Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with The Mentalist in any way and make no money from fanfiction.
Thank you to my writing partners, Sue Shay and Cumberland River Relic. Their friendship, insight and support is much appreciated, as is the time that they give to critiquing my stories. Check out their latest work. Sue is continuing her 'Mentalist 2pt0 Drabble Collection', following on from the crime story and romance, 'White Out' set in the Colorado winter. Cumberland River Relic has recently completed his tale of intrigue and switch backs, 'In the wee small hours of the morning', following on from the second of his AU stories set in Cannon River, 'Baby Blue Skies'.
April 22nd, 2014
Dear Diary,
Just a quick note tonight. Tomorrow May and Virgil are getting married at Holy Cross Church in Sacramento. Virgil's ex-wife died three years ago, so there was no reason why he and May couldn't have the full religious ceremony.
I've got to say, I am so excited for them both. They invited me round for dinner three weeks ago, and we had a great evening. I have no doubt that they'll be very happy together. The deep love they share shines in both their faces, tempered by a compassion and warm humour that draws you in. You want to spend time with them, basking in the peripheral glow. It makes the world seem brighter really.
Virgil isn't having a best man. He reckons that he can take care of his own ring. But he asked me if I would be an usher. I was so happy. A chance to be there for the man I consider my surrogate father, and to be part of his wedding day, but without the need for satin bridesmaid dresses or other frippery. My best black pantsuit will be fine, brightened with a red silk blouse that I got for the occasion.
It'll be a small wedding. Around thirty-five invitees. A few of them, like Cho and I, are people from Virgil's CBI days. And he has some cousins coming from Montana. There will also be a couple of people he's met from the charity work he's now doing. Working with kids from disadvantaged neighbourhoods to improve their literacy.
The majority of guests are from May's side. Some coworkers and quite a few from the AA meetings which I know she still runs. The reception is going to be at a country club near Fresno and it'll be a soft drinks bar only. No wine or champagne with this wedding breakfast.
Well diary, I'll sign off here. Go and get an early night, ready for tomorrow. I've agreed to help decorate the church first thing. Fetch and carry the flower arrangements and all that. I can't wait.
April 23rd, 2014
Dear Diary,
I am so glad to get home and to kick off my best shoes. They may not be stilettos but they were still rubbing my heels by the end of the night. And I'd forgotten how much it hurts to walk when your toes feel like they're going through a metal press.
The wedding went smoothly. It was such a lovely service. Virgil had scrubbed up well and May looked radiant in her simple ivory knee-length dress. Her long hair was loose, held back from her face by freesia-adorned clips and she carried a bouquet of cream and white flowers nestled in a green leaf surround. When Virgil lifted her veil, I thought for a moment that his heart might burst open. I felt my eyes flooding, and desperately alternated rapid blinking with squeezing them shut to stop any embarrassing overflows. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara, that's all I can say. I couldn't help myself. It was just so beautiful.
Afterwards, I was busy, making sure everyone stayed for the photographs and that they knew where to find the reception. Generally making sure everything went off smoothly.
The reception was fine. Touching speeches from the bride and groom, short but sincere. And then the cutting of the cake, followed by the buffet. That was all good. I spent a little time sat with Cho. He's thinking of applying to the FBI in Austin. Apparently Abbott's been in touch with him to suggest it. I'm glad for Cho. He deserves to be valued as the damned fine agent that he is.
When the main course was over and everyone moved onto desserts, I decided to mingle. It gave me chance to catch up with some of the old unit leaders from Minelli's days. Stephenson has retired, Andrews is moving to the FBI in Philadelphia and Granger has decided to retrain and go into law. I seem to be the only person who doesn't have a clear goal for the future.
When the lights went down and the music started, I watched the happy couple take their first dance together as husband and wife, slowly moving round the floor to the strains of 'Wind Beneath My Wings.' Then I escaped to the restroom for a while, and then off to get some fresh air in the car park.
I knew that I couldn't leave until the Minellis' did, but by that stage, waiting around was torture. Nothing like a wedding to remind you that you're alone. That you have no partner, no family, no life and no job. That the loneliness demon on your shoulder has grown to the size of a house, crushing you into the ground beneath its weight.
But I sucked it up and went back into the reception. Hovered by the bar, far enough away from the dance floor, wishing there was some place that sold tequila. Or gin. Or whisky.
I hate to sound so depressed and helpless. Here I am, a forty year old woman, crying at the marriage of a man in his sixties and a woman in her late fifties. How dumb is that?
I am glad for them. I really am. And I wish them nothing but happiness. But what about me? Why didn't Jane find me someone to love too? If he didn't want me, it was the least he could have done. Instead of ten years of hot and cold, flirting and then denying.
I'm not going to bed tonight. I'll sit here on the couch and watch old movies until either I break down and howl or the last of my tequila bottle takes effect.
And that's not even all. Back at the wedding, before May arrived, Virgil pulled me to one side to give me a note. I've just read it. It says that there's a chance of a police chief's position in a backwater hamlet in rural Washington. And he's put in a good word for me. I don't know whether to be grateful that Virgil would think of my welfare even on his wedding day, or mortified at the demotion. Former Special Agent detective and unit leader, now considering a life of stray dogs and occasional DUIs.
Nice.
Last time I felt like this… No, scrub that. I haven't felt this down and helpless in the last 10 years. For all he could be a pain in the butt, Jane wouldn't have let me get into this state. He'd be there with a trick or a coffee or a bear claw or something.
Oh God, Jane. Where are you? I need you. I really do.
I miss you so much it feels like I'm drowning. You… you idiot. If only you'd just shot McAllister, you could still be here with me. But nobody, not even you, can claim that you strangled someone in self-defence!
Did you not see what this would do to me? Of course you did, you son-of-a-bitch. You just didn't care.
You bastard!