Page 21 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

Jayce isn’t at the park when I arrive. It’s finally summer, and the number of beautiful sunny days we get up here is finite. As a result, half the town seems to be wandering around the small pathway and lounging on the freshly cut grass. I don’t really understand why they’re all here; we live in a place surrounded by trees and meadows and wilderness. There is no shortage of places to enjoy the sunshine. Why would they all want to be in the same place? The only reason Jayce and I meet here is because our friendship is so new, and his ability to exist in the moment rather than sink into oblivion seems so tentative that I’m hesitant to suggest anything that might disrupt his fragile routine. If this is working for him, then I’m happy to continue.

I didn’t expect him to text me out of the blue, and I certainly never expected him to ask to have breakfast on a day we weren’t working. I know all too well that the way I’m starting to feel about him is one sided, I know that. I can feel it. Maybe he’s at least beginning to think of me as a friend though. That’s nice. I’ve never had a friend before, and it’s…yeah…it’s nice.

The benches are all taken, and while I hope that one opens up before Jayce gets here, it doesn’t seem likely. Everyone appears settled in for the long haul with their snacks and dogs and blankets and Frisbees. I wander in a small circle near the edge of the parking lot, trying my best to stay away from the modest crowd. I’ve been more visible to folks over the past couple of months, but they are as standoffish as ever. I know that people have seen me with Jayce in his shop and the grocery store and coffee nook and here in the park, and while some tiny part of me hoped that being seen together might help people accept me a bit more easily, it’s clear that it’s having the opposite effect and they’re wondering if I’m somehow taking advantage of Jayce after the loss of his brother.

I’m trying my best to keep to myself. The closest person is ten yards away, but I can still feel them. I can still feel the wariness and distrust and concern over my very presence. I don’t let it bother me. It used to when I was young and new here, but it doesn’t anymore. Not really. Not often, anyway.

I’m grateful when Jayce’s truck pulls into the parking lot. I’m more than that, but I try to ignore the rush of excitement that races through me. That’s normal, right? It’s normal to be excited to see your friend.

Jayce walks toward me, carrying a large brown pastry box with two travel coffee mugs balanced on the top. They’re ceramic. Between the two of us, we now have four ceramic mugs. He keeps two at the shop, and I keep two in my car; that way, we’re always prepared when it’s our turn to get drinks on the Saturdays we meet up. He’s walking slowly, with his eyes on the cups as they shift ever so slightly with each of his steps. I speed walk toward him and snag the cups from the box before they have a chance to tumble to the ground. Once the mugs are safe from disaster, Jayce finally looks up, a smile spreading across his face. There is a dimple on his right cheek, one I’ve only seen a handful of times, and I want to trace my fingertip along it. Instead, I sip my coffee.

“So, the entire town seems to have had the same idea this morning,” I mumble.

Jayce’s mouth quirks up on one side.

“This afternoon.”

“Oh. Oh, you have the jokes now. I see how it is.”

He offers a gentle smile. He feels lighter than he used to. Not always, but in moments like this, his grief is soft. It’s always there, but he’s no longer constantly drowning. I’m thankful for that, and I hope that, in some small way, I’ve been able to help.

“Feeling adventurous?” I ask playfully as I lead him off the path and into the wooded area next to the park. I know there’s a small meadow filled with long grass and wildflowers not too far into the tree line.

“Only if you promise not to murder me.”

A snort escapes before I can stop it. “I suppose I can change my plans.”

His lips twitch into a smile once more as he follows me without hesitation.

We don’t have to go far before the dense trees and undergrowth thin, and a small sunlit clearing appears.

“Did you know this was here?” He sounds a bit awed as he pauses to look around, tilting his face to the sky to enjoy the sunlight.

I simply nod as I make my way over to a fallen log on the edge of the field and settle cross-legged with my back against the bark.

Jayce joins me, settling down onto the grass and popping open the lid of the pastry box before sipping his tea. We each make it through two bear claws in silence before he speaks. Our silences aren’t awkward. They’re peaceful. We’re not quiet because we don’t know what to say to one another; we’re quiet because we know the other is there, and that’s enough. We listen to the wind whispering through the branches, now covered in green leaves and filled with life, the birds that flit by on their way to their nests, and the rustling of squirrels in the undergrowth beside us.

“When Jordyn and I were kids, we’d play in the woods behind our house, like most kids do, I guess. We’d find places like this and spend entire days throwing rocks and building towers with sticks and searching for bugs.”

He’s never talked about Jordyn before, and I can feel the waves of grief and love rolling off of him. They surround me, threatening to pull me under, but it’s not a bad thing this time. This time, the love tempers the darkness.

“In high school, he joined the football team. I was never really into sports, and I spent a lot of time alone when he was at practice. I’d wander through the places we’d frequented as kids and lie in the sun and listen to the sounds of life that humans don’t usually take the time to notice. I haven’t done that…haven’t done this in a really long time.”

I’m silent for a while. I don’t want to break the spell that has woven itself around us, but eventually, I wonder if it might help if he continues to talk about Jordyn. I doubt he’s spoken about him with anyone during the past few months.

“What was he like?”

My voice is soft and fragile and so quiet I’m not sure he’ll be able to hear me.

Jayce sighs deeply. His smile is sad now, and the darkness is surging through him as he shifts to lie on his back in the long grass.

I want to reach out, to rest my hand on the swell of his chest and anchor him to this moment, to me. I never want to leave his side.

“He was…light.” His voice is deep and hoarse, and he struggles to push out the words.

“I’ve always been a bit too serious. I was like this even as a kid.”

He glances over at me for a moment before shifting his gaze back skyward.

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