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At the Eleventh Precinct, Detective Hanson was poring over the evidence of their latest homicide when Doctor Henry Morgan came up from the morgue.
“Detective, do you know where Jo is? I have a new theory about what happened to Mr. Harsh.”
“Sorry, Doc, Jo called in sick today.”
“She’s sick? She didn’t seem ill yesterday.”
“It’s just a little bug. She’ll be back to work tomorrow.”
Henry didn’t feel at all comforted by this as he began to worry about his partner.
“Doc,” Hanson said, pulling Henry back to the present. “You said you had a new theory?”
“Oh yes,” Henry replied, and then he told Detective Hanson what he had found when he went back over the autopsy report.
*****
The rest of the day Henry continued to worry about Jo. He even tried calling her a couple of times, but she never picked up. This only added to his worry. After leaving the morgue, Henry took a cab to Jo’s place. As the cab pulled up in front of her house, he debated for just a moment if he was doing the right thing. He was not one to intrude on her privacy, especially if she was sick. However, the doctor in him demanded that if she was sick, it was his duty to help her. With that in mind, Henry knocked on her front door.
*****
When the knock sounded, Jo sighed and paused the movie she had been watching. Getting up, she walked to the door. She didn’t much care for the intrusion into her privacy; that’s the reason she had turned off her phone. She pulled open the door and saw Henry standing there.
“Hello, Henry,” she greeted with as much cheeriness as she could muster.
“Hello, Jo,” he said quietly, taking in her disheveled appearance and red puffy eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you were doing; Detective Hanson said you were ill.”
“I’m fine,” Jo sighed.
“I hope you forgive me, but you don’t sound fine.”
She knew he meant well, she really did, but she felt herself getting irritated at her British partner. “Look, Henry, I’m fine. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.”
She could see Henry hesitate on her door step. She started to feel a little unnerved as he observed her and probably saw plenty of indications that she was not fine. Even so, Henry must have realized he would not get anywhere by pushing her, so he nodded and said, “Good night, Jo,” as he turned to leave.
Was that a hint of dejection that Jo had heard in his voice? “Henry, wait,” she said before she could stop herself.
Henry turned around. “Yes?” He sounded genuinely concerned.
Jo stepped away from the door. “Come inside.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “Can I take your coat?”
Henry handed his jacket to her and followed her silently as she walked back into her living room.
He looked around; it was a nice cozy room, done in soft shades of brown and tan. The coffee table by the couch had a pizza box and a discarded pint of mint chip on it.
“Excuse the mess,” Jo said, when she caught what he was looking at.
“It’s alright,” he rushed to assure her as she half-heartedly started to clean up.
She stopped what she was doing and gestured to the couch. “Would you like to have a seat?”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like anything to drink? I have coffee, and I think I have some tea.” Jo was clearly stalling for time.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he said, putting his hands in his lap and waiting silently. When it became clear she was not going to talk, he asked, “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
Jo sat down with a sigh and looked once again at the TV where the movie she had been watching was paused.
Henry followed her eyes and on the screen saw Jo and her late husband Sean on their wedding day. They were holding hands and looking at each other as if the world around them didn’t exist at that moment. It clicked then, when he saw the date and time stamp on the video. Today was their anniversary. “Oh, Jo,” he said softly.
“Henry, don’t,” she said, in a stronger voice than she felt, and then sighed as she looked down at her hands.
Henry tentatively reached over to cover her hands with his. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. I only wish that you would have called me; you didn’t have to go through this alone.”
Jo didn’t pull away, and when she looked up he could see tears shining in her eyes.
“Talk to me, Jo,” he urged her softly.
“I just didn’t expect this to hit me so hard. I mean, I thought I was past this. it’s been over a year since Sean died.”
“Jo, there will always be bad days, even many years after the loss of a loved one. For now, there’s no shame in letting yourself feel the pain of it. Just know that it won’t last forever.“
She looked like she didn’t believe him.
Henry sighed and gave her a small comforting smile. “I know it seems impossible now, but you will get through it, and I will be here to help.” After a moment he added, “Always remember, ‘I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.’ ”
Giving him a tender grin, she sighed, “Oh Henry, leave it to you to quote Tennyson.”
He gave her a small smile in return and squeezed her hand gently in comfort. Their friendship was such that they could remain silent as they gave and received comfort from each other, because they both understood what losing someone felt like. Sometimes, no other words between them were needed.
The End