KISS: In The Band

Ch 49: Oh Please No (Paul)

"He's late. He's never late," Eric said anxiously, looking at the door. "Maybe he just hit traffic or something," Gene said. We all exchanged nervous glances, unwilling to even think of the other reason he might be late.

Bruce walked into the room an hour after we were supposed to start practice and I felt my stomach immediately drop. I had never seen someone look as heartbroken as he looked as he walked across the room toward us. "Oh fuck...is he...?" I trailed off, unable to get myself to say the words. To my horror, he nodded, sinking to the floor and burying his face in his hands. "L-last night. He died last night," he choked.

I walked over to him, shaking my head. "You're lying. Bruce, tell me you're lying! You're fucking lying! Tell me right now! Say it, say he's okay! Say he's okay!" I screamed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. He shook his head, closing his eyes as tears rolled down his face. "You don't understand how much I wish I was lying," he whispered.

I burst into tears, dropping to my knees. "No! Oh, fuck, no!" I wailed. Gene walked over to me, pulling me into a hug. I sobbed into his shoulder as he sobbed into mine. "I'm sorry," Bruce said weakly. "I'm sorry."

The funeral hurt. Everything hurt. It was like a fucking hole had been punched in my heart. Bruce's speech hurt. It was a beautiful speech, and Eric would've loved it, but it was hard to see him fight so desperately not to cry.

"Um...Eric Carr was easily the best man I've ever known. He was always willing to help his friends before himself, to make sure that...that the people he loved were safe and happy. It's...it's almost twisted, in a way, that a man with such a big heart would have heart cancer. And...I know today is a hard day for all of us, but I know Eric wouldn't want us to spend time focusing on what we lost. Instead of spending time thinking of the future we won't have with him, he would want us to remember the past we did have with him. So...so today I'd just like for all of us to try and remember the life he lived."

It hurt to see the urn with his ashes, to know that one of my best friends, one of the best people I had ever known, would ever know, was gone, and was nothing more than dust. And he would never come back.

Nick didn't understand. He kept asking where Uncle Eric was. He didn't understand when Gene told him Eric wasn't going to come back. That he was gone. That he had died. It hurt seeing Gene try so desperately to keep himself together as he tried to get his son to understand.

Seeing Eric's parents and his sisters hurt. His sisters looked so similar to him, they all had the same hair, and every time I saw them from behind in the church, for a moment I would think it was Eric. But it wasn't, because he was gone.

Seeing Charlie dressed in a little black suit hurt. Knowing he'd never really remember his dad hurt. Seeing Carrie try so hard to keep herself together hurt. Everything just fucking hurt. She tried so hard to keep the tears away, but Charlie wouldn't stop asking where his dad was. He didn't understand, he couldn't understand, he was too young. It hurt to see.

I couldn't stop crying, I couldn't stop thinking I could've done more, that something else could've happened, that something could've been done to save him. And that hurt.

After the ceremony, Bruce walked over to me, looking two seconds away from collapsing, and I couldn't blame him. I was pretty sure I looked the same way. "Look, Paul...I know when you first showed up again I wasn't the nicest to you. But I wanted to say...thank you for being Eric's friend again. He really did love you, and he was...he was really happy he was able to hang out with you and all them again. Thank you for letting him in the band. He was so...so proud to have made it."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I wish I hadn't blown you off. But thank you for giving me a second chance." He gave me a weak smile. "Yeah. Thanks for being his friend. In high school and...and after too."

Eric took my hand, giving it a miserable squeeze. "Paul...can we go home?" he whispered. I nodded, walking with him to my car. I sat in the driver's seat for a moment, taking a deep breath. He took my hand again. We didn't say anything as I finally drove home.

The instant we got to my house, he walked inside and collapsed on the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest and staring numbly at the floor. Trying not to cry, I sat next to him, stroking his hair. "It fucking hurts," he choked. "I know. I know."