Chapter 21

Chris rapped lightly on my office door before entering. Looking up from my computer screen I smiled, then saved my work file.

“Hi,” I greeted him.

Taking a seat, he said, “You probably already know this.”

I searched his face, shaking my head.

“Donna got a call from Wes Bergman’s assistant. He lost his sister this morning.”

“Noooooo.” My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God. I went to see her two days ago.” The rest of what I was going to say stuck in my throat, as a hazy Chris swam before my watery eyes. Biting my lower lip not to cry, I composed myself enough to ask about arrangements.

“Service is at a funeral home in Queens on Thursday morning. Donna has all the info. I’m going to go let the rest of the team know.” Chris got up from the chair. “If you need to get out of here.” He didn’t have to finish the sentence.

I stared at the wall in my office for about twenty minutes, paralyzed. Unable to move from my chair. Stacy was gone. Her poor chemo-weakened immune system couldn’t stand up to pneumonia’s powerful onslaught. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Putting my head in my hands, I let the tears flow. My heart ached for the memories we would never make together. The conversations we would never have. This brash woman turned out to have a bigger heart than anyone I knew. Underneath the prickles was a loyal and caring woman, who made me laugh with her pointed barbs. After the Julien story (seems we all had our Julien stories), no wonder why she didn’t let people in. She’d been a sixteen-year old with a secret. Embarrassed. Made to feel cheap and worthless for wanting to be loved.

I understand, Stacy. I understand. And I don’t judge you.

Oh Stace. I am so, so sorry. I really am going to miss you so very much. Never in a million years did I ever expect our paths to cross again and I certainly never would have ever guessed that you and I would become friends. But I’m glad we did. You know you really got under my skin – and I mean that in a good way.

I don’t know that I’m going to be able to honor your last request to me, to take care of your brother. Lord knows I would love to, so that you can rest in peace. But that is truly up to Wes. I can’t want him to want me in his life. It was a cruel twist of fate to find the two of you again after all these years, just to lose you both. I really saw us as all becoming family and I’m heartbroken that the three of us will not be growing old together. I feel like I’d been given this great gift, only to have it robbed from me.

Bitch, I’m going to miss you!

I’m fighting with myself now about calling or texting your brother. I want to reach out to him. Comfort him. But he made it clear that he can’t deal with me and wanted space. And I know I should respect that and just give him my condolences on Thursday. But it’s so hard not to reach out, because I want to be there for him. That is what you do for people you love. And I do, I love him. And I loved you too, you ornery bitch.

Damn, I’m going to miss you.

There was only one right thing to do. And I knew that. Whether he wanted it or not.

Wes – Chris just told me. I am so, so sorry. I just can’t believe it. I’m really going to miss her a lot and I’m glad we had the opportunity to become friends. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate. I’m here. ~ T

Curled up like a cat on my couch with her legs tucked under her, Laynie took another sip of her wine. “Do you want me to come with you tomorrow?”

“Thank you, but no. I’ll be okay. There’s a whole work contingent going. So, I will just blend in with them.”

“Have you slept? You look like shit.”

Rubbing my burning eyes, I shook my head. “Not very much. I’m just devastated over everything. My heart actually hurts. I wasn’t ready for the two of them to be ripped away from me.”

“Have you heard from him at all?”

“No. I’m sure he has his hands full with arrangements and dealing with the situation with me would be overload.” I reached for my wine glass on the coffee table.

Laynie gave me the look that says, I call bullshit. “I’m sure he is overwhelmed and hurting. He lost the last member of his immediate family, but he owed you a phone call to let you know what happened. You were taking the woman to chemo and visiting her in the hospital.”

“I know. You’re right. This just reaffirms that he wants me out of his life. So, I will stay out of his life. I need to get through tomorrow and the Breast Cancer event in October and that will be it. I’m sure after this round of videos, he won’t be using O’Donnell & Associates in the future. So, he will be out of my life again and I will move on. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me there tomorrow for moral support?” Laynie looked concerned.

Shaking my head. “No. I’ll be okay. I’ll have Jonathan and Chris there with me.”

“Yeah, but I know how you are.” Laynie was referring to my almost phobic fear of funerals. “This way you could take a little something to relax before you leave and I could drive.”

“I’ll be okay,” I assured her. What I didn’t admit was that if I took something, I was fearful of having my guard down and being around Julien. If he dared to verbally accost me, I wanted to be sharp and able to defend myself.

I made sure I didn’t leave too early. The last thing I wanted was to be there with a lot of time before the service began. My plan was to stay for the service, give my condolences to Wes and exit as quickly as was socially acceptable. I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to attend the graveside service after the funeral home or the repast that was taking place after that. Paying my respects here allowed me to properly say goodbye to Stacy without becoming a burden for Wes. I needed to grieve. But I needed to do that privately.

The O’Donnell & Associates team was in a pew about halfway back. Sliding in, I sat next to Jonathan.

“Hey Sweetie.” He kissed my cheek. “Have you seen Wes?”

“No. Not yet.” I noticed the front pew was empty.

“I think he went off with the funeral director.”

My eyes focused on the simple wooden coffin at the front, covered in a blanket of purple irises. They were beautiful and I wondered if they were Stacy’s favorite flower. It was hard to imagine Stacy lying in that box, she had been such a force to be reckoned with. Pulling out a tissue, I started dabbing my eyes. Change your thoughts, Tara, I told myself. Think of something totally nasty that Stacy said.

“The first time I met her, she made me cry.” I whispered to Jonathan.

“Oh no, what did she do to you?” He looked shocked and amused.

“She told me to stay away from her brother. She said he had a girlfriend who was an actress that looked like Sharon Stone and that he’d never leave her for me.”

Dramatically, Jonathan’s hand flew to his mouth. “She did not.”

Nodding my head, I laughed. “She did. She wanted me nowhere near Wes.” I looked at her coffin with a smile. “And the bitch got her way. Never in a million years would I ever have guessed that she and I would end up being friends.”

From a side door, Wes, Julien and several other people emerged and made their way to the front pew. I could see the tightness and stress in Wes’ face, the sadness in his heart evident in lines that appeared more deeply etched than the last time I’d seen him. My heart broke yet again. I so wanted to give him comfort. And seven rows back represented a million heart miles, as I’d been relegated to the status of business associate.

And then there was Julien, about to take a seat next to Wes. Before he sat down, he turned around, quickly surveying the pews.

“Does he have the remnants of a black eye?” Jonathan whispered in my ear.

“Sure does,” I snickered. What had he said about me that incited Wes to punch him in the eye. It must’ve been a doozy. Yet, there he sat at Wes’ side. And in that moment, I felt my anger spike. Fuck you both. Bros before hoes.

We began with the 23^rd Psalm. Not good. I could never make it through without mumbling and crying and today was no different. The man speaking was a Methodist minister. Stacy was not a member of his congregation, but he had grown up down the street from Stacy and Wes and known them his entire life.

“Stacy Bergman was a difficult person to get to know. Earning her trust was not easy. She always told it like it was and if she didn’t like you, she let you know. In no uncertain terms.” He paused as the attendees laughed at the truism. “Once you earned her trust, Stacy was a loyal and giving friend. And you became a friend for life. She would have your back through thick and thin and if anyone talked trash about you, Stacy Bergman would put them in their place with one clean swipe. She was a woman you wanted on your side. Always. Deeply passionate about causes she believed in, she was tireless in her efforts. Although not a mother herself, Stacy was a generous supporter, both in the giving of her time and funding, to the Special Friends Organization, a non-profit providing respite programs for children with special needs. A talented artist herself, Stacy could be found every Saturday at Special Friends running art classes and planning art shows for the students.”

As I sat and listened, I learned so much, realizing we had more in common that I’d ever thought.

“But more than anything, Stacy loved her older brother, Wes.” As Wes bowed his head, I could see his shoulders heaving. “I remember from the time we were small children, Stacy followed Wes everywhere. At the local Little League games, Stacy was his biggest cheerleader, bragging, and rightly so, about her brother’s athleticism. She was devoted to her brother as he was devoted to her.”

I was at the point where I almost couldn’t breathe, my tears were choking me so.

“Fighting a valiant fight against Breast Cancer, Stacy was a warrior, never for a second giving up hope, and in doing so, inspiring everyone around her to be hopeful about the endless possibilities in their lives.”

Stacy and I had just had the conversation about hope. She had told me not to give up hope on Wes, and I could feel my heart shredding and hopeless, as I stared at the back of her brother’s head. The sob that escaped from me was surprisingly loud. Everyone turned to look, including Wes, and I was glad when Jonathan pulled me to him, so that I could hide my face in his suit jacket and muffle my crying.

Hope. That light had been snuffed out. I’d hoped Stacy would beat this. I’d hoped Wes and I could talk through everything and make amends. I’d hoped Julien wouldn’t do anything to destroy us. I’d hoped I’d finally found my happily ever after. Hope didn’t feel very much like an ally to me.

And the only thing I now hoped was that the ceremony would soon be over and that I could leave.

After the minister, a few friends got up to speak, but I didn’t hear a word they said. When I saw Wes rise, I reached for Jonathan’s hand and squeezed it tight. I needed strength from somewhere.

“Thank you all for coming today to honor my sister and celebrate her life. I’m going to make this very brief. Little sisters are put on this Earth to drive their older brothers crazy and my sister was certainly exceptionally talented at that. Growing up she was like my shadow and by the time she was ten, it felt like she was my manager.” Everyone laughed. “My sister always had my back and I knew I always had her love. I can’t even begin to imagine how much I’m going to miss her and I’m just really fortunate that I had a sibling as great as Stacy.” Looking at her coffin, “I’m going to miss you, Brat. Thank you for loving me and believing in me so much.” Wes’ voice cracked. Wiping his eyes, he stepped down to where her coffin resided and bent down to kiss it before returning to his seat.

Crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe, I was afraid to look down at my chest for fear that my blouse would be shredded and stuffing would be hanging out. The searing pain made me feel as if I were the destroyed poppet. Stacy had not yet been diagnosed with pneumonia when I decimated the doll. If only I had known, I thought and then stopped myself at the lunacy of the thought pattern.

Chris bent forward and whispered, “Are you going to the cemetery or repast?”

Shaking my head, no, “I’m just going to relay my condolences to Wes and then go home and work from there today, if that’s okay.”

He nodded his head.

The ceremony ended with the playing of Stacy’s favorite song, Train’s Drops of Jupiter. Wiping my eyes again, I turned to Jonathan, “Pat Monahan wrote this song after his mother’s death. Part of it came to him in a dream. Best song he ever wrote,” I whispered.

Announcements were made about the burial and repast as everyone stood, allowing Wes and people I assumed were his cousins and an elderly aunt to exit to the outer room. It was time for me to convey my condolences to Wes and my anxiety was peaking at just the thought of approaching him. When I reached where they were gathered, he was surrounded by people. So, I stood off to the side and waited.

Almost pulled off my feet, Julien had grabbed hold of my upper arm and started dragging me off.

“Get your hands off me.” I wrenched my arm free. Pointing my finger at him, “Do not touch me again,” I seethed.

“I think you need to leave,” his voice was a low, harsh whisper.

“I’ll leave when I’m ready.” People were milling past us, unaware of what was going on.

“Don’t you think Wes has been through enough today without having to deal with you?”

I laughed. “Seriously, Julien? When have you ever cared what Wes was going through or put Wes first?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The man was looming over me imposingly.

“You want to know what it means?” I smiled. “It means I know a lot more than you think I know. And you’d better be careful around me or I will blow your life apart.”

“Those are some big words.”

“Yes, they are. And it would do you good to heed my advice.” With that, I turned on my heel and headed back to where Wes was standing. Still surrounded by guests, I no longer cared about being polite and negotiated my way into the center of the circle until I was face-to-face with him.

“I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am and how fortunate I feel to have had the opportunity to really get to know Stacy and become friends. I really enjoyed the time she and I spent together.”

Nodding, Wes smiled. “She felt the same way. And I haven’t thanked you for all you did taking her to treatments and visiting her in the hospital and keeping me updated on everything. I really did appreciate it, Tara.”

I nodded. There were no more words. None that were appropriate to speak in this setting. Leaning forward, I hugged Wes, taking him by surprise. His hands went on the sides of my waist, but not a hug. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I whispered and turned away, hoping to find the closest exit quickly.

I’d taken maybe three steps and Julien was upon me. My index finger immediately shot up to an inch from his nose. “Don’t you touch me,” I seethed and kept walking. Turning back to glare at him, I saw the stunned look on Wes’ face as he took in the encounter.

Finding the exit, I made it out to my car, my hands shaking as I tried to hit the right button on the remote to open the doors. Once inside, I immediately turned the air conditioning onto high and put my head down on my steering wheel. I’m not going to cry here, I decided. I will drive to a parking lot and pull in if I need to lose it.

Lifting my head from the steering wheel, I watched as they loaded Stacy’s iris covered casket into the hearse. Wes emerged from the funeral home, unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling out his sunglasses before he slipped into the limousine. My heart seared with the pain of losing him again, except this time I wasn’t calling his name, trying to get his attention. Maybe we were always meant to stay on our respective sides of the bridge, running parallel, but leading separate lives.

As the hearse began to pull away, the heaviness in my heart took on additional weight. I had lost a friend who died way too young. A woman who brought art to kids with special needs. I was going to miss her sharp tongue and our sparring.

Oh Stacy, I’m not going to be able to accomplish what you asked of me. And I’m sorry for that. But Wes and I need to go our separate ways and rebuild our lives. I am the last person he wants taking care of him.

But what I can do is try to lessen the void in your art students’ lives. I can’t replace you or what you’ve given to them, but maybe I can make sure art stays in their lives through graphic arts and other forms of artistic expression. That I can do. I can try and carry on your work and make sure what you started with these kids continues. I would be honored to do that.

Putting my car in drive to leave, I began to feel better. While I didn’t have a lot of hope for myself, I could make sure that it wasn’t lost for the special kiddos that meant so much to Stacy.