Chapter 10

"Remember The Day I Set You Free, I Told You You Could Always Count On Me"

NOVEMBER 1st, 1979

After lunch, I practically sleepwalked through my next class. The one after that, which was history, they made an announcement over the loudspeaker.

I didn't think that was necessarily the right thing to do. I mean, some people, that's how they found out. I'm not sure if I liked it. I later found out that Beth had requested it be done. But she was dying. Someone should have talked her out of it.

Anyhow, I was sitting in history class, and the loudspeaker crackled. "Attention. May I please have everyone's attention." It was the principal himself. "I have sad news. A member of our Sophomore class, Elizabeth Trovini, lost her long battle with leukemia and passed away late this morning. Funeral arrangements are still being made and will be posted on the bulletin board outside of the office when they are complete. Our condolences go out to Elizabeth's family and friends."

I wasn't going to cry. There was no reason to cry. I knew this was coming. I'd lived through it before. I accepted the inevitability of it. I wasn't going to cry.

I cried. Sitting there in the middle of fucking history class with big huge fat tears rolling down my face. I just couldn't stop it. I knew she was gone--had known for some time that she was going--but hearing that announcement was like a kick in the gut.

I realized something then. I thought I'd dealt with things much better this time--not letting her push me away, keeping our friendship right until the end, going to see her in the hospital a mere five days ago. I figured that was the better way to handle it. And in the long run, I'm sure it would be.

In the short run? Well, the way I handled it the first time, Beth and I did say goodbye, in a manner of speaking, though we never said it out loud. It was the long, gradual, fading-away-in-the-distance goodbye. When she left, she was already gone, if you see what I mean.

This way? It was sudden. It was brutal. Even though I knew it was coming. Five days! I'd seen her five fucking days ago! And now--gone. Like that. Just completely brutal.

Now I know why she'd pushed me away the first time, and why she tried to push me away this time, and why she didn't want me visiting her in the hospital. She was trying to save me from this.

I still thought she was wrong, mind you. Because I could see into the future. It might be worse now, but it wouldn't be five, ten, twenty years down the road. I was convinced of that.

First, however, I had to live through the now. And the now was me sitting in a damn class unable to stop crying, with the teacher and the rest of my classmates--many of whom didn't know Beth from a hole in the wall--looking on in horror.

However, I'd forgotten who was in that class with me. And I guess with the whole post-Kelly post-everything else fallout, I'd forgotten who my friends were. Two of them reminded me. Danica Rosen was in that class, and before I knew it, she was crouched next to my desk, murmuring in my ear and rubbing my hand. Michelle Pepper was standing behind me, massaging my neck.

Damn.

The teacher, Mrs. Cruickshank, spoke up after a few minutes. "Are you going to be all right, Ed?"

I couldn't speak. Michelle spoke for me. "Beth Trovini was his best friend," she told Mrs. Cruickshank.

"Michelle? Dani? Could one of you get Ed to the nurse, please?" Mrs. Cruickshank said. They managed to get me out of my chair and Michelle walked me down to the nurse, her arm around me. I'd gotten the crying down to the odd sniffle.

"I know how bad this sucks," she said.

"That it does."

"Eddie? I'm going to miss her, too. Thank you for introducing her to me. I'm a better person for having known her." That just made me start crying all over again.

However, through the tears, I had a moment of perfect clarity. This time around, I had lessened my isolation, hadn't let Beth push me away, and had stayed here instead of going to the Prep. Because of all those things combined, who had I introduced Beth to that would've never have known her? God, there were so many. Kelly, Kara, Danica, Michelle, Stan... the list just went on. Those people got to know Beth. Michelle was clearly broken up--not as badly as I was, but she felt the loss.

Grief shared is grief lessened, right?

Besides, what Michelle said was right--anyone that got to know Beth was a better person for it.

Even in the midst of my tears, I had an enormous sense of having done the right thing.

We got to the nurse's office, and I heard this awful wailing. I immediately knew what it was. "Oh my God, Olivia," I said to Michelle.

"Shit. She's going to be a basket case. At least you had accepted in your mind that it was coming," Michelle said.

"Right."

We walked up to the nurse. Michelle knew her, she was Michelle's neighbor. "Hi, Mrs. Lancaster," she said. "This is my friend Eddie. The girl that died was his best friend, he's a little shook up."

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"I'm a little shaky. I started crying in history class," I admitted. "That howling. Is that Olivia Drogins?"

"Yes, it is," the nurse said sadly. "She's inconsolable. I understand she was very close to--what was her name? Elizabeth?" I nodded. "Well, Olivia's having a far worse time of it than you are."

"I accepted the probabilities. Olivia was in denial. Can I see her? It might help."

"Are you sure that is a good idea, Eddie?" Michelle asked. "You weren't in great shape yourself a minute ago."

"I'm better than Olivia. She needs a friend." Michelle nodded. I hugged her and thanked her for the support. She headed back to class, as the nurse took me to the room where Olivia was.

She looked absolutely horrible. She obviously had been crying and wailing for some time. This is why I disagreed with announcing it over the loudspeaker. "Eddie?" she wailed. "Oh, God, Eddie, she's gone! I can't believe she's gone!" After that, there were no words, just screaming.

I just went over to her and held her for a while. I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't exactly feeling all that great myself. She settled down a little bit.

"I have something for you," I told her, remembering. It was in my book bag. I took it out and handed it to her. "I saw Beth on Saturday, I went into the hospital."

"She'd said no visitors," Olivia said.

"I ignored her. She was pissed at first, but finally was glad. We had a wonderful day together. Anyway, she wrote you something. She told me to give it to you, you know, after."

"What's in it?" she said, looking at the envelope.

"I have no idea. That's between you and Beth. I'm just the deliveryman."

She tore it open and started reading, and I watched her gradually relax. It was visible. She was pulling herself together, reading the last note from Beth.

I didn't ask. That note was from Beth to Olivia. Beth and I had said what needed to be said. So, I don't know what Beth wrote. Whatever it was--it helped. It helped a lot. Olivia got stronger with every line she read.

That's Beth for you.

Anyhow, we hugged for a while after she finished the note--but she was better. She was still a little sniffly, but better. She decided to stay with the nurse for the rest of the day, but I headed for my last class, biology. I felt better and bio was my favorite subject.

I was a little late. I handed Mr. Cullin, the teacher, my note from the nurse. "Feeling ill, Ed?" he asked.

"Not physically. But I'm OK for now."

"You look like you've been crying," he said. He said it softly, but, of course, the whole class heard.

"The girl that died today, Beth Trovini, was my best friend," I told him. "I'm OK now, though."

"You really don't have to be here," he said.

"I'm fine," I said, and took my seat.

Afterwards, Stan was waiting for me. "You OK?" he asked.

"I'm hanging in there," I said.

"If you need anything?"

"Thanks. It's appreciated." I made my way out to the bus stop.

I got on the bus, kind of lost. Danica had already grabbed a seat, and pulled me into it. "You need a friend today," she said.

"Thanks," I replied gratefully. Sara said something to me as she passed, as did some of the others on the bus.

Kelly was one of the last people on the bus. She looked miserable--hey, she'd become friends with Beth, too, when we were going out. She looked around and spotted me, and walked up to me. "Eddie, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Thanks," I replied. Those were the first words she'd said to me since we broke up. And it just didn't seem to matter anymore. She bit her lip and kept walking towards the back of the bus.

Danica put her hand on mine for the whole ride home.

When I got home, Mom was there waiting for me. I could tell she'd been crying. "I know," I told her, "they announced it at school."

"Are you OK?"

"Not particularly."

"Eddie, I'm so glad you went in to see her on Saturday."

"So am I. I'm gonna go to my room, listen to some music," I told her.

I listened to music for most of the afternoon, just lying on the bed, lost in my thoughts. Mom called me for dinner after a while.

"Where is everybody?" I asked her, seeing it was just us.

"Your brother and sister are over your Grandmother's. Dad's got a late job tonight so he won't be home until close to midnight. And after supper, I'm going over to Lydia's. She needs some help tonight."

"OK," I said.

"Will you be OK alone?"

"Yeah," I said, though I wasn't too sure of that. Maybe I'd call someone.

"The wake is tomorrow. The funeral is Saturday. Look, Gram wants to go to the funeral. I don't know if Dad is going to be around. I thought that you might not want to go to the funeral, so you could stay home and watch the kids."

That's what had happened the first time. That's right, I didn't go to Beth's funeral the first time. The wake was devastating enough. This time, however, was different. "Sorry, Mom, I have to go to the funeral. I promised Beth. She asked me to get up and speak."

"Really?"

"Yeah. When I was there on Saturday, she asked if I would."

"You going to be able to get through it?"

"I promised I would, so I will."

We finished eating, and then there was a knock at the door. I went to answer it--and, before I knew it, I was being wrapped in a bear hug.

Kara.

"Oh, Eddie, I'm so sorry," she said, looking up at me. It was obvious she'd been crying.

"I'm so glad to see you," I said, which was the truth. "How did you find out so soon?"

"Kelly called me," she told me. "She said she thought you'd need a friend. So she called me. I called Mom and told her to come get me." Mrs. Pocharsky was with her, she'd come in behind her and was in the kitchen talking to my mother. "So, here I am. I'm not going back to school until after the funeral."

"It's Saturday. The wake is tomorrow. God, Kara, I'm so glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here, too." Mrs. Pocharsky left, saying she'd be back to pick Kara up in a few hours. Mom headed out, too, to go to Lydia's.

We went into the living room and sat on the couch for a while, just holding one another. "I'm going to miss her. Not as much as you are, obviously, but I liked her a lot," Kara said.

"Yeah."

"Look, I hope it's all right that I'm here--you know, instead of Kelly. I tried to get her to come, but she just couldn't."

"Don't be silly. Kara, I love you. I'll always love you. I'm very glad you're here. It helps a lot." And it was the truth. In fact, Kara was just about the only person in the world that could make me not miss Kelly.

We cuddled and snuggled for a while. Kara just was intent on making me feel better. After a while, she said, "I've never seen your bedroom. You've seen mine, but I've never seen yours." So, I took her up to the third floor. Luckily, it was clean--well, clean for me, anyhow!

We sat on my bed and talked for a little longer, listening to some Beatles. After a while, we started kissing. And I don't even know how it happened. Before I knew what had hit me, we were naked and fondling.

Considering my conflicted attitudes towards sex lately, if it were anyone other than Kara, I would have stopped it. But I needed it. This night, I needed to feel something other than despair for a while. Considering the mess that some of my romantic relationships had deteriorated into, I might have been worried. But not with Kara. If there was anyone I trusted, and anyone I knew who would do this with me for all the right reasons, it was her.

And she was hurting, too. Besides being upset about Beth, we'd both been dumped recently. And she trusted me as much as I trusted her.

"Make love to me, Eddie," she said after we'd fondled for a while. "I need it, and so do you." She was right.

I got a little surprise when I went looking for a rubber. "You don't need those anymore, not with me," she giggled. "It's real easy to go on the Pill up at Andrews--the school clinic prescribes them." That was a nice surprise--I hadn't been able to go helmetless since the first life. And it felt marvelous when I sank into her.

Here I was, on the absolute worst day of my life, making love to my First True Love, and completely unexpectedly at that. It was, really, just what I needed. Hey, after Kelly, and Christine, and to some extent Belle, I'd worried about all the problems sex can cause. The confusion, the jealousy, the using nature of it sometimes. I'd worried about that. But, here, with Kara in my bed, thrusting back up at me, her arms and legs wrapped around me, I remembered something else.

Sex, with someone you truly love, can be healing, too.

After we both came, wrapped around each other, Kara cried. I might have too--though I was pretty cried out by then. I just put my arms around her and hung on for dear life. It was the one ray of light in a dark, dark day.

Little did I know the day wasn't going to get any better. You see, I was emotionally exhausted after the day. Kara must have been, too--I mean, she heard about Beth's death, was upset, and moved heaven and earth to get home to be with me. She must've been as tired as I was. Plus, sex is tiring anyhow. Highly emotional sex--which this was--is more so.

So, it's no big surprise that we fell asleep.

We were woken by my mother standing at the doorway to my room, screaming.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

That's right--caught, red-handed. We were sleeping, but the residue of our lovemaking was obvious. We were still naked, wrapped around one another, and we'd fallen asleep without cleaning up. In other words, there was evidence--on my dick, on Kara's thighs. We couldn't hide it.

What was worse was that my mother loudly told us that Kara's mom had been pounding on the door for ten minutes before she pulled up in the car. So, Mrs. Pocharsky was here, downstairs. And we'd better get dressed and get down there in a damn hurry.

She stormed back down the stairs, and I looked at Kara and moaned. "Shit. We are well and truly fucked."

"Yes, I was," she giggled. "And it was good, too."

I had to laugh. "How can you be so calm? We just got caught!"

"What the hell are they going to do to us? Forbid us to see one another? We don't see each other much anyhow. Is my mother going to ground me? I go to boarding school, for goodness' sake!"

"I don't," I pointed out. "I might get grounded until I'm 18." We started pulling our clothes on. "Though I might be able to summon up an ally."

"An ally?"

"Dad. He knows. He's known for a while. He's far more liberal than Mom is."

"My Dad will absolutely freak. I'm glad it's Mom, actually," she said. We got done dressing and went down to face the music.

Mrs. Pocharsky started. "What ARE you two thinking?"

"That he needed to be loved?" Kara said.

Mrs. Pocharsky shook her head. "Look, I know Eddie is hurting, but that's no reason to surrender your virginity."

"And what if you got her pregnant?" my Mom pitched in.

"First of all, Mrs. Bovilas, I'm on the pill, so I won't be getting pregnant," Kara said.

"THE PILL???" Mrs. Pocharsky yelped.

"Yes. The Pill. And, second of all, Mom, that wasn't my virginity. I lost that in eighth grade. To Eddie, by the way, and it was his, too. This was not our first time together. And I have slept with others, at school."

"EIGHTH GRADE???" Mrs. Pocharsky yelped again. "Kara, I thought I knew you better than that. Where did I go wrong?"

"You didn't." she said.

"And what about you?" Mom said to me. "I take it Kara was not your only, either?"

"No," I admitted.

"What has gotten into you?" she asked me.

"Kara and I decided we wanted to be each other's first. We knew she was going away, so we rushed things a bit. We know that."

"And I can't speak for Eddie, but I think he'll agree with me, that it gave me a taste of sex. And I like it," Kara admitted.

"Good girls don't do that!" Mrs. Pocharsky said.

"Who made those rules?" Kara asked.

"Well, I'll say one thing for you, young lady. I don't know how you can live with yourself when you walk into Church on Sunday."

"We had a talk about that once," I piped up, "a bunch of us. And to quote Bob Golan, if every Catholic who had premarital sex didn't go to church, there'd be a whole lot of empty pews."

"I go to church because I believe in God," Kara said. "If that's not a good enough reason..."

This went on for a while. Mom was screaming, Mrs. Pocharsky was screaming, Kara was trying to defend herself. Me? I just shut down. I ended up on a chair in the corner, my head in my hands. Nobody noticed. They were too busy yelling at Kara and me.

In the middle of this, Dad walked in from work. He greeted Mom and said hello to Kara. Mom introduced him to Mrs. Pocharsky. "OK, so what the hell is all the yelling I heard when I walked in?" he said.

"I caught your son and Kara in bed together."

"Oh. Is that all?" he said.

"IS THAT ALL?" Mom screamed.

"You'd think the world came to an end," Dad chuckled. "Kara's not my daughter so I can't say a word about that. But I'm not going to get on Eddie for it, and neither should you." He turned to me. "Did you force her?"

"NO WAY!" Kara piped up before I could say a word. God, I love that girl.

Dad turned to her and chuckled, then turned back to me. "You protected her?"

"Didn't have to this time, she's on the pill," I told him.

"Good. So what's the problem?" Dad asked.

"The problem is that they're too young, " Mrs. Pocharsky said.

Dad turned to her. "Ma'am, like I said, Kara's your daughter. I can't say a word to that. For the record, though, I don't think Eddie's too young--and Kara strikes me as more mature than Eddie is."

"You don't think Eddie's too young?" Mom said in disbelief.

"No, I don't," Dad replied.

I just couldn't take it. I just wanted it to all go away. Voices were starting to be raised again, and I just slumped into my seat. This time, Kara noticed.

"Look," she said, interrupting the yelling adults, "is there any way we can have this conversation some other time? Stop yelling for a minute and look at Eddie. Look what this is doing to him. Hasn't he had a bad enough day?"

"Bad enough day?" Dad asked.

That's when I realized--he'd been gone all day. He didn't know. "Beth died today," I told him.

His face immediately sunk. For a minute there I thought he was going to cry. I can't remember ever seeing him cry, in either life. That wasn't Dad's style. But he sunk into his reclining chair and looked miserable. "Damn. I knew it was coming, but damn." He looked up at Mom and said, pointedly, "Now that is a case of too young. As in, died too young. That's the only 'too young' that really matters." He looked at Kara. "So now I know why you're here and not at your boarding school. You found out and came down to comfort him."

"Something like that," Kara said. "Actually, that's what it was. He needed a shoulder to cry on and I knew it. Hey, I liked Beth too and didn't really want to be up at school myself. But the sex just happened."

"Kara, you're right," Mrs. Pocharsky finally said. "This isn't the day to discuss this. Eddie, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I realize why you and Mom are upset. I just can't deal with it."

"OK." They left, Kara giving me a hell of a kiss before she left. We made plans for mom and I to pick her up for the wake tomorrow.

I just crept back upstairs. I finally fell asleep, fitfully

NOVEMBER 2nd, 1979

I didn't go to school. I wasn't in any mood for it.

I came downstairs and futzed around with a late breakfast. Mom wasn't working today. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Numb," I answered truthfully.

"Look," she started, "I'm sorry I came down so hard on you. Finding you and Kara like that just shocked me."

"I know it did, but it's my life. Look, I'm a good kid. I don't go out drinking, I don't do drugs, I get excellent grades, I don't cause trouble. I like girls, though. I like sex with girls. I'm careful about it, and I don't force or coerce anyone."

"I know all that. I take it Kara's not the only one."

"No," I said, but wasn't going to say anymore. I'd confess about Kelly if she pressed, but I did not want her to know about Annabelle. She'd freak at that one. Luckily, she didn't press.

"I know you're responsible for your age, Eddie. I do. I just worry."

"I know. I'll be fine."

She dropped the subject after that. Honestly, I wasn't surprised. Mom was reasonable. She'd had her moment of venting--and if it hadn't been that particular day I wouldn't have even minded. Then she thought about it and backed off. She trusted me, for the most part.

I was actually more worried about Kara.

She called right around noontime. "How are you?" she asked.

"Hanging in there. How about you?"

"Fine. She told Dad when we got home."

"And he freaked."

"Actually, not at all. It surprised me. He said to Mom, we trust her to go to boarding school. That means we trust her to make her own decisions. He was a bit alarmed that I'd started in eighth grade, but he was also rather pleased it was with you."

"Really?" I laughed.

"Yeah. 'Better Eddie than that Don Nixon character, at least my girl has taste.' he said. I cracked up. But he settled Mom down. How's yours?"

"Better."

"That's good." We discussed the arrangements for Mom and I picking her up for the wake.

Later, the phone rang for Mom. When she got off of it, she came over to me, concerned. "That was Lydia. There's something I have to warn you about."

She really didn't. It had happened the first time around. Hell, the warning had happened the first time around. Not that it helped, mind you. I knew what was going to happen.

We went to the wake for the night-time viewing. We picked Kara up around seven. She held my hand the whole way to the funeral home, and held my hand as we walked in. I needed it. Even having seen it before, having been warned it was going to happen again, I knew that I was still going to feel like I'd been kicked in the balls.

It was an open casket wake. I swear, she looked alive. She looked like, any minute, she was going to sit up, grin at me, and start teasing Kara and I. Except, she wasn't wearing normal clothes. She was wearing her best dress--a dress so nice she'd only worn it once in her life.

To a semi-formal dance.

That's what the warning was about; that they were going to bury her in That Dress. It didn't matter--the warning, I mean. I'd been warned, I lived through it once before, and seeing it still made me feel like every bit of air had been pushed out of my lungs.

Kara caught it. She looked at me. I explained about the dress. She sighed and pulled her arm around mine tighter.

This time around, there was even an addition. The pendant I'd given her for her birthday was still around her neck.

I paid my respects, but didn't linger. I had to get out of there. Mom was still inside paying her respects, but Kara came out with me.

That's when I truly lost it. Seeing her, dead, in that damn dress again--that's when I lost it. I sat on a patch of grass off to the side, at the back of the parking lot, and just cried uncontrollably, while Kara tried to calm me down. Outside, I was crying. Inside? I was screaming, cursing, berating whoever or whatever decided that it would be a fine idea for me to live through this nightmare a second time. Once wasn't fucking enough? Who the fuck decided this?

However, having Kara next to me, holding me, rubbing my back--well, it produced another one of those moments of perfect clarity. This time was different. Last time, I'd been basically alone.

After I pulled myself back together, and we went back out towards the front of the funeral home to wait for my mother, I realized truly how not alone I was. Stan came by. Danica. Even Bob Golan and Joe Vizcano. "Beth was good people. She'll be missed," Joe said.

Yes, Kelly came. She even gave me a quick hug before she disappeared inside.

Mom drove Kara home, then we went home. I went upstairs, just completely emotionally spent. Unfortunately, it wasn't over.

NOVEMBER 3rd, 1979

Getting into my suit that morning, I looked up into the sky. "Beth, if you're right and there is an afterlife, when I get up there, I'm going to get you for this."

I didn't want to do this, at all. But I'd promised.

Kara came with us again. We picked her up, and then my Grandmother. Dad made arrangements to stay home with my brother and sister. Kara sat in the back seat with me and held my hand the whole way to the church. She'd assigned herself a mission--get Eddie through this. One of these days I hoped I'd be able to tell her how grateful I was.

We got to the church. I'm not a fan of churches, and I'm not big on public speaking either. But, like I said, I'd made a promise. I'd thought a lot about what I wanted to say. And I realized it might upset some people sitting there. But I had to say what I felt.

Her oldest brother got up and spoke, and then her dad. Her mother was in no condition to do anything like that. When her dad got done, he said, "One of Beth's last wishes was for one more speaker. She asked her best friend, Ed Bovilas, to say a few words."

I took a deep breath, squeezed Kara's hand, and walked up onto the altar.

"I last saw Beth exactly one week ago," I started. "I went to the hospital. As some of you may know, she'd requested no visitors in the hospital. I went anyway. Beth was 9 months older than I am, and far more mature, so there was always a bit of big-sister in her relationship with me. And she would tell you that she wasn't surprised I showed up at the hospital, because that was our usual pattern: she told me what to do, and I ignored her." That got a little chuckle.

"Of course, some things you can't ignore. I'm here because she asked me to, when I saw her last week. I cracked up laughing. I told her she was nuts. Because she knows me well enough to know what I might say. 'You're sure you want me to do this?' I asked her. She was sure. So, just remember--this is all her fault." I managed to grin as I said that, and saw quite a few little smiles on the faces of the people in the pews.

"You see, I know how funerals go. We've all heard it already today. We've been told that God took her home and that she's in a better place. Well, I'm not sure I believe any of that. And that's probably not the thing to say in a Catholic church, but I have doubts. I certainly hope Beth's in a better place, and I can assure you that she believed, right until the last, that there was and she was headed there. Beth and I had quite a few long philosophical discussions, especially in the last couple of years while she was sick. And, as she once said, we never agreed on anything, but it was good to talk it out.

"I know Beth took great comfort in her beliefs. There are many of you out there taking great comfort in the same beliefs. I can't do that. So, that's not what I'm going to talk to you about today. I'm not going to assure you she's in a better place, because I'm not sure about that.

"What I am going to tell you, is that we are in a better place. Every single one of us in this church is in a better place than we would have been, because Beth Trovini was in our lives.

"Beth spent fifteen and a half years with us. I knew her for all but nine months of that time. Some of you knew her her whole life, some of you a lot less. Every single one of us is lucky, for however long we had her.