Chapter 41
41
NOW
SOFT EARTH CHURNED BENEATH OUR shoes as we trekked through the forest at sunset. I walked with Manuel’s hand wrapped around mine, pausing whenever he held up a branch for me to duck beneath. Pine needles fell into updos. Dirt clung to the hems of our dresses. The Nurses carried my father over moss-peppered rocks and tangled roots of trees. We were headed toward the Fort, a shovel in Caleb’s hands.
The wedding had become a funeral.
Taz and Helene didn’t seem to mind. Everyone had taken the news of what I did as a child slightly differently, some with shock, others with dawning realization. Helene had only nodded, as if she’d suspected it all along. I wondered if she truly had felt his presence. His spirit’s unrest. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had. But none—not a single one of my family members—had been upset with me. They had handled the news with gentle acceptance, even with love.
When we reached the Fort, the first thing we did was to take it apart. To pull down the tarp, untangle the lights, pick up the blankets softened and gone grey with the passing winters. We removed everything until, for the first time in over a decade, the Fort was a fort no longer. It was just a patch of earth partially protected by a fallen tree.
Then Caleb started to dig.
It didn’t take long. How deep could a ten-year-old go on her own? The bag containing Henry’s ashes was only a foot down. I couldn’t believe they had survived this long, but then, that was Henry, wasn’t it? Always exceptional. Always resilient.
With tender hands, Caleb lifted the ashes from the ground. He stood—holding the bag so carefully, as if he feared it might explode—and passed it to Speedy, who had been placed back into his chair by the Nurses. Now our father would finally get to do what he had always promised. He would scatter his son on Cradle Island, and he would do so alone, with only the Nurses carrying him along, so that we would not know where Henry was laid to rest. So that he would be the entire island, not just one spot. And so that my father could finally say goodbye.
The family gathered around. I held Manuel’s arm. Karma held Shelly’s, Helene Taz’s. Caleb and Clarence stood beside each other, backs ramrod straight, just how I remembered them from the last time we did this.
Speedy adjusted himself on his chair, shifting the bag of ashes in his lap. He looked out over all of us. Gone was his usual sleepy indifference, gone was the pale shock of earlier that night. This was the father I remembered—so sturdy, so strong. My mother walked over and took her place beside her husband, settling a hand on his shoulder.
“At Henry’s last funeral,” Speedy said finally, “I did all the talking.” He looked at each of his children in turn. “I thought that maybe one of you would like to speak tonight.”
We all glanced expectantly at Caleb. Our patriarch. We all assumed it would be him.
Instead, the one to step forward was Taz.
Quiet Taz, the wallflower, whose wedding we had interrupted for this makeshift ceremony. He walked over to stand beside the hole that Caleb had just dug, then nodded at our dad, who nodded back. Then he turned to face the rest of us.
He cleared his throat. “It means more than I can say that Henry could be here with us tonight,” he said somberly, gesturing toward the dilapidated bag of ashes on Speedy’s lap.
In the pause that followed, a sort of half-choking sound could be heard. We all glanced around, searching for its source—which we quickly discovered to be my half brother. Clarence had covered his mouth with one hand. He seemed to be holding in hysterical laughter.
“Clare,” Caleb said warningly.
“He said—” Clarence started, then seemed to take a few steadying breaths.
Taz blinked in confusion. “What?”
“You said…” Clarence choked out. “You said…”
And then Karma started to laugh, too. It wasn’t much, just a snort that she tried to cover with her fist. Shelly shot her a look, but it was no use: Karma collapsed into Clarence, giggles getting the best of her. Shelly’s lips twitched, even as she tried to appear serious. Over by the hole in the ground, Taz seemed to recognize the absurdity of his own words, and laughter washed over him, then over Helene, rippling out to hit Manuel and me, too. Even Speedy started to laugh, low chuckles that rattled through my chest. Only Wendy was left looking around, clearly confused about what was so funny—which only made us all laugh harder.
Caleb was the last to lose it. Caleb—so serious, so stately—crumpled over with barely contained gasps of laughter. Clarence smacked his shoulder. Caleb straightened up and threw his arm around his brother’s shoulder, letting his laughter soar high into the trees, free, joyous. For the first time in over a decade, I saw my half brothers as I remembered them from my childhood: best friends, inseparable, carefree. And so our laughter grew together, ruffling the treetops, echoing up toward sunset.
And Henry—
Henry would have loved it.
—
ON THE WALK BACK TO Sunny Sunday—we did have a wedding reception to throw, after all, along with several dozen confused guests awaiting our arrival—I turned the words over in my head several times before I actually spoke them aloud.
Manuel and I brought up the rear of the procession. We followed my family through the forest, walking in silence until we reached the boardwalk again. Everyone ran ahead, eager to get back to the festivities, but we walked slowly. Put some distance between ourselves and the rest. When we reached the top of the boardwalk, the peak, before it sloped back down toward Sunny Sunday, I stopped.
Manuel turned around. Behind his head, the sun had finally set. Reds and pinks danced around his wild curls. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Why did you let me kiss you?”
“What?”
“That night in Little Lies. Why did you let me kiss you, Manuel?”
He shook his head. “I already told you: I wanted you to.”
“You…” I looked down at our hands, which were twined together like a pair of matching socks. Even now, the closest to happiness I had come in a long time—even now, I felt the Worries knocking at the back door. Waiting. Waiting their turn to spring back to life. They would always be there, I knew that now. They would never go away altogether.
I would just have to learn how to cope with them as best I could.
“But why would you want me to?” I looked back up at him. “After everything I did, everything you know about me…why would you want me to kiss you?”
Laughter played in his eyes. “Of course I wanted you to kiss me.” He stepped forward, taking my other hand. “I love you, you idiot.”
For the third time that night, I started to cry.
“I’ve loved you since that first moment on the playground, when you threw wood chips in those bullies’ faces.” His eyes shimmered. “I love you when you’re angry, I love you when you’re sad, and I love you when your head is filled with thoughts so terrifying you don’t think you can share them with me. In fact”—he squeezed my hand—“that’s when I love you most.”
“But wh-why? I don’t understand. Why would you love something so horrible?”
“Listen to me.” His hands came up to hold either side of my face. “I know your brain scares you. I know it tells you things that aren’t real. But you must know that, to the rest of the world…it’s something wonderful. Something enviable. Something creative, and powerful, and brilliant to a fault.”
“I’m not the brilliant one, Manuel. That’s you.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “You really can’t see it, can you?”
“See what?”
Manuel lifted one hand and fluttered his fingers over my temple, then cupped my forehead with his palm and smoothed my hair back. He whispered, “Your brain is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Behind him, the sunset was fading fast. Soon the light would be gone, and darkness would claim us once more.
“I love you, too,” I whispered. “I love you so much. And I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than I can ever say, Manuel.”
Manuel wrapped his hands around my torso and lifted me up, pressing me to his chest. I inhaled. He smelled big and familiar, like an entire house. Like an entire life.
“I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again.” His words were the last thing I heard before the sunlight disappeared for good. “Don’t apologize, Eliot Beck. Don’t you ever apologize for being who you are.”