Four: Wedding Day

Richie smiled. He was tucked in behind Jennifer, holding her close to him, and breathing in her scent. She was so soft, he felt as if he could lose himself in her. Slowly, so as not to wake her, he brought a hand up to her breast. Or where her breast should be. Frowning, he half-opened his eyes. For a moment, he saw her honeyed-blond hair spread out on the pillow, and could just see the tat on the back of her neck. Reassured he leaned in to kiss her ink only to end up with a mouth full of pillow.

Screaming in rage, frustration, and grief, Richie flung the pillow from him.

The scream woke Tiffany, who, with Jon, had only fallen asleep a couple hours before. They were all staying at Jennifer's house for the time being, and Tiff and Jon had the room next to Richie. The guitarist had locked himself in Jen’s room when they got back from the hospital, wouldn’t talk to anyone, and refused to come out. Stephanie tried for hours to get Richie to talk to her through the door, but other than a few grunts, didn’t get any response.

Tiffany looked at her husband, who was undisturbed by the cry, then slipped from their bed. She wrapped her robe around herself, and padded next door. Trying the knob, Tiff was surprised to find it unlocked. She slowly opened the door and nearly cried herself at what she saw.

There were clothes and shoes scattered all over the room. The bed was practically hidden under sweaters, sweatshirts, and heavy coats. There was a man-sized hole in the mound but no man.

Richie was kneeling on the floor, cradling a pillow as delicately and tenderly as if it was an infant. He was sobbing and rocking and whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again.

Swallowing a lump of tears, Tiffany tentatively entered the room. “Rich?” she asked quietly.

Richie looked up at his best friend’s wife; his sister-in-law. “Sorry I woke you,” he said. “But she was there. I felt her. Then I opened my eyes, and it wasn’t her, it was just her pillow. But it still smells like her, and I threw it away...” He was rambling and crying, and Tiffany quickly crossed to him and dropped to the floor beside him. She gathered him to her, pillow and all. He stiffened at this woman’s arms around him, this woman who wasn’t his Jen, but she didn’t relent. She held him and rubbed comforting circles between his shoulder blades until he started to relax a little.

“You don’t have to apologize, Rich,” Tiffany said. “I know.” She looked up and saw Jon in the doorway. She smiled a watery smile at him, and nodded a little. Jon shut the door and went back to his room.

Tiffany just held Richie for a while, letting him cry when he wanted to, rail against fate when he needed to, but drew the line at letting him take any blame for what happened.

“I should have come to her,” Richie said. “I shouldn’t have asked her to pack up her life and come to me. She should have never been on that plane. She hates to fly; how could I let her do that?”

Tiffany squeezed Richie tightly, then gave him a little shake. “Stop that right now,” she said angrily. “It is not your fault that there was something wrong with the plane. She wanted nothing more than to come to you and start a new life with you.”

“But I was so selfish...”

“Rich, I swear, if you make me hit you today, I’ll never forgive you.” She pushed Richie away from her a little so she could look at his face. “She didn’t think of you as selfish. She knew you have Ava to consider, and she never would have let you move so far away from your daughter.” She gave Richie another shake. “So stop that right now. Miss her. Cry for her. But do NOT make this about you. You are not the reason she is gone. It was just her time.”

Richie pushed Tiffany roughly away from him and stood up. “Shut up. Don’t you fucking say that. It was NOT her time.” He yanked the pillow up off the floor and held it to his chest. “Her time would have been after another forty or fifty years together, a passel of kids and grand kids, and a lifetime of me loving her.” He stalked to the door and opened it. “You need to go now,” he said, coldly.

Tiffany stood up and stood firm. “No,” she said, crossing her hands over her chest. “You need to get this out, and I’m just as good as anyone to get it out at. You know something? You’re right, it wasn’t her time. It was way too fucking soon for her to be gone. You think you were the only one who loved her?” She dashed tears from her eyes. “We all did. Maybe not as much as you, but we all did.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s way worse for her parents, who have to bury their only daughter this week. It’s way worse for her brother, who was always her protector, to not have been able to protect her from this. It’s way worse for Krissy and her other friends, who she’s known practically her whole life.” Tiffany sniffled and wiped her eyes again. “So, yeah, it’s worse for you than it is for me, but there are others for whom it is far worse.”

Richie’s shoulders slumped, and he closed the door and dropped to the floor. “God, I’m sorry, T.”

“Don’t apologize, Rich. You’re hurting and lashing out.” She went to sit next to him, and took his hand. “I went through this same thing. Gail did too. Hell, your mother went through this. You have people you can talk to, when you’re ready to talk, who understand about loss and grief and grieving.” She smiled. “And all of us will talk to you about Hath any time. She was a hot shit.”

Richie chuckled at the nickname. “Yeah, she sure was.” He hugged Tiffany close. “Thanks, T. You’re a good friend. Jon is lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, he is,” Tiffany agreed. “Are you going to be alright here alone if I go get dressed?”

Richie nodded. “I’ll be alright. Jen’s parents are coming soon so we can go make her arrangements,” he choked on the last word. “God, this is so hard.”

“It is, Rich, but you’ll get through it. Just let us be there for you. Let us love you and hug you and tell you everything will be alright, even though you want to hit something every time someone says that.” She smiled and smoothed Richie’s hair like she would to comfort a small child.

“I can’t yet. I will, but I can’t. I see her every time I see one of you. It’s not fair, but there it is. I know that you are all in my life because of her – well not YOU, T, but the others, and I can’t separate them.”

“And they understand that,” Tiffany said. “I swear to you, they understand. Don’t you think they feel the same thing? They’re all friends because of the board, but they al have shared memories with Jennifer. They’re taking comfort in that. Sure we’re all crying our eyes out, and our hearts are broken, but we’re sharing the pain, and that makes it a little easier to take.” She kissed Richie’s cheek. “When you’re ready, we will share your pain, too.”

Tiffany stood up and opened the door to find Stephanie poised to knock. “Sorry, but Ma and John are here,” she said. “Ava, Heather, and Joan stopped by before going to their hotel. How is he doing?”

“He’s broken,” Richie said coming up to stand behind Tiffany. “Tell Ma I’ll be down in a few minutes; I need to take a shower.” He reached out and touched Stephanie’s arm. “Thank you for last night.”

“Anytime,” Stephanie said with a sad smile. “I’ll go tell them you’ll be down in a little bit.”

Richie nodded and crossed the room, grabbing a pair of jeans and one of Jennifer’s sweatshirts on the way. He disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the women heard the water start.

“If he’s not out in fifteen minutes,” Stephanie said, “you should send Jon in after him.”

Tiffany nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.” She and Stephanie looked around Jennifer’s room, which was devoid of personal touches and photos. “You know, I’m glad you guys packed everything up.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Stephanie said. “This would have been worse if there were pictures of Jen or her personal little things all over the place.” She shivered. “In a way, though, this is like a stranger’s house.” She crossed to the bed and picked up a sweater, getting a whiff of perfume that was essentially Jen. “I don’t know what’s better. Hey, so Krissy called.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, and she wants to host the remembrance after the wake – I assume there’s a wake – both nights.”

“That’s nice,” Tiffany said. “I don’t think Rich was looking forward to having a houseful of people to have to be there for. This way he can slip away if it gets to be too much for him.”

Tears came to Stephanie’s eyes. “I still can’t believe she’s really gone.”

“I know,” Tiffany said, her own eyes misting over. “Me neither.”

The two women shared a long hug, and left the room. In the shower, Richie sat slumped on the floor, holding a bottle of Jennifer’s shampoo, and sobbing. That’s how Jon found him ten minutes later. Jon shut the water, tossed a towel in at his friend, and waited. Richie stood and let Jon lead him out into the bedroom. Jon talked to Richie about nothing in particular as he dried and got dressed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Jon asked.

Richie shook his head. “No, man.” He swiped at his eyes again with the towel. “This is something I have to do with Jen’s parents.” He finished getting dressed, and sat on the bed among Jennifer’s clothes. He lovingly caressed one of her sweaters, a favorite angora, and the softness burned his palm. Sighing, he stood. He fingered the platinum band on his ring finger, and looked his friend in the eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

Jon needed no further words; he knew Richie was thanking him for. “You’re welcome,” Jon said simply. “Now,” he said, slapping Richie on the back, and gently steering him toward the door. “Let’s get your ugly ass downstairs. Mary Agnes does not need to see you in here laying in Jen’s clothes like a pervert.” His chuckle didn’t quite come off right, and the accompanying smile did not light his eyes, but Richie appreciated the effort.

“Yeah,” he said, casting a longing look over his shoulder at Jen’s bed. “Let’s go.”