Henry's End (25 page)

Parking on a thin lane in the cemetery, they walked up a hill toward where a large crowd was gathered. By the time they reached the back of the pack, they were in a place where Quinn’s casket was not even visible. Henry stood there holding onto his black day pack and looked from Edwin to Schooner, his chin trembling slightly.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no.” Edwin shook his head and looked at Schooner.

With a nod, the big blonde said, “Let’s go,” grabbing Henry by the upper arm and using his height and bulk to push through the crowd, “Excuse me, excuse me. Coming through.”

On the other side of the throng of people, several rows of white wooden folding chairs were set up for family and those close to the deceased, with row after row of people standing behind. Next to Jeanne were two empty chairs.

Turning to them, Schooner said, “Take the two up front, I’ll be in the row right behind you,” and he escorted Henry and Edwin to the front.

“Oh thank God,” Jeanne exclaimed when Henry took his seat. “All I could think when all those good for nothing relatives of mine piled into the limo was how mad Quinny would be.”

Henry took her hand and squeezed it. “I was afraid we were too far back in the procession and I was going to miss this.” Henry’s eyes filled with tears.

Jeanne shook her head, unsuccessfully trying to hold back her tears, “I never would have let them start without you.”

“Thank you,” he choked out between sobs.

While others may not have given credence to his relationship with Quinn, Jeanne Callahan knew exactly what he meant to her son and what her son meant to him.

Quinn Callahan was laid to rest under a sky that rivaled the blue of his eyes. As Henry looked up at the expansive heavens, he wondered if he’d always be able to remember their exact shade of blue and what it felt like the first time he saw them, as Quinn brazenly checked him out. He was pleased that not a cloud marred the sky, as if it were a gift for Quinn’s sendoff.

Ending with the Twenty-third Psalm, Henry could feel his anxiety starting to crest. When this ended, he had to leave Quinn here. How was he going to do that? Just walk away? Leave him to be buried?

In lieu of a three gun volley, because neither Jeanne nor he felt that they could handle the gunshots, they had opted for the ringing of twenty-one bells. Henry counted, and with each peal, he willed them as hard as he could to go slower, but he couldn’t halt time, just as he couldn’t turn it back to his last day with Quinn.

16.
Oh God, this is going too fast.

17.
Please just stop here.

18.
I’ll do anything. I promise.

19.
Don’t make me leave him here.

20.
I can’t say goodbye.

21.
I’m not ready.

I’ll never be ready.

The honor guard removed the flag draping his coffin and Henry flinched, as if they had taken Quinn’s blanket away on a cold night. Off to the side, a bugler played Taps and he could hear the sobbing of everyone around him.

With precision that was truly a form of art, the triangular flag was now ready for presentation. As the guard turned to face the front row, Henry recognized him from the police softball league. There was a moment’s hesitation and a look of panic in his eyes, unsure to whom he should present the flag. Henry met his gaze and shifted his eyes to Jeanne, indicating that it should be presented to her.

As the flag was laid in Jeanne’s arms, Edwin squeezed Henry’s hand tight. It was apparent people didn’t know how to respond to him. He wasn’t a spouse. He wasn’t recognized as anything by law. In their confusion, and some with the intention of doing the right thing, Henry was left to suffer and he did so, silently, stoically and at times, invisibly.

The crowd lined up, and one by one, they each took a long-stemmed red rose and laid it on the coffin, as they said their final goodbye to Officer Quinn Callahan.

Feeling a squeeze on his shoulder, Henry looked up at Schooner. “We’re going to wait down at the car for you. Take whatever time you need.”

Henry nodded.

They were finally alone, for the first time since he was told of Quinn’s death. Getting out of his chair to approach the coffin was going to take more strength than he thought he could find. And he was digging deep.

So he sat there, “I know I’m supposed to say goodbye to you now, but I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to say goodbye to you. Ever.” He was silent for a few moments, “I still can’t believe you were taken from me, and I just don’t know how I’m going to go on without you. I don’t know if I can. You were the brightest light in my life. You were everybody’s sunshine, Quinn, and I look at this coffin before me and I just don’t understand how you can put sunshine in a box.”

Covering his face with his hands, he finally let the tears flow unabated, crying for all that was lost and all that would never be. There was nowhere to go from here and he’d put off the inevitable for as long as he could.

Approaching the coffin, he took a deep breath as he stood there for a moment thinking how surrealistic everything felt, like he was watching some esoteric foreign film. Moving roses to clear a space, he tried to gauge approximately where on the surface of this box would be right above Quinn’s heart. When he was certain that he had cleared away the roses from the right area, he unzipped the day pack. Reaching in, he pulled out a perfect cane of lilacs cut from the bush Quinn had brought home.

Lovingly, he placed it on the coffin, gently running his fore and middle finger along the wood as he leaned forward to leave a final kiss for his first love.

Jeanne Callahan’s house was packed with people who’d come to pay their last respects, from members of the force to relatives to every teacher who had ever had Quinn as a student. This well-loved man was being given a glorious send-off.

Walking in with Henry and Edwin, Schooner mumbled, “What did she do?”

This was not your typical, bring a casserole, bake a cake post-funeral gathering. There were carving stations and wok stations and wait staff with silver hors d’oeuvres trays.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

“Sorry?” Edwin looked at Schooner as if he were crazy, “Boat Boy, this is fabulous. And Quinn totally deserved a special party because he was one special man.”

CJ approached them, looking stunning in head-to-toe designer black. She gave Henry a loose, pat-on-the-back hug and an air-kiss. “I’m really sorry about Quinn.” In her eyes was sincerity and this was the only way she knew how to help.

“CJ, thank you. Really. This is incredible. I really appreciate it.”

She nodded, “I have staff to clean up later so that Quinn’s mom doesn’t have to lift a finger and there’s going to be trays of food for you to bring back to the condo.”

“Really, thank you, for everything.”

She nodded and turned to make her way over to correct a waitress who was spending more time fraternizing and flirting with the officers than serving.

A few minutes later, Jeanne made her way over to them. Giving Schooner a hug, “I cannot believe this. Thank you so much for making such a beautiful luncheon.”

“It’s our pleasure.” He leaned down to hug and kiss her.

“I need to borrow you for a second,” she touched Henry’s arm and he followed her down the hall toward the bedrooms.

Entering her room, she picked up the flag off her bed, the flag that had just draped Quinn’s coffin. Pressing it to his chest, “I want you to have this.”

“No, Jeanne.”

“Yes, Henry.”

“He was your boy.”

Jeanne looked up at him, tears cascading from her eyes and splashing onto her cheeks. “He was your man.”

And she pressed the flag to his chest and left the room.

Clutching the flag, he stood there reeling from her words.

He was your man.

He was your man.

He was. He was my man.

There was only one place he needed to be right now. Making his way down the hall, he slipped into Quinn’s room and closed the door behind him.

Standing within the blue walls, clutching the flag, this was the room where they made out like teens, the place he told Quinn for the first time that he was ready to have sex with him. The room that held all of Quinn’s track trophies. The very spot where he realized he was in love with Quinn Callahan.

And now, here he stood in the middle of the room, without Quinn, clutching the flag from his coffin. Silently, he cried, holding the flag as tightly against his chest as he could.

He heard the door open and close, but couldn’t force himself to turn around and hoped the person would just leave. But they didn’t. The minute he felt the hand on his shoulder, he knew exactly who it was and he didn’t want him to leave. Turning, he sobbed openly against his shoulder and the man let him. Holding him as he wept.

Finally, he pulled his face away and between sobs asked his friend the one question to which he desperately needed an answer, “How are we going to run through this one?”

Tightening his hug, his friend answered honestly, “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Mmm, you feel so good.
So warm. I’ve missed you.” He pressed his lips to Henry’s shoulder.

Stiffening in his arms, Henry could feel his lips form into a smile. Without turning around he knew exactly what that smile looked like. Right down to the single dimple.

“Get out of here. Now,” Henry’s demand was forceful.

But he just laughed. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right where I want to be. Right where you want me to be.”

“No, I don’t want you here.”

“Yeah you do, Henry. Or I wouldn’t be.”

Was he telling the truth, Henry wondered? Did he really want him there?

“I told you the first little thing that happened, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Don’t talk about him.” He wasn’t going to let him disrespect Quinn.

“He was so easy to get rid of.” His laugh was hollow.

“Get out of here now.” Henry was seething mad.

Spooning him closer. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s time you accept that. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

“I’m not.” Henry drove his elbow back hard into him.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play.” He yanked Henry by the hair so that he would have access to his mouth, his tongue immediately making its way past Henry’s teeth, an ‘mmm’ of pleasure escaping his throat.

“No,” Henry protested.

“Come on, Henry, you know it feels good to kiss me.” His tongue snaked back into Henry’s mouth, boldly claiming what he had come for, what he wanted.

Tasting his own salty tears as they found their way into their mouths, Henry finally rolled over to face him. He felt the one hand that was in his hair pull their heads closer together as his other hand slid down his back molding Henry to his erection.

“You’re finally listening,” he said against Henry’s mouth with a smile. “You’ll always be mine.”

Henry didn’t answer, unable to speak through the onslaught of tears, nor could he separate the disgust from the excitement as he kissed him back.