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Jack woke up and reached out to his left, expecting to find his boyfriend’s warm body. Instead, he felt nothing. Just the cold sheets, that specific emptiness that you can only find in a bed of someone who used to be there but isn’t. He turned over and looked at the clock, 6:07. Jack should’ve been up by now, but instead he turned over on his tear-soaked pillow and tried to go back to sleep.
When he’s sleeping, he can’t feel the grief gnawing in the pit of his stomach, he can’t feel the lump that grows in his throat every time he tries to speak, and most importantly, he can’t see Crutchie’s green eyes that haunt him every time he opens his eyes. But, Crutchie’s funeral is today. He would much rather stay home and wallow in self-pity, but his friends are going to be there, and he knows that Crutchie would’ve wanted him to come. So, he crawls out of bed, puts on a suit, and ties a blue tie with white stripes, the one Crutchie got him for their 5-year anniversary, with shaking hands. Jack mustered up the courage to walk out of their, no, his apartment and hail a cab to the church.
Walking up to the big oaken doors, he takes a deep breath and fights the instinct to run away. Far far away, maybe to Florida. Crutchie always talked about wanting to go to Disney world, and he knew all the words to “Under the Sea.” Jack smiled faintly at the memory of eating popcorn in their crappy apartment and soft kisses, whispered promises of forever. But, he knew that none of that would happen. He wouldn’t ever hold him again, kiss him again, see him smile, or laugh.
And, with that thought, Jack ran to the bathroom and heaved up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in about two days, and his body was starting to feel the effect of prolonged grief and dehydration. The room was spinning, Jack was sobbing, and he couldn’t get up. Davey walked in, his eyes red, and looked at Jack with pity. “Come on Jack, you have to get up. He wouldn’t have wanted this.” Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “I know Dave. It’s just, I miss him. I can’t open my eyes without seeing him somewhere. Across the street, in a crowd of people. He’s everywhere Dave.” Jack got up and washed his tear-streaked face to try and make himself at least somewhat presentable. He stood at the counter, his eyes closed to keep himself from breaking down again.
He had to be strong for everyone else. But, Jack was the one who was supposed to be vulnerable. The love of his life had been taken from him. He had every right to be inconsolable. His own stupid pride wouldn’t let him. Jack and Davey walked out of the bathroom and into the chapel. There were already some familiar faces there. He saw Race, Les, and Specs, but there were probably many others. Crutchie was well-loved by everyone. Jack walked to where the casket was placed. But, before he could get there, he froze in his tracks. He couldn’t bear the thought of looking at Crutchie in that casket. Cold, lifeless, flat. It wasn’t Crutchie in that casket. It was a mound of perfectly preserved flesh that used to be his Crutchie, and that would be set in the ground to rot. Suddenly, Jack felt like he was going to hurl again. So, he decided to go sit at one on the many pews and take a seat. Jack hadn’t been to many churches in his life, and he didn’t like this one. It was too big, and he felt a sense of foreboding.