BMB: Version 2-1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and it was created solely by me as the author. Any similarities to characters, businesses, places, or things are all happenstance, though my appreciation to those who have inspired my works is immense.

Author's Note: This entire series is based on the same characters, places, and general situations, but will be shared in the form of five different versions. I'm hoping you'll appreciate the various approaches as they are posted. And be aware, some versions go into certain details more than others, so remaining calm and awaiting the next installment may be necessary, but I assure you, it'll be worth it. Questions and comments are welcome. I hope everyone will be kind. And thanks, BiscuitHammer, for your continued support along my writing journey. 😉

BMB: Version 2-1

As Trin sat in her car waiting to go inside the church, she looked down at her talk and began to silently cry. "Come on, Jeremy!" she said aloud to the inside of her empty vehicle. "What were you thinking? Hardly anyone knows that I knew you the way I did. Why me?" She looked over and imagined him sitting in the front seat of her car.

"Because you did know me the best, Trin," Jeremy answered in her mind, though she could clearly picture him sitting there with her. "I know you. I know you'll show them the amazing person I came to know and love by standing up there sharing whatever it is you came up with. Do it for me. Pretend I'm out there listening."

Trin closed her eyes as she felt many more tears falling. Suddenly, there was a wrap on her passenger side window. It was Tommy. She reached for the tissues she'd had ready for the day and hurriedly wiped her face. He got in and sat in the front seat.

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost sounding angry.

"I'm, uh, I'm just getting ready to head in there," she explained. She hadn't told anyone she was giving the eulogy. Only Jeremy's parents and sister knew.

"You know, I don't get it," Tommy told her as he watched her dab at her eyes again. "You didn't even know him. Why are you crying? You know your past has nothing to do with this, right? You're making a fool of yourself. I'm literally embarrassed for you that you're sitting here crying in the parking lot like you even knew him."

"I..." she began in an effort to defend herself, but then realized she didn't owe him anything. She was much more shocked by his angry words. "Why does it matter to you? I'm not sitting by you. I'm not even affiliated with you here. If I bother you so much, just go inside. I can sit by myself, Tommy. I'm a big girl."

"You don't get it," Tommy hissed. "This was Dougie's best friend. Why are you even here? You were at the wake. You don't really need to be here." He sighed and shook his head. "Just forget it. I can't even look at you right now." He angrily opened the door and slammed it shut.

"What was that?" Trin asked aloud. "You know what? It helped though. No more tears, Jer," she resolved as she imagined her late friend sitting by her again. "Let's do this."

She turned off the car, and as she got out, she could have sworn she heard Jeremy tell her "Attagirl." She stopped, looked around, closed her eyes, and walked in holding her folder and her head held high. She took her seat and nodded over at Tom, her boss, and his wife, Michelle, when they acknowledged her presence. Michelle pointed at the seat next to her, but Trin shook her head ever so slightly and put her hand to her heart as she mouthed "Thank you, no."

The family walked in behind the casket and the Mass began as funeral Masses do. The songs were sad, and the homily was sincere. Father hadn't known Jeremy, but he shared a few things he'd heard about him and then continued on with Mass. When it was time for the eulogy, Trin was invited up to speak.

As she stood up, she begged and pleaded for Jeremy to take his place next to her if he was there and hold her up. "You wanted me to do this," she told him in her mind. "You need to be with me. I'm not doing this alone."

"Good morning," she began. "My name is Trinity Powers, and I was a close friend of Jeremy's throughout the last year of his life. I don't pretend to know Jeremy like many of you did. I didn't get to have that pleasure. But I did get to spend two to three evenings with him each week from the time I moved here. For whatever reason, Jeremy had specific instructions for me to be the one to share with you today. I hope I do you all justice as I stand here and share what I knew about our friend, Jeremy.

"Jeremy and I were introduced about two weeks after I moved to New York. Dougie asked me if I wanted to meet a friend of his since I didn't know anyone other than those at our workplace. I had mentioned that I had no one to hang out with as I didn't know anyone, and when I told Jeremy this, he told me he was a great option for me until I got sick of him since he was most certainly not going anywhere, even if he wanted to. So, he shrugged and told Dougie to leave us be and that I'd leave when I got sick of him.

"Well, what began as a nice visit became a regular thing most Tuesdays and Saturdays, with a sprinkling of either Wednesday or Friday visits here or there. What began as a nice gesture on my part became a favorite part for the both of us, or at least that's what he kept telling me. I'd come in and tell him about the Parker family and the shop drama. He'd tell me stories about when he was younger. We shared countless embarrassing stories about ourselves, one night spending four hours solely trying to top the next one shared. He won, but I had some doozies as well.

"We talked openly about death, and he appreciated that I could tell him how I felt as a widow, and he could tell me how it felt knowing he was about to die. We'd cry sometimes, but that guy had a way of snapping me out of it so quickly that I would end up laughing until my face got redder than my hair. I never checked, so I took his word for it. He was always true to his word.

"I heard a lot about many of you who are here today. He would always tell me about who came to visit him and how they fit into his life. If I seem to know more about you than you know about me, it's probably because Jeremy did his best to introduce me to his world, even from the bed on which he sat all the time.

"Jeremy was a fighter. I remember thinking that he was getting close to the end one day last month when he couldn't stop coughing. It was one of those visits where I sat quietly with him as support rather than filling his ear with my stories. That guy had the gall to yell at me when he had stopped coughing because I was being too supportive and not taking his mind off his illness. I just looked at him. I couldn't figure out where it came from. And then he began laughing. And laughing. And laughing some more. We ended up laughing and crying and coughing for the rest of the visit, all because I was being too supportive. He just had a way.

"And I need a show of hands. How many of you can honestly tell me you've ever seen Jeremy mad? Raise your hands. Not too many, right? He was a happy guy. Well, let me tell you. I, yours truly, had the very unexpected, unfamiliar, unnerving opportunity to see bitter, mad, really angry Jeremy one Friday evening. I never told him when I was going to come visit him on a Friday. I made those my surprise visits. And surprised he was.

"I walked in and took my place by his bed and waited for him to notice me. When he did, he had the audacity to roll his eyes at me. 'Oh great,' he mumbled. Now, I don't mean to come across as bragging, but when I walked in most days, even when some of the pain was too much, he lit up. I watched him do it several times with other visitors, so I didn't take it personally, really. He was generally a nice, happy guy who loved his visitors.

"That man had the gall to not only roll his eyes, but in such a way that had me believing that he was able to see the inside of his own skull. I mean, it was noisy, that eyeroll. I swore his mom could hear it from down the hall. So, I did what most people wouldn't do. I called him out on it. I knew he was sick, but I felt I was entitled to say something. You know, we were beyond new acquaintances at that point, so I simply said, 'I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself. I was here to see Jeremy, but I didn't realize he had a substitute taking his place. My name is Trin, and you are...

"When he rolled his eyes again, I sat forward. 'Well,' I told him, 'you know what, I'll just sit here. I think I'm going to see how my first bad mood experience goes. This might even be entertaining.' Guess who didn't enjoy my joy in this opportunity. If Jeremy was anything, he was friendly and kind. But you know what else he was? That boy was stubborn.

"'I don't want you here today,' he spewed and turned to face away from me but kept talking. 'I didn't expect your visit, and I'm in no mood to play nice.' I just laughed and told him that I wasn't in the mood for his attitude, but here I was. 'Why don't you tell me about it?' I requested and sat back and waited.

"We sat in silence for ten minutes, ladies and gentlemen. That boy was good and mad. But when those ten minutes were up, I got to hear what angry Jeremy sounded like. He had bottled up so many things from why he had to have this cancer to why the day had to be so bright that particular day to why the Patriots had to run that ball and lose possession which inevitably caused them to lose the game. He yelled that my shirt was too bright (I was wearing a shirt he'd complimented me on four times over our past visits), the TV was too loud (it was on three), and that his food three days earlier had been cold. And then he went silent. Pop had gone the cap off that soda bottle and explode it had gone. Something he very rarely did. And then guess what he did. Anyone?"

"He went right back to his happy self," his mom finally said aloud when no one else seemed to know what to say.

"That's right," Trin told her and had the whole church laughing. "It was like it had never happened. And it rarely did. It occurred because I had the patience to sit with him and listen to him. And he told me so. And then, do you know what that earned me? This spot, right here, ladies and gentlemen, telling this story to you. It was the one stipulation. 'I want Trinity to give the eulogy,' he'd written in his funeral instructions, 'and she has to tell my angry story.'

"So, there you have it. There is my account of what happened and how I met our friend Jeremy, and why I was chosen to be the one to share with you today. I hope I've made you laugh, because that's what Jeremy told me he hoped to hear on the day of his funeral. We were all so blessed to know and love him. I've cried my many tears. He knew we would. But he wanted to be celebrated and not to be mourned.

"Jeremy, thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being the kind, honest, super friendly guy who filled many of my evenings with joy, peace, and friendship. Along with your many friends and relatives, your mom and dad, your sister, and your best friend, I thank you for being you. Rest in peace, Jer. You earned it."

When Trin stopped talking, she closed her binder, and before she could turn to step down from the podium, the sound of applause reached her ears. Everyone had begun clapping. She made eye contact with his parents who nodded and continued to clap with everyone else. She made her way down to stand before them, and they brought her into a huge hug.

What Trin didn't do was look over at the Parker family. She'd talk to Dougie happily, but she couldn't talk with Tommy. He'd either apologize until she ended up feeling bad for him or turn things into an awkward situation. She didn't know how it would go, but she really didn't want to talk to him to find out.

The Mass ended, and Trin turned to collect her coat and binder again. She planned to make her way out to the car and then down to the hall. Burial was going to be private with only immediate family after the luncheon. When she went to the car, she was approached by Tommy, as she had expected, but in a different way than she'd thought.

"How could you never tell me that you knew him?" he asked as she placed her binder in the car. She was certain he was now channeling his anger at her from how he thought he felt before Mass into this new realization. This was so new. This was so off. Where was all this anger coming from? She didn't have the strength to fight with him. Not today.

"What bothered you so much this morning, Tommy?" she asked him quietly as she stood with her back to the car while he faced it while leaning with his elbows up against the top of it. "Why are you so angry at me? Why are you so upset that I was upset? How does this even affect you?"

"You never told me you knew him! Why didn't you tell me? We've been partners for a year now. You withheld that information. Surely, it could have come up somewhere. I can't believe you kept that from me."

"It had nothing to do with you," Trin told him quietly again. She really didn't want to make a scene. Tommy knew too that if anyone had heard him yelling at her after that speech she'd just given, it would only reflect poorly on him. "How I've spent my evenings, other than on Thursday nights, has nothing to do with you. I owed you nothing, Tommy. Dougie knew. Anyone who went to visit him who knew me heard about me and my visits." And then it hit her. "You never visited him," she whispered. "And now you're mad because you can't fix that anymore. And because I didn't know him as long as you did, you're mad that I came to know him. And you felt angry with me because you thought I didn't have a right to cry over someone you thought I didn't know.

"Well, now you know. And I'm sorry that you've lost that chance. I'm not judging you about not visiting him. Many didn't. And I probably wouldn't have visited him or had the time to do so if someone, anyone from work had ever wanted to just hang out with me once in a while. Go see a movie? No thanks. Go grab a bite to eat? Um, sorry, no, I can't. It was like I was a leper. That first month here was torture for me. They're so cool with me at picnics and every day at work, but to go hang out? Hell no!"

"What are you talking about?" Tommy nearly yelled. Thankfully, no one was around. "You know none of us could go out to grab a bite to eat or see a movie with you!"

"Why?" Trin begged. "Why couldn't you? Was there a rule?"

"You know there was a rule!" he hissed at her. "You should have heard the way they were talking about how you kept testing them! Dad was so serious about it that he had individual talks with each of us before he spoke with you about it!"

"He never spoke with me about any rules," she told him quietly and then looked at him to see how he would react to that news. "What rule?"

"Do you mean to tell me that a year ago, my dad never brought you into his office to tell you that relationships of any kind were forbidden between any of us at work, friendship or otherwise? He literally gave examples of asking you out to grab a bite to eat or to go see a movie. When you asked us randomly, we were sure Dad was testing us. At first, we were upset, and then we figured it was a test and found it sad that he couldn't have come up with better examples."

"No, Tommy," she sighed and put her hands to her face. "He never told me about any rule. And I would never have tempted any of you, no matter how funny he might have thought it would have been. Are you serious right now? Are you telling me that in that in that first month, when everyone turned down my offer to grab a bite to eat or to see the newest movie or to go get a tour of the town in which I lived but knew hardly anything about, they thought I was tempting them and turned me down because they saw it as a test?"

"You really weren't testing us?"

"Tommy, I was genuinely hurt each and every time I was turned down," she told him sadly. The tears she refused to shed crept up on her. "I went home more than once absolutely sure, so incredibly certain that this job wasn't going to work out because I couldn't handle working with people who didn't want to be around me. I thought maybe my breath stunk or my deodorant wasn't working! I was mortified! The only thing that kept me here was the work. I love my job."

"I know you do," Tommy told her quietly. "I don't know what to say. Let's go in. It's cold out here, and I think there are a number of people wanting to speak to you about your speech. It was really good."

"I can't," Trin resolved and took out her keys. "I can't go in there and face your dad knowing what he did, or rather, what he didn't do. I can't, or I'll end up screaming at him. You don't know it, Tommy, but it hurt so badly when you all turned me down so coldly. I can't. I just can't. I know I should, but I can't do it."

"Come on, Trin," he begged and reached for her hand. "I'll be there with you. 'TipTop can do anything,' remember?" he quoted. For a moment, Trin thought about the day they'd been dubbed the nickname. Trinity Irelyn Powers and Thomas Owen Parker. Tom had noticed it once when making notes and absentmindedly mentioned it at a meeting. The other employees found it hilarious. They called them that more often than not when referring to the duo who were partners who worked the Thursday evening shift. For a single second, she almost let her guard down and thought about joining him at the reception. But then she thought about seeing Tom, and her guard was securely back in place.

"Not this time," she resolved and shook her head. "Tell them you saw me leaving or that you seemed to think I wasn't feeling well, but I can't." She pulled away from his attempt to touch her and walked quickly to the other side of her car. She drove away from the church and cried as she had this new wave of pain crashing into her.

"He never told me about a rule!" Trin cried aloud when she got out of the car in front of her house. She knew no one would be able to hear her, so she just let it all out. "Hey! Did you hear that?" she yelled and looked up into the sky. "Jeremy, I have a new one for ya! He never told me about some stupid rule, and I played right into it! Why aren't you here anymore? Why can't I come see you one more time so we can talk this one out? You've gotten me through every other issue in my life this year, Jer. Where are you now?"

The realization that Jeremy wouldn't be there anymore, along with what Tommy had told her, all hit her too hard. She cried. She sobbed. She screamed. She begged for some comfort. Some understanding. Something to help her through this. She sat on the front porch, alternating between sobs and yells, silent tears, and silent stares into the woods.

When she finally composed herself enough to walk into her house, she was surprised (and not) to find Georgie, Tom's youngest child and essentially Trin's newest best friend, pulling up to her house. It had been about two hours since she'd left the funeral. Georgie got out of the car wearing jeans and a cute top. Clearly, she'd gone home to change. Or maybe she'd brought different clothes to the funeral?

"What gives?" she asked, clearly not affected by the tearstained face standing in front of her. "Everyone wanted to talk to you, Trin. Everyone thought you'd be there to talk with after that amazing speech you gave. Why'd you leave?"

Trin shook her head and wiped her face before shutting the door behind Georgie. "I don't want to talk about it, Georgie."

"Too bad, big sister," she told Trin and sat down with her arms crossed. "I'm here to collect you to go to Frankie's Pub where we're all hanging out in Jeremy's honor. We meet at 4PM. In the meantime, you have some explaining to do." She shook her head. "Oh, I won't tell, but I want to know what's up. You tell me everything, remember? So, what's up?"