Page 22 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

“I’ve always been the less responsible one too, always in a bit of trouble.”

His chest expands, and his fingers trail through the blades of grass at his side.

“He was my laughter and my support and my rock. Without him, I’m just…adrift.”

I don’t want him to feel lost anymore. I don’t want him to feel alone. I reach out and let my hand fall to his shoulder, and after a moment, his fingers find their way over to rest over mine.

“When we were fourteen, we found an abandoned coyote pup. I wanted it so badly. I couldn’t bear the thought of it dying alone in the woods. Jordyn knew that Mom and Dad wouldn’t let us keep it if we said we’d found it, so he made it a collar out of some shoelaces and tried to convince them that a friend from school had a dog that had had puppies.”

He laughs. Truly laughs. I haven’t heard him laugh like this before. It’s loud and brilliant, and it fills the small meadow with life and joy, and for a moment, it feels like we’ve carved out this small place in the universe just for us. It feels like nothing exists outside of his gentle, callused fingers sitting heavily on top of mine and the sound of his laughter and the warmth and love and amusement that radiate from his soul. I’ve never seen him like this before, and I know I should pull my hand away. I know I need to remember that he’s becoming my friend and nothing more, but I can’t. I want this. I want to sit with him and listen and laugh and learn who he is underneath all of his loss.

“Our parents knew, of course. Looking back, they knew from the moment we showed up with a mangy little coyote poorly disguised as a dog, but no one could say no to Jordyn, not even them. They wouldn’t let us keep it as a pet, but they helped us find a sanctuary that told us how to care for it until we could get it to their facility in Anchorage. We took a road trip the next weekend and dropped it off as a family.”

Once Jayce starts talking about Jordyn, it’s as if he can’t bring himself to stop. He tells me story after story. Some bring laughter. Some leave his eyes shining with tears that threaten to trace along his temples on their way toward the earth as he lies in the sun. He talks of love and joy and companionship. He talks of sorrow and loss and darkness. For hours, he talks.

By the time we fall back to reality, his soul feels lighter. He’s still hurting and grieving and lost, but the memories of love and contentment have softened his pain. It’s quiet as we make our way back to the parking lot, even once we’ve stepped back through the thick trees and into the park. We’ve spent all day together, and the parking lot is empty and silent around us as we say our quick goodnights.

A light rain starts to fall as I follow his truck for a few miles before he turns off Main Street to head home, and as I watch his taillights fade into the dusk through my windshield, I want to follow. He’s given me more today than I ever expected. I don’t have stories about my past or family to offer him in return, and for the first time, that bothers me. I want to offer him something of myself.

I find myself thinking about the way the small lines beside his eyes seemed to deepen in the bright sunlight, and the way the rumbling timbreof his voice rolled along my spine and through my bones. About the shadows his eyelashes cast onto his cheeks and the strength of his fingers as they lay curled around mine all afternoon. Something warm and fluttery and aching settles in my belly, and I know that it’s too late for me to rein myself in. I know this is one sided, and I know it’s going to end badly. I want it anyway. I want to take every moment, every smile, every twist in my chest and wrap them up like the delicate and precious things they are and put them away somewhere hidden and safe so that one day, when I’m alone once again, I can take them out and remember the way it felt to fall in love.

Chapter 7

Jayce

It’s been three weeks since we sat together in the little hidden meadow and Namid listened as I spoke about Jordyn for hours, and even though he’s only been at the shop twice during that time, we’ve had breakfast each Saturday.

The world feels different somehow. Lighter perhaps. The darkness that still clings to the edges of my existence seems slightly less oppressive, and there are times when it isn’t a struggle to simply remember to breathe. I hadn’t intended to talk to Namid like that. I never meant to tell him about Jordyn, never meant to make him listen to me ramble for hours. But he had, and as he smiled and laughed along with me, something changed. I hadn’t realized just how much I’ve missed the easy comradery of friendship since I lost Jordyn. I know that I miss his presence and his light and his love every day, but I hadn’t understood just how much I miss simply having someone to talk to.

How has Namid lived here for a decade without that? He seems to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy his. He feels like my friend. I want him to know that I care for him and that I support him. I want the town to know that too. He’s so thoughtful and kind, and even though he’s often quiet, he’s clever and smart, and on the rare occasions he chooses to exercise his wit, I find myself shaking with laughter. It’s something I never expected to experience again after losing Jordyn, and I can’t imagine Namid having lived so long without it.

He’s been an outcast for too long.

I know he doesn’t like being around people, but the way I’ve noticed everyone treating him, who can blame him? I know I can’t single-handedly change opinions that folks have held for a decade overnight, but I can try my best to help in small ways. The past two Saturdays he’s been at the shop, I’ve deliberately scheduled small appointments so that my customers can see him there, so that word can spread that even though it’s been months, he’s still working with me. So that they can see me smile at him and welcome him openly into my life and my business.

He's not technically working today, but we’ve been meeting at the shop every week to have brunch whether he’s working that week or not. I’ve been here since seven, and he’s in the office waiting for me by the time I hand Mrs. Jackson back the keys to her beat-up old jeep whose spark plugs I just changed for the third time this year. The door to the office is open, and he’s leaning back in the chair with his feet on the desk, poking at something on his phone. It’s strange how comfortable it’s become for me to see him sitting there. I still see Jordyn’s absence as if it’s a physical hole in my space on days Namid isn’t here, but when he is, his company grounds me somehow, and the presence of ghosts in my life is just a bit fainter. He reminds me that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay that I’m still here even if Jordyn isn’t.

It takes him a moment to notice that I’m leaning in the doorway. Either that, or whatever he’s staring at is so entertaining that he doesn’t care.

An uncertain smile twitches across his lips when he glances up. He seems almost embarrassed to find me watching him.

“Must be something pretty good in there.”

He chuckles and stands, slipping his phone into his back pocket.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teases as he rounds the desk, and we both make our way toward the coat rack by the door. He’s been helping me for a few months now, and while we’re heading into the peak of summer, this is Alaska, and some days are still chilly.

“Can I take you somewhere other than breakfast today?” I ask as I shrug on my leather jacket, the one that apparently smells like cinnamon. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

A wickedly playful grin lights up his face, and small wrinkles I’ve only seen a handful of times crinkle into the skin beside his eyes.

“Only if you promise not to murder me.”

Laughter I don’t even try to hold back slips its way out of my lungs as he offers the same condition I used the first time we strayed from the beaten path and walked together in the woods near the park. I do my best to return the exact words he’d offered me.

“I guess I can change my plans.”

As he flicks up the collar on his lightweight grey trench coat, his eyes sparkle in the sunlight that streams in through the shop’s glass façade. I’ll never stop wondering about his eyes. How they’re somehow the dark blue of the deep sea or night sky, and how it feels like I can tell what he’s thinking just by looking into them.

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