Chapter Thirty-One

Johnny was awake before me. I kind of knew he would be. He was anxious about today. I'd woken up and saw him fixing the tuxedo he had on. If it were for a happier occasion, I would've told him that he looked extremely handsome. "Good morning."

"Morning." He gave his tie one last tug, then sighed and sat down in the small chair that was close to the bed, looking off into the distance. I just stared at him, feeling sorry for him. I wished he didn't have to go through something like this. And I knew from personal experience how hard it could be going to a relatives funeral. Because not only do you have to deal with the emotional stress of that person being gone, but you also have to deal with people coming up to you every five seconds and telling you how sorry they are for your loss. Imagine that happening for the entire day...its hell. "How do you feel?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, then looked at me. "How do ya think I feel Angie?"

"Alright, alright." I put my hands up passively. "No need to get upset."

Johnny pursed his lips together and sat down next to me on the bed. "I'm sorry." He put his arm over my shoulders. "I'm just nervous...and sad. I'm feeling a lot right now, ya know?"

"I know." I laid my head on his shoulder. "But we'll get through it. I promise. We're gonna get through it, John."

He got up from the bed and smoothed out his tux again, then said, "We should go soon. It starts at 10:00. Get yourself ready to leave."

"Okay." I got up and walked to the bathroom.

. . .

The ride to Johnny's old catholic church was silent, besides me being told by him which way to go. I drove this time, and he sat in the passenger seat. The thing was, I didn't have my license yet, but I knew that Johnny wouldn't be in the mood to drive today, so I told him that I could do it if he wanted. Of course, we fought about it. He thought that it would be unsafe for me to drive, even though I assured him that I'd driven about a million times. He still didn't believe me, but finally he gave in and let me drive the van.

When we got there, we found a parking spot in the lot, then got out. My heart started beating anxiously again. I still wasn't sure about this whole thing. Suddenly, Johnny held my hand and brought me closer to him and kissed my forehead.

"It's gonna be alright," he said reassuringly.

"I should be the one telling you that."

"Well, I know you're nervous about this. Like I said, just say hi and that's it. If anyone comes up to you, that is."

When we walked in the church, it was like me reliving my own father's funeral all over again. Especially when I saw Johnny's dad lying dead in that black casket in the front of the room. It was like every single flashback was coming back to me. But no. This wasn't about me. This was about Johnny. I was here to comfort him, not think about my own painful memories. Johnny didn't even look up. That pain was seeping back into him again. We sat in the front, right in front of the casket.

I saw a short woman with graying hair make her way to Johnny and hug him. I think it was his mother Estelle.

"I'm glad you could come, sweetheart." She kissed both his cheeks.

"Of course, mom. I had no choice."

"Oh, and who's this?" She directed her attention towards me. I tensed up on the inside.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Angela."

"This is my girlfriend, mom."

Estelle smiled as much as she could. "Oh, well it's nice to meet you dear." She took my hands and squeezed them, then she sat down and didn't say anything else to either of us. Poor woman. Poor Johnny. Poor me. Poor everyone!

I tried to look away from Johnny's father, but I just couldn't. All of this reminded me so much of what I went through last year with my own dad's death. I looked next to me to see Johnny trying to avoid looking at the casket. He looked up at the stained glass windows, trying not to cry. I knew Johnny was only human, but it still scared me a little when he cried. I guess because I was so used to seeing him in a stoic manner. He never let anything get to him emotionally. I've seen him extremely angry, but that first time I saw him cry it shocked me. I guess for me it would always feel that way. I just wasn't used to seeing Johnny shed tears.

A man walked up to the podium and began speaking. He actually resembled Johnny a lot. "Uh, hello everyone. Hopefully it wasn't too much trouble to get everyone here...um, right now, is a time to celebrate a life. The life of Frank Cummings. Frank was my uncle. I loved him, and we shared many moments together."

Oh, so this was Johnny's cousin. Or one of them at least. He told me he had a lot.

"I remember one time, Uncle Frank and I went fishing and...we caught this really huge fish! And my cousin John was with us." I looked over at Johnny who smirked a little, probably remembering what his cousin was talking about. "And I remember the fish being so heavy that once Uncle Frank almost got it on the boat, he actually fell over and we had to help him back into the boat."

There was subdued laughter from the relatives. I managed to smile a little too.

"And I remember John saying to me, 'Chris we gotta get dad outta there come on!' and so we both helped him up." Chris then stopped smiling and grew silent for a couple of seconds. Then he resumed his speech. "I miss my uncle. A lot. I had lots of great memories with him, and I really wish he was still here with us..." He had tears in his eyes. "But, I know that he's alright, and that he's in a place now where he doesn't feel any pain." Chris looked over at the casket with Mr. Cummings laying in there and said goodbye. "Um, at this time...John, would you like to come up here and say a few words?"

Johnny's eyes widened, then he sighed and got up. I watched him walk up to the podium with such pain in his eyes. It was hard for me to look at.

"Um, I'm not really used to saying these kinds of speeches, but I'll do my best." He was quiet for a couple of seconds, then he took a deep breath and began. "My father Frank...he...he was...um, very hard on me when I was growing up. He was very tough on me. To be honest, sometimes I hated that. I remember when I was a kid, I was part of a little league team and...one time I injured myself. I broke my foot. I told that to Frank and he yelled at me saying to go out there and play anyways. It really sucked," he said and laughed a little. "But in a way, I'm glad he was that way with me. My father taught me how to be tough in this world. He taught me the meaning of perseverance. Without him, I wouldn't be who I am." Johnny sighed, then kept going. "My only regret is that I'll never get to see the day when my father tells me that he's proud of me." He began to cry, and for several seconds all you heard was silent sobbing and sniffling coming from him. All I wanted to do was go up there and embrace him, but I knew I couldn't. I had to stay put until he sat back down next to me.

After he composed himself a little, he continued. "I vaguely remember my father telling me once that he was proud, but it was a long time ago. When I uh...got into my group the Ramones, he was actually very angry. Frank never wanted me to get into music. I think in his mind it was a waste of time. We would get into arguments about it a lot. But I think after a while, he kind of accepted that this was what his son wanted to do with his life. So after a while he left me alone. He still never told me he was proud, though. And...now that he's gone, I'll never get to hear him say that. But I hope that wherever he is he's satisfied with me, and...I miss him very much." He looked over at his father. "Pop, I love you. Thank you so much for everything you did for me."

There was some clapping from everyone. I clapped too, tears in my eyes just like everyone else. Johnny sat back down next to me and didn't say anything. I stroked his back, trying to ease a little of the distress he felt. I'd do anything to take this pain away from him. Anything.

The memorial service ended after a few more speeches, then came the burial at the cemetery next door to the church. Johnny told his mother that he didn't want to stay for that.

"Are you sure, John?" Estelle's eyes were red and glistening as she looked at her only son.

"Yeah, mom. I just wanna leave. I cant stand to be here anymore. Take care of everyone, and I'll be back in a few days to say goodbye before I leave to go on tour okay?"

She nodded. "Well alright. I'll see you later then. And it was nice meeting you Angela."

"You too Mrs. Cummings. Take care." I wrapped my arm around Johnny's shoulders and we made our way back to the van. I decided I was going to drive again. I didn't think Johnny had it in him to tell me otherwise anyway.

We didn't speak on the road. I just concentrated on getting us home. I looked over at John who was holding his stomach and leaning slightly forward. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"Oh man, I'm gonna be sick. Angie, get me a bag or somethin'."

"But where-"

"HURRY UP!"

I swerved a little on the road as I searched for and finally found a brown paper bag and gave it to Johnny. He opened it quickly, put his face in it and vomited his guts up.

"Oh no...I knew this would happen." I tried focusing on the road, but with the additional noises in the background, it was difficult.

. . .

Later on...

"Come on, let's get you upstairs." I was supporting him all the way until we got to the bedroom. Dealing with the funeral probably emotionally stressed Johnny out so much that he made himself sick. That didn't happen to me, but everyone had different ways of coping with grief. "Alright now, come on let me take your outfit off." I stripped Johnny of everything except his boxers, and made him climb into bed. I pulled the covers up to his chest and rubbed his stomach gently. "It's alright, honey. I'm here." I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I'm here..."

His breathing was still heavy from all the vomiting he did on our way home. I got up and rushed downstairs to get the bucket from the supply closet and a glass of water, then came back upstairs. "Here, I'm gonna put this bucket right next to the bed, in case you have to throw up but you don't think you'll make it to the bathroom." I sat down on the edge of the bed and propped his head up. His eyes were closed. "I brought you some water, too."

He groaned unpleasantly.

"John, you have to drink some fluids, you're dehydrated. Now come on open your mouth." He turned his head away from me. I sighed. "Sweetheart, please?" He finally turned his head to me and opened his mouth slowly. His lips were really dry. "There we go. Here, take some sips for me." After Johnny took a couple of gulps, I set the glass down on the nightstand and gently laid his head back down on the pillow. "Get some sleep for me, baby. I'll check on you in a little while. Try to get some rest. I'll leave the door open in case you wake up and you need something." I kissed his forehead, stroked his hair a little, and made my way out the room. I looked back to see him sleeping peacefully like an angel.

I smiled, then walked downstairs to make some lunch for myself and watch some TV. I needed to call Mayra too. I haven talked to her in weeks, and her and the others over there are probably wondering how I'm doing. I had to be quiet though because I didn't want to wake up Johnny. Hopefully he'd start to feel better before he had to go on tour.

If both Dee Dee AND him weren't able to go, that would mean Marky, Joey, Kat (who wasn't even really part of the group, just temporary) and some other guitarist who I was sure wouldn't sound nearly as good as Johnny did. That tour would be a fucking disaster. So Johnny at least needed to get better. And soon.

I had to do everything in my power to make that happen.