A Year Gone By

By: Carm

Before you read this please read “Out Of The Loop”.

Justin

I understand that people across the world are mourning, but none could match mine. Well, maybe Em, but still. He was one of my best friends. It’s been a long, hard year, and each day just gets longer and harder. Every time I close my eyes, I see those moments over and over again. The shock of seeing blood spreading all over my chest is as real as when it happened. His eyes looking in mine, him crying, as he held my head in his lap is chokingly painful to remember. And, God, every time the phone rings, I run away from it because all I ever hear through the receiver is “Joey’s dead.”

Sometimes I wake up and it seems like over a year ago. I get up and dress and start to head over to the studio, but then I remember there’s been no music since we laid down that song for Joe’s funeral. The final goodbye, I guess. And throughout all of this time, there’s been nothing to show that this goodbye should have been just goodnight. Capturing his murderer helps nothing. It won’t bring him back. In fact, it just pisses me off, because I’ll never be able to wrap my mind around the fact that Steve Fatone and Joe, Sr. collectively killed my best friend on his own front steps.

Britney

I really don’t know how I feel. I know I was so mad at Joey for so long. I blamed him for Stinky getting shot. Then I couldn’t stand the way he just walked away from us. Made us worry. And I totally hated him for dying. It felt like he’d just given in. He left us to handle life without him. Justin couldn’t deal and me having to deal for him and me was almost too much. He’s older than me. He’s the strong one. But with Joey gone, I had to be all of that for Justin. I had to be his lifeline, but who would be mine? Who will be mine?

It took so long for the anger to go away and now I don’t have anything to take its place. It all sorta hit me in a rush. I was just watching a mo vie and then -- BAM. Tears, and lots of them. Justin tried to help, but there was nothing he could do. I thought the sadness was starting, finally, but I realized that I didn’t know if I cried over the loss of Joey, out of guilt for so much anger towards him, or both. And that just made me cry more.

I’m so confused I don’t know up from down. I don’t know myself anymore. Dammit, Joey! Why’d you have to die?

Lance

Whoa. It’s only been a year? I’d swear it was at least five. Eveyrthing just seemed to move so slowly after the funeral. And then slower while we waited for an arrest. Ya know what sticks out most for me about that year? When Steve and Joe went to trial. It was like there was no way possible that they could get an impartial jury, and with the rest of the mob sorta backing away from them, it was just like a formality that had to be done, even though it was obvious they were guilty. But, I think what made it stick with me so much is Steve. The look on his face. The way he fidgeted around in his chair. His eyes downcast. Even though his lawyers pleaded him not guilty, just his expressions spoke of how not innocent he was.

It’s weird to think that Steve could do something like that. I mean, I remember times on the road when we’d just sit back and chill, talking and whatnot. And also times when he’d make us all laugh or do something stupid to try to make someone’s bad day turn good. He was always there. He was part of the extended *NSync family-- him, Wade, and Britney. And he really was family to Joe. I just don’t understand how he could look into the scope of a rifle and shoot his own blood down like that. And I’ll never get to ask him, either. He didn’t talk about it in court, and I can’t go and visit him. I just might end up in a cell down the hall for murdering him. Whatever he says couldn’t make any difference. There’s no explanation for something like that. They say blood is thicker than water, but-- how do you choose between blood?

Wade

What can I say? I stood in for him in a video. They made me up to look just like him. He was such a cool guy. Lazy as hell when he was in my studio working on moves. Kept trying to play tired. But it was all in fun, though. Who do you think first said that I was a slave driver? None other than Flirt, himself. And now? I don’t even want to teach a class, or do a tour or even watch that video anymore. What’s the point? I don’t need a tape to remember Joey Fatone in his glory days. I have enough pictures in my head to do that.

Chris

I wonder if you can fart in heaven. It’s a pretty rational question, what with the guy that’s up there now. I mean, we all know that Joey just has this major thing for farting. Anywhere, on anyone, by anything, he’s just-- lettin’ it rip. Like the time in the elevator. He really let it fly, but it was one of those silent, deadly ones. And he got off the elevator like right after he did it. Me, Wade and JC are just standing there, wondering where the hell’s he going. And then, the smell hits. Horrible!! I swear his insides are rotten! I don’t understand how any human being could let out anything that smells that bad.

That’s where I get my obsession with farts from. Joey’s got like a ton of different ones so when you’re around ‘em enough, you become sort of an aficionado of gaseous escapes. He’ll even cut them backstage like right before we go on, to pump up, and right when we’re off stage to let out the tension. Those are the nastiest ones. It’s just.. it’s nasty, man! Totally and utterly disgusting. I’m surprised he never ripped his pants. Though there was a pair of jeans he had that he swears tore when he bent over. Uh huh... sure. You farted your way out of those! Don’t lie.

But, yeah-- that’s our Joey. The fartin’ angel. Golden halo, white wings, white loincloth--- and a big puff of green smoke around him from the recently cut cheese. Joey, the farting angel-- he can finally fly.

JC

It’s rough. Obviously. I’ve known Joey forever it seems like and now he’s not here anymore. We’re all this huge family and it’s slowly breaking apart. Not like a sabotage thing or even conscious effort. It’s more like everybody’s just going into themselves and the ties that bind are coming loose. Justin and Britney are tearing themselves apart, just as much as they’re coming unglued from the rest of us. They’re both torn up so bad over it and they don’t know how to help each other, ‘cause they don’t know how to help themselves. And can we say stubborn? Justin tries to hide it when people are around, but I know he still hurts and it’s more than a scar on his chest that’s over a year old.

Wade just won’t talk about it. Everybody else can be pretty open sometimes with their grief, but not Wade. He refuses to let us see him cry, but I know he does. He’ll be in town and stop by and his eyes will be all red and puffy. He needs to just let it out. He won’t show sadness, anger, anything. That’s not healthy.

And speaking of anger, there’s a lot of that. Britney was so pissed for so long and I really have no idea how to help her with that. Lance is pissed off at Steve. I’m sorta upset with him, too, but being mad won’t bring Joey back so why waste the energy, ya know?

Chris-- he tries to lighten the mood. If you want a “good ole Joey” story, you go to him. He’s got tons of ‘em. Though they usually have something to do with farts. He’s hooked on them. Farts and asses. He’s strange, what can I say?

The worst two out of everybody are Charlie and Em. One a lifelong friend and the other the love of his life. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for them. I’ll see Charlie just sitting around doing nothing and I know she’s thinking about him. She’s thinking about all of them. She was as close to Steve as she was to Joey, and Joe, Sr. was sort of a father figure. I don’t think she’s upset, though. I think she hurts for all of them. I can’t be sure, though. It’s just an impression I get. Em, on the other hand-- I don’t even know what’s going on with her. She lives in Joey’s old house now. Surrounds herself with him. She’s like Wade, not talking about it and all. She even left Joey’s old message on the voice mail. She hasn’t changed a thing there, as if she’s waiting for him to come back.

I don’t know what to do for any of them. I wish I could just take it all away but I can’t. It’s easier to give the others their space because they don’t live with me. Charlie does though, and I have to watch her toss and turn in her sleep, and cry. I get to listen to music over and over again that has prominent Joey in it. Watch videos that we did, as though she’s trying not to forget him. But, I don’t think she will. She couldn’t. None of us can. And that just may be the hardest part to deal with out of everything.

Ember

Saying I miss Joey would be stating the obvious. I loved him with all of my heart. We were planning a wedding when he-- When it all started. We were waiting for the tour to finish. I still remember how things were supposed to go. By then, I’d already have my stuff packed and everybody was gonna help us move it into Joey’s house. I’d already picked out my wedding dress and his tuxedo and started the guest list, which was way way long. By now, I should be Ember Fatone and loving every minute of it.

I’m not, though. I can’t even be considered a widow. I’m just the grieving ex-fiance because he broke it off. I’m the one left behind, though, to take care of his affairs. I have to go through his things. I have to make sure that all of the mail is stopped because he’s not here anymore. I have to handle the calls from the media. I have to handle the big hole that’s inside of me now that he’s gone. I have to handle all of it, and I do it alone. Everybody else is trying their best to get through this, and I can’t be a burden on them. I can’t have them worried about me because they need to worry about themselves.

I live in his house. I sleep in his old shirts. I listen to his voice mail because it’s his voice. I watch videos because it’s his face. Not like I can forget him, but I need to see him like he was. Before the hysteria. Before I had to feel his blood leak out on me. I have to remember my old Superman. I’m his Lois Lane, you know. Every Superman has to have a Lois Lane.

What really grinds me, though, is that we didn’t have the chance to do things that people in love should do. We didn’t get the chance to marry, have a family, grow old together and die together. He died without me. He left me here to fend for myself and I should hate him for that, but I can’t, because he’s not the one who left. He didn’t just disappear forever on his own. He was taken away from me and I can say right now, with clear conscience and full knowledge-- Steve and Joe, Sr. I wish there were still public hangings. That way I could watch you dangle at the end of a rope the same way you made me watch Joey’s body jerk from the impact of those shots. I wish you all agony in life. You destroyed your own blood, your own family. You can’t get much lower than that.

There’s not really much else for me to say. Well, maybe one more thing. Right before he was shot, I told him that he wasn’t Superman. He couldn’t stop a bullet. Knowing how much he loves to prove me wrong, I should have said that he can’t dodge a bullet, or something like that, because damned if he didn’t stop that bullet. He proved me wrong, rare for him to do. But, did it have to be made out of Kryptonite?

Charlize

A year ago today I stood in front of my best friend’s house and watched him get shot down. I watched him just like he watched his friend years ago, before moving to Florida. I watched him bleed to death on his girlfriend’s body and in her arms. I watched her break down into tears and then go into some sort of haze. I threw my body over his and beat his chest with my fists trying to make him open his eyes and look at me. Make him say something goofy to me. Anything to show me that this wasn’t really happening.

Three weeks later I looked out at a crowd of crying faces and tried to say something to make them feel better about Joey’s death, but I couldn’t do that because I couldn’t make myself feel better. I looked out and saw his family, the one that he’d given away and rejected, bawling for him. His father was tight-lipped. His mother was having hysterics. His sister wouldn’t stop crying. And Steve just kept muttering something that I later found out was, “I’m sorry.”

Six months ago, I broke down in a court room while a jury found Steve and Joe, Sr. guilty of the murder and conspiracy to commit murder of Joseph Anthony Fatone, Jr. I watched people that I had cared about being taken away in handcuffs for committing the most evil deeds. And out of all the Families, I was the only one there. I wasn’t there to represent the world that they belonged, too, though. I was there to see justice done for the loss of my best friend’s life.

Ten years ago, I sat down next to this dorkish little guido kid at a lunch table in a Brooklyn high school and made a friend that I’d always be able to count on. I always will count on. Here or not, he’s always my Joey. My best friend. The first guy I dated, the first guy I slept with, and the guy that stayed my best friend through family trauma, break-ups, and everything that life can throw at us. He was everything to me. Josh is-- he’s a lot to me, but Joey-- nothing can compare to that bond. We were blood-siblings. We did the whole finger-cutting bit and everything. They say ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and I add in blood to blood.

Ten years ago, I met a cute kid in high school who stood up for me with the resident bullies. He took a chance on the new kid. He tried to look after me. And even now, I know he’s still looking after me. He’s my own guardian angel. He’s all of our guardian angel. He’ll be here forever.

The End

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