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It happened slowly, then all at once. Baird had been declining over the last year or so, but Gerri never expected to be standing in a hospital, looking over the love of her life as machines pumped his heart and expanded his lungs. With all those tubes in the way, Baird just wasn’t…well, Baird. Her tall and strong husband looked alien to her, almost small in the bed, surrounded by the blank walls and beeping white noise of the hospital.
Gerri wasn’t an emotional woman. It’s not that she didn’t have them; arguably, she had too many. Keeping them tamped down and compartmentalized was the only way she got to where she was, taking Baird’s place as General Counsel when his heart got too weak and he had to retire. She had always felt comfortable with him, he was able to read her so well and she felt she could tell him anything. But as he got sicker and sicker, she had to be strong, couldn’t rely on him as she once did.
These emotions began to well up as she signed the paperwork to pull out all the tubes and turn off the machines. Once he was Baird again, she snuggled up next to him in the bed as his breathing slowed and eventually stopped. A few tears slipped down her cheeks as the reality of widowhood came crashing down around her, but she couldn’t break down, not now, not here. She took a breath and called her daughters, managing to keep her voice even and calm as she broke the news. Rachel thanked her for letting her know, so much like her mother in her quiet grief. Maggie burst into tears immediately, never one to hold back, Baird’s daughter through and through.
The next few weeks flew by so quickly. Gerri called his family and her own, and made the arrangements, the cremation, the memorial service. She played the part of the quietly sad widow, though the tears didn’t come. She had never been very comfortable crying around anyone but the man whose ashes, encased in a tasteful marble urn, now sat on the mantle at the home they shared for 31 years. The brownstone had seen so much, a marriage, two beautiful daughters, nearly a divorce and then a tearful reconciliation. It had seen them through sickness and health, and now only in death did they part. It was all too much, really, and so she separated herself from the pain, built a wall around her grief, containing it in a small corner of her heart so it couldn’t overtake her.
This time, however, she had shoved the feelings down so far that, nearly six months later, they still hadn’t surfaced. The girls began therapy a week after the funeral, but Gerri hadn’t gone, rationalizing her choice with the excuse of work. Waystar, and Logan, waited for no one’s grief.
But then one morning, it happened. She left a long meeting that should have been an email, ready to finally settle at her desk and catch up on her inbox, sure that there were at least three major fires waiting for her to put them out. She pulled up her calendar to see what else needed her attention that day and noticed the date.
It was Baird’s birthday. He would have been 78.
Her eyes tracked across her desk to the little tortoise-shaped paperweight that she had inherited along with the job, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. It took all the self control she had to get up and walk to her executive bathroom, but as soon as she had thrown the bolt, she burst into tears. The sobs wracked her body as she sank to the floor, arms tightly hugging her own waist as she folded in on herself, certain that if she let go she would physically shatter.
Her heart ached, her head hurt, her skin tingled. She ignored the snot and the saliva running down her face along with the big, fat tears of deeply buried grief.
You left me, Baird. Goddammit, you left me, all alone, how could you??
Her anger soon melted into sadness, the hurt so deep she couldn’t see the surface anymore. She was abandoned, her parents long gone and now the only other person who had ever understood her, the only one who saw beyond the cold and steely exterior to the soft, tender heart beneath, was gone into the ether as well. Nothing would ever be the same.
Come back, please. I can’t do this without you.
Gerri didn’t know how long she lay curled up on the floor of the bathroom, letting the tears fall as they may until they began to slow and she could breathe again. After a while she heard a gentle knock, and Frank’s concerned voice floated down through the wooden door.
“Gerri? Are you in there?” He tried the handle to confirm it was locked. “Gerri, you missed our touch base. Is everything okay?”
He was right to be worried. She never missed a meeting, would even phone in from home when she was sick. In the 30 years he’d known her, there were only two times she had been really, truly unavailable, and both times she was literally giving birth.
Gerri sniffled and pushed herself up on her knees, then stood, grabbing the sink to steady her shaking legs. She didn’t trust herself to respond until she was steady on her feet.
“I’m fine, Frank. Thank you.”
“I don’t know about that–,”
“I said I’m fine.” It came out harsher than she intended, voice hoarse from her crying spell.
“You know, I can tell when you’re lying,” he said. “Come on, let me in.”
He was always your friend more than mine, you know . Baird’s voice floated in from the back of her mind. For a moment, she swore she could smell his cologne, and underneath it, the natural, earthy scent of his skin. What could it hurt, to open up just a little?
Despite the fear of her own vulnerability rising in her throat, she turned the bolt and slowly cracked the door open. She turned away as Frank let himself into the small room, dabbing at her tear-stained face, her chest and neck beginning to flush with embarrassment.
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, nudging her to turn around. She almost shrugged him off, uncomfortable with the kind gesture even though they had known each other for so long. She wasn’t a touchy person, had reserved any physical affection for Baird and their daughters.
Frank let out a sympathetic sigh as she turned, taking in her disheveled appearance. “Oh, Gerri…”
“I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” she pleaded, her eyes shining still with unshed tears, and she realized that he’d never seen her cry before. His hands rested on her biceps, and he gave her a soft squeeze, ducking his head to catch her eyes.
“Okay. We don’t have to. But, you know, if you wanted to, we could.” Frank paused and took a breath, treading lightly. “You know, I miss him a lot. He was one of a kind.”
Gerri nodded, soft tears now slipping silently down her cheeks. She looked down at her hands, tissues wet and wadded up gripped tightly between them. “You know, I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. I didn’t… I didn’t want to be like this.”
“Like what?”
She shook her head, scoffing lightly. “You know. Play the grieving widow. ‘Oh, there’s poor, heartbroken Gerri, whatever will she do without him?’”
“Mm. I’m pretty sure no one has ever thought of you that way.” Slight amusement crept into his voice. “I think most everyone is too scared of you to pity you.”
“Ha! Maybe you’re right. Not sure that’s much better, though.” She sniffled and stepped away, grabbing more tissues in order to put herself back together. It was embarrassing enough for Frank to see her like this, if anyone else did, she wasn’t certain she could ever show her face again. God forbid Logan realize that his General Counsel had real human emotions.
She began the business of straightening her blouse and skirt, and finger combed her hair back into place. Luckily, since this was her bathroom and hers alone, she kept a small bag of basic makeup stashed in the cabinet under the sink. Frank leaned up against the wall and watched her as she fixed herself up, turning everything right side up again.
“Look, Gerri,” he started, then hesitated. Her eyes caught his in the mirror, brow raised expectantly. He sighed and shrugged. “Have you thought about, you know, therapy?”
She shook her head as she dabbed powder across her cheeks. “Oh no, the girls are talking to someone, but I don’t have the time. And really, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“I really don’t think you are. Have you cried at all, before today? Processed any of this? He was sick for quite awhile, Gerri, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. It was hard enough when I took care of my mom, but to lose a partner…” he trailed off as he caught her steely gaze again in the mirror. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I just think that, maybe it isn’t a bad idea to talk to someone. A professional someone.”
She sighed and put her makeup back in the bag, shoving it back under the sink. She took one last look at herself, hoping that no one would notice that she still looked a little red, and her eyes were a little puffy. If anyone asked, she’d just say it was allergies.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Frank teased gently, ear cocking to the side as if to hear her better.
Gerri rolled her eyes. “You heard me.”
“Just, you know, take care of yourself. History dictates that you’re pretty bad at that, so,” he shrugged. He wasn’t wrong and she hated it. His demeanor softened when he spoke again. “Take some time off. Just a couple days. Go away for the weekend, get some fresh air. Let him go.”
Her eyes drifted up towards the ceiling as she held back a fresh wave of tears. She took a deep breath to regain control of her emotions. Then, surprising both Frank and herself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her old colleague. He hesitated, then returned the hug, resting his chin against her forehead. “You’re not alone, Gerri. As much as you might think so, you’re not.”
Frank squeezed her gently and then dropped his arms, letting her disentangle herself. She cleared her throat and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Thank you, Frank. For um…for you know. This.”
They briefly considered each other, as if seeing the other in a new light. Something had shifted, deepened. For all their sniping over the years, shoving each other in the line of fire in order to save their own skins, there was somehow something solid beneath it, a real, personal friendship. They had been in the trenches together. Few people knew what it was to work closely with Logan Roy, and that formed a bond deeper than either of them had realized.
“By the way, I would appreciate it if you didn’t um…mention this, to anyone.”
Frank nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of ruining your carefully cultivated image.”
“Uh huh.” Gerri shot him a look, eyes slightly squinted as she fought the urge to roll her eyes again.
“Ah, there she is,” he teased. “Let’s get back to it.”
He pulled the door open and gestured for her to go ahead. She squared her shoulders and held her head high, ready to get on with her day.
Maybe tonight, when she was finally home and comfortable in her favorite silk pajamas with a glass of red wine in her hand, she would take down the photo albums that sat dusty on the shelves. Maybe she’d raise a toast to the spirit of the only man she’d ever truly loved, who had loved her back with the same wild abandon.
That love was one of a kind. She was sure she’d never come across something so precious ever again.
She was wrong.