All In:Playing the Fool(48)

 

I'd had a couple of interviews with several television networks. My  article about Dylan and Jules had been picked up by a national magazine,  The Business Journal, and was scheduled to be released in next month's  issue. They'd even paid me a decent price for it, and I was hoping its  debut would bring in some job offers.

Things were going great … except for the ache in my chest whenever I  thought about Will and Joe, or saw something that reminded me of either  of them. Which was basically everything.

They both continued to call and send apologetic text messages that I  ignored. A bouquet of yellow roses tipped with white sat in a vase on my  desk, too beautiful to throw away. The card that came with them said,  "Missing you, needing you, and loving you until the last petal falls."  Of course there was one rose out of the dozen that would never wilt.

Regardless of the pain thinking about the two of them still caused me,  things were looking up. Or they had been until the Tuesday I got an  unexpected visit from my dad, turning my life upside down.

"Dad? Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked, jumping out of my computer  chair when he walked into my new office. Then I noticed he was missing  his usual up to no good smile, and his eyes were red like he'd been  crying. But that was crazy, since I'd never seen my father cry.

"Lacy," he said, then his arms were around me, crushing me to him.

"Dad? What's going on? Are you okay?" I asked into his dress shirt.

"It's your mom. I'm so sorry princess, but … she's … she's gone."

"What?" I asked, jerking away from him his hold. Tears were now running  quickly down both of his cheeks, making the whole conversation  completely surreal.

He covered his face with his palms, wiping away the moisture. "She … God, Lacy. She overdosed."

I gasped in understanding and felt the ground beneath my feet tilt. "But  I just … I just talked to her last night. She was fine. She sounded … fine.  Better than she's been in a long time," I told him through the tears.

"I'm so sorry, Lacy."

"How … how'd she … "

"They don't know what all she took yet. Sarah …  she still had me down as  her emergency contact. The hospital called this morning. Her  neighbor … the lady that cooks for her called her and she didn't answer  even though her car was in the lot. She … she wouldn't come to the door."

I barely heard his words as my body shook with the sobs against him. I  vaguely remember my dad walking me out of the office and then dropping  me off at my apartment. He said something about having to go to the  hospital and then the funeral home, and I just couldn't … I wasn't capable  of thinking or dealing with any of that.

Instead I went into my lonely townhouse and climbed into bed, fully  clothed. With a shaking hand I called my mom's number, unable to believe  she was gone and would never answer my calls again. When she of course  didn't pick up I listened to her voice on the recording before going  through my old voicemails, listening to them over and over again. Her  asking me how I was, and to come see her soon. Most of the messages I  hadn't even responded to, caught up in my own selfish life.

At first I thought the knock on the door was just part of the pounding  inside my head. Then I heard it again. It felt like my body weighed a  thousand pounds as I forced myself out of bed to walk to the front of  the townhouse. When I opened the door and saw Will and Joe standing on  the stoop I fell apart. Seeing them with their expressions full of  pity … knowing they'd come all the way here somehow made it more real.

I threw myself into Will's arms and the rest of the day and night was  just a blur of tears. I vaguely remember my dad coming by the apartment.  Will holding me and asking me to eat or drink something. Joe offering  to give me something to help me sleep. The mention of pills sent me into  another bout of hysterical crying.

Time kept right on moving forward like normal, even though it felt like I  was standing still. How could everything keep going without her?

The day of her funeral I finally hauled myself into the shower. My two  best friends since high school, Kylie and Erica, helped dry my hair and  find something for me to wear.

When the three of us walked out of my bedroom Will, Joe, Chad, Dylan,  Jules, Jess, Tyler and Zack were sitting or standing, scattered  throughout my living room. Seeing them all dressed up in dark clothes  had me breaking down again. It was becoming too real, and I wasn't sure I  could do this.

Someone, I think it was maybe Will, wrapped me in their arms while  everyone else slipped out the door, telling me they'd see me at the  funeral home. They came all the way here to go to my mom's funeral, and I  wasn't sure if I could.         

     



 

"You don't have to do this, you know?" Will said into my hair, and I nodded.

"I know … but I-I need to. Otherwise it's not … really happening," I explained to his chest. "I don't believe she's really gone."

"I'm so sorry, and I can't imagine how hard this is for you. What can I do? What do you need?"

I took several deep breaths and tried to pull myself together as best I could. "I think I'm ready to go."

Pulling away, Will offered me a pack of tissues. Then he reached for my  hand, intertwining his fingers with mine and giving me a supportive  squeeze. He found my purse and made sure my keys were in it, then locked  up once we were out the door.

Joe and Chad were sitting in his SUV waiting for us, so I climbed in the  back and Will slid in beside me, never letting my hand go. I closed my  eyes and laid my head on his shoulder during the ride to the funeral  home, hoping that the last few days had just been a terrible nightmare  I'd wake up from.

It turned out it wasn't a dream, and when Will pulled me out of the SUV I  forced my feet to keep moving until we were inside the solemn building.  My dad was waiting at the door. He hugged me and said a few things I  don't remember. I didn't let go of Will's hand then, or during the  service that I watched through blurry eyes.

My mom's preacher (from a church she rarely attended) said a few words,  followed by my mom's friend and neighbor, and finally my dad. I couldn't  comprehend anything that was being said. All of my attention was  focused on the silver casket. My mom looked like she was sleeping  peacefully, but she seemed so out of place, lying there completely still  in a fucking casket.

That was the moment my grief transformed to anger. I was pissed that she  was gone without me having a chance to say goodbye, or ask her why. I  was mad at her because she did this, knowing how much it would hurt me.  And I was really angry at my dad. I blamed him for breaking her heart  and making her miserable for years until she couldn't take it anymore  and ended her life.

But most of all, I was angry with myself. Why hadn't I noticed she was  more depressed? What could I have done differently? I was so caught up  in the drama of my own life that I didn't even see this coming and try  to prevent it. I knew my mom better than anyone, so it was my  responsibility to make sure she was getting the help she needed.

The sobs began again and I spent the rest of the service in Will's arms,  listening to the stupid hymns and scriptures of loss, all of which were  complete and utter bullshit.

I barely remember the drive to the graveside, or the words spoken there.  I only noticed them lower my mom's casket down into the ground, and  then everyone started leaving like it was over and done. Like seeing her  in the ground was closure. It wasn't for me. I didn't know what to do  from here.

The stupid, silly little girl in me wanted to sit in the cemetery and  wait … for what I'm not sure. A ridiculous thought passed through my mind.  One where my mom would magically appear like an apparition and talk to  me one last time, explaining to me what the fuck she'd been thinking and  why she did this to herself.

Throughout my internal struggle Will sat beside me in the funeral home's  foldout chair, waiting patiently in the scorching summer heat for me to  say I was ready. Every so often I'd register his soothing touch on my  arm, or his thumb caress over my knuckles, just him reminding me he was  there.

Will was here even after I hadn't spoken to him in weeks. I finally  remembered why I'd been pissed at him and Joe, and avoiding their calls  and texts. Will had been watching me and Joe fuck without me knowing.  How dare he sit here beside me and act like everything between us was  fine! I grabbed onto my anger at him and Joe and let it build. It was a  nice, temporary distraction from the grief.

My fist clenched until my nails dug into my flesh at the reminder of  their betrayal. It may have been slutty for me to have wanted to be with  them both, but that didn't give them the right to treat me like a  worthless slut. One they thought they could do whatever they wanted  with, including unknowingly broadcasting me getting fucked. I wondered  if Will got aroused watching me and Joe together, the two of us being  intimate without me even having the slightest suspicion about his  voyeurism.