The Sea of Lost Things

by Kelly St-Laurent

  I push open the door and the steam pours out. I see Jonah’s back through the glass. He has a hand up on the wall, his head hanging down. There’s something in his posture that gives me pause. The water cascades over him, but he stands, unmoving.

  I take a step closer. “Jonah?”

  His muscles tense but he doesn’t turn around.

  “Jonah, what’s going on?” I wait for a reply, but there isn’t one. My worry and anger war with one another. “So, you’re ignoring me now?”

  Silence.

  “Really?” I say, my voice hollow. “Nothing?”

  If it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of his breathing, he could almost be a statue. That he won’t answer me, let alone look at me, makes my stomach twist.

  “Fine,” I say on the verge of tears. “Forget about it.”

  I go to leave when I hear movement. Looking back, I see him turn to face me. His expression is pained, and even with the water on his face, I can tell that he’s crying.

  “Jonah!” I walk quickly to the shower and open the door. “What’s wrong?”

  He wipes a hand over his face, frustrated at himself. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

  “Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

  He shakes his head and leans heavy against the shower wall, closing his eyes. I step inside, not caring about the water.

  “What can I do?”

  When he looks at me, there’s so much anguish on his face. A recognizable pain. I know instinctively that it’s not about me. But it is about something I’m all too familiar with.

  Grief is an acquaintance I’ve known all my life.

  I wrap my arms around him and hold him as he grasps onto me desperately. We stand in the shower, still like stone, as the water washes over us.

  When the tension in Jonah’s muscles finally relaxes, I release my hold on him and turn off the faucet. Stepping out of the shower, I grab a towel and drape it over his shoulders before getting one for myself. Taking his hand, I lead him out of the bathroom and over to the bed.

  We sit at its edge, and I wait for him to speak first.

  “Sorry,” he says in no more than a whisper. I squeeze his hand. “I was hoping the run would help.” He exhales deeply and fixes his eyes on the floor at his feet. “Fuck, I’m usually alone on this day.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No.” He grips my fingers tightly. “Please, don’t.”

  “Then, do you think...” I look at him and speak my next words carefully. “Are you able to tell me what’s going on?”

  His eyes go back to the ground, and for a while he doesn’t speak, fixing his gaze on the floor. “I had an older brother,” he says quietly. “He died six years ago today.”

  I take on the weight of his words as clarity shifts into place, painting a picture out of the fragments. So, that’s why Steve wanted Jonah home. That’s why there was tension between them the other morning.

  “It was my fault,” he says through gritted teeth. “We were out fishing one night. We’d had a few drinks, and it was stupid. We shouldn’t have been out there. I told him to be careful, but Aaron was always reckless. He lived life on the edge.”

  Jonah exhales shakily. “It was dark, and we should have gone back in, but Aaron said we weren’t going anywhere until we’d caught something. I tried to convince him, but you couldn’t make Aaron do anything he didn’t want to do. So, we stayed out. And it got later, and later, and Aaron drank more and more. It happened so quick. He fell...”

  He hesitates, the memory clearly painful to recall. I place my other hand atop his, wanting to bring comfort.

  “He tripped,” he says, his voice frail. “And he fell and hit his head. When he stood, I knew, I could see in his eyes that he was going to black out. So, I lunged for him, but my fingers missed. He went over the side of the boat.”

  The tears stream down his cheeks, but he stays still, staring at the spot on the floor.

  “I jumped in after him, but I couldn’t...” He lets out an agonizing sigh. “I couldn’t find him. I tried, for hours, but I couldn’t find him.”

  The image is horrific. Jonah, alone in the dark sea, searching desperately for his brother. My heart breaks for his suffering. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We should never have been out there.” Jonah’s feeble grip on his emotions shatters, and I pull him to me, holding him as he cries. “He was only twenty-nine.”

  His sorrow hits me deeply as I gently brush my fingers through his hair. I know I can’t reach him through his pain. Grief is a battle fought within. I can’t save him from it any more than he can save me from mine.

  What I can do is be there so he doesn’t have to be alone.

  So, that’s what I do.

  I hold him until his anguish relinquishes its grasp on him enough to let him sleep.

  * * *

  When he wakes two hours later, I have breakfast and coffee waiting. He sits up slowly and runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

  “Jonah, you don’t need to apologize.” I close my iPad and put it down on the table. “Believe me. I understand.”

  Some of the tension releases in his jaw. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  I move over to the bed and offer him a cup of coffee. His fingers linger on mine a moment before he gently pulls his hand away and takes a sip.

  “I guess we have to check out soon.”

  “It’s alright. I took care of it.”

  He looks at me with gratitude. “What time is it?”

  “Just after nine. We have the room until ten.”

  He takes another sip. “We can be out of here before then. What’s the first town on the list?”

  “Bayeux.”

  He looks at me but doesn’t reply. “You need to be with your family today, Jonah.”

  “We haven’t finished the list.”

  “It can wait,” I say with conviction.

  “Charlotte—”

  “There are more important things today. Your family needs you.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “You need each other.”

  He grimaces. “Trust me, they don’t want me there.”

  “Of course they do.”

  He glances out the window, his gaze hardening. “Ever since Aaron died, I’ve kept my distance from them on the anniversary.”

  Another piece of the puzzle falls into place. “That’s why you offered to drive me, isn’t it? You wanted to be away.”

  “It wasn’t the only reason,” he tells me.

  “It’s alright. I understand.”

  “No, you don’t.” He puts the cup down on the bedside table. “Yes, that was part of it. But I meant what I said. I wanted to be around you. That’s why I offered.” He shifts closer. “Remember the other morning before I went to Paris, when I came to your room? I knew then.”

  “Knew what?”

  He looks at me intently. “That you were unlike any person I’ve ever met. And that I needed, wanted to know you. To be near you.”

  I’m too floored by his frankness to respond.

  “Charlotte, I think you’re incredible. And I know I’ve made this difficult to believe, but the truth is, ever since I met you, I’ve had this need for you I can’t explain.”

  My breath comes out trembling. “I feel the same way.”

  He gives me the first smile I’ve seen from him all morning. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “I wasn’t completely honest about why I took so long to get back to you.” He briefly drops his gaze. “I drove out to the water. To talk to Aaron. It’s something I do every anniversary.”

  I recall the way he’d gripped the steering wheel before driving off. I’d thought it was because he was mad at me.

  “They never found the body,” he says quietly. “He went into the sea, and he never came out.” My heart constricts for his pain. “I was angry. At myself,
at the world. I didn’t deal with it well. It’s the reason I’m usually alone on this day.”

  “I understand,” I say, feeling the echoes of his grief in my own. “And I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I know your dad wanted you there today. I know how hard it is to remember alone, and you don’t have to.”

  “I don’t know how to remember without anger.”

  “That’s okay. You remember anyway. Even though it’s hard.”

  “It’s so fucking impossible at times.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “But we have no choice.”

  His expression softens. “If we go back, I won’t be able to drive you to the other towns.”

  “It’s okay,” I assure him. “We can do it another day.”

  “My parents are leaving for London tomorrow,” he reminds me. “I’ll be running the house for the next two weeks.”

  I carefully mask my disappointment.

  When’s your flight home?” he asks.

  “Next Sunday.”

  His face falls. My mind goes back to that conversation with Zoe when I told her I’d only need two weeks. What was it that she said? You get three months either way.

  “I could change my flight.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Jonah’s eyes light up. “Seriously? You’d do that?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “Yes,” he says emphatically. “Yes, I want you to, but only if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” I tell him, meaning it.

  He leans forward and kisses me. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’re here,” he says, taking my hand in his. “That’s everything.”

  It’s such an unassuming statement. And yet, as he entwines his fingers with mine, I get the feeling he’s not only referring to this room.

  17

  When we arrive back in Bayeux, Jonah’s posture tenses. I see his grip tighten on the steering wheel, the slight clenching of his jaw. It stays that way as we turn onto Rue Saint-Loup, pulling up outside the closed gate.

  “You okay?” I ask when he makes no move to enter the property.

  He takes in a deep breath. “I just need a second.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  He stares at the gate as though facing some unvanquished foe. “We’re not great with emotion,” he says, working through a thought. “It’s a British thing, I guess, but I went twenty-four years without seeing either of my parents cry.” I notice his fingers don’t let go of the steering wheel even though we’re parked. “That first anniversary after we lost Aaron, my mum spent the whole day in bed crying. And my dad, he managed to keep himself together until that evening, but then he broke down. Since then it’s like the one day they let themselves come undone.”

  “And what about you?” I ask gently. “When do you get to let yourself come undone?”

  “Not around them,” he says bleakly. “After that first year, I couldn’t do it anymore. I felt so much pain, but I didn’t want them to see it, because I figured I deserved it.”

  “Jonah. You have to know that’s not true.”

  “Either way, I’ve made sure to be in a different place every anniversary since then.”

  I understand the anguish he feels profoundly. “I thought the accident that killed my parents was my fault.” Jonah turns to look at me. “It was because of me that we were in the car. I’d lost a tooth, and I was so upset my dad said we should all go out for ice cream. It’s the cure for all childhood problems, isn’t it?” He smiles and releases his hold on the steering wheel. “We were on our way back when a car came speeding from the wrong direction. My dad tried to swerve out of its path, but our car flipped and we ended up in a ravine. That’s the last I remember. I was in a coma for two weeks, and when I woke up in the hospital my grandpa told me that my parents were gone.”

  “Fuck,” he murmurs.

  “When you’re that young, you don’t understand. You make up a story because the real one is too awful. And that’s what I did for years, telling myself it was my fault. If we hadn’t gone for ice cream, my parents would still be here.”

  “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

  “I do now,” I tell him. “When I was ten, I asked my grandpa if he hated me because I killed my parents. I remember his face, how distraught he was knowing I’d thought that for so long. That’s when he explained to me about the other driver, how he’d stolen the car, drunk, and was fleeing the police. That man, my grandpa said, was the only one to blame. And because he got to walk away from the crash with his life, he was the only one who got to carry that burden.”

  “It’s fucking unfair.”

  “Yeah, it is. But it’s what happened, and nothing can be done about it. And as much as I miss them, I know they wouldn’t want me blaming myself. And I’m sure it’s the same for Aaron.”

  Jonah glances back toward the gate.

  I reach over and touch his shoulder. “It’s a shitty fucking club to be a part of, but you’re not alone.”

  He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, there’s a newfound resolve in his regard. “I think I’m ready to go in.”

  * * *

  When we walk through the front door, there’s a quietness I wasn’t expecting. It’s as though a veil hangs over the place. We’re only a few steps into the foyer when Steve walks down the hall from the kitchen.

  He looks at his son, the relief on his face plain. “You’re back.”

  Jonah nods but doesn’t reply.

  “I’m gonna take my bags to my room,” I say, wanting to give them space. I grab my suitcase and am halfway up when I hear Steve calling my name.

  “Thank you,” he tells me, close to tears.

  I smile, my heart breaking for the loss he must be feeling. I look at Jonah, meeting his gaze for the briefest second before turning and heading upstairs.

  For the next hour, I relax in my room and follow through on my end of the bargain. Changing my flights turns out to be easier than expected. There’s a fee, of course, but after fifteen minutes, my trip has been extended.

  I send a text to the group chat telling them that I’ve changed the flight and won’t be back home until the end of June. Not a minute passes before I get a reply from Zoe.

  OMG, you slept with him!!!

  What time is it in Seattle? I check it on my phone and see it’s three o’clock in the morning.

  Wait what???? That one is from Fiona. I guess she’s up with Kayla.

  My phone rings and I answer to Zoe’s excited squeal as she invites Fiona to the call.

  “Tell us everything,” she demands before she even says hello.

  “You guys should be asleep,” I tell them.

  “What’s sleep?” Fiona asks, her voice fatigued.

  “Char,” Zoe urges. “Did you sleep with Jonah?”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

  “She did!” Zoe says excitedly. “I had a feeling. The minute you said he was driving you, I knew something was going to happen. And then when you kissed him—”

  “Wait!” Fiona cuts in. “When did that happen?”

  “Thursday,” Zoe replies. “I told you, didn’t I?”

  “Uh, no. I think I’d remember that.” Kayla stirs, and Fiona soothes her. “On second thought,” she says, stifling a yawn. “I might have forgotten.”

  “So,” Zoe continues. “How was it?”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “Obviously, it was good,” Fiona says. “Otherwise she wouldn’t be extending the trip.”

  “I’m extending because Jonah has to take care of the B&B while his parents are away for the next two weeks, so he can’t drive me.”

  “Suuuuuure,” Zoe says. “And there are no other cars in Normandy.”

  I open my mouth to form some sort of rebuttal but realize the futility of it. The truth is, I’m looking forward to spending these weeks with
Jonah. “Anyways, enough about me, how are you guys?”

  Twenty minutes later, I hang up the call, glad that everything seems to be going well back home. The sun shines through the window, and I decide to head outdoors to read. Making my way downstairs, I stop in the foyer and wait, listening to see if anyone is around.

  I hear murmurs of conversation from the kitchen, so I go out the front door, not wanting to disturb Jonah and his parents. Walking around the house, I go into the backyard and see Francois sunbathing on the grass.

  “Allo!” he says as I approach. “Would you like to join me?”

  “Sure.” I sit down next to him and stretch my legs out. The sundress I’m wearing only goes to my mid-thigh, so I try to stop the fabric from hiking up.

  “Do not worry on my account,” Francois says, watching me reposition the skirt. “While they are very lovely legs, I prefer mine attached to a man.”

  “Well, in that case.” I laugh and lift the hem a little higher. “I once fell asleep wearing a see-through lace skirt and had to spend the whole summer with the weirdest tan marks. It haunts me to this day.”

  Francois chuckles. “With a face like yours, I’m sure it didn’t stop any of the boys.”

  “The braces and bad skin did. I had some awkward years.”

  “As did we all,” he says lightheartedly. “I started losing my hair when I was seventeen.”

  Francois is one of those men I can’t imagine with hair. It suits him so well.

  “Steve told me you and Jonah were away a couple of days.” He gives me a suggestive look.

  “He’s been helping me track down some family I have in the area.”

  His eyes widen. “Your family is from here?”

  It takes a couple of minutes, but I manage to explain the gist of my reason for coming to France.

  “And you’ve been going door to door?” he asks, astonished.

  “In a manner of speaking. We’ve been trying the churches first. Truthfully though, I was hoping we would have found something by now.”

  “But there are more towns to visit, yes?”

  I nod. “We have ten more on the list.”