Chapter 17 Ethan #3
It seems like forever ago, and I can’t believe those were the things I used to worry about.
And Everett was here too. Alive and jumping and running and being Adventurous Everett. It’s hard to believe he’s the pile of ashes in the urn in my backpack now. It’s unfair. It’s shitty.
And it’s suddenly weird being here at this camp with Shane.
“I wish you’d been able to come here with us,” I say, breaking the silence around us. “I’d think about you. I had the biggest crush on you, and I missed you.”
Shane walks up on one side of me, off the trail, and puts his hand in mine.
We keep walking down a hill a ways, woods on either side of us, when I see we're coming up to the creek. There was a waterfall at one end where you could climb up beside it and keep walking up the creek if you wanted. They’d built a metal slide beside the waterfall, but no one ever used it for some reason.
This time of year, the creek is low and mostly frozen. I lead us off to the left, down another dirt path, and I see the water hole where we would paddle boat, and beyond that, some trampolines. The giant rectangular ones.
“I think it’s just down here,” I tell Shane.
He keeps walking beside me, his hand in mine.
When we eventually reach the meadow, it’s not much of a sight in the wintertime with the grasses all yellowed and brown and partially hidden under patches of snow.
It’s pretty underwhelming, in fact. But in the distance is that mountain ridge and to one side of us are some more woods.
I pause in the middle of the field and look around.
“Is this the place?” Shane asks.
“Yeah.” I stand there for a moment and feel a breeze whip up, coming down off the ridge and across the meadow. I suddenly feel a profound sense of sadness at what we’re about to do.
We’re going to let him go.
I don’t know if I’m ready.
But I feel Shane behind me, opening the backpack to remove the urn. He stands next to me, holding it, as we both look across the scenery.
“It looks better,” I tell him, almost apologetically, “in the summer. Maybe I should have waited.”
“No, it’s beautiful,” he says, looking around. “Peaceful. I can see why he wanted his ashes scattered here. There’s that mountain and the woods. It’s like you can see everything.”
I look around and see what Shane sees. And maybe what Everett saw. It is quiet and peaceful, and it’s true; you can see it all. It’s the perfect spot. And Everett knew it all those years ago.
I take the urn from Shane and open it up. I shake my brother’s ashes and watch them swirl together in a breeze and get carried away across the grasses and snow and over the trees.
I get all choked up then, tears springing in my eyes. “Bye, buddy. We love you. We miss you.”
I hand the urn to Shane, and he shakes some more ashes out. The wind takes them and carries them away. “Goodbye, Everett. I miss you.”
Shane gives me back the urn and we stand there in silence for a minute or so. I look inside the urn to see there’s some ashes left to take home to Mom and Dad. So, I close the lid and Shane puts the urn back in my backpack.
We stand there in the meadow a few minutes more. It’s quiet except for wind whistling by my ears.
Then I hear a noise above me, and look up to see that blue jay again, in the branch of a tree hanging over my head. It hops from limb to limb, tilting its head at us, until it flies away toward the mountain ridge and out of sight.
The walk back is quiet and slow.
As we get closer to the creek, I spot the trampolines.
I set my backpack down in the cold grass and walk over to one of them.
There was a way to get on them that Everett taught me, which involved standing under the trampoline, grasping the metal bar with your hands upturned, and somehow back-flipping onto it.
But whenever I did it, it usually resulted in blood-blisters on the backs of my thighs from the springs pinching me.
I don’t think there’s any way I can get on a trampoline like that now, so I just remove my boots and pull myself up.
It’s creaky and there’s snow on it. I’m surprised they left the trampolines out all winter.
I stand up and bounce up and down a little, and some of the snow bounces off.
I look over at Shane looking up at me warily.
I jump up and down on the trampoline a little bit higher and remember how fun this was.
And it’s such a simple thing, a joy you have as a kid that you forget about as an adult.
Ev and I would do flips with all the other boys.
We’d leap over each other, try to pretend we were acrobats, and it was fun.
I smile as I think about it. I think about being a kid and having my big brother with me.
Why is it you never realize that some of the happiest years of your life are happening in the moment?
I feel the trampoline dip behind me, and I turn to see Shane on his knees, trying to stand up.
I reach out a hand to help him. And then he takes both my hands and we both jump at the same time.
And then we jump higher and higher, laughing.
And then we jump around and around, hooting and hollering, like we’re kids again.
We keep it up until one of us loses our balance and we both fall on top of each other.
The laughing fades away as I lie down with my head on Shane’s chest. It rises and falls as he catches his breath, and I look up at the sky. It’s a clear day. Here and there are white, puffy trails from jets, crisscrossing over a dull blue sky. A plane engine whirs in the distance.
Everything right now is ordinary. Everything is going on and on like it should. I make sure to notice all of it, though. So that years from now I’ll be able to feel and see and hear everything as it is right now.
Shane slides an arm over my chest, and I slide one of my arms over his. We just lay there like that for a while until some unspoken signal happens and we both sit up at the same time. He helps me off the trampoline and we get our shoes back on, get our stuff, and walk back to the car, hand in hand.
Shane drives us back.
It’s early afternoon when we leave Pipestem, but we’re hoping to just drive all the way to Port Leyden without stopping for the night anywhere. I’m running low on cash and I’m sure Shane is too. And it’s just as well; I’m ready to be home.
We don’t talk much on the way, but Shane hasn’t let go of my hand, and even drives one-handed so he can keep his hand in mine. I wonder if he’s doing it more for himself rather than for me.
What am I going to do without him? As we cruise on the interstate it’s like this veil lifting and reality looms. I can’t just go back to New York, go back to school, and forget about all of this.
I look over at him.
He glances at me. “You okay?”
“No,” I say honestly.
He glances at me again. “Do you need me to stop, or—?”
“I need to know that I can see you again. After this.”
His hand in mine grips tighter. “You really want to?”
“Don’t you?”
“Yes. Absolutely, Ethan.”
He slows down at the next exit and drives us off the interstate to a truck stop. Once the car is parked, he leans across the center console and kisses me. It isn’t a particularly passionate kiss, but it takes my breath away just the same. It’s the meaning behind it; the emotion.
This is for real.
This is love.
That’s what he says after he kisses me, and I note with an odd sense of irony, that the day Shane tells me he loves me is the very day we let Everett go. The person that brought us together in the first place.
So, it’s only right for me to say to him, “I love you too.”
There’s a great sense of relief in saying so. As if my fifteen-year-old self can shrug off this burden finally and simultaneously gather up the missing pieces of my heart.
There’s a minute where we just sit with what we’ve just said to each other. I never thought it would be in a rental car at a random truck stop. For some reason, that makes me smile.
“What?” Shane smiles too.
“I think I’m just happy,” I reply.
“Me too.”
Since we’re stopped, we go inside the truck stop to use the pay phones. I call my parents and Ethan calls Gina. I wander around the aisles while I wait for him. I spot a collection of key chains. My eyes are immediately drawn to one with two bright yellow mushrooms.
“Ready to go?” Shane asks, appearing behind me. I notice he’s got a little stuffed unicorn toy in his hand.
I grab the key chain. “You think maybe we could stop off at that lady’s trailer again? Maybe get a card for her, to thank her for keeping Ev’s ashes for us?”
“Sure. I don’t see why not.”
I get the key chain and Shane finds a thank you card. We make plans to pay her a quick visit once we’ve crossed back into New York.