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“This is it,” Matty replied, picking up the worn bag. “I travel light.” He tilted his chin slightly, looking at the older man challengingly.
“So, I see. Well, nothing wrong with that. Where’ve you been sleeping?” Will picked up three containers stacked on top of each other and started walking towards the small town, which was really no more than a clutter of houses, a few stores and some cafes and restaurants. Matty hurried to pick up three as well, the muscles in his arms protesting from the unexpected heaviness of the content. Trailing after Will, his duffel resting across his left shoulder, the now fierce wind rearranged his curly hair, blowing disobedient locks into his eyes.
“On the beach,” Matty raised his voice, the wind continuing to intercept his words.
“Yeah, I figured as much.” Will was already several steps ahead of Matty, his much longer legs putting distance between them.
“Yeah?” He already liked Will. He was different from most grown-ups. He somehow reminded Matty of Mr. Bishop. Friendly instead of judging. Laid back and easy to talk to, it seemed. “How’d you figure that?” Matty grinned.
“Well, for one, the sand in your hair kinda gave it away.” Will came to a stop in front of a large blue truck which had seen better days, perhaps even decades. Rusty patches bled through the old blue paint and one taillight was busted. Will skillfully arranged the crates on the truck bed before reaching out for Matty’s containers. Placing them on the truck bed too, Will inspected a rather large spot of rust just above the left front wheel.
Matty was wiping furiously at his unruly hair, trying to get the sand grains out now that Will had drawn his attention to them.
“Don’t bother with that. Millie’s used to the sand everywhere. You’ll get used to it too. The sand and the wind. Takes a while for some newcomers.” Will paused as he seemed to ponder upon something. “But it ain’t so bad. It’s the tourists that’re the real pests around here. But don’t take my word for it. You’ll see for yourself soon enough, Matthew Carter.”
“Mr. Hart, sir?” Matty squinted against the noon sun.
“Yes?” Will wiped at his forehead, a brow raised in question.
“It’s okay if you call me Matty. Most people do,” he spoke, attempting to smooth out his crumbled t-shirt. Suddenly, standing in front of this kind stranger, Matty felt conscious of his appearance.
“Well, I ain’t most people, but I’ll make you a deal. If you lose theMr.and theSirand call meWill, I’ll call youMatty. It’s all the same to me, son.”
Nodding in agreement, relief spread through Matty’s chest. Funny how differently the day had turned out from what he’d expected when he’d woken up that morning on the deserted beach.
“Yes, sir, I mean Will, that’s fine by me.”
“Then it’s fine by me too, son,” Will winked before opening the door to his truck.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ethan – Now
“SO, YEAH, WHENthey finally brought her to the hospital, it was too late.”
Ethan sat paralyzed next to Avery who was leaning against the trunk of the large tree from which his hammock was suspended. Avery had hung it there, next to Ethan’s small tent, when they’d returned from their hike that afternoon.
“She died?” Ethan whispered, fireflies surrounding Avery’s golden locks like a constantly moving halo.
“Yes. Meningitis. By some miracle she didn’t give it to me. Which was the strangest thing because we always ended up in the same bed at night.” A wistful smile skated across Avery’s pale pink lips as he looked to the Arkansas night sky bursting with stars.
“Jesus. I’m… I’m so sorry, man.” Ethan found himself lost for words. He’d never lost anyone who hadn’t been ready to go. His Granny Layla had been an old lady when she’d fallen asleep in her favorite garden chair, never waking up again. Uncle Pete had refused the cancer treatment the fancy doctors in Austin had tried to push on him. Some trial medication or something, promising at least six more months of puking his guts out and disappearing into nothing. He’d told his sister, Ethan’s mom, that the good Lord had a plan for him, and itsure as shitdidn’t involve being degraded into agoddamn skeleton wearing a diaper!
So no, Ethan had never lost anyone who hadn’t gone willingly. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to lose a sibling. The concept of losing any one of his three brothers—however annoying little assholes they were—was unfathomable. It left him with a sense of emptiness in his chest and a feeling of unparalleled dread in his stomach.
“How old was she, your sister?” Ethan asked, looking at Avery.
“Six. Mattie was my baby sister. I was five when my parents had her. I had already accepted my fate as an only child when she came along. From the moment I saw her, it was like she was made just for me, you know.” Avery started fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt and Ethan felt a sudden urge to reach out and still his fingers. “Like she was this special gift.” The last part left his beautiful mouth as a whisper, lingering in the space between them battling the dancing fireflies.
Ethan nodded, unsure what to say. What could he say? What did you say to someone looking as lost and devastated as Avery did in this moment, remembering his beloved, dead sister? So instead of speaking, he let Avery continue.
“And in a way, Mattie did become more mine than anyone else’s. My mother was working on her dissertation back then and my father was teaching his classes at MIT. So yeah, she was mine. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. She was such a sweet baby. Never fussing or crying. Always happy to be just where she was. With me.” A sad smile drifted across Avery’s remarkably handsome features, his indigo eyes glistening with unshed tears. “When she outgrew her crib and was old enough to walk, she would climb out of her bed at night and tiptoe on her little feet across the hallway to my room. ‘Avy, you asleep?’she would whisper, her sweet, sugary toddler breath warm against my cheek. Of course, I was never asleep. I was always just waiting for her.” Avery nodded, a solemn frown on his face. “Now, I guess, she’s the one waiting for me.”
The bitterness was tangible and contradicted the beauty of Avery’s voice. A lonely tear had escaped the corner of his left eye and had gotten caught in his light brown lower lashes. When Avery blinked, it was sent trailing along his cheek which was now half in shadow from the moonlight. Ethan only just now realized that Avery’s left eye was slightly darker than the right. He hadn’t noticed earlier in the day. Or maybe it was just Ethan’s blurry vision disturbing the blue or his mind playing tricks on him due to the late hour.
Suddenly, Avery laughed but the sound came out strangled. Bitter.
“Never believed in any greater power before that day in the hospital when my parents told me that Mattie was gone. But that night, sleeping alone for the first time in years, I prayed. I begged God that he would take me too. It was ridiculous, I know. But at the time, I didn’t want to live in a world, where Mattie didn’t exist.” He smiled weakly at Ethan, the smile never reaching his tormented eyes. “Some nights I would pray that I’d never had her. Because then I wouldn’t know the all-consuming pain of losing her.”
