Page 104 of A Silence So Divine

Long car rides are my personal version of Hell. Add the fact that I have no idea where I’m headed? Hell on steroids. Cecil refuses to give up any information other than we’re staying overnight. Over the past three and a half hours, I’ve attempted to connect the dots and figure out our destination. He had me pack an array of sandwich ingredients, as well as various fruits and snack foods. And that tells me… nothing, really. Oh, but there’s a tent. Camping? There’s no way my brother would trust a hotel, so camping is really the only option.

Eden is fast asleep, cheek smushed against the curve of my shoulder. A dark spot grows on the cotton of my shirt from slowly seeping drool. It’s a good thing, too. About five miles into the drive, she dug her nails into my jean clad thigh and insisted that I stop bouncing my leg. After some back and forth where we swatted at one another like a couple of alley cats, Cecil slammed the brakes and insisted that we both be still. The hyperactive leg persisted.

The terrain on some of these “roads” has me questioning whether or not they’re actually meant to be driven on. When I asked Cecil how he knew where we were going, he simply responded,“Map.”My brother, so clever.

The sun is directly overhead, and the sky appears larger out here. It stretches for miles, an infinite pool of blue. Eventhe horizon appears blue, like the Earth is set upon a mirror. Actually…

My eyes nearly bug out of my head. Jerking forward, I slap the dashboard. Eden’s head falls from my shoulder and she slides between the seat and my hunched back.

“Beach!”I sign.

Cecil doesn’t look at me, but he doesn’t have to. The roll of his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He shrugs once as though to say,Obviously.

Eden wakes and rubs her eyes. When I tell her where we’re going, her excitement doesn’t even come close to matching mine. All she offers is a yawn and a thumbs up. Party pooper.

Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling into what appears to be a completely deserted stretch of sand. There’s been no sign of life—well, human life—in at least the last seventy-five miles. It’s only sky, water, and the nature that inhabits it. It’s better than anything I could have asked for. Which begs the question,

“Why?”

Cecil’s jaw tenses as he parks beneath a cluster of trees.

“Birthday,”he says simply. Still, this seems a little overkill. I want to continue my interrogation, but Cecil reaches beneath his seat and pulls out a rolled up paper bag. Tossing it into my lap, he motions for me to open it.

With eager hands, I unfurl the wrinkled sack and shove my hand in. Fist closing around fabric, I yank it out, and am greeted with… a lavender one piece?

Head cocking in confusion, I run my thumb along the built in pads on the chest.

“I’m not sure it will fit,”I begin. Cecil snatches the fabric out of my hand and sets it on Eden’s lap instead. I reach in again and come back with a pair of tropical patterned swim shorts. They’re arguably the ugliest article of clothing I’ve ever seen.

They’re perfect.

Fumbling with the door handle, a grip on my arm stops me before I can head for the rolling waves. Expecting to find Cecil’s hand on me, I’m surprised when I look down to pale and slender fingers. Eden nibbles at the edge of her lip nervously.

“It’s safe?”She asks, looking to my brother for confirmation. Cecil’s cheek dimples momentarily; I’m not sure if he’s fighting a smile or a frown.

“Safe enough,”is his vague response. She doesn’t look convinced, but her hand falls away.

And I bolt into the sunshine.

Forty Three

Eden

Salt coats my skin in an itchy layer. The ocean hadn’t warmed enough to swim, but that didn’t deter Creed from splashing me every moment I had my back turned. It was only after he made the mistake of throwing water on Cecil that he stopped his childish antics. One flick to his ear broke his spirit.

The sun is low on the horizon, casting orange glimmers over the ocean. Creed is at the truck, grabbing the cooler to prepare us a simple dinner of lunchmeat sandwiches. Meanwhile, Cecil builds a fire in a sand hole. Hunched over the logs, he stokes the embers and mutters to himself.

He’s just as captivating as the salted sea.

It’s been a near perfect day, and I’m gripping onto these moments with everything I have. If this is the only birthday I’ll spend with Creed, I don’t want to take a single second for granted.

I’ve never seen him so happy. The childlike excitement is infectious, but impossible to match. From the moment he dropped his pants (unabashedly flashing his backside in the process) and pulled on those swim trunks, it was like the flipof a switch. He convinced me to put on my swimsuit, too, but I quickly pulled his shirt over top.

A flurry of sand shoots up and sprays down on my legs. Creed has unceremoniously dropped the heavy cooler beside me. Flicking the granules off of my skin, it’s a struggle not to crack up at his puckered lip and insincere apology.

Cecil raises his head as the flames finally begin to grow. Creed lets out a whoop and lifts the lid to the cooler, pulling out a half loaf of white bread and various meats, condiments, and cheeses. Spreading the ingredients out on the towel, he returns his hand to the ice once more and digs around. This time, he brandishes a large bottle of clear liquid.

“What’s that?”I ask, unable to make out the label.