Painted Lady {h.s}

funeral

★ LORELAI ★

September 3rd
1997

"Oh, my god! What happened?"

"Oh, Joey was born, and then twenty-eight years later, I was robbed!"

I sit on the couch, mindlessly watching a rerun of friends. The apartment is cold, and quiet, so I tend to always have the television on. I get scared of any small noises or creaks in the floorboards, and the neighbors have gotten sick of me banging on their door to check for murders in our house. But, I don't really have anyone else to check. I could call Faye, but there's such a large time difference between us right now.

The band has reached the east coast, the tour flying by before everyone's eyes. I get weekly updates from Faye. She fills me in on all the gossip in the band, any problems between her and Zayn, and everything in between. There was a huge fight between Harlow and Mitch over a box of cereal that lasted a week, eventually ending in them making up in a puddle of tears and apologies. She also updates me on the album, but she doesn't know much about it at this point even though it'll be released soon.

And, of course, she tells me about Harry.

No matter how much protesting she does, I always manage to get a few hints about how he is doing. She tells me that the less I know the better I'll heal myself, but I can't help but be curious.

I would get to know more - If he ever called me.

That's why, a month after I got on that train back to San Francisco, I still haven't gone back.

I thought for sure I'd be getting a call from Harry as soon as he got my letter, but that wasn't the case. I thought that we'd be spending every night on the phone just so that we wouldn't forget one another's voices, but it couldn't be more different. I'm not sure if Faye has gotten to him too, and told him to keep his distance, but either way it hurts.

I know that he isn't drinking, and seems to be better, from what Faye has told me, but it still just feels weird.

I think I've reached the anger stage of it all, because for once instead of beating myself up over the fact that he hasn't reached out - I'm mad. I've spent hours just staring at my phone as I battle my own head to not call him and curse his name for not calling.

I'm glad to know that he's getting better, but I'm furious he hasn't decided to share that news with me himself.

"I just have this really strong feeling that this cat is my mother." Phoebe Buffy's speaks through the speakers of the television, not doing its job to drown out my thoughts.

Suddenly my phone rings from beside me, I jump a bit in surprise. It's far too late for Faye to be calling, and we had our weekly update call yesterday. I grab my phone and check the screen, Faye's name plastered on the front. I flip open my phone and instantly press the answer button.

"Hello?" My voice is quiet from not being used at all today.

"Hey Lori," Her voice is soft, a tone I can't quite pick up through the muffled speaker.

"Why are you calling, isn't it like midnight over there?"

"Yeah, it is," She sighs as the anxiety begins to creep into my body.

Oh god, is Harry okay?

"Is everything okay?" I ask hesitantly.

"Sarah... She's gone."

"What!" I nearly scream. "What do you mean gone?"

"She passed Lori, she's gone."

"What-How?! What!"