Page 7 of A Sea of Unspoken Things
Seven
I plucked yellow and green highlighters from the desk and set myself up at the kitchen table so I could start on Johnny’s bank statements. They were surprisingly thin, with only a handful of deposits each month and a fraction of the transactions I usually had on my own accounts.
The payments from CAS were easy to find, two consecutive numbers that showed up regularly, and I highlighted them in green. The first was $1,200.00, the monthly stipend paid to Johnny for his position on the project. The second was $860.00, which was designated as grant funds to be used for research and issued quarterly. These were the sums Quinn needed documentation on, but there was a lingering worry in my mind that it wouldn’t be that easy. That there would be some evidence of mismanagement or bending of the truth because, well, that was Johnny. Any missing funds, I’d cover or account for myself before the documentation went to CAS, because that’s what I always did. I covered for my brother. I’d been doing it for my entire life.
Growing up, Johnny had gotten the bad-twin rap early on. More than once he’d been caught stealing something at the market, and when we were teenagers, he’d gotten fired from his first job because he’d swiped cash from the till.
I’d seen it in the way adults looked at us, and even talked about us. Like I was the good half and Johnny, the bad. But what people had never understood about my brother was that he was just willing to do what he thought he had to and there weren’t many lines he wouldn’t cross to make those things happen. He didn’t care about perception or reputation. It was like he’d been born without that hardwiring the rest of us had—the instinctive fear that made you need to belong.
Once, I’d heard a teacher describe Johnny as a solitary species, like one of the animals who don’t live in packs or exist in any kind of societal structure. To Johnny, life was very simple. He only belonged to himself, and his only job was looking after me. The problem was, at some point that became my only job, too—looking after Johnny. And that wasn’t a simple task.
I worked my way through each of the bank statements, using the yellow highlighter to mark transactions that might have been project expenses. Some I’d have to run by Quinn to check their eligibility, but between the receipts I ran across in Johnny’s email and what I’d found on his desk, I hoped it would get me in the ballpark of the amount that needed to be accounted for.
When I got to the July accounting, the largest transaction I’d seen appeared in the amount of $12,397.21. The yellow highlighter hovered in the air over the vendor’s name.
BS 012001
I stared at the number, fixated on the discrepancy between this transaction and the others on the statements. The charge was more than the total Johnny usually had in his account by a significant amount. It was far too much money to be funds from the grant that he’d used for the project, which made me think it had been for equipment. A new camera and a couple of good lenses could easily amount to that much.
I tapped the highlighter on the table. The only person I could think of who might have an idea was also the only person I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone and call.
I pulled it from my pocket and set it on the table, staring at the screen. Micah still hadn’t texted, and while I wasn’t surprised, I had a nagging sense of disappointment that I was ashamed to acknowledge. It had only been forty-eight hours since I’d first seen him, and already I was losing my resolve not to call or text him.
I picked up the phone, unlocking it, before I found the last text he’d sent me. I hadn’t saved the number, which was just a pathetic attempt to ignore the fact that I had it. Sometimes, after a few glasses of wine or after hours of trying to fall asleep, I’d search his name on social media. But Micah had never made any accounts. I’d never asked Johnny for his contact information through the years, and that was intentional. Both because I didn’t have a good excuse, and also because I didn’t trust myself with it.
There was no getting around the fact that I would have to talk to him if I was going to answer the string of questions I had mounting about Johnny. He was the only person I could think of who might know whether Johnny was working with anyone out at the gorge. And if Olivia was right about Johnny and Micah having issues, I wanted to know why.
I’d half hoped Micah would be doing the same thing I was now, trying to find a good enough reason to call me or show up at the house again. But I’d also known in my gut that he wouldn’t. Micah wasn’t going to chase me. Not this time.
I changed my mind more than once before I finally opened the text thread. I changed it twice more before I hit send.
What are you doing tonight?
Heat bloomed in my face and I immediately regretted it. I pressed my hands to my cheeks, letting out a heavy breath. In some version of these events, Micah had just won. And if he didn’t reply, I’d have the answer to the question I hadn’t had the guts to ask for twenty years. Whether everything I’d done—everything I’d not done—had been enough to sever the ties that seemed to eternally bind us together.
My phone buzzed on the table a few seconds later and I dropped my hand, sucking in a breath. But it wasn’t Micah’s name on the screen.
“Shit.”
It was Quinn.
I cleared my throat and impulsively pulled the elastic from my hair, shaking it out. I’d planned to take the call at the diner, but I’d lost track of time.
“Hey, Quinn,” I answered, voice louder than necessary.
The line was silent.
I glanced at the screen, where the call timer was counting. It was connected, but I only had one bar of service.
“Hello?” I pressed the phone to my ear again and the staticky, broken sound of a voice cut in and out. “Hold on just a second.”
I went up the hall, Smoke on my heels as I opened the front door and went down the steps. Another bar lit up, and I tried again.
“Hey, can you hear me?”
“There you are!” The voice cleared. “I’ve got you now.”
“Sorry about that. Service is shit out here.”
“No problem.” Quinn’s washed-out British lilt made his words bounce. “How are you, James?”
“Good. I’m good.”
“You made it up there okay?”
“Yeah, everything went fine. Got in the day before yesterday and just getting everything sorted.”
“Good, good.” He paused, the next string of words clumsy. “I hope everything hasn’t been…too hard. You holding up all right?”
The genuine, tender tone of his voice made me feel a little less balanced. One of the first things that had struck me about Quinn the night I met him was his uncanny ability to cut straight through small talk and socially acceptable pleasantries. He wasn’t afraid to get to the heart of things and he didn’t pretend not to notice people’s vulnerabilities. There was no wondering what he really thought. Or what he wanted.
“I’m okay.” I swallowed. “It’s hard, but of course it’s hard, right? I knew it would be.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Yes, that’s understandable. I hope it’s an opportunity to get some closure.”
My gaze wandered over the ground, my mind turning those words over. Closure was something I didn’t even know how to wrap my head around. I didn’t have any idea if it was even possible.
“And how are you getting on with Johnny’s research? Making headway?”
I pulled the sleeve of my sweater over my hand and tucked my arm around me, shivering. It was freezing and I hadn’t thought to grab my jacket. “Yeah, it hasn’t been too bad. I’ve got most of the photographs together, just tracking down a couple more. I’m going through the field notes today just to make sure everything’s there.”
“That’s great.” The apprehension in Quinn’s voice vanished, as if he’d been bracing himself for bad news. “Anything I can help with? I’d be more than happy to catch a flight up to Redding and come lend a hand.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear, glancing at the call timer on the screen with a smile. It had taken less than two minutes for him to offer to come up. But the idea of having him or anyone else from my other life here made me squirm.
“That’s okay. Really. I won’t be here long.”
I could hear the disappointment in the silence on the other end of the line, and I hated that feeling. Like every time Quinn tried to open a door, I was gently closing it.
“Right. Well, if you change your mind…”
I looked around me, realizing Smoke was no longer in view. The forest that surrounded the cabin was so thick that I could barely see a patch of sky through the canopy.
“I think I pretty much have what I need,” I said, distracted. “I just have to go through some more records and get everything compiled.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. I don’t know how much Johnny told you about this project, but the purpose is to provide protection for vulnerable populations, and this species in particular has been more difficult to get the data on. Our job is to identify which of those populations…”
I rounded the corner of the cabin, only half listening as I scanned the trees out back. It was late morning, but the canopy was so thick that it was a few seconds before I spotted the dog. His pale gray fur caught the light beaming down through the branches.
“James? You there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I actually wanted to ask you. Johnny mentioned someone else on the project. I think her name is Josie?”
“Oh, yes. Josie. What about her?”
“I was wondering if she’s in the area. I mean, in case I have any questions about Johnny’s work.”
“She’s out in Fort Bragg. Not too far. What do you need from her? I could reach out.”
“That’s okay,” I said, a bit too quickly. “I didn’t know if she and Johnny worked together out here in Six Rivers.”
Quinn paused. “Well, she is the one who trained Johnny at the start of the study, and I know they were friendly.”
Again, I turned the woman’s name over in my mind, trying to find some associated memory with it. I was almost sure Johnny had never mentioned her, but I couldn’t shake my curiosity about whether the backpack in the photo was hers. Whether she’d been with Johnny that day in the gorge.
“Why don’t I put you two in touch?” Quinn offered.
“Sure. That would be great.” A frustrated exhale escaped my lips when I saw Smoke pawing at something in the fire pit.
“All right. Well, I’ve sent you a list of everything we need, the formatting, all of that. But honestly, I can take care of the finer details if you just want to compile everything.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Great. Oh, and just a reminder about those financial forms. I included what we need for those in my email as well.”
“I’m actually working on it now.”
A cloud of dust kicked up from the fire pit, where Smoke was digging, and I picked up my pace, trying to make it to him before he made an even bigger mess. When I reached him, I hooked a hand into his collar, pulling him away.
“Thanks. I really appreciate all of this, James.” Quinn paused, and the line went quiet again. “I know it would mean a lot to Johnny, too. He really cared about this project.”
I sat on the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs and my hand dropped into my lap, my eyes finding the trees again. “I know he did.”
It was after Johnny started the project that I realized for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t waking up in the middle of the night worried about him. He’d been so proud when he got the placement with CAS that he’d shown up in San Francisco the next day. Thinking about it now, I realized that was his last visit.
I didn’t know if I’d ever seen him like that. At least, not since we were kids. It had been like watching a feather finally land, after floating a great distance. He’d found a purpose in the project. A sense of meaning. I even remembered feeling almost envious of him. Like Johnny had something that made him feel alive and connected to the world when I hadn’t felt that in a long time.
“Well,” Quinn said, “ please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything at all. I’m here, James. And my offer to come up still stands.”
“Thanks, Quinn,” I said, guiltily.
He was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he’d hoped I would ask him to come, and I knew why. He wanted to connect with me in a deeper way than the periodic dinner dates and occasional nights I spent at his place. Quinn wanted to be there for me. But I didn’t know how to let him do that.
He hung up and I stood, stuffing the phone into the pocket of my sweatpants. Smoke’s muzzle was powdered white with ash, and I groaned, doing my best to dust him off. He was still tugging against my grip on his collar, trying to reach the fire pit again.
“Come on.”
I whistled and his ears perked up before he loped past me, his long legs beating me to the cabin. I threw a glance at the Walkers’ place, visible through the trees, and I was relieved when I didn’t see Rhett’s truck in the drive. I’d be lucky if I managed to dodge him the rest of the time I was here.
I followed Smoke up the steps, brushing the ash from my hands, but I jolted when a shadow of movement slid across the kitchen floor inside. I reached out to steady myself on the window frame as a figure came around the corner of the hallway, nearly toppling down the steps. When I had my balance, I looked up.
For a moment, I thought it was Johnny. Not the version of him I’d last seen, but the one I’d lived with in this very house. The tall, lanky teenager with a dark mop of hair and wide, brawny shoulders. My chest deflated, my face flashing hot as my vision swayed, and it took several seconds for my eyes to process the details enough to convince me that it wasn’t him.
Standing across the kitchen, his hands lifted and eyes wide, was Ben Cross, Sadie’s son.
“S-sorry!” he stammered. “The front door was open.”
I let out a breath, pressing a hand to my ribs.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, apologetically.
I shook my head, a little embarrassed. “It’s okay.”
Smoke nosed Ben’s hand until Ben reached down, scratching behind his ear. But he was still watching me with an expression I recognized. Guilt, or nerves maybe. It was almost as if he’d been caught. But when I looked around the room, glancing at the open front door, nothing looked amiss.
“My mom asked me to bring these over.”
He motioned to a basket sitting beside the stove. It looked like a care package.
“That’s really nice of you guys,” I managed. “Thanks.”
He shrugged, an awkward movement that told me the gesture had had little to do with him. His eyes moved around the cabin curiously, his hand still stroking down the back of Smoke’s neck. I couldn’t help but study the details of his face again, searching for some irrefutable trace of my brother. I couldn’t tell which of the similarities were just teenage boy and which could be evidence that this was Johnny’s son.
Ben’s eyes drifted to the living room, and I watched as he studied the details of the place. Even if it hadn’t changed much since I was a kid, there was something distinctly Johnny about it now.
“He wasn’t much of a decorator,” I said, trying to fill the silence. “But you probably know that, I guess.”
“No,” Ben said, flatly. His tone wasn’t so much impolite as it was uncomfortable. “I didn’t really know him.”
That seemed strange, given the amount of time Johnny likely spent at the diner and the fact that Sadie and Johnny had been either friends or in a start-stop relationship for years. It also sounded like Johnny had worked at the school pretty regularly.
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. There was something in Ben’s manner that felt skittish. Edgy, even. Like his skin was crawling.
Again, I looked to the corner of the hallway, where I’d seen him coming from when I opened the door. It occurred to me suddenly that he might have been in Johnny’s room.
“I gotta go,” Ben said, suddenly. “But my mom told me to remind you that you can call if you need anything.”
I nodded, a little stiffly. “All right. Thanks.”
He didn’t bother forcing another smile before he let go of Smoke and turned toward the door. Just before he opened it, he glanced down the hall, toward Johnny’s bedroom. For a moment I could have sworn the expression on his face shifted, revealing a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. But when he stepped out onto the porch, giving me a final wave, the apathetic teenage boy was back.
I crossed the kitchen and peered into the basket he’d left. A crisp floral tea towel was nestled around a jar of honey, a few golden-topped muffins, and a small bag of coffee beans. I lifted the jar, turning it toward the light coming through the window. A perfect comb of honey was suspended inside.
The urge to glance at the hallway again made me turn my head, and I set down the jar, walking toward it. Johnny’s door was still closed as I passed it, but I stopped in front of the desk, eyeing the stacks of papers and notebooks. I had tidied what I could, making piles to go through by level of urgency. And everything appeared to be in place, but something still didn’t feel right.
I turned to the open bathroom door next, relaxing a little when I spotted the gleam of water drops on the edge of the sink. Maybe he’d used the bathroom. Or maybe he’d just been looking for me, ducking his head into the other rooms since the front door had been left open.
I let myself sink down into the desk chair, eyes dropping to the camera bag on the floor. It was still zipped closed, but it wasn’t perfectly squared with the legs of the desk. Had it been before? I wasn’t sure.
I reached down and unzipped it, taking a quick look at the bag’s contents. Everything was in order, right where Johnny left it.
A pitiful laugh escaped me as I put my face into my hands and rubbed at my temples. On top of everything else, I was getting paranoid.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I let myself draw in another breath before I pulled it out. This time, Micah’s name was on the screen.
Address is 8 Overlook. 6pm okay? You’ll have to drive the 4Runner. That car won’t make it up the ridge.
I exhaled, emotion welling in my throat.
I wanted to pretend that there was a universe where I wasn’t so relieved he replied that I could cry. And he probably knew it. He’d probably been waiting for me to text, knowing it was just a matter of time before I crossed the line I’d drawn.
That was one of the reasons I’d dreaded seeing him. Because when I did, he knew exactly how to get his fingers beneath my scales and peel them back. But if he did that this time, I didn’t know what he would find.
My thumbs hovered over the screen. When I texted Micah, I’d imagined making plans to meet him at the diner or even The Penny. I hadn’t expected him to invite me over, and the idea of going to his house made me feel jittery.
I hesitated before I typed a reply and hit send.
Sounds good.
I waited to see if the trio of bubbles would appear, indicating that he was sending another message, but there was nothing. I imagined him standing there, staring at his phone exactly the way I was now, debating whether to say anything else. Whether another message would make me change my mind. But Micah wasn’t just good at wearing me down. He also knew exactly how to not scare me away.