Faith and Fidelity

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He wore the navy suit because it was her favorite, the light blue shirt because when he looked down at his cuff, the slender line of color made him remember her eyes. For twenty minutes he tore through the closet trying to find the tie she'd gotten him last Christmas, but his eyes kept filling with tears and he couldn't see a thing.

Someone— maybe his sister-in-law Elena— came to the door and told him the limo was waiting. He didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge what she said. The flare in the middle of his chest terrified him and he couldn't find his voice. Eventually he gave up the search for the tie and settled for a blue one with tiny green leaves. He walked to the mirror, began tying his tie while studiously avoiding looking at his own face. He fixed on a random point— the headboard of their bed— and suddenly fell into a pit he had been avoiding since she'd died.

Less than a week ago, he and Sherri had been lying there together, enjoying a rare moment of quiet “grown-up time.” He'd come home late— as usual— and found her already asleep, curled up on his side of the bed. When he'd slid in behind her, he saw she wore his faded USMC T-shirt. And nothing else.

“Mmmm, baby. What did I do to deserve this?” he asked, pressing his mouth to her tousled blonde hair.

She rolled over, rubbing her still-closed eyes, a sleepy smile crossing her face. “You? Oh no, honey, this is
my
reward.”

They'd laughed quietly, easily. Taking time to talk over her day, his hands roaming all over her body. She told him a silly story about her misadventures in carpooling that day and ended with, “Don't you agree I deserve something special?”

The mischievous look in her hazel eyes was his undoing, and he leaned in to kiss her deeply. After nearly twenty years of friendship and fifteen of physical passion between them, there weren't many surprises left when they made love. But somehow, the pleasure that came from learned rhythms and unspoken commands more than made up for any mystery that was lacking.

In the end Evan buried his face against her neck, breathing in her scent and breathing out his moans. He felt her stiffening and lifted his head to watch her. She bit her lip and arched against him, silently. Always silently. “Oh God,” he whispered, following her quickly. They'd cuddled, whispered their sweet silly sayings back and forth, the ones too intimate to share in the daylight. Evan got up to put his shorts back on, handed Sherri her T-shirt. Went to the kitchen for his ritual glass of “post-coital water,” as Sherri drolly put it. When he came back she was curled up again— on her side this time— sleeping soundly. He went to bed, wrapping himself around her.

And three days later... three days later his phone rang at the precinct and she was gone.

The viewing took six painful hours. Evan spent the entire time sitting in the front row, at least one of his children huddled by his side at all times. They were feverish with grief, restless and dazed from weeping. He knew he should get up and circulate around the crowded room, but his legs would not cooperate. He could barely manage the small talk he was forced to make when someone new arrived.

He watched them kneel at Sherri's coffin, whisper to each other. (He presumed about how she looked so wonderful, so young and beautiful. You'd never have guessed she was thirty-four, the mother of two teenagers, and two not far behind. You'd never have guessed that some asshole with a suspended license had driven his pickup through a stop sign and into the side of the family Explorer, killing her instantly.) Then they'd walk over to the MacGregors— her parents, Phil and Josie, and only sister, Elena— and finally end up in front of Evan, mouthing their condolences and sympathy.

He just wanted them all to go away.

By noon the crowd had thinned a bit. Saturday afternoon meant errands to run, he supposed. Elena took the kids across the street to the diner for lunch. Phil went outside for a smoke. Evan and Josie sat silently next to one another; he was trying to swallow the sobs that were fighting to get out, his mother-in-law was on her fifth novena of the day.

Listening to Josie's earnest mumbling of prayer next to him, Evan thought about his own family. Or lack thereof. His father was long gone, as well as the stepfathers he assumed were dead by now; his mother vegetated in an upstate nursing home, losing another year of her memory every day. He had brought nothing of family history into their marriage— no warm stories, no aunts, uncles, cousins. Just nightmares and demons that Sherri would tenderly soothe away in the dead of night. Everything they had created had been filtered through Sherri, through her happy childhood, through her dreams of a big family.

“Your friends are here Evan,” Josie said softly in his ear.

Evan blinked and turned to his mother-in-law. Her face— Sherri's face from somewhere down a timeline that didn't exist anymore— was inches from his. He could barely hear her voice.

“Your friends, dear. From the police force.” Josie motioned to the group milling awkwardly around Sherri's casket. Helena Abbott, Vic Wolkowski, Jonah Moses, and Kalee Jensen, all dressed formally, all wearing their ever-present trench coats.

Vic made the sign of the cross and knelt down to say a prayer. Helena rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath before crossing over to where Evan sat with Josie.

Evan stood up and accepted Helena's tight embrace. “Hey partner,” she whispered in his ear. “How ya holding up?”

He shrugged, his chin resting on her shoulder. No one except his children had touched him like this in days, and it was very nearly his undoing. “I just wish it was over,” he whispered back.
I just wish this never happened
, he thought.

Helena pulled back from the hug, keeping her hands firmly on his arms. “Do you need me to do anything? Anything at all, all you have to do is ask.”

He shook his head. “No. I think I'm okay right now. I'll let you know— really.” He was grateful she let the lie pass without challenge. “Uh, Helena, this is Sherri's mom, Josie MacGregor.”

“Mom, this is Helena Abbot, my partner.”

The women shook hands. “Yes, I remember you from the hospital. It's so kind of you to come.”

Oh right, the hospital. Running anxiously down the corridor, flashing his badge, trying to get some answers. Helena trailed behind— she'd refused to let him come alone.

“I didn't know Sherri very well, but... I just wanted to say how terribly sorry I am for your loss, Mrs. MacGregor.”

Mr. Cerelli? This way.

“Thank you, Miss Abbot.”

We made the initial identification from information found at the scene.

“Mrs. MacGregor, this is our captain, Victor Wolkowski.”

“Thank you for coming, Captain.”

We just need you to verify this is your wife, Sherri Cerelli.

“I know something of what you're going through, Evan, if you need to talk... ”

Evan nodded grimly, tightening his grip on Vic's hand. In all the years they'd worked together, he never imagined this was something they'd have in common.

Cold and pale on the metal gurney, a clean sheet placed over her. They'd wiped off most of the blood. The left side of her skull was crushed. All the air left Evan's lungs in a single instant. An ER doctor was quietly telling him... she'd been DOA... probably died on impact.

“Thanks, Vic.”

Moses and Jensen hovered quietly in the background until Evan motioned them over.

Another round of introductions. Another round of helpful offers of comfort, camaraderie, assistance. Evan politely thanking them, an unspoken but shared knowledge that he couldn't accept what they offered. The small group lapsed into awkward silence after the usual chitchat was done. ThankfullyThankfully, the children and Elena returned from lunch and everyone's attention was diverted.

They let him touch her hand and kiss her icy lips. It wasn't Sherri at all, and he felt like he was cheating to be grieving for this corpse.

Helena and Vic stayed for the rest of the viewing, moving to sit behind Evan's right shoulder once the crowds starting swelling again. He wished he could let them know how comforting it was to him.

The closing of the casket was the worst part by far. By the time Sherri's family finished their good-byes, the children had gone quickly from weepy to hysterical. Once the children had each said their painful good-byes, Evan stood there helplessly, knowing there were no more children, no more excuses.

Phil and Josie seemed to sense his bewilderment. They gently led the children away to get their coats and wait in the car for him. Only Elena remained, but she stood outside the door to the viewing room with Father Deckard, leaving Evan his privacy.

He knelt down to finally face his wife. He looked at the pale representation of the strong and vibrant woman he had loved for twenty years. He remembered the first time he saw her, in junior high. He remembered falling so deeply in love with her, so quickly that it bordered on obsession. It would probably surprise people to know he'd never kissed another woman in passion, never felt another woman's body. It had always been he and Sherri, joined at the hip since they were fourteen, joined at the heart for twenty years. The panic set in so fast he didn't realize he was sobbing until his forehead touched Sherri's clasped hands, folded neatly over her prayer book. What was he supposed to do? She was everything.

His friend, his lover, his anchor. She made everything safe for him.

“Oh Jesus, Sherri. Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I should have been home more, I should have done more. Oh I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Sherri.” He wept and wept until he felt his entire being split in two. He drowned in the grief and only the distant thought of his children brought him up for air.

Elena was holding him when everything came back into focus. She stroked his hair and made soothing noises close to his ear. “Evan? Honey, just breathe, okay?” He heard her say something to Father Deckard—
Make sure the kids don't come in. They shouldn't see this.

Oh God.

He pulled himself together one piece at a time. This wasn't him, this wasn't going to help anything. He had his kids to take care of. At some point he'd have to go back to work.
Okay, Evan. This is who you are. Be a man. Sherri's gone but you still have responsibilities. Come on. Get off your knees and say good-bye.

Gently he shrugged Elena off. He staggered to his feet and leaned over the casket, this time pressing his lips against Sherri's forehead. He prayed for her immortal soul. He asked God to take care of her, because she deserved to have someone watch over her for a change. She'd been the best possible wife and mother, and he loved her so much and he wanted her to be at peace. Amen.

Evan wiped his eyes on his sleeve and moved away from the casket. He didn't look back. He couldn't. Father Deckard made noises in his direction but Evan kept walking. He'd never had much use for organized religion; he and God had an uneasy relationship at best. The children were being raised in the Church for Sherri's sake— that wouldn't change.

He strode out of the viewing room, through the tasteful lobby of the funeral home, and out the door. The kids were huddled together in the backseat of his sedan. Danny and Elizabeth had given in to their exhaustion and the other two girls didn't look like they were going to last too long.

“Thanks, Mom, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow at church.”

“Evan, please, we can take the kids to our place... ”

“No. I'll see you both tomorrow.” He kissed Josie, shook Phil's hand, and got into the car.

As they pulled away, he heard Kathleen's quiet voice from the back seat. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What are we going... I mean, what's going to happen now?”

The “without Mommy” hung heavy in the air.

Evan took a deep breath and tapped into the last reserve of his strength. “I don't know exactly, Kathleen— I'll be honest with you. But I'm going to do my very best to make sure we're okay. I promise.”