Since the last chapter, despite being rather sweet (to me), also had some angst, I thought we might as well do a full-on angst chapter. I managed to make myself cry writing this one, which is no small feat, so be forewarned. Alas, no one sends me much email any-more, but I'll put up the address anyway. Denis141@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: I don't know any member NSYNC, and this story, well, I made the whole damn thing up. Yeah, and one more thing, this story has sex in it (although not as much as some would like), so, if that's not your thing, or if you ain't old enough, you should stop reading now.
CHAPTER 15: Nothing Gold Can Stay. Nature's first green is gold Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
-- Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay
His feet were small and improbably pink, and they slapped haphazardly at the grass in a comical facsimile of walking. Although he moved clumsily, Aaron didn't fall; he was steadied and guided forward by the large hand to which the two-year old clung, Lance's hand holding Aaron's hand as each of his tiny feet slap-landed against the grass, making a tiny thud-thud each time, and each time his tiny toes being pressed apart by a tuft of grass, as if the grass had suddenly sprouted there. The sky was the color of swimming pool water, and it seemed to stretch forever into the distance, shimmering. The air was dead-still, with so little breeze that the leaves on the trees barely moved, and did not whisper like they usually did in the morning, once the sun was up.
"Birdy," Aaron said, almost chirping the word, like he was a bird too, and pointing at the sky and, at the same time, at the birds that flew there.
"Those are terns," Lance said, crouching down beside Aaron and pointing now too. "It's a kind of a bird...a tern. Birdy, that's right."
"Birdy," Aaron said again, slapping his tiny hand against Lance's mouth and tugging on to his lower lip, and stretching it like Lance's face was a rubber mask.
Lance made a loud kissing noise against Aaron's hand, pretending to bite it, and gurgling at him, and then picking Aaron up and carrying him the rest of the way to the gazebo. Lance sat with him there, on the cushioned wooden bench that Lance had built himself; and Aaron sat in Lance's lap, still pointing at the birds. Lance rested his chin gently atop Aaron's head, and kissed it. He could smell the sweet smell of the baby shampoo, and he wondered if baby shampoo had always smelled like this. It probably had, he thought. Lance marveled too at the softness of Aaron's skin, and how fragile it seemed, like the thinnest of silk, and he noticed how Aaron was sucking on the index and middle finger of his tiny right hand - not sucking his thumb, which seemed strange to Lance, because he thought every baby sucked his thumb.
"Are you tired, Aaron," Lance asked gently. "Do you want to take a nap now?"
Aaron shook his head no, but his eyes began to droop and soon he was asleep. He seemed to Lance to weigh almost nothing at all, as if Lance needed to hold on to him, not just to keep Aaron from falling, but also from floating away. Lance pulled Aaron more tightly against his chest and he encircled him in his arm. The late morning sun felt good on Lance's face, and he allowed his own eyes to close as he gently rocked Aaron from side to side, and listened to him breathe; the sound of it was almost like a cat purring. It was Sunday, and Aaron had been with them for the last two days while Joey and Mel had a weekend away in Los Cabos. Their flight was due back within the hour or so, and then they'd come by the house for Aaron. Lance had at first thought JC was crazy for agreeing to baby-sit again, but soon he'd been on the floor playing with Aaron, and chasing him, and tickling him, and being rewarded with sound of giggling squeals.
"You're a good little boy," Lance whispered, kissing the top of Aaron's head.
The sun was making Lance feel drowsy, and he didn't want to risk falling asleep while he was holding Aaron, so he decided to walk back to the house. He could put Aaron down for a nap, and then start packing up Aaron's diaper bag, and collecting the toys that he'd managed to spread all over the living room and kitchen floor. Lance knew that Joey and Mel would be mad that he'd taken Aaron to F.A.O. Schwartz at Horton Plaza and bought him a huge set of blocks and a noisy toy lawn mower that Aaron had spent two hours yesterday pushing around the backyard.
Walking back to the house, Lance could see that JC was standing on the upstairs balcony, as he usually did. Lance watched JC standing there, waiting for him to wave, like he always did, and waiting for him to shout, "Hey!" But JC wasn't waving this time, and he wasn't shouting "Hey!" This time JC was just standing there, and not smiling, and not waving, and he looked worried and scared. Lance quickened his pace and shrugged at JC, trying to communicate his curiosity from a distance, trying to ask with a shrug, Is something wrong? What's wrong?
JC met Lance at the back door and quickly took Aaron from Lance's arms.
"I'm just going to put him down first," JC said. "I'll see you in the kitchen in just a second."
JC's face was drained of all color, and his lips were pressed together like he was holding his breath. Lance could see that his hands were trembling when he took Aaron, and for a moment Lance was afraid that JC might drop him if he wasn't careful.
"Do you want me to help put him down," Lance asked, touching JC's shoulder as he carried Aaron away.
"No, it's okay," JC said. "I'll be right back."
"JC," Lance said, calling once more after JC, worriedly, and trying to get JC to stop. "What is it? Tell me."
"Shhh," JC said, more mouthing the sound than saying it. "I'll be right back."
"Did Brendan call again," Lance said, his face showing a pained expression. "Because if he did, I'm sorry. I told him to stop. I don't know why he keeps calling."
JC was standing at the bottom of the stairs, mid-stride almost, about to climb them. Lance could see that JC's bottom lip was shaking, and he imagined that it was out of anger, not fear, or any other emotion that might cause a lip to shake that way. Lance wanted to rush over and hold JC, hold him in his arms, and tell him that everything would be okay, to please trust him.
"No," JC said, and now there were tears in his eyes. "It's Joey and Mel."
Lance did not know what this meant, but it quieted the stirring in his heart, and for a moment he felt relieved that JC was not angry at him, and that it was not the start of a another argument. But, still, JC was obviously upset, and it suddenly occurred to Lance that once again he did not know why.
"What is it?" Lance said, walking quickly to JC's side and putting a hand on JC's shoulder, not letting him climb the stairs. "What about Joey and Mel?"
"They're dead," JC said, barely able to get the words out. "I just heard. Their plane crashed as it was taking off from Los Cabos. No one survived."
Justin spoke first, and then JC, and then Lance. Now Chris stood at the podium, his hands slippery with sweat and gripping the edge of the podium as he stared out at the over 2,200 mourners gathered this morning in St. Patrick's Cathedral for Joey's memorial service. It was cold and rainy outside, and everyone now inside the Cathedral had had to struggle through a throng of several thousand additional people who had not been invited to attend the service, but who had wanted to be there anyway, so that they could, in some fashion at least, be also a part of this long saying of good bye.
"When we started the band," Chris said, his speech halting and unsteady. "There were only four of us - Joey, JC, Justin, and me. And no matter how much we tried, the sound was never quite right. We knew that it was missing something."
Chris paused, and turned his head slightly to the left to smile at Lance, who was standing close behind him, as if to hold him up. Justin and JC were beside Chris on his right, and JC put his hand on Chris' shoulder, urging him to go on.
"That's why we asked Lance to join us, and that's how we became a group of five and not just four. But now we're four again, and I got to tell you, that it hurts like hell...if that's something you can say in Church, I don't really know."
There was a low murmur of laughter that moved across the crowd of mourners, almost as if each successive row of people decided it was all right to laugh, even if only weakly, and even if only for a brief moment.
"Anyway," Chris said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, and coughing and taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. "I want to tell you something about Joey, something you might not know. He was fiercely devoted to his family, and to the idea of family, and the idea that a family isn't just a group of people connected by blood, but also a group of people connected by love. And that was what we were, the five of us, we were connected by love, love for each other."
Chris gasped, not sure that he could go on. Lance and JC and Justin stepped closer to him, and put their arms around his shoulders.
"It's okay," Lance whispered into his ear. "You can do it."
"Yeah," Chris said, nodding his head and biting his lower lip.
"So, when two or three of us would get in some sort of fight," Chris said. "I mean, you know how it is, everyone fights sometime, and we were no exception. But one of us would get really angry, usually over something stupid, and then say something stupid, and hurtful, and mean, well, Joey would barge right into the middle of whatever was going on, and he'd be just about as mad as I think it was possible to be, and he would just put a stop to it, and...and, uh, he would always say..."
Chris faltered and suddenly started to cry, and for a moment he couldn't stop. The silence that had filled the Cathedral was broken now by the sounds of jagged crying, and ragged throat-choked gasps for breath, and the muffled snuffling of people trying to blow their noses quietly into handkerchiefs brought especially for this occasion.
"Come on Chris," Justin and Lance whispered to Chris, nearly at the same time, holding him up by the shoulders.
"No, I can't," Chris gasped. "I can't."
"For Joey," JC whispered.
Tears were streaming down his face, and his nose was red, and Chris could hardly see at all, his vision so blurred by anguish and tears. Finding a remnant of strength where he thought he had none, Chris shook free of Lance and Justin's hold on him, and he leaned forward to the podium and once more began to tell the story.
"Okay," he said softly, but with determination. "When Joey was busting up some stupid argument we were having, he would always say - well, actually, he'd scream, 'You have exactly five seconds to take that back or I'm going to kick your fucking ass until it breaks into a million goddamn pieces!'"
There was a sudden eruption of laughter in the Cathedral, as if the small laughs of moments before had been seeds that Chris had planted amidst the mourners, and now the seeds had burst forth into a glorious profusion of remembered-joy. Chris even laughed himself as he wiped clear his eyes and managed to see again, see Justin and JC and Lance laughing too, looking at him, and marveling at the fact that he'd got Joey's famous shout just right, swear words and all.
"And we always did take it back," Chris said, smiling at the thought of it. "Not just because we feared for our lives, which we did, of course, but because we knew we should, because we were family, and we knew - or we were reminded - how important it was for us to stick together."
So, that's why we're here," Chris continued. "To stick together and to say good bye to our brother, Joey Fatone, to say good bye one last time. And even though we'll never sing together again, not as a group, not as NSync, today we thought we'd sing one last time, one last song, hoping that maybe he'd hear it, and maybe he'd sing along."
Chris followed Justin and JC to the left of the altar where five stand-microphones had been set up, taking their place in turn behind the three that were furthest from the podium. Lance followed Chris, taking his place behind the microphone closest to the podium, leaving open the one that stood between Chris and him. Bending close in to the microphone, his hands behind his back, Justin sang the first long note, followed by JC, and then Chris. There was a pause in the place where Joey would have joined in the harmony, and then Lance sang his note, their voices blending together into a single sad sound, until JC's voice shifted away, and he began to sing the first verse, followed in it by Justin, who sang the words too.
"There's a land that is fairer than day and
By faith we can see it afar
For the Father waits over the wave
To prepare us a dwelling place there."
Now Lance and Chris joined the others in singing the chorus, their voices wavering some, but not so much to be noticed by anyone but themselves.
"In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore."
JC sang the next verse alone.
"We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blest
And our spirit shall sorrow no more
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest."
Now they sang together again, their voices unadorned and honest.
In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
Justin sang the last verse now.
To our bountiful Father above
We will offer a tribute of praise
For the glorious gifts of his love
And the blessing that hallowed
Our days.
As they started into the chorus one last time, they gathered around the microphone they'd left open for Joey, and they joined hands, knowing that they would never sing together again, singing together without Joey would never make any sense at all, except here.
In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
In the sweet bye and bye
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
The last long notes of the song echoed through the Cathedral's vast interior, rising like a bird to highest heights of the Cathedral's spire, and then disappearing into the cold stone there. And as silence slowly recaptured this sacred space, and the four surviving members of NSync stood there, you could almost imagine Joey still being there too, singing with them, one last time.
This time there was no crowd. It was a hushed and black-dressed crowd of family and a few friends, sitting in eleven rows of metal chairs, beneath a black canvas canopy that did little to protect anyone from the harsh and whistling wind and the needling spray of rain that blew into their blinking unguarded eyes. Everyone's face was a mask of predictable sadness and stunned surprise, as if each one of the people sitting there, listening to the priest pray, had received simultaneous news of the impossible having just occurred, and they were still unable to believe it was true.
But it was true, as true as anything could be true, because Joey was dead, and they had come today to bury him, here in Brooklyn, New York at the historic Green-Wood Cemetery. The service was nearing its end, and JC clutched Lance's left knee as he listened and tried not to cry.
O God of grace and glory, we remember before you this day our brother Joseph Fatone. We thank you for giving him to us, his family and friends, to know and to love as a companion on our earthly pilgrimage. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our course on earth, until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
This morning, before the service, Lance had dressed Aaron in a small suit, with a small black clip-on bow-tie that Aaron had continually pulled off, wanting to play with it and not wear it. Lance had finally given in and let Aaron leave the bow-tie off, because it kept him quiet, and it made Aaron smile as he managed to click the clip open and closed. Lance's arms held Aaron tightly now, even though Aaron wasn't squabbling or trying to wiggle free; he was sitting quietly on Lance's lap, watching the priest, and staring over the top of the coffin into the distance at the dark gray sky, and the stand ancient oak trees that defined the line of the horizon. The trees were bare of leaves, and they reached into the sky like long bony fingers.
Lance looked at JC and found JC staring at him. Lance smiled weakly, and said softly, "I'm glad he's being good."
JC nodded and squeezed Lance's knee even harder than before. JC could not imagine how Lance felt right then, but he had never been so proud of him. Lance had arranged every detail of the funeral, relieving Joey's parents of the burden of having to do anything at all. And during this entire time of planning and grief, Lance had not once let Aaron out of his sight, and he had not once been anything but formidably kind and caring and strong and patient. Whatever lingering doubt there might have been left in his mind, doubt about Lance and his commitment to him and their love, JC had felt vanish entirely, replaced by a love so revived and so real that it astonished him still.
JC looked once more at Lance. There were no tears on Lance's face, only rain and a look of calm resolve. JC knew that they would endure, for each other, for Aaron, and for Joey and Mel too, endure not only because they had no choice but to endure, but because it was their duty now to do more than just endure; it was their duty now to live. JC squeezed Lance's knee again and turned back to watching the priest, and listening to the final lines of the Rite of Committal.
You only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind; and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return. For so did you ordain when you created me, saying. You are dust, and to dust you shall return. All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.
Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.
Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Joseph Fatone. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.
Everyone in the crowd stood up now. The rustle of coats and capes and suit jackets sound like dead-dry leaves blowing away in the wind. The family was the first to file by the coffin - Joey's father, Joseph Fatone, Sr., and his mother, Phyllis, and his brother Steve - and each touched the coffin with a trembling hand, and placed a rose there, and then wandered off as if no longer knowing where to go or what to do except to turn and walk away from this most unpleasant of truths.
Lance and JC watched as others filed past the coffin, mostly people they didn't know or recognize, and then Justin and Chris, who stood at the coffin for several minutes, placing two white roses there, and Chris falling to his knees, and resting his forehead on the coffin, and sobbing, and sobbing, until finally helped to his feet by Justin, and led slowly away from where Joey would soon be interred.
Seeing now that there was no one left but the three of them, Lance slipped Aaron from his lap, and took Aaron's hand while the little boy steadied himself and got sure of his feet. JC slipped his hand into Lance's left hand, and the three of them approached the coffin. JC touched the coffin with tips of his fingers, and then pressed both hands flat against it. The coffin was startlingly cold to the touch, and JC wondered why he had not expected it to be this cold. Lance looked at JC and saw that he was crying.
"Are you okay," Lance asked.
JC nodded and removed his hands from the coffin, stepping slightly to one side to make more room. Lance picked Aaron up from where he stood next to him, and placed Aaron's hands on the coffin, in the same place that JC had just touched. Lance covered Aaron's hands with his own, and then whispered into Aaron's ear.
"Bye, bye," Aaron said, not understanding, but doing what Lance had asked.
"Good bye, Joey," Lance said, his hands trembling as he pulled Aaron back into his arms and nestled Aaron's face in the crook of his neck, and covered him with the wings of his overcoat. "We'll take good care of him. I promise."
Lance turned slowly around, looking into the distant haze of misting rain, broken by the line of flight of five mourning doves. He'd been told by the funeral director that the doves nested here in trees first planted at the cemetery's inauguration in 1838. This is a beautiful place, Lance thought, as he watched the four doves move toward him and then away, flying in a line, one after the other, disappearing into the distant trees.
"Are you ready," Lance said, turning to JC and taking his hand.
"Yeah, are you?" JC asked, brushing the hair from out of Lance's eyes and then patting Aaron gently on the back.
"Yeah, let's go," Lance said.
JC and Lance walked slowly toward where the limousines waited. Most everyone was gone now, or were leaving, and so nearly gone. The rain was falling harder now, and people quickened their step to get out of it. When they reached the limousine, JC waved off the driver and opened the door himself.
"Here, I'll take him while you get in," JC said, lifting Aaron from Lance's arms and then handing him back once Lance was settled inside the limousine.
"Did he wake up?" JC asked, stepping into the limousine himself, and sliding over next to Lance.
"A little," Lance whispered. "But he'll be okay. It's been a long day. He's tired"
JC leaned over and kissed Lance's cheek. Lance's cheek was damp, but not cold, and JC let his lips linger there for a moment, warming them.
"I love you," JC said, speaking softly into Lance's ear as he pulled back from the kiss, and then kissing his ear too.
"I love you too, Josh" Lance said, turning to look at JC and smiling. "So much."
JC and Lance rode quietly, side by side, listening to the rain and the sounds of traffic outside as they headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge on their way into the city.
"Let's not stay long at the wake," Lance said, staring out the window.
"That's fine," JC said, picking up Aaron's bow-tie, which had fallen on the floor.
"Our flight leaves pretty early tomorrow," Lance said.
"Yeah," JC said. "And we should get Aaron down."
"Exactly," Lance said, turning to look at JC. "Otherwise we would stay late, at the wake I mean, with everyone there and all."
"I know," JC said. "Everyone will understand if we just make an appearance and leave. They know we have Aaron now."
"Good then," Lance said, feeling relieved, but guilty too.
JC took Lance's hand and slid up close to him. "It'll be good to get back home," JC said, resting his head on Lance's shoulder.
"Yeah," Lance said. "It will be."
As decided, JC and Lance had not stayed long at the wake - only long enough to pay their respects again to Joey's family, and to invite them to come to San Diego to visit Aaron anytime they wanted. Their flight the next day had gone well, and Aaron had slept almost all the way back, leaving Lance's arms only long enough for Lance to go to the bathroom once. Now it was two months later, and they were pulling up the driveway to their house after being at court all morning for Aaron's adoption hearing. The air outside the car was hot and bright, and JC knew the first rush of it hitting him as he stepped out of the car would cause sweat to immediately soak the back of his shirt.
"Okay, we're here," JC said, parking the car near the front door rather than in the car port at the side of the house.
Lance was sitting in the backseat with Aaron, and he began the work of getting him out of his car seat.
"You ready there, big guy?" Lance asked, pulling Aaron from his car seat and stepping backwards out of the backseat while JC held the door open for him.
"Lance, I'll get his bag," JC said. "And your jacket."
"Okay, thanks," Lance said, smiling and then leaning forward to give JC a quick kiss. "I'll see you inside."
JC watched as Lance walked toward the front door, balancing Aaron on his right hip as he expertly dug the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and then went inside - all in one smooth motion. JC could hardly believe that less than three months ago he'd been in Barcelona, alone but not lonely, trying to imagine a new life for himself. And now he had a new life, one that he had not chosen, but that chosen him instead, a life with a two year old child that he already cherished, and a man whom he loved dearly, a life neither lonely, nor alone. Closing the door to the Volvo, JC remembered how Joey used to call it his "soccer mom car," and tease him that no one should drive a car like that without a kid to put in it.
"I guess you were right, Joey," JC said softly, surprised at the sudden sting of tears in his eyes. "I guess you really were right."