Songs To Sing- John Frusciante

Epilogue

December 27, 1991

John

Pencey had an open casket viewing, even though she didn't want to. She hadn't gotten to make a will, because why would she have, so her parents made that choice.

Her parents made that decision.

She'd told me on the night we moved into the house that the reason she wanted a closed casket was because when she was younger, her grandmother passed away, and she was forced to say her final goodbyes to her. She said that her grandmother looked plastic, and it frightened her.

She never wanted someone to think that of her, hence the closed casket.

I stood towards the front of the parlor, watching the people pass her, the tears being shed, the people who she'd never even mentioned to me shaking hands with her father, hugging her mother.

They didn't even say hello to me. I'm sure they didn't know who I was. And that was okay. They didn't need to. I didn't have to be in their lives if Pencey wasn't. No one noticed how I flipped around the small ring in my hand, sliding it on and off my left pinky numbly. It fit perfectly.

I watched my band walk into the room before the wake was about to end. Her ex-bandmates were here hours before, and Dave had stayed with me to tell stories about her. He loved that girl. She knew her better than anyone else I knew. He cared about her like a little sister.

But Flea...

Flea looked like a mess. His eyes were puffy, he had certainly been crying. Anthony just looked shaken, and Chad was frowning. That was about as much sad emotion as he would ever show. Just a tight, small frown. He was too happy for anything else.

They only said a few words to me, knowing I'd inevitably fall into the reclusive state I was known for, and that it was better to say nothing.

And every time I would close and open my eyes in that parlor, it would switch from the present, my fiance laying in a casket, eyes blissfully closed, to the past.

***

I know that wasn't a good sound.

Before I could process the shot I had heard, I grabbed my coat and slipped on a pair of boots, running out of the bedroom and letting it swing open behind me. It felt like the longest run down the stairs I had ever had, trying to skip as many stairs I could handle without falling and injuring myself.

Pencey.

God, I hope that wasn't Pencey.

I shoved the front door open, looking around wildly. I raked my hand through my hair in a panic, my whole body shaking.

The phone booth's window was stained red in the distance.

I walked over gingerly, looking in at eye level first, seeing the phone hang. And my eyes trailed down, down, down...

She sat still in the booth, one hand on her stomach, the other open-palmed next to her. Her eyes were open wide, her mouth slightly open. She looked scared.

"Sweetheart..."

She was alive. Pencey had to be alive. She'd just gotten that ring. She had to live for that ring.

"Pencey. Penny."

I kneeled next to her, taking her hand in mine, and shaking it lightly. I wrapped my thumb around her wrist, not feeling anything. "Hi, Penny." I reached up with the other hand, punching in the 3 numbers without looking. There was already an unused quarter in the machine.

"911, what's your emergency?"

My entire life is gone. That's my emergency.