by Jay Coles
In the kitchen, Mama is waiting on me while eating eggs. There’s a plate across from her with just toast with grape jelly, no eggs. She knows how much I hate them. I sit down and she starts going on and on about the Sterling Point Estuary, and how she thinks it’s the most peaceful place in all of Alabama to put him, about how Auntie Nicola thinks so, too.
I don’t even finish a whole piece of toast before she’s done eating.
She goes to get Tyler’s urn and the photo book she made. She pulls out a picture of the last family reunion we had. Tyler and I were three. Still babies, as Mama would say. She doesn’t even break down crying in front of me. She just holds it up to her heart. This is progress.
We pick up G-mo and Ivy from their places on our way to the Sterling Point Estuary, which is just a strait separating three different cities far away from Sterling Point, and it takes what feels like hours to get here. Faith meets up with us.
The sun is blazing hot, quails and pelicans greeting us in the sky as we walk to the edge of the riverbank, taking slow steps on a wooden strip. I’ve been tasked with carrying Tyler’s urn. I’ve never hated anything more than this feeling of carrying Tyler, I mean, his ashes, no, I mean, Tyler.
It’s him, but it’s not.
My head throbs. I don’t know if I can do this. Breathe in, I tell myself. Then out.
Everyone’s quiet, and all I can hear is nature—the birds, the water swishing around, the fish making bubbles in it. The sound of cars way back on the road is faint in the distance.
Ivy and G-mo take turns patting me on the back, reminding me that everything’s okay. I try to simmer my stomach and prepare myself for what might be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do in my life.
Faith gets close to me. “How’re you feeling?” she asks. This question really could be answered in a bunch of different ways right now.
If I say I’m okay, I’d be lying to her and to myself. I sigh. “This just feels weird.” I spent last night reading all about scattering ashes. It’s supposed to be a big step in the grief journey. It doesn’t seem like it, though. At least, not yet.
“Just close your eyes, if it helps,” she says, popping her gum.
“I’m trying. It’s just seriously hard.” I’m staring at my reflection in the water now, Tyler clutched to my chest.
“God, my baby,” Mama says, wiping her eyes.
I exhale.
It feels like the world leaps forward without me.
“You got this, Marv,” Ivy says.
“Stay strong,” G-mo adds.
It’s nice to have them here. Sometimes it seems like I hold them back from being amid all the fun, like they are my own personal wallflowers with no perks. But it’s been reassuring to learn that we can be there for one another in all the ways we need, and we’ll be okay with it.
Pac said it best in his song “Until the End of Time.” He said, In the hood, true homies make you feel good. That’s something I need to remember.
Ivy and G-mo are true homies.
I walk down a little bit more to get closer to the edge. I kneel and run a hand through the water. It’s warm. And I know he’ll like it.
I wait for the wind to settle down, painful seconds slipping past. Then I twist off the lid of the urn, gasping and blinking back tears.
I nod at G-mo. Then Ivy. Then Faith. Then Mama.
Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. I take another breath and begin pouring the ashes into the water, watching them float and then sink and disperse.
“How are you feeling now?” Faith asks, her hand on my back.
“All right.” It’s a sad kind of all right, though. Tears are streaming down my face and the wind returns, carrying him farther and farther away. Almost instantly, it’s open season for tears. It’s an all-you-can-care-to-cry feast among us. I hug Faith, then G-mo, then Ivy, and then Mama. And then we are all hugging one another at the same time.
I look up at the sky after we break apart and see the sun moving out from behind a bunch of clouds. I don’t know where Tyler is, but I know he’ll always be a part of my present and my future. I can faintly hear his voice thanking me for letting him go.
I’ll never forget what happened. I’ll never forget that my twin was once here and then brutally taken out of my life, leaving behind an awful, sinking hole inside me, paining me empty. I’ll never forget our memories. One day, I’ll see him again. But until then, I just have to keep reminding everyone around me that his life matters.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, thank you to my Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, for getting me through all the tears that were shed while writing this book.
Special, special thanks to all the folks who made this book possible:
Lauren Abramo, my wonderful, brilliant, hardworking, and championing superhero agent and friend. From the first time I queried you, you championed me and this book and fought so hard for it. From the very moment we first talked on the phone and I heard you gush about my book, I knew you would be the best agent.
Kheryn Callender, you are such a phenomenal and talented editor, and you have made this book so, so much stronger. You got skills for real. I’m humbled and honored to have worked with you for so many months to shape my book to be its very best. Thank you for getting me. Thank you for getting my book. Thank you for you.
Big ups to the fantastic team at Dystel, Goderich & Bourret, especially Michael, Jim, and Sharon. Thanks for championing my book behind the scenes as much as you all have.
Huge, HUGE thank-yous to everyone at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, especially Alvina Ling, Kristina Pisciotta, Jessica Shoffel, Jennifer McClelland-Smith, Elizabeth Rosenbaum, Elena Yip, Victoria Stapleton, Michelle Campbell, and Marisa Finkelstein. Your enthusiasm and encouragement throughout the publication of Tyler Johnson Was Here has been amazing, and I’m so grateful to have you all as part of my team.
Thanks to Charlotte Day and Marcie Lawrence for creating such a gorgeous, poignant, and powerful cover for Tyler Johnson Was Here. I have all the soft boy feels. Seriously, I’m so, so happy and lucky to have this cover.
To my name-twin and best friend, Jay Elliot Flynn, thank you for supporting me, for your insight, for always being there when I need you most, and for reading Tyler Johnson Was Here when I first wrote it, back when it was four hundred messy, messy pages. You’re a real G. I’m proud to know you.
My ride-or-die best friends, Reggie, Deyon, Rajj, Zach W., Zach S., Mitch, Jacob, and Chris. I love each and every one of you and value your friendship. Thank you for being by my side throughout the highs and lows of finishing this book.
Thank you to Carl Frost and Neil Kring for being two of the best pastors who have supported me through this journey. I love you both and value your friendship.
My Revo Squad, thank you all for always encouraging me to keep going and to reach greater heights. I couldn’t have finished without your affirmation and friendship.
Adi Alsaid, Laura Silverman, Angie Thomas, Nic Stone, Dhonielle Clayton, L.L. McKinney, Adrianne Russell, Brandy Colbert, Justina Ireland, Ibi Zoboi, Phil Stamper, Dave Connis, Jeff Zentner, Becky Albertalli, Farrah Penn, Tomi Adeyemi, Tiffany D. Jackson, Simon Curtis, Elsie Chapman, Eric Smith, Heidi Heilig, Hannah Moskowitz, Marieke Nijkamp, Adam Silvera, John Corey Whaley, and Kara Thomas, among many, many author friends who were the best support system I could ask for going into this new world of publishing.
Thanks to my family and loved ones who have cheered behind the scenes since I finished this book, especially my two sisters, Diamond and Taya. I love you two and can’t wait to see you both conquer the world someday.
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