Chap 18 The Aftermath
With thanks to God.
POV Frank
"We've got to leave," Sam says. "They're locking up the church for the night."
Part of me doesn't want to leave Joe alone. Even though I know he's not in the casket.
"He's not here, Frank," Sam says.
Sam drives to my condo.
I unlock the door and stumble inside.
My ribs hurt but I force myself to climb the stairs. Joe's room is – was – at the end of the room.
Tang is asleep on Joe's bed. Bats sits by side keeping watch.
"I hope you do a better job than me," I whisper.
Clothes are strewn on the floor.
Joe's hairbrush lies on the floor. A few blond hairs are caught between the bristles. I grab the hairbrush. This is all I have left of Joe.
I killed him. I let him die. Just like Tony.
A framed picture of Iola sits on Joe's nightstand. Is he really with her? Or is he just gone?
"Frank?" Sam says.
I hide the hairbrush behind my back like a two-year-old.
"You still here?" I ask.
"Thought I'd spend the night," Sam says.
"I'm fine, Sam. I need to get used to being alone," I say.
"What do you mean?" Sam asks.
"Dad is gone a lot. You guys are partners, so you'll be gone a lot. My partner is dead," I say.
I can't believe I said Joe is dead.
I feel like throwing up.
"We'll all work together, Frank," Sam says.
"I don't want to do this without Joe," I whisper. And it's true. I have no idea what I want to do. Something that keeps me so busy I can forget Joe is dead.
"Any word from Dad?" I ask.
"Not yet," Sam says.
"Not surprised," I say.
The room shifts. I lean against the wall. Sam grabs my arm.
"Easy," Sam says. "When's the last time you ate?"
"Don't know," I whisper.
Sam helps me to my room. He sits me on my bed and takes off my shoes.
"Lie down," Sam says. "I'm going to get you some soup."
I fall on my bed. My ribs protest and I groan. Joe's hairbrush is still in my hand. I stow it under my pillow.
Feels like I'm in an episode of some science fiction movie. Joe's not dead. He's just out at the beach. Or helping Dad with a case. Or working on his Mustang.
The lies make me feel better. Because if Joe is gone, there's no one to pull me back when I bury myself in work. No one to help when my depression takes over my life. Like it did after Callie left. No one to save me. I'm walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls without a net.
"Eat," Sam says as he puts a tray on my bed. A look at the bowl of tomato soup. My stomach churns.
"I brought Joe's Bible. Thought you might want to pick out the funeral readings," Sam says.
Sam pages through Joe's Bible. Passages are highlighted. Notes are scribbled in the margins. Joe believed, why can't I?
Joe didn't talk about religion with me. He knew I didn't believe. I think Joe struggled to believe after Iola died.
But the Bible was one of my textbooks in a college Humanites course.
I'm mad at Sam. Mad at Dad for disappearing. Mad at Joe for dying.
"How about Psalm 22. 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'" I say.
I feel like God has given up on me.
"Jesus said that when he was dying," Sam says as he jots it on paper. "But the psalm ends with "For He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden His face from him, but has listened to his cry for help," Sam says.
"He hasn't heard me or Joe would still be here," I say.
"Frank…" Sam says.
"Psalm 38 'For I am about to fall and my pain is ever with me," I say.
I feel like my depression will swallow me up. And without Joe I don't know how I'll crawl out of it. After Callie left I was depressed for a year. Somehow Joe got me out of it, but now I am trapped.
I eat the soup and keep it down because I want Sam to leave.
"Psalm 31…'I have become like broken pottery….there is terror on every side," I whisper.
My eyes start to close. I'm too wired to sleep. I'm too scared to sleep. I don't want to dream about Joe being dead.
"Rest Frank," Sam says as he takes the tray off my bed.
"You drugged the soup?" I whisper.
"You need sleep," Sam says. "I'll be right here. If you have a dream, I'll wake you."
I try to keep my eyes open, but they close.
POV JOE
How can I be freezing and burning up at the same time? I shiver as I wipe off sweat from my forehead. I open my eyes. Thirsty.
"Water," I whisper.
"Get your own," someone says and laughs.
"Griff, why did you bring him here?" someone whines.
No answer.
Someone shoves a bottle of water in my mouth. I drink greedily. Nothing has ever tasted this good.
A smelly blanket is tossed over me.
"Geez, Griff why do you care about him?" someone asks.
"Now you owe me for the water and the blanket," Griff says.
"Who are you?" I whisper. My head pounds. "Who am I?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" Griff asks.
"Campfire," I whisper.
Griff smiles….a scary smile.
"I saved you. You drank too much. Then you fell in Barmet Bay. I got you back on land, warmed up and brought you here," Griff says.
I don't feel hung over, but the rest of the story makes sense. I ache all over. I close my eyes to stop the room from spinning.
"Who are you?" I whisper.
"I'm your big brother, Griff."
Brother. The word comforts me. I feel better.
"Who am I?" I ask.
But my eyes close before he answers.