Everything after was a blur. There were a few things Ethan knew for sure: he remembered that Gus got him out of the boat and handed him a blanket. He sat on the dock, shivering, and after some time, he heard sirens in the distance. Maybe he watched as the paramedics lifted Juniper onto a stretcher and rolled her into the ambulance—all he remembered were the lights, red and blue. He remembered hearing Gus’s gruff voice talking to a policeman, and then the officer came to talk to him too. Ethan knew he spoke, but couldn’t remember what he said.
When the police and paramedics left, it was just Ethan and Gus, alone on the dock. Gus barely seemed to be holding himself up. He asked Ethan if he wanted to go inside and Ethan shook his head. He remembered, very clearly, staring out at the lake then, and seeing that the water was still. Apart from the overturned boat still floating in the center, there was no sign of what had happened at all.
Ethan remembered that at some point Uncle Robert came. Later, Ethan would learn that it was only minutes later, but it felt like days that he sat there on the dock, staring out at the lake and feeling as if he was being stabbed in the chest again and again. Uncle Robert said nothing about Ethan sneaking out. He just stepped onto the dock and pulled Ethan close, wet clothes and all, and said, “Let’s go home.”
The next thing he remembered after that was what he wished, and would wish for the rest of his life, that he could forget. He was sitting in Aunt Cara’s kitchen, shell shocked but dry, staring into a cup of hot chocolate, when the phone rang. It was Gus calling from the hospital, where he had followed in his car after Ethan and Uncle Robert had gone. Aunt Cara answered, her face twisted in pain. When Ethan saw her stagger into the arm of the couch, he knew for sure.
“This can’t be real,” he said out loud, even as a voice in his head said It is, it is, it is. This wasn’t supposed to happen, especially not to the most alive person he knew. But the way his heart constricted, he knew that it was true.
“I’m so sorry, Ethan,” Aunt Cara said, coming into the kitchen with Uncle Robert a moment later. Tears streamed freely down both their faces. Ethan found that he wasn’t crying, but everything felt like it was in slow motion. When his aunt and uncle moved in to hold him close, he could barely feel their touch.
For years after, when Ethan dreamt of this night, this was the way things played out. The blanket, the paramedics, the lake, Uncle Robert, Aunt Cara, the news. And it always ended the same way too: with a baby. Because the next day, in some cruel miracle, Ethan’s cousin was born.
It was nearly noon, but Ethan hadn’t been able to get out of bed. His dad was supposed to be arriving tomorrow—he couldn’t even think about it. He could hardly think of anything. He lay beneath the covers in silence, staring at the ceiling, thinking every now and then that he heard Juniper tapping at his window. It wasn’t, of course. He’d never hear that sound, that way, again.
As the sun emerged from behind the clouds to shine bright through his window, he heard the tapping again. “Stop!” he cried to his window, pulling his pillow over his face. “Please.”
“Ethan?” came Uncle Robert’s voice from the hall. Ethan peered out from under the pillow as his uncle opened the door. He looked haggard and exhausted, wearing wrinkled clothes and with dark circles under his eyes. But there was an urgency in his voice that surprised Ethan. “We have to go,” he said. “Your aunt’s in labor.”
“Oh,” Ethan said. He couldn’t feel excited—only numb. He didn’t move. “Can’t I just stay here?”
“I’m sorry, son. I know. But after last night—”
The pain washed over both of them and Uncle Robert winced. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”
When he stood, his legs barely knew how to hold him. He stumbled across the room and into the hall, where Uncle Robert was helping Aunt Cara to the front door. Ethan followed them, his limbs feeling heavier by the second.
“Hi, sweetie,” Aunt Cara said, her breath coming in spurts. “Your cousin’s on his way.”
Ethan stared at his aunt’s stomach as his uncle helped her into the pickup truck. He tried to imagine a baby in there, coming out into the world crying, kicking its tiny feet, but couldn’t. For all the movement happening around him, he couldn’t see anything but stillness.
Uncle Robert sped to the hospital with Aunt Cara in the middle seat, taking deep breaths. Ethan stared out the window, watching the town blur past, and remembered when Juniper had sat in this very spot not so long ago. And there was his chest again, caving in.
They arrived in record time, Uncle Robert and Ethan both helping Aunt Cara from the car in the parking lot. At the hospital doors, Uncle Robert half carried Aunt Cara through without hesitation, but Ethan, noticing a sign above them, stopped. White Entrance, it said simply.
“Ethan!” Uncle Robert called from just inside, and Ethan gestured helplessly at the sign.
“It says I can’t—”
“I don’t give a damn what it says, just get in here.” And he said it so fiercely that Ethan didn’t hesitate another second, just pushed through the door that was like any other door and took up his spot supporting Aunt Cara’s left arm. Once inside, no one seemed to notice him. His aunt was whisked away in a flurry of doctors and nurses, his uncle following, and Ethan was left standing in the empty waiting room, staring at the tile. He shuffled over to the hard metal seats, where only a couple of other people sat. They looked at him hard as he approached; he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Uncle Robert came down after a while, his cheeks flushed. “She’s in her room,” he said. “Now just got to wait.” Ethan nodded. “How are you doing?” Ethan shrugged. “Yeah. Well, I’m going to grab some chips from the vending machine. You want anything?” Ethan shook his head.
When Uncle Robert disappeared back around the corner, it occurred to Ethan that this was likely the hospital where Juniper had been taken the night before. Maybe down that hallway, in one of those rooms, was where doctors had looked at her and realized they couldn’t save her. And for the first time since it happened, the pain rushed up from his chest and into his face, and Ethan began to cry. His shoulders shook and he folded himself in half, face pressed against his knees. He wailed—he felt that no matter how loud he might scream, nothing could capture his anguish. He wanted to climb out of his own skin, squeeze the memories out of his brain, shrink to a pinprick, and then disappear.
Instead, he sat there, sobbing, and feeling no better for it. He didn’t stop when he felt the other people in the waiting room staring at him, or when a nurse came over and asked, tentatively, if he was okay—and then came back a few minutes later to ask if he could please quiet down. He didn’t do that either. He cried until no more sounds or tears came out. Until no more could. Then he sat on that cold metal seat, shaking, until Uncle Robert came bursting back into the room several minutes later.
Ethan knew what a mess he looked, his face red and smeared with snot, the front of his shirt entirely damp. He saw Uncle Robert notice this and slow down, his face softening. He reached out a rough hand to cup the side of Ethan’s head. “Whatever you need to do, son,” he said. Ethan leaned into his touch, squeezing his eyes shut. A few stray tears slipped out.
They sat in silence for a long time—hours, according to the clock on the wall. Uncle Robert dozed, snoring occasionally, but Ethan stayed wide awake. He counted the tiles on the floor to distract himself. Eventually, a nurse approached, waking Uncle Robert with a tap on the shoulder. She whispered something to him and he stood quickly, casting Ethan a brief glance before following her into the hall.
Ethan hardly registered his uncle’s departure. He just kept counting, starting over at even the slightest mistake. When at last Uncle Robert returned, wide eyed and red faced, Ethan had just reached seventy-four.
“Hey,” Uncle Robert breathed, sitting down beside him.
“Hi,” Ethan replied hollowly.
Uncle Robert sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the nurses’ station across the room. There was something wild in his eyes, like mixed panic and wonder. Finally, he took a breath.
“Ethan,” Uncle Robert said. “You don’t have to right away, but—do you want to meet your cousin?”
Eyes closed, Ethan nodded. Uncle Robert helped him out of his seat and they made their way across the waiting room to the big double doors. Behind them was a long, white hallway, lined with doors on either side. They followed the signs marked Delivery. Uncle Robert was walking fast and Ethan stumbled to catch up.
“Excuse me!” a voice called as they rounded the corner to the delivery wing. Ethan and his uncle turned to see a doctor, all in white. “Sorry,” he said, “but the delivery room is whites only. Hospital policy.”
Ethan was surprised to see Uncle Robert’s lip curl into a sneer. He stepped up to the doctor, getting right into the man’s face. “This boy right here,” he said, stabbing a finger in Ethan’s direction, “is family. And our family has been through hell and back these past twenty-four hours. So I’m going to take him to meet his baby cousin—hospital policy be damned.”
The doctor looked at him in shock and Uncle Robert didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed Ethan by the hand and pulled him into the delivery wing and up to Aunt Cara’s room. Inside, the nurses looked at Ethan in shock, but one glare from Uncle Robert and they looked pointedly away.
“Ethan,” Aunt Cara said breathlessly. Her face was flushed, but she wore a clean hospital gown and her hair had been pulled back from her face. While her eyes were filled with tears, she wore an electrifying smile. “Do you want to meet him?”
Ethan crept carefully forward, looking down at the baby swaddled in his aunt’s arms. The baby’s eyes were closed, his little face red and fists clutched tight. “Hi,” Ethan whispered, leaning down to see him closer. He couldn’t believe anyone could be so small. The baby cooed softly.
“What’s his name?” Ethan asked.
His aunt and uncle looked at each other with sad smiles. “Henry,” Uncle Robert said. “Henry Juniper Shay.”
Ethan looked down at the baby boy and felt his heart break in two.
“We were thinking about doing it anyway,” Aunt Cara said. “But after last night—”
Ethan nodded. “She would have loved it.” And he knew she would have. She would have shrieked at the sight of this tiny creature, almost small enough to hold in one hand. By gosh, she would have said, he’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. I mean, I haven’t seen many babies. But I just know—Henry is the cutest.
Ethan laughed at the thought, but it petered off into a strangled sob. At the sound, baby Henry suddenly opened his eyes, staring straight up at his older cousin. Ethan started. Henry looked at him, quiet and strangely calm, as if they were old friends. His eyes, big and heavy lashed, were blue.