Saving June (24 page)

She puts in a Dr. Dre album and raps along through the first two songs flawlessly, taking a small brush and detailing the wall corner, head bopping in time to the beat. We work all through the entire first loop of the CD, then take a break for lemonade and a bag of sugar cookies and television watching. Laney flips it over to some old movie on one of the cable channels.

“I want to find the Rock Hudson to my Doris Day,” she proclaims with a heavy sigh.

“Rock Hudson was gay,” I remind her.

“Fine. The William Powell to my Myrna Loy. The Bogie to my Bacall. The—”

“I’m getting more cookies,” Jake says, and abruptly gets off the couch. The plastic sheet makes a weird puckering sound when he peels himself off of it.

I watch him leave the room, and Laney watches me watch him. “And here I thought you two resolved all that unresolved sexual tension,” she says.

I turn up the volume on the television. “There’s no tension. I have about fifty million other things on my mind that rank much higher in importance than Jacob Tolan.”

“Sorry. I know. It’s just easier to fixate on your boy drama than deal with my own.”

“And how is that going? The dealing?”

“Not so well,” she says lightly. “I’m sort of completely
and totally plagued by this all-consuming panic that I only manage to keep at bay by indulging in some hard-core denial.” She leans her cheek against my shoulder, exhaling a deep breath. “I hate this.”

I look down at her. “You know I’m behind you, whatever you choose to do.” I keep my voice neutral. “You do have options.”

“No good ones.” She sighs. “I don’t know what I want to do yet.”

“That’s okay. It’s a pretty big decision.” Bigger than I can wrap my mind around.

Laney is quiet for a while, long enough that I think I should say something more, even though I don’t know what—I’m no good at pretending to be wise. I can’t dispense any advice because I have no clue what I would do if I was in her place.

“Life is so unfair,” she says bluntly. It’s the kind of thing you say when you’re six years old, but even now it still holds true. It doesn’t matter how much you complain, it’s always going to be true.

I pat the top of her head in consolation. “Don’t I know it.”

“Before we go out there, we got a few ground rules to cover.” Captain Charlie is a formidable man, built like a rugged linebacker with his broad shoulders and tree trunk of a neck. He narrows his eyes at us, a seemingly permanent
scowl in place, as the wooden boards of the dock creak beneath our feet. “First off, what you’re doing’s illegal. Usually you gotta get a permit to do a scattering. Since I’ve been told that ain’t possible, it’s gonna be like this: I don’t want to know your names, and when we get out there, I’m gonna go into the cabin and you do whatever you do and I ain’t gonna have any knowledge of it. The second you step foot off this boat, I never seen you before in my life. Understood?”

Jake, Laney and I trade looks and nod.

“Got it,” I confirm.

“All right, then. All aboard, ladies and gent.”

Charlie’s boat is old but solid. He revs it up, messes around with some rope ties and pushes off into the ocean. Jake stands at the railing while I sit on a bench in the bow deck, clutching the urn to my chest, shivering even though it’s not that cold. Laney settles beside me. She holds on to my hand, her warm fingers entwined with mine, and says nothing.

With every lurch of the boat I think about how in my arms June’s ashes are shifting around in the vase. I’ve been holding them ever since we got into Joplin for the short drive to Sausalito. When we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, I stared out the window and wondered if this was right. If this was where she’d want to be laid to rest.

I tried my best. That has to count for something.

Wind whips at us like ghosts on all sides. Despite that,
Jake manages to slide a cigarette out from behind his ear and light it. He turns to me and holds it out. An offering. I shake my head no. I’m done with the smoking. Done with all of the stupid things I’ve been doing just to prove a point no one but me cares about to begin with.

The water sparkles dark blue as the sun begins to sink onto the horizon and make everything shimmer. Soon enough we hit the bay, and then there’s the Golden Gate Bridge, not too far off, red and striking and sprawling. This is a beautiful place. This is a good place to spread the ashes. Peaceful and pretty—like the front of a postcard.

Charlie comes around from the stern and calls out, “I’m pulling up!” The engine putters and dies, cutting off and leaving only the sound of the waves as they slap up against the side of the boat. He ducks into the cabin and out of sight.

Laney’s hands move to the lid of the urn. Mine tighten around it instinctively, and she looks at me and asks, “Are you ready?”

I’m not sure, but I nod anyway. I grip the urn’s sides as she works at the lid, which is sealed tight, and after some twisting, there’s a loud
pop
and the release of air as it gives.

“Here,” Laney says softly, helping me stand. We join Jake on the deck. Our side of the boat faces the bridge. “We can leave you alone. Come on, Jake.”

She starts to reach for him, but I shake my head. “No.
Don’t. I want you here for this.” I pause and glance at Jake. “Both of you.”

He frowns a little. “Are you sure you want us to be part of this?”

“You already are. We came this far together, didn’t we?”

I didn’t get here alone. I don’t want to do this alone.

I turn to Laney and gesture to the open urn with my chin. Understanding, she steps forward and scoops out a handful of ashes. She keeps her hand half-inside the urn, biting down on her lower lip.

“I guess I should say something,” she says shakily. She looks down into the urn. “June, I know we weren’t super-tight, really, but you meant so much to Harper. I was always a little jealous of her, because I never—I never had a sister. You were the closest thing, really. It sucks that you’re gone, but I hope you’re happier. Wherever you are.”

With that, she opens her palm, and the ashes spill out and into the water. She brushes tears off her cheeks and backs away from the railing.

“Guess that means I’m up next, huh?” Jake pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then reaches into the urn. His eyes stay on me the whole time, like he’s scared I’ll change my mind and jerk the urn away from under his nose. He bends over the railing with the fistful of ash, bows his head.

“Say something,” Laney urges.

“Uh—” He coughs, clears his throat and fidgets nervously. Finally he takes a deep breath and says, “June, you. you helped me out a lot. I can only hope I’ve returned the favor. You were a good friend, and I’ll miss you. Every day I’ll miss you.”

He scatters the ashes slowly, and after he’s done, he just stares down into the ocean, head bowed. He sniffs like he’s trying not to cry, and runs his hands through his hair, before he finally turns his back to the water.

And then it’s my turn. I realize I should’ve prepared for this better, should’ve thought of something to say, a profound and meaningful last goodbye. Why hadn’t I stopped to think about it? It’s my own fault, really. June’s ashes are gritty against my skin, fragments of hard bone among powdered dust. Pieces of her that withstood the flames of a furnace, that couldn’t be destroyed. I let them fill my palm and close my eyes.

There is so much I could say—and even more that I will never be able to formulate into words, ever.

All I can think of is how when I was six, I jumped out of a tree in our backyard with paper wings taped to my back and sprained my ankle. June was only eight, but she didn’t freak out. She just held my hand while I cried my eyes out, the whole time until Mom found us. And she told me when I was suspended in the air for just a moment, I looked like a bird flying out of its cage.

Maybe that was what she wanted all along. To be set free.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “For everything I did. For everything I didn’t. I wish you were here. I know it’s not enough, but I guess this is the closest I’m going to get, to saving you.”

I lean over the railing and let the breeze blow the ashes out of my hand, and then I overturn the urn and pour the rest into the ocean, where it forms a cloud beneath the surface. As the cloud slowly dissipates, I drop the urn completely, watch as it fills with water and sinks to the bottom. Jake pulls out a single carnation from inside his jacket and hands it to me. I let it flutter down into the ocean, floating on the waves.

And that’s it. Everything that was left of my sister is gone.

Except not, because I have sixteen years’ worth of memories, and they mean more than bone and ash ever could.

I’m gripping the steel rail so hard I think I’ll fall over if I let go. But I don’t have to worry about that, because Laney and Jake flank me on both sides, ease me down onto the deck. They hold me up with their weight and their arms. Laney buries her face in my neck, her tears wet against my skin, and Jake tucks his chin on top of my head. They wrap themselves around me so close and so tight it’s like we’re all one person.

And I’m not alone.

I gaze out at the glittering sea, the breathtaking sky above it, and think of birds and the moment before the fall, and how my sister as a child had been strong enough for the both of us, and I wonder when exactly that changed. I don’t know when, but it did. Jake was right—I’m strong in a way June never was. Because I know that I want to be here. Even with the pain. Even with the ugliness. I’ve seen the other side—marching side by side down city streets with people who all believe they can change the world and the view of the sunset from Fridgehenge and Tom Waits lyrics and doing the waltz and kisses so hot they melt into each other and best friends who hold your hand and stretching out underneath a sky draped with stars and everything else. There is so much beauty in just
existing.
In being alive.

I don’t want to miss a second.

I only cry a little, after, at the beach next to the marina. When Charlie drops us off at the docks, I shake his hand and thank him profusely. He squeezes back and says, “Don’t mention it, kid,” which maybe is him being humble, or maybe him wanting me to take it literally. It’s probably a safer bet to assume the latter.

Jake says he wants to see the sun set over the water, so we walk over to the nearest beach and sit on the sand. It’s there that the tears gather behind my eyes and spill over. It isn’t even that I’m sad. I mean, I
am
sad, but this feels like
a release, like someone has lifted this leaden weight off of my chest and I can finally breathe again.

“Look,” Laney says. She stands up and jogs closer to the shore, then runs a few steps and turns three perfect cartwheels, all in a row. When she lands, she raises her arms over her head showily and cries,
“Ta-da!
”

I smile and wipe the tears away with my fist. Jake shrugs off his jacket, drapes it over my shaking shoulders.

“Thanks,” I say, snuggling into it. It’s still warm with his body heat, and it smells like him, too.

“So what do you want to do now?” he asks quietly.

I hug my legs up to my chest, rest my chin on my knees and look out toward the water, where Laney is doing a handstand. “Go back home, I guess. Hope my mother won’t kill me on the spot. What about you?”

“I’ve got the Oleo waiting for me,” he says. “That’s pretty much the extent of my future plans. I like to keep my options open.”

“What about college?”

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you planning on going?”

He laughs like I’ve just suggested he join the Ringling Brothers. “Me? College? Uh, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I ask. “You’re a smart guy, Jake. I mean, yeah, sure, maybe you don’t have to shoot for Ivy League, but you could always get into the community college—”

“Yeah, maybe,” he says curtly, and I can tell by his tone that this is one subject I shouldn’t push.

As the last rays of dusk disappear behind the horizon, I ease myself between Jake’s legs, tangle my hands in his hair and meet his mouth with mine. We kiss, slow and languid. It’s not like before; there’s no desperation here. After a while I settle my head against his chest and listen to the waves, to his heart beating.

He feels so alive. And I feel alive, too, like—really, really
alive.
I don’t know why but realizing that makes the tears well up all over again.

We walk back to Joplin in the dark. Jake holds on to my right hand, and Laney grasps my left, and on the ride back to Carmen’s, there is no music, just the wind rushing in through the open windows. The silence seems louder, somehow.

That night, I sleep for what feels like forever. And it’s a deeper, more restful sleep than I’ve had since—well, it’s been a while. When I wake up, I feel sated, my limbs heavy and warm. I don’t know what time it is, but sunlight is streaming in through the window, bright and yellow. Laney isn’t on her side of the bed, so I assume it has to be way late, since no one sleeps more than she does. I stretch my body out like a cat and let myself lie there for a while, enjoying the feeling.

Eventually I drag myself out to the kitchen. I expect to
see Jake and Laney eating breakfast, but instead I’m met with Jake and Carmen. They’re sitting at the kitchen table, no food in sight, speaking in hushed tones, and as soon as they see me in the doorway, they both fall silent.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I cover a long yawn. “Carmen, don’t you work today?”

“Someone’s covering my appointments,” she explains. She glances at Jake and then at me. “I’ll, uh, be in my room. Let you two talk.”

She exits the kitchen quickly, and I turn to Jake with my eyebrows raised. “That was…weird. So where’s Laney?”

“In the bathroom, packing,” he says. He isn’t smiling.

“Oh. We’re driving back today?”

“No. You and Laney are flying back to Michigan today.”

For a second I think I’ve misheard him, but I look at his expression and realize he’s serious. My stomach plummets to my feet. “What? How—”

“I called your parents this morning. They already bought the plane tickets,” he says. “Carmen’s going to drive you to the airport. Your flight leaves around four.”