We forged ahead into that new year despite what we knew we were facing.
Sherry was doing well at her job and seemed to have settled into life with Billy gone. It was hard on her, I know but she was a tough lady.
Theresa was cutting Kid some slack and I think that helped things there a little. I know it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows there but it was getting a little better, I think. Hell, I don't know. I know it got worse before anything really got truly better.
Joanie. Well, Joanie was tricky. There were times when we were so connected you might have thought we shared a brain or a heart…maybe even a soul. January 1968 was not one of those times. I did not know what was going on in her mind and she was moving too fast for me to pin her down to ask her.
Of course, she was keeping me off balance with her little sex kitten bit around then too. It's hard to remember to have a serious discussion when a sexy woman is nearly begging to have her way with you.
I knew it was strange. I did. I knew there was something almost desperate in how she would come on to me. I thought it was just her trying to get pregnant again. It made sense and I know that was part of it anyway. After the miscarriage we were supposed to wait a couple months but those were up and I knew she was chomping at the bit to get herself knocked up again.
But let me get back on track with the story here. We were only about a week after the big party at the country club and things seemed to be looking up. Until the phone rang one evening. I went to answer it. I am so glad that I jumped up to get it instead of letting Joanie grab it. I probably should have known that my optimism about things getting better was poorly placed
"James," Mr. Cohen's voice sounded strained. "I know you don't want to talk to me but it's good you answered. If I had to tell Joanie like this…"
I listened to his tone. It was pain and contrition and things I couldn't identify.
"What's wrong? Is Gladys alright?"
"Yes, she's fine," he replied. "But…"
I listened. I think my whole body went numb hearing the news. My head was spinning and I wasn't sure if I could keep breathing. I managed to thank him for calling and hung up. I just sat there for a minute. I could not believe this was real. And I sure the hell didn't know how I was going to tell my girl.
There was no putting it off. I did not want to deliver this news to her but it fell squarely on my shoulders. I knew it was best that she wasn't hearing it over the phone. I stood and went to the living room where Joanie was sitting on the couch dividing her attention between some paperwork and whatever was on TV.
"Joanie," I said softly. "Joanie, honey, I need to tell you something."
"Who was on the phone, my love?"
"Your father."
She looked up at me and saw my expression but she misunderstood it.
"Oh James," she purred, "You shouldn't let him get to you. He's been in such a mood lately. I don't know what it's about but you can't take it seriously."
She stood and sauntered to me. Her arms draped around my neck as she pressed her body to me.
"I'm sure I can make you feel better."
"Joanie, no," I said as I took her wrists in my hands, uncoiling them from around my neck. I brought her hands to my face and kissed the back of one of them bringing her eyes to meet mine. "I need you to listen to me. Please, honey."
I led her back to the couch and sat her down.
"What's the matter, James?" she asked looking scared. I wasn't sure how I was going to tell her. My head was still processing everything. I wasn't sure I could get out the words.
"Gene called Uncle Eli a little bit ago," I began with a heavy sigh. "He…he came home from work…the apartment was all dark. He thought maybe Aaron was still at the hospital. He'd been putting in some long hours lately with the end of his residency coming. But…Aaron was there. He was…oh, sweetheart, I don't even know how to say it…"
Joanie's lips were trembling and her deep brown eyes were starting to swim with tears.
"James…tell me, what happened. Where's Aaron? Is he sick? Is he hurt? Tell me."
"He's dead, Joanie."
"No," she said resolutely. "No."
"Gene found him in their bed."
She just shook her head. I understood. It seemed like I was telling a story someone made up. It didn't seem real that I was talking about our friend. But I had to go on. I don't know if it was because I needed her to understand or I just needed to tell someone so I wasn't holding the weight of the news all alone.
"There were empty bottles from sleeping pills and painkillers next to the bed."
Her head shot up at that and she scowled hard.
"No," she growled.
"He...Aaron killed himself, Joanie."
"No!" she screamed and tried to pull her hands away from where I was holding them between us.
"No!"
It seemed the only word she knew anymore.
"Honey…I'm so sorry."
The tears I had been holding off started to fall. Joanie wasn't letting hers go but Aaron was my friend too. He had stood up with me at our wedding. He had taken care of Joanie before I knew her. He had been her confidant so often when I couldn't be what she needed. He was a good man. He was young and vital and he could not be gone. It just didn't make sense.
We had spent years worrying that Kid would die in a jungle half a world away and once we finally got him home and safe, someone who was supposed to be safe was gone. There was no warning. It wasn't some enemy that took him. He took himself from us. He chose to leave. It was the cruelest blow of all.
"You're wrong," she kept insisting. "You're lying. How could you be so cruel? Aaron is fine. Gene was mistaken. He has to be. Aaron wouldn't do that. He just wouldn't."
Words were not going to help this at all. I just pulled her to me and held her tight.
"No," Joanie whimpered as the tears began.
"I know, honey. I know."
"No you don't," she sobbed. "You have your best friend still. You got your brother back. Mine's gone."
Her hands balled into fists and pounded hard on my chest. I fought against her struggling form to hold her tighter to me.
"Mine left me. Why did he leave me? If he was so…why didn't he…I was right here!"
Joanie's words had started in a low hiss but grew with each blow to my chest to a wail bordering on hysteria. She punctuated her last word by pushing violently away from me. Her nostrils flared as she glared at me with her eyes full of fire.
"Tell me! You studied this. Why? Why did he leave? Why didn't he call? Why?"
"I don't know, sweetheart," I admitted. "None of us can know that."
"What good is that?"
I shook my head sadly. If I could have given her answers, I would have. Hell, if I had any answers now…for me…I'd take them. I don't know why he didn't reach out. I've talked to Gene since then. He was just as shocked as we were. He had no idea Aaron was hurting that bad.
And then there were the drugs. After he died, they found some heavy narcotics in his bag. Pain killers. Apparently he was always in pain after he took that beating on the freedom rides. He was hooked on those pain killers.
The addiction probably didn't help his situation. You have to understand what it was like for a man like Aaron in a time like we were living in then. There were no gay pride parades or court cases allowing marriage rights or anything like that. All Aaron had was shame and hiding.
Thing was, he didn't think he had anything that he ought to be ashamed of. He was a man in love. More than that, he was a man in love with someone who loved him right back. A man in that situation ought to be able to brag it up. He had to hide it. He had to keep it a secret from co-workers and bosses. He couldn't hold hands with the person he loved as they walked through Central Park like other lovers. I know it depressed him.
Still, a lot of people are depressed and in pain and they don't take a whole bottle of sleeping pills. They don't leave their family and friends devastated.
The night we learned of Aaron's death—we never referred to it as a suicide even though that's what it was—was the closest Joanie truly let me get to her for a long time. She didn't have the energy for pretenses. She was heartbroken and she let me care for her. We cried a lot that night and for a few after that as well.
That night, Joanie cried herself to sleep in my arms. I was reminded how small and frail she could be. It was the first time in a long time that I had felt up to the challenge truly of taking care of her.
You want the truth about the whole scene with Mr. Cohen and Uncle Eli at the country club and the real reason it bothered me was that I wondered too if I really was putting her best interests first. It wasn't that I felt I was making her keep getting pregnant or anything but I wasn't sure I was doing enough to see to her.
In the dark of our room that night, with her tears drying on my t-shirt and her little body curled up in my arms, I felt man enough for the task. I never believed I could completely shield her from the hurt the world would fling her way but I always wanted to be the warm, safe place she could land. I knew I was succeeding that night.
I don't want to make it sound like I was in any way happy about Aaron dying. If all he ever was to me was a friend to her, that would have been enough for me to not want to see something like this happen. But I guess I felt closer to Aaron than in the beginning. We had some good talks after the wedding. He wouldn't just call to talk to Joanie but to me too sometimes. He'd been talking about maybe he and Gene would move to Michigan after he finished his residency. I was looking forward to it.
When he died, we hadn't talked in a while but I remember the last time we had talked. It was not long after we found out Kid was still alive and coming home to us.
"I have to admit that I always found your faith in him being alive misplaced but admirable," he admitted to me. "I'm glad to be wrong."
"I'm glad you were too."
"For you to lose him…" his voice trailed as if grasping for the words he needed. "I have a brother, James. I love Dan and he cares for me as family should. But it has never been the relationship you have with your friend."
He paused again and I let him. I didn't know what to say and even, though I wasn't in the room with him, I knew it wasn't my turn to talk.
"Joanie," he continued. "With her I had what you have...she has always been like a sister to me. Maybe even closer than a sister. If we'd grown up in the same house we couldn't have a tighter bond. She understood what Dan never could. I prayed for your friend to come home as I pray to never have to live without Joanie."
There was a pause and even over long distance phone lines I could hear him draw a shaky breath.
"I'm glad I don't have to worry for her anymore," he continued. "With you taking care of her, no one needs to worry for her."
There was something resolute about his tone when he said that. Something final and decisive. I was still trying to come up with something to say when he spoke again.
"Thank you."
I've thought a lot about that conversation since. Those were the last words I heard him speak so I've turned them over and over in my head trying to make some sense of things. I think he was giving himself permission to do what he did. It was many years before I told Joanie. I was afraid if I told her right after he died that she'd blame me.
He was rationalizing something, that was for sure. But in all the years that he's been gone from us, his words only make me madder. If he knew how precious she was to him, how did he not know how much he meant to her? Whatever pain he might've thought losing her would bring, he had to know his actions would cause the same hurt to her. It makes me so mad to think he could do that to her.
He said he loved her. He said she was his sister. He said he worried for her well-being and then he didn't think of her at all before he took those pills.
I laid there in the darkness holding tight to my wife. The tears ran down the sides of my head and into my hair. I didn't dare move to wipe them away for fear of disturbing Joanie. I didn't mind them anyway. No one was there to see and mourning a friend ain't shameful.
In time the tears stopped coming and I was just worn out. I kissed the top of Joanie's head through her mass of unruly curls and felt her pull herself tighter to me. Then I fell asleep too.
The days leading to the funeral were hard. Joanie clung to me like a child to a security blanket. To be honest, there was something comforting to me about having her so close to me.
The funeral itself wasn't any easier. I knew I would have to face Mr. Cohen and Uncle Eli. I didn't hold any bad feelings toward them by that point. Maybe I shouldn't have anyway. They were doing what they thought they needed to do to protect a loved one. Sadly she wasn't the loved one who needed the protecting the most.
Gene's was one of the first faces I saw when Joanie and I got there. Joanie hugged him tight. I did too. We remained friends with Gene, over the years. He eventually found someone else to love but it wasn't easy for him.
After the funeral, Mr. Cohen and Uncle Eli sought me out. I didn't think we'd do this that day but I knew it was coming. I figured I would call one of them in the week that followed and see about burying the hatchet. Life was far too short to carry a grudge that amounted to a spitting contest over who loved Joanie most.
But instead I found myself in Uncle Eli's study with a glass of his good scotch in my hand.
"James," Mr. Cohen began, "I need to apologize. We were wrong. Whatever our concerns are, that was not the way to handle the situation."
"I accept your apology," I said looking from one weary man to the other. "It's not necessary but I accept it all the same. You love her. I know that. I didn't need to act like I did about it either. I'm sorry."
Eli shifted in his chair and I looked to him. He had been silent this whole time. It was painful to look at him then. His eyes were rimmed in red and he carried a hurt that I would say I didn't understand except that I did. I had felt it twice over by then. He knew it too. He knew that I could relate to his pain like few others. I knew what it was to lose a child. Some people seem to think that it doesn't hurt as much to lose a child to miscarriage as when they are older. That's crap. It all hurts.
"I remember when I first met you, James," Eli said softly. His voice was raspy from lack of use and from having been grieving so. "Little Zeisele was going through something terrible. It was after that terrible thing with that Stan fellow."
His thoughts seemed to drift off to that dark time. It hurt him terribly to see her that day. I know it did. As suddenly as his thoughts wandered, he shook himself back.
"I watched you then. I saw how you took care of her. I saw the strength you gave her. I watched you try to shelter her with your body. I knew then that I wanted you to marry her. I knew that she would be taken care of. I knew you would see to her. If you could then you would keep her from pain. If you could not, you would see her through it and share her burden."
Uncle Eli paused again as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a drink. Then his deep brown eyes focused on me. He looked weary and wounded but he was making sure I was listening good to what he had to say next.
"I knew these things about you then. I forgot them. Please forgive me."
I saw a tear make its way down his creased face. There were more lines there than I remembered seeing just a couple weeks before at the party.
"Uncle Eli, there is nothing to forgive."
This was not an easy chapter to write and I, once again, must give great thanks to my dearest Beulah for helping me with it. She has the best eye for what isn't needed and what needs more fleshing out!
I hope this was at least up to par. Let me know what you think. - J