From Under the Cork Tree

I couldn't have thanked Perry enough for putting some sense in my head. No, it didn't all set in right away, but I did realize that destroying myself and harming my baby wouldn't help anyone. My common sense was slow, the only certain thought was caring for my baby and thanking Perry. My depression spell didn't disappear as quick as my family had wished. I still felt broken inside, I hurt so badly, and I still felt like my life was over.

The day I was discharged from the hospital was the day of John's viewing and a candlelight vigil for him that night. I was told all this while I was getting dressed; Perry told me this all encouragingly, she didn't just dump it on me. I didn't feel like I was suffocating, I could only cry, and that was easier to take than being hysterical. My mom was with Perry to pick me up, and they told me how much better I looked after 2 days. My mom noticed I had color to my face, and that I was glowing; I didn't get what that meant, I still don't, I never seen myself or anyone else glow.

We arrived at the Holohan household just after 2PM, where it was quiet, except for the TV playing some football game. As we entered, I saw my dad sitting with Bobby and Mike. They all looked up when we came in; my dad was the first to get up and come over, pulling me into a hug.

Kissing the top of my head, he asked me how I was. I answered with a slight shrug, "I've been better."

My dad chuckled, rubbed my back and sighed softly, "I love you."

"I know. I love you too, dad."

My dad let me go, and after hugging and greeting Bobby and Mike, Perry led me upstairs. I was kind of shocked when she led me into John's old bedroom; I hadn't been in there since the last time I was with John. It sent my emotions into a twister; I smelt him and it brought tears to my eyes, but I wouldn't allow them to fall.

I was so sick of crying, my face was raw.

"Do you--" Perry stopped herself upon seeing me, then she came over, taking my hand and sat me down on the bed. "Oh, honey," she wrapped her arm around my shoulders, "I think being in here will help."

"How?" I asked.

"I talk to him here," she confessed, "I feel him here. I talk to him as if he's right beside me."

"Doesn't it hurt?" I asked, my throat growing tight, "How do you do it?"

"I know he isn't gone," she rubbed my arm, pulling me closer to her side, "he's here in spirit and half of him is growing inside of you."

She was right, even as crummy and cheated as I felt, Perry was right. John is dead, but I still have a lot of him left. It just hurts to know he won't experience the things I was going to.

Those sudden thoughts choked me. I felt like someone was holding my throat down with their hands. I could barely breathe.

"How am I gonna do this?" I broke into a sob. "How do I do this without him?"

Perry sighed, letting me cry against her bosom, "As best as you can, Angel. We'll be right there beside ya when you need us."

"Thank you," I managed to croak.

Perry hummed and kissed my temple, "Don't worry about a thing, we'll do what we can. If you need us just call."

I couldn't believe how close Perry and I had gotten, and how quickly. I had been sure that she and I would never see eye to eye. John's death seemed to bring us together, despite how badly it broke us apart inside.


As much as I protested, I was given time alone with John's body. I don't even remember how I got there, not even how I was coaxed into a room with his casket. I do remember saying no, but I must've not have put up a big fight.

I was in this room, in the funeral home, with dim lighting and John's open casket far off, surrounded with flowers and candles. The room was warm, due to the snow storm going on outside, and the flowers smelt powerful, almost too aggressive. But, there was no hate or disgruntled thoughts, I was numb, it didn't feel real.

After a minute of standing across the room, I moved my feet, my eyes glued to the casket, and started to walk towards his body. I inhaled that deep pungent odor of sweet flowers, keeping my mind numb and my eyes focused. My eyes would not glance at his body, I only caught a glimpse of his hands placed over his stomach, in my peripheral vision. My throat caught when I saw the gold shimmer of his wedding ring; I couldn't look away anymore. My left hand flew over my mouth when I finally laid eyes on John.

My John...

He didn't look like My John. He looked like a shell...an empty vessel of pasty white skin in a dark suit. This wasn't who I fell in love with, this wasn't my husband...this wasn't the father of my child.

"You're not John," I finally spoke, shakily, under my palm.

Even though I hated looking at his body, I couldn't stop looking. I kept seeing the things that didn't make him mine, I tried to see what did make him mine. But I saw nothing, this wasn't John anymore, no matter how much his face looked like his, it just wasn't him.

Maybe if he had been in a t-shirt and jeans...

No, it wouldn't be the same.

You could see that his eyelids had been glued shut, his mouth too. He had scrapes that were covered up by makeup; I had to lean in and see for myself. His hair had been pushed back, instead of how it used to cover his face. When I looked at his forehead, I saw a gash there that was hard to cover, it too had been glued shut. His earrings were gone; I looked at his hands and saw his wedding ring, and a pair of drumsticks were tucked underneath his hands.

I didn't cry once I finally got a good look. It didn't feel or look like John. It still didn't feel real; I still didn't believe he was dead. I did feel sorry. I was sorry he was dead.

I had placed my hand on the lip of his casket and apologized, "I'm sorry this happened to you...I won't remember you like this, okay?"

The room was silent, except for the heating above me, whooshing warm air in. I stepped closer to John's body, exhaling, trying to remember how he looked when he was alive, when he smiled wide, or when he puckered his lips like a fish to make me laugh and kiss me. I felt my cheeks burn as I smiled; I remembered his funny faces and his jokes.

"Fuck," I whispered, "I'm gonna miss you so much."

My heart ached as I stared at his made up face. I wanted so badly for him to spring up and say, "Gotcha!" but it didn't happen. I finally decided that this was it and I had to go. I didn't say anything else, I just leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth; his face felt hard, stiff and warm.

He wasn't alive anymore. I was greatly disappointed.

I stepped back, exhaled and took a final look. This was it. That was John's body, not John, and it was going to be buried soon.

After another minute, I left the room and closed the double doors behind me. My mom and Perry were waiting, both with curious eyes and tissues in their hands. I didn't know if the tissues were for me or them.

"Are you okay, honey?" My mom asked first.

I nodded, "I'm okay."

"Did you say goodbye to John?" Perry asked me next.

Again, I nodded, "Yes. But...you know..."

I didn't know how to say it really. I didn't know how to say that, that wasn't John.

"I said goodbye and that I'm sorry," I finished.

Perry smiled softly, then she hugged me, rubbing my back, "This isn't goodbye forever, you know."

I swallowed, "Yeah...I'll see him again."

Perry pecked my cheek, and let me go, letting my mom engulf me into a hug.

"How're you feelin'?" She asked me softly.

"I'm okay, mom," I murmured.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded for the third time, "I'm sure."

She kissed my cheek too, letting me go as well, but kept her arm around my waist, and then followed Perry out of the funeral home with me. I was being cared for like a baby, but I didn't even mind it, I knew they were making sure I didn't fall to pieces again. I wouldn't, that was for sure, but they didn't know that.

We were loaded into a car, with my father, Big Bob, Bobby and Mike, and driven to the Holohan Home, where there was another gathering of people. All of them had stopped talking and socializing when I entered; they looked like they were afraid of me, like I was some big bad monster. I wanted to say "Boo!" just in case I was some monster, but I wasn't given the chance, because as soon as I was seated on the couch Anthony sat beside me.

Now, I was sure he was going to yell or at the very least growl under his breath at me. But, I was pleasantly surprised to see he was calm, he did have some tears, his eyes were red and puffy. I had swallowed, then I tried to apologize, but he stopped me.

"It's okay," he said softly.

"I didn't mean--"

He stopped me again, "I understand. I'm...I was angry too...it hurts."

"He really loved you guys," I murmured softly, "John was only with you guys for a little while, but he loved every minute of it."

Anthony smiled, "Oh, I know that, Angelus. John Beatz was my brother, I hate how short of a time we had together."

"It isn't fair," I added quietly, not wanting my emotions to burst.

He scooted closer and wrapped his arm around me, "There will never be another John Beatz, but a mini version is coming. John's gonna live on."

I started to tear up. I let the tears roll down my cheeks, and placed my hand on my belly. That's when it hit me, right then, that John was dead.

"I can't believe this is happening," I whimpered, immediately falling into a mess of sobs and tears.

I couldn't make out what everyone was saying, they all huddled around me, joining in a hug. The love I felt from them was immense, but the loss of my love was greater. It stirred and bounced in my head that John was dead and I wasn't going to see him again.

Death was cruel. Life was cruel.

All I kept saying, during the chest breaking sobs, "Why? Why me? Why John?"

No one answered, all I could make out was, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."