Page 18 of The Beachgoers
Rolls out another kink, too, before heading downstairs with the dog. “You be good, Madison,” Jason tells her while adjusting the leather band of his wristwatch. “And stay off Ted’s couch.” As he says it, he points to the deluxe dog bed he bought yesterday at PetPlace. Maddy obeys, stepping into her bed as Jason walks to the kitchen.
* * *
It’s not until he grabs his keys off the counter that Jason stops.
Just stops still—all at the sight of the happiness jar Maris made for Neil last Sunday. The large Mason jar is filled with Stony Point sand, and dried pieces of seaweed. There are sea pebbles in the sand, and driftwood sticks, and seashells. Frosted sea glass, too. A white seagull feather is tucked into a strip of burlap Maris had wrapped around the glass jar.
But it’s the note in that jar that stops him. A piece of stationery folded into a small square brings him to a halt. He’s sometimes wondered about the words Maris penned to Neil that day of his ten-year Anniversary Mass. It was the same day Jason found her roadside at the site of the crash, when she left the jar with him.
Now, though? He’s not sure why, but this afternoon he feels compelled to read that note.
Compelled to lift out that piece of stationery and unfold it. Maris’ private words to his brother are brief, and honest.
Really missing you today, Neil. What I wouldn’t give to be able to walk and talk with you on the beach again. Please watch over Jason.
Much love,
Maris
As he reads the words, Jason gives a slight nod. A salty breeze rises off the Sound here at Sea Spray Beach. It comes through the slider screen and grazes his face. He glances outside then. The weather couldn’t be better—especially that September-blue sky. It’s as blue as blue can be. The kind of sweeping cloudless blue sky that has you feel life is really, really good.
