A Sea of Unspoken Things

by Adrienne Young

On the surface, it seemed like such a perfect place. A refuge from the chaos of the world. And maybe it was once, before the trees were scooped out to build a town for people to live. Before this place had been touched by humanity. Now, where there were people, there was pain. Even in a place like this.

There was something that was almost romantic about the idea—producing work just for the sake of creating it. Not for show or display or even the world’s consideration. Away from opinions or opportunities. It was just…free.

What could we possibly say? I couldn’t even pretend to know how you could take a whole life, a whole person, and put it into words. Goodbye is a lost language. A silent one.

And for the first time ever in my life, I felt like I really understood him. He was this forest. Vastly unknowable and enduringly steady. A persistent force at the center of my world. And maybe in that way, he would never really be gone.

“We’re here tonight to say goodbye to Johnny Golden,” Sadie began. “A soft soul with a wild heart.”

Those words—a soft soul with a wild heart—were the only kind of eulogy that made sense for my brother. It also made me hope that despite everything, maybe he wasn’t so misunderstood after all.

The city had no soul. I stood in the window of Red Giant Collective, watching the twinkling lights of San Francisco glitter in the hills. It was impossible not to compare it to the wild, hot-blooded forest. The city had its own skin and bones and there was something about it that felt alive, but the mystical hum that lived in Six Rivers was an animal that couldn’t survive here. Not even the hungry waves of the Pacific could find a home in the bay.

“I thought you said you were never going to be that guy in a tux,” I said, my voice as brittle as snow. “Guess I figured out I can be anything if I’m with you.”

The soft, gentle press of his lips was like fitting myself into a shape I was made for. “What do you want, James?” he said, hands feeling the shape of me beneath the silk of my dress. The question felt like finding land, and my answer was a boat running ashore. “I want you to take me home.”

I set my forehead against his. “You know how we agreed not to leave things unsaid?” “Yes.” “I feel like I should finally tell you that I’ve always found it annoying when you know what I’m thinking.” “I know.” He laughed. “But I should probably tell you something, too.” I waited, pulling away from him so that I could see his eyes. His hands moved around the shape of me, pulling me closer. “I have loved you for a very long time, James.” “I know.” I echoed his words.

It was a portrait of Johnny standing on the cliffs at the gorge exactly how I remembered—a rendering that captured all the versions of him that lived behind those eyes. I finally understood that they all could be true, all at the very same time.

Maybe we were made in the dark, like Johnny said. But we’d found a way to create our own kind of light.

I wish everyone in the world could be so lucky as to be loved the way I am.