Page 83 of A Sea of Unspoken Things
When we made it to Main Street, there wasn’t a single open spot to park, and Micah had to double up next to Sadie’s truck. The drive back to Six Rivers had been a quiet one, but I thought that maybe I could already feel it lifting—that heaviness that had plagued me since I’d gotten the call in San Francisco. That weight of Johnny in the air.
I got out of the truck, heart coming up into my throat as I stared at the colorful scene behind the large, foggy windows. The yellow painted script ofSix Rivers Dinerstretched across the smudged view of dozens of people standing and sitting inside.
Micah’s hand slipped into mine. This time, he didn’t ask if I was ready. We followed the sidewalk up to the door and he pulled it open, sucking a draft of cold air into the place. It was loud and hectic, with laughter and the sound of forks hitting plates. It was alive. No one seemed to notice us as Micah pulled me through the crowd, and that felt both good and worrisome. What did it mean if I wasn’t an outsider here anymore, folded into the landscape of Six Rivers like I’d never left?
Micah greeted those we passed with a nod, and when their eyes landed on me, they were warm, almost reverent. I tried not to think about the fact that so many of the people in this room had turned on Johnny, and in my heart, I knew I’d been close to doing the same. The brother I’d laid to rest deep in the heart of the forest only minutes before had been unraveled and inspected. Picked apart. And for the first time ever in my life, I felt like I really understood him. Hewasthis forest. Vastly unknowable and enduringly steady. A persistent force at the center of my world. And maybe in that way, he would never really be gone.
When Sadie spotted us across the diner, she cut her conversation short, leaving the group of women gathered at the back. She wasn’t wearing her usual jeans and button-up with an apron. She’d put on a dress and her hair was even curled, showing that she’d made an effort for the occasion. Looking around the room, I realized a lot of people had. It was as if the forest had been dusted off of them, and even the diner looked dressed up, with bouquets of flowers scattered about and a framed picture of Johnny on the counter beside the register. I wondered if it would be crowned with dying flowers and hung as a tribute, like the one of Griffin Walker.
Sadie gave me a timid smile as she walked toward us. When she moved to give me a hug, I let her wrap her arms around me, but it took a few seconds for me to do the same. I set my chin on her shoulder as her hand moved in a small circle at my back. The feeling made me swallow hard.
“Thank you for letting me do this,” she said, pulling back to meet my eyes.
Beside me, Micah gave her a halfhearted smile. He hadn’t gotten over the fact that Sadie had hit me, and knowing him, it wasn’t likely he ever would.
A woman with a tray of wineglasses stopped at our side and Sadie picked two up, handing them to us before she grabbed one for herself. Then she turned toward the room, clinking the rim with a spoonshe’d plucked from the counter. Slowly, the commotion died down, and one by one, every set of eyes drifted toward us.
Sadie hooked her arm in mine. “Hey, everyone!” She lifted her voice, waiting for the last of the room to quiet. Somewhere, someone turned off the music. “Hey, thanks for being here.”
The hush fell like a heavy blanket, and I instinctively reached behind me for Micah’s hand. He squeezed it.
“We’re here tonight to say goodbye to Johnny Golden,” Sadie began. “A soft soul with a wild heart.”
Already, I was swallowing down tears, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any quieter, it did. Again, Sadie met my gaze, a silent exchange passing between us. She’d cared about Johnny. Of course she had. For years, she’d loved him.
Those words—a soft soul with a wild heart—were the only kind of eulogy that made sense for my brother. It also made me hope that despite everything, maybe he wasn’t so misunderstood after all.
“I won’t say a bunch of mushy stuff that would have embarrassed him,” she continued, making a few laughs bubble up in the back. “Many of us knew Johnny his entire life, and I think we all know he wouldn’t have liked that much.”
I glanced back at Micah. He was smiling now, too.
“So, I’ll keep it simple.” Sadie lifted her glass and every person in the diner followed.
The silence deepened, as if the muted quiet of the forest had somehow gotten in. I could almost feel it climbing its way inside of me, making my bones feel heavy.
“To Johnny.” Sadie’s voice filled the air.
“To Johnny!”
The chorus of voices saying my brother’s name was more than I could bear. I watched as people took a drink in his honor and hugged one another. The sight was followed by voices striking back up and the music restarting.
“You okay?” Micah’s voice was low beside me.
I nodded.
The crowd parted as people made their way to the spread of food at the back, and I spotted Ben by the kitchen, standing with Amelia’s son. His gaze traveled over the room apprehensively, those dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than they’d been when I first met him. He still just looked like a kid, but I could see more clearly than ever that he had a lingering air of something shadowed about him. Just like his dad.
I let go of Micah’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”
I made my way across the room, and when Ben saw me coming, he stiffened a little.
“Hey, can we talk for a minute?” I said, eyes jumping to Amelia’s son.
He dismissed himself, giving me a polite nod, and Ben leaned against the wall, keeping his distance. “Is something wrong? I can get my mom if—”
“No,” I stopped him. “I just wanted to tell you…”
Ben stared at me, eyes intent as my words died out. That look—that glow beneath his expression—was like looking right into my brother’s face.