Finn gasps. “He told me that too!”
I smile. “I thought he might have.” My smile fades. “I’m feeling a little scared right now.”
“Me too.”
“Do you want me to say it? Maybe we’ll both feel braver.”
He nods.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, and channel Seb. “Don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you.”
Seb’s words provide me little comfort now that he’s gone, but my comfort wasn’t the point. Finn’s was. It’s my turn to be brave and take care of Finn the way Seb did.
I swallow hard. “Thanks, Finny. I think that helped. You?”
He nods. “Thanks, Uncle.”
“Anytime.” I wish I could hug him. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” he whispers.
Fear creeps back in as I cross the deck, and trade Morgan’s phone for Seb’s bag. I’m terrified to say goodbye to Seb, but I can’t hide from my feelings anymore. I have to face the pain of losing him. Silent tears streak down my cheeks, snatched by the wind, masked by the mist, as I walk to the rail my brother jumped from to save me.
The sound of the ocean fades, replaced by Seb’s voice whispering countless memories, some seemingly inconsequential that meant everything to me. Haircuts and bedtime stories. The stupid fights we had when we were kids. The half-asleepcome herewhen I had a nightmare and asked if I could sleep with him. The proud way he handed me his son, all bundled in blankets, and said:This is Finn.
I wait for a wave to gather, then drop the bag in. The ocean rises to meet it, taking the bag gently. There’s no splash. No sound. It’s just gone. Like Seb.
“Bye, Daddy,” Finn says.
Morgan turns the phone off speaker, and walks a few steps away.
“Rest easy, brother,” Lawrence says, voice thick.
Javi stands solemnly beside him, strong and unmoving. Wes passes Alejo the bottle of gin, and rubs his back. When Seb died, I abandoned them, but they rebuilt our fractured family without me. I’m thankful.
“It’s okay to be sad,” Morgan murmurs into the phone, blocking his other ear with his finger. “I’m sad too.”
A pause.
“I miss him too,” Morgan says. “You did a great job. I’m proud of you. Your daddy would be too.” Another pause. “I love you. Call me if you need to talk. Even if it’s the middle of the night... Okay, I will. Goodnight, Finn.” He pockets his phone, and looks at me, forehead wrinkled quizzically. “Finn asked you to call him.”
“Okay. I’m going to ring the bell. I’ll call him after.”
“Cole, wait,” Morgan says.
“I want to do this one by myself.” I climb the metal staircase to the wheelhouse, and stop in front of the bell beside the door.
I ring the bell once, twice, three times, then four, continuing until I reach the eighth and final one, indicating the end of a sailor’s watch.
TWENTY-ONE
Morgan
The ocean isan inky black mass interrupted by rolling boulders of crumbling swells. I’m coming off twenty hours on deck setting traps with only a few hours of sleep before taking over the wheel.
People don’t understand how dark it is out here when the clouds cover the stars. You can try to explain that if the lights go out on deck, you’ll have to crawl on your hands and knees to find your way back. But it’s more than that.
The darkness out here isn’t empty. It’s crowded with all the things you can’t see, but know are there—the ocean sure, but that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s all the nightmares your brain crafts when there’s no visual input to stimulate it.