Chris

Linda's on the phone to the funeral home, trying to explain why Antonio's body isn't available yet.

She has sympathy and compassion for her daughter, but, really, it can only go so far. Especially after that story Chelle laid out, and she'd always thought her daughter had more sense than that. It's such a Steve move that she's sure that stupidity had to be from his side of the family.

Helping a friend fake his death - a friend that has caused her nothing but pain - she's sure there was something about breaking a cycle in one of those self help books she tried to share with Chelle after her divorce. If only she listened.

Her conversation with the funeral home is cut short by the doorbell.

"I'll need to call you back."

She hopes it's Alan, who has stopped by and since Chelle's baricaded herself in that room it's not like she'll ever know. Sometimes she doesn't know where that girl learned how to deal with people.

Linda opens the door.

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Chris blinks in surprise at the unfamiliar women. Vaguely, she remembers her dad telling her that Chloe had called Michelle's mom and she can see the family resemblance.

"Hi," she says, regaining her composure and giving the woman a small smile. "I'm Chris Chappelle, one of Michelle's friends. I was hoping to talk to her?"

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Linda's lips thin as she looks at the woman. She remembers Chelle mentioning something about a Chris during her story and from the injuries on the woman's face, it's clear that she's either in an abusive relationship or part of what killed Antonio.

"I'm Michelle's mom, Linda. And my daughter's not taking any visitors at the moment."

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She had forgotten about her injuries and has to resist the urge to duck her head, though she does look away.

For a moment, it's tempting to just leave it at that. This wasn't a meeting she particularly wanted to have and maybe it was too soon.

Or maybe she was looking for any excuse to leave.

Still with that same small smile on her face. "Could you ask her if she wants to talk to me?"

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She has the feeling Chris isn't going to give up and it's been a trying week.

"I could do that, you might as well come inside." Linda says. "You are the first person to stop by without trying to call first." Other friends had wanted to see Michelle, but they accepted her self-imposed isolation and told Linda to pass along their sympathy.

An injured woman standing at the door might make people talk and Linda's main goal has been to shield her daughter as much as possible.

"Wait here," Linda says as she turns and heads upstairs.

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She almost opens her mouth to say that she did call - three times - but was bumped to voicemail every time. This really wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with a machine.

But she doesn't. Instead she keeps the smile on her face, polite if a little thin, and murmurs 'thank you'.

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Linda doesn't bother to knock and finds her daughter still in bed and staring at the wall again. She holds in a sigh and sits down on the edge of the mattress.

Michelle's wearing one of Antonio's sweaters. Privately, Linda's been thinking about who Michelle should meet after the mourning period is over. Her husband, as far as Linda's concerned, was a criminal and should have never been pardoned. Then again, a lot of Michelle's friends seem to fall on the wrong side of the law. She'd hoped things would work out with Bill, but of course her daughter couldn't have a stable love.

Linda touches her shoulder. "Chelle, dear, there's a Chris Chappelle down -- "

Michelle looks up, stopping the music she's been listening to all day.

"Chris is here?"

"I told her you - "

"She can come up."

"Chelle, you really want someone to see you in this condition?" Linda asks softly, but her voice has a hard edge.

"Mom, please, just - just tell her."

Linda sighs and walks back downstairs.

"She's in the bedroom. Don't upset her."

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Voice low and tone completely free of sarcasm, Chris answers, "Yes, ma'am."

There's tightening in her stomach as she walks up the stairs and Chris grips the bannister a little tighter. She's not entirely sure what to expect from this visit -- just because Michelle wants to talk to her doesn't mean she'll be happy to see her.

When she reaches the landing, she pauses at the door, hesitating before she taps on the door. "Michelle?"

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Her voice is familiar and even through her grief, Michelle feels a little relieved.

"Come in," she doesn't even try to hide her sadness.

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Chris enters the room, her heart breaking when she sees her friend wrapped up in a sweater that's too big for her and that lost look in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to say something and wavers for a moment. Finally, "I'm so sorry that I didn't come sooner."

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Michelle looks down at the hem of the sweater and pulls at an invisible thread. As Chris speaks, her head snaps up and she sees the bruises and cuts on her friend's face.

A small part of her thinks she should be angry, should be jealous, should hate Chris for still having the man she loves while Tony -- but she's too numb to really feel and even now she knows those thoughts are unfair.

She covers her mouth with her hand and tries not to sob again, but Chris being there - whole - and the knowedge that Tony will never come home and she knows the hollow look in Chris's eyes, has seem them in her own mirror.

"Chris."

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There's a slight nod and Chris glances away, tears stinging her eyes. It's not fair. Tony not coming back and there is nothing that will ever make this right. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and reaches for Michelle's hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry --" That Tony didn't make it. That I did. that everything went so wrong.

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Did he suffer? Was it fast? Was he afraid? Did he know he was going to die? Did he try to say goodbye?

"Tony - he - " She holds onto Chris's hand tightly, unable to ask any of her questions out loud.

"Was he there?"

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"Was he --" Chris doesn't finish the question, she knows what Michelle is asking. Her mouth tightens into a thin line as if that'll keep the words from spilling out.

"No."

She almost hates herself for what she does next, saying things she can't promise but wants to believe. "But his... his body was still there. For the wake. So maybe afterwards...?"

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"There was a wake?" She almost sobs the words, unable to stop herself.

I missed it. I should have been there. But his body, haven't seen his body, no body means he's still alive. No body means I'm not alone. He has to go to Milliways, he promised - he promised.

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Still holding Michelle's hand, Chris reaches out to rub her shoulder. Her mind races with what she should say.

"Yeah...Almost a week had passed. My dad thought that they should do something... So many people care about Tony -- they asked about him and you."

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She nods slowly. "I know he really cared - " her voice cuts off at the use of past tense and she's silent trying to regain some kind of composure. "My mom is making all of the funeral arrangements. She - she asked me if there was going to - if we were going to get...," she looks up at her friend. "I should have been with him."

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The thought of Michelle seeing Tony's death chills her and she numbly shakes her head, not speaking just yet.

"It..." It happened too quickly. There was no time to do anything, even react.

"It's nice that your mother is here helping you. I was worried."

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"Mom's good at this," she mutters. "She's sort of moved in and taken over. I...want to be alone but I can't," her voice breaks on the last word, she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of the sweater.

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"People tend to either hover around you or stay away at times like these," she murmurs quietly.

Somehow, despite her mother's managing of the situation, Michelle being alone seemed like the worse option of the two.

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"I asked her to stay," she admits. "I...know I'm not thinking clearly. I felt this...I want to be with him. I look into the future and I see nothing."

She almost laughs, "I'm so weak."

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"That's not weak." She feels like she should say something more, tell her the future isn't so bleak, things will get easier with time. Everything that comes to mind seems trite and empty though, how could she promise Michelle anything?

"Have you eaten anything today?" she asks, partly to say something and partly because she knew how easy it could be to forget to eat at times like this.

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"It's worse than weak, after what he, and what it would do to my parents...it's selfish," she looks away, at the dresser, letting herself think about it again.

"Did my Mom tell you to ask that?"

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She stills at that first comment, not showing much emotion on her face other than worry. Silently, she's thanking God that Chloe called Michelle's mom.

"No, she didn't." She'll take that as a 'no' to her question. "I just know that when I'm upset I don't always remember to eat."

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