"Stan... He fell into a coma... You have heart problems yourself. It will tear your heart a part... Babe wouldn't... I will be with him... Do not come over. It will... He will be released from this pain any day now. Forgive me if I do not have much to say, please? Stan... Hello? Stan are you still there." Lucille asks, talking to Stan over the phone. Stan nods his head, with a slightly trembling hand. His eyes filled with tears, listening to Lucille's news of Oliver.
Ida took his free hand, patted it and looked at her sorrowful husband. Stan's eyes wondered about, finding what to say, lost in a pushing and pulling void. He knew that Babe was sick, but did not want to beleive it would get worse, that it would end like this.
"Yes... I... Of course... Thank you, Lucille. Here, Ida... Here..." Stan passes the phone shakily to Mrs. Laurel, shoots up from the chair and rushes to the balcony.
Ida thanks Lucille for the call and hangs up the phone slowly. She lifts her head to Stan, with his back turned to the apartment. His hands gripping the railing tightly, she starts to hear him sniffle and clear his throat. Stan soon feels the gentle caress of his wife on his shoulder, rubbing up and down his back.
"People come out of a coma, Ida. We will have to see what happens, right?"
"Yes, Stanley, we must prepare for everything. Whatever happens, happens."
Stan slightly turns his head to Ida, nods, then looks forward at the ocean.
He remembered the times the two men would go on cruises all over the world, The Queen Mary, his personal boat. Mr. Laurel shakes his head, trying to knock out the memories, walking back into his apartment.
He sits down at his desk, looking at a photo of one of their favorite movies, sighed by both of them, Babe having the same picture with the same autographs. He almost slams down the photo not wanting to see it. Stan then rubs his face and feels the cold metal of the pinky commitment ring he exchanged with Babe just a few years ago.
He remembers the both of them sitting together at Oliver's home, in the backyard. It was a few weeks after their ceremony, a warm day like today.
"So you will never take it off, Stanley?"
"Never... It is already wrapped around my heart, Babe."
"You said I had your heart." Babe smiled.
"So then you know already." Stan replied.
"Stan... I'm Happy... Thank you, and..."
His memory ends with their faces meeting for a kiss, the words blurred in the rising tears from his eyes. Ida rushes over to Stan, almost falling to her knees in front of him taking his head into the cup of her neck. Stan weeps quietly yet heavily. Limp and drained.
Days later,
Stan sits in bed. Doctors orders he gets rest and doesn't stress himself out too much. Ida and his daughter, Lois left a photo album, a snack and the phone at his bedside. They tried to convince him to hire a nurse for the day, but he wished to be alone.
Stan tries lifting his hand to open the album, but is too weak and mostly emotional. He knows what is in it and doesn't wish to be reminded right now. Mr. Laurel wanted to fade away, forget this day ever happened the way it did, Oliver passing away the way he did and most of all that he was first.
"I was more reckless, going about. Hell, two years older than you... But you... I can not realize that I shall never hear your voice at least over the phone. See you thick or thin... Babe... This is a nightmare. How can the sun and everything go on? If you aren't here... Maybe I fainted and this is imagination, I 'am alone..."
Stan opens the book and Starts looking into it reminiscing over publicity and personal photos.
"You always tried to cheer me up, Babe.
I wasn't having any of what people wish for me and you, in your way coaxed me, with faces and whispers...
Then we planned to go somewhere or do something you like this day, or one of my hobbies that day... yes...
Look at this one, Babe! You really grew on Lois, she loves you, you're a second father to her, now. Sometimes I think she knows... But she still calls you Uncle Babe. Then you help with the Grandchildren... Like we always wanted, Babe. We have it, we always will, dear.
I can't hear you. Babe, please, I... You are just in another room... making lunch? I already have a snack, the girls made me something before-"
Stan weeps over the open book, tracing his fingers on Babe's image in the photo. Shaking his head lightly in disbelief, Stan sighs and lays back. He then looks to the side of him seeing a empty space in the bed.
"It was beautiful, I do not know how to really describe it to father," Says Lois. "But I will do my best. I think he always liked this flower."
"Yes that is what Stan, said. Babe and Stan both liked that flower." Ida replies as she opens the door to the apartment.
"I suppose it made sense Babe had this at the service. Father! it's me and Ida, the grandchildren are with my husband! I hope you got some rest!"
Ida and Lois go into the apartment, straight to the master bedroom and see Stan laying to his side, facing inward on the bed, curled up. The photo album under his hand in the space next to him, below the pillow. On the pillow is a portrait of a younger Oliver Hardy In his prime, close to Stan's face. At first they are both frightened, then Lois pauses immediately. Her hand raises to her mouth and chest. Tears fill both of their eyes, trying to hold back weeping loudly.
"I make tea... Or something stronger... Yes, coffee and cake loaf." Ida says, shaking her head and walking away in a hurry.
"...Father." Lois cries quietly.
Lois places the flower between her father and the picture, brushes Stans hair lightly and kisses the side of his head. She then kisses her fingers and puts them on the photo of Babe, blinking away tears. Lois stands straight, turns and leaves the room, closing the door to a thin opening.