thick grey thread woven into the fine fabric. “He’d say ‘Really, Rainey, who the hell carries handkerchiefs anymore? And what man in this town still pushes out his woman’s chair for her at dinner or opens the car door for her?'’’
Coop returned my smile, looking unapologetic. “And what was your answer to his little query?”
The fabric was smooth, cool and I ran my thumbnail over each scrolling letter. “I told him good men…classy men still do those things.”
Cooper didn’t blush or wave off my compliment. Instead he stood at my side, watching right along with me as the crowd moved and the room emptied. When Jojo returned, Coop waved us both in front of him, ushering his wife with a soft palm against her back.
It took Jo and Coop several minutes to compose themselves as they approached the coffin, as Coop touched J.J.’s hand and Jo kissed his forehead. Then, there was no one in front of that coffin but me, staring down at my beautiful friend, at the soft contours of his features. I was amazed at how peaceful he looked, how relaxed. He was never like that in life. J.J. worried like it was an Olympic event and he was a gold-winning champion. Now, though, he lay there relaxed, serene.
&
nbsp; Behind me, Jojo’s sobs grew louder until the low mutterings Coop made settled her. I couldn’t move. There were tears filling, blurring my vision as I watched J.J., distorting his dark complexion and the thick lashes that framed his round cheeks. “Bitch…” I whispered, hoping he could hear me, that he’d have one last laugh for me if he could.
But there was nothing to hear, not from J.J. There was no one to hold me, either, and so I cradled myself, tightening my arms around my waist before I closed my eyes, careless of the how thick my tears had grown.
His smooth skin was so cold when I kissed him. Those muscular arms and chest felt unreal, hard like metal. But it was still my J.J. in that box and I said goodbye with another kiss and slip of my fingers over his hand.
I took Coop’s handkerchief and patted my face dry, holding tight to Erik as the small bottleneck of remaining guests and relatives congregated around the coffin and near the big Swede.
It was then that I saw Will approach the coffin. Will and Ellie. Actually, Ellie and Will. She was the one who had a hold of his arm, who was pulling him forward. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t do anything but let Ellie guide him to the coffin, to Erik, then back away from our friends as we moved out of the way of the funeral home staff who were now gently directing the pallbearers into position.
“You couldn’t do it?” I asked Coop, nodding at row of men who lined up around the coffin, Will among them.
“Jojo didn’t want me throwing out my back again.” Coop acted as though he was annoyed, but I caught the small hint of relief in his expression when the pallbearers passed in front of us.
Jojo grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to her as the coffin passed in front of us. The tremble had not moved from her fingers and her breathing was still a bit labored. The coffin stopped as one of the funeral staff adjusted the carpet in front of the room, and I found myself in that moment standing right next to Will.
His face was somber, stoic, but he slipped his gaze to the right, glancing at me once before the line moved again. I didn’t breathe until the coffin cleared and Erik waved us to join him behind the coffin.
