The doorbell rings as Chris climbs out of the shower. He hadn't seen much of Opal this morning and was unsure if she was in the position to answer it. He cracks the bathroom door open. "Just a second," he yells out, hopeful that whoever is on the other side of the door heard him.
He pulls on his shorts before leaving the bathroom, tugging his shirt down as he opens the front door. His hair dripping along the collar of the shirt. "What are you doing here?" he asks, seeing Lily standing on the front porch dressed in her funeral attire.
"Opal called." She holds up a plastic bag. "Waterproof mascara," she explained.
Chris nods, standing off to the side to allow Lily entrance. "She in her room I take it?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," he quips. Lily raises her brow, curious by what he means. "I've only seen her long enough to pass her a bagel and a cup of coffee. I don't even know if she ate any of it."
He gives her a very short, not completely detailed, rundown of the last two days.
"She'll get through this, Chris. It's just gonna take time." She offers him a comforting hand to his shoulder, giving it a quick rub.
'Time that I don't have,' he thinks to himself. "You're welcome to check her room. I think she mentioned wanting to leave by 10."
"Right. You still want Jameson to pick up your family?"
"If he doesn't mind, that would be helpful. I didn't think a packed car would make this any easier on her," Chris informs Lily.
Lily agrees before walking off down the hall, towards Opal's room. She knocks softly before turning the handle. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," she says in a whisper.
Pushing the door open, Lily sees her best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, only half dressed. Her hair still damp from stopping the blow dryer too early. No make up present, no jewelry in place.
"I come bearing the most important accessory of the day," she chirps, trying to break Opal out of her dazed state. She pulls the mascara tube from the plastic bag and waves it around.
Opal lifts her head slightly, a very thin, small smile on her lips. "Thanks," she says.
Lily sighs, broken hearted for her friend and really unsure of how to help her move forward. She stands in front of Opal, pushes her hair off her shoulders before speaking. "Let's get you ready, yeah?"
Opal blinks, a tear releasing from her eye. "I keep telling myself if I don't go, then it didn't really happen." She chuckles lightly. "Guess I can't live in that dream world anymore, can I?"
Lily wipes away the fallen tear. "Afraid not, Ope." She offers her a hand, encouraging her to stand up. "Come on. I'll help with your hair and make up."
Twenty minutes later, Chris waits by the front door. Lily having left about five minutes earlier heading towards the cemetery. He stands in the same suit he had worn that morning in Vegas, when they were preparing for an entirely different celebration. His feet shuffle back and forth a bit, anticipation rising, as his hands rest in his pockets. His fingers fumbling around with the Opal's car keys resting in the right side pocket.
His head turns as he hears Opal's bedroom door creak open. He takes a deep breath, watching as she emerges slowly and cautiously.
Very few words have been exchanged since the previous night, both still unsure of how to navigate through the emotions that continue to hang through the air but yet change moment to moment.
Chris takes note of the black A-line dress, Opal's hair pulled back loosely, a few tendrils framing her face. He can't help himself on even this, a somber day. "Hi, gorgeous," he says quietly, causing her to lift her head as she steps closer to him.
She surprises him him with a small smile, coming closer to him and immediately wrapping her arms around his waist. She breathes him in deeply, finding his scent to be a sense of calm. "I'm sorry," she mutters against his chest.
Chris sighs in contentment, softly rubbing her back. Opal pulls back, finally looking him in the eye. Her deep brown eyes still appear heavy-hearted as he moves a curl out of her face. "No reason to be, love." Opal opens her mouth to argue, Chris stopping her quickly. "There is nothing for you to apologize for. End of story. I don't want to hear you apologize again."
She sniffles as she scrunches her nose. "So demanding," she teases lightly.
Chris gives a side smile before leaning down and kissing her forehead. "Are you ready?"
"Not at all," she answers with confidence. "But, the old man didn't leave me much choice. So, lead the way." She motions with her hand for Chris to move ahead of her.
He opens the door for her, putting his hand on the small of her back, leading her out. She stops as he locks up the house behind them. He holds his hand out for her as she immediately laces her fingers through his. "I've got you," he reminds her as he squeezes her hand gently.
The service is small and intimate, held only at the graveside, led by the chaplain of the funeral home. He catches Opal's eye, giving her a small nod to alert her that it's her turn.
She begins second guessing this decision, her body tensing up even more as Chris continues to hold her hand. Her breathing begins to falter, becoming unsteady. Chris turns to face her head on. He releases her hand before bringing his own up to her face. He cradles her between his hands, resting his forehead against hers. "In, and out," he says in hushed tones.
Opal closes her eyes, following his directions. "In and out," he says again as his thumbs caress her cheekbones. "In and out."
She takes deep breaths in through her mouth and blows them softly out through her lips until her heart and breath steadies once again. Her eyes flutter open finding Chris staring at her with an intense admiration. "I'm right here," he tells her. She nods before pulling away.
Opal carefully takes her place where the chaplain once stood. She takes a moment to look around at the guests in attendance. Her friends and their spouses, Chris and his family, but then also a handful of nurses that Pop's had managed to sweet talk during his hospital stay.
With one last longing look at Chris, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and begins to sing.
When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up to more than I can be
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up to more than I can be.
Chris POV
I continue to be amazed by this incredibly strong woman in front of me. She didn't have to stand in front of everyone and sing, but knowing that it was Pop's wish for her to use her talent once more, she pushed through. I'd be lying if I wasn't completely sure she was going to be able to handle it when she started with her small panic attack.
The extent of her strength seems unending, having started at an incredibly young age. My only fear is the loss of that tenacity once we're behind closed doors. One can only save face for so long before they crumble under the added pressure they've placed on themselves.
That's my fear for Opal. She's put on the bravest of faces in front of everyone today, having only allowed herself to fall apart around me, and I'm assuming a small amount with Lily this morning. But this evening, when we leave the reception at Magnolia to return home, she's probably going to fall apart all over again.
Opal finishes the song beautifully, holding herself together, no doubt with closed eyes behind her sunglasses. She doesn't move as the chaplain begins a closing prayer. I move next to her, slipping my hand into hers before bringing her knuckles to my lips. She sniffles quietly next to me.
The chaplain finishes the prayer and makes an announcement about the reception taking place at Magnolia, to begin in the next hour. There's a low murmur of differing conversations as Opal, still holding onto my hand, walks closer to the mahogany casket. Her left hand reaches out, grazing over the white lilies that adorn the shiny, red-brown wood. She clenches my hand a little tighter before burying her face in my chest.
"We, we were suppose to be," she stutters through her sobs, "have having a wedding, not having a funeral."
There are no appropriate words to be said in this moment. Nothing anyone says can bring her comfort or peace as her heart shatters over and over again. Instead, I hold her a little tighter and pray that my own warmth and love can keep her grounded. I kiss the top of her head over and over again, letting my lips rest there.
I feel a soft hand on my back causing me to lift my head up a little, Opal still staying in place. My mother comes around to catch my gaze. I can read the look on her face. It holds pity and love for the woman in my arms. "We're going to go ahead to Magnolia. You two take all the time you need," she offers before leaning over to kiss Opal on the temple.
I watch her walk away, the rest of the small crowd following shortly after her. Opal's sobs become less harsh, she turns her face resting her cheek against my chest now. "I don't know how to do this, Chris."
"One day at a time, love. One day at a time."