“There is an ocean of silence between us… and I am drowning in it.”― Ranata Suzuki
second to debate turning off the road and going down the Hallowell family’s long driveway or driving away as fast as my little rusty old Toyota would take me.
I was done with running, so I turned down the driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the Hallowell’s farmhouse. Jack pulled in next to me but didn’t get out of the truck. He was probably having the same debate in his head I just did, get out of the truck or back up and drive away as fast as possible. After at least a full minute, he opened his truck door and got out.
He didn’t look a lot different from the last time I saw him back in high school. Same dark wavy hair that was curling on the ends. He would need to get a haircut soon. I used to cut it for him. Who does it now? He wore a blue t-shirt that showed his muscular arms and chest and no-nonsense jeans that showed wear from work and age rather than any kind of fashion statement. I looked down and stared at his work boots as he came around the truck and walked toward me. It took everything in me to lift my head and look him in the eyes. It wasn’t until I did, that I noticed he had aged. He had aged well. He still looked good, but it was evident stress and years had left an imprint on him.
“Hey,” I tried to say, but it came out as more of a whisper. My voice chose this moment to go on a retreat.
He looked at me for a minute like he didn’t know if he wanted to hug me or throw me in the pen to the pigs. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.
“Hi Tess,” he said flatly. “I wondered if I would run into you. If you would bother coming back for Leigh’s funeral.”
That stung. Unfortunately, it stung because it was deserved. I had to look away from him for a minute to take a breath and hope my voice made a reappearance.
“I’m staying at Benny’s. I actually moved back in.”
A look of surprise crossed his face, and I thought, maybe a little happiness. But that last part might have been wishful thinking. To his credit, he didn’t pry, though he probably had a million questions. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was beyond caring. That happens when you push people away long enough. I spent so much time wallowing in my own issues and misery after my parents died, I didn’t have time for anyone else. Not Leigh, not Jack, not even Benny.
Jack was the one I pushed away the hardest. I was 16 when my parents died and in my junior year of high school. Jack was a senior and spent most of his senior year trying to support me through a terrible time in my life and hold our relationship together. But it takes two people to make a relationship work. All the effort in the world can’t make it happen when its all coming from only one side of the coin.
After an awkward moment of silence, the manners Jack’s mom drilled into her boys seeped through. “Would you like to come in?” he asked, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. It was like his mom was sitting on his shoulder nagging him to be polite no matter what.
“Sure,” I said before I could think it through. I knew he wanted me to leave. But I had this overwhelming desire to make things right between us. Or, at least better than they are now. We may never be friends, but anything would be better than the awkwardness we were having right now.
He led the way up the big front porch into the old two-level farmhouse that had been in their family for more than a hundred years. The family had changed and added onto it over the years, but you could still see the original framework and brick. This house had character. We went through the foyer and living room to the back, where the big farm kitchen was located. Two smaller porches were off either side of the kitchen, which spanned the whole back of the house.
Jack poured us some tea his mom made and kept in the fridge at all times. Hell would freeze over before Jenny Hallowell let the tea pitcher go empty. I sipped the drink and felt the coolness go down my throat. I hadn’t had tea like this in years. It was cold and sweet and mixed with a splash of lemonade. Perfect. I missed this.
Jack and I sat at the long wooden table that showed its age, but that’s what made it beautiful. All the dark marks and indents in the wood told the story of years of family dinners, holiday baking, homework sessions, art projects, card games, all the normal things that families do together every day without thinking about how special it is and how fleeting.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He looked at me, and after a moment, he nodded. “I know,” he said.
I’m not sure if he knew I was apologizing for everything—the way I handled my parents’ deaths, pushing everyone away, leaving. The list was long. I used their deaths as an excuse to fall apart and forget everything they ever taught me about personal strength, accountability, and just being a decent human being.
“Leigh’s parents asked me to do the eulogy.”
“I thought they might,” he replied. “I went to see them yesterday, but only saw Mrs. Shay. She asked me if I thought you would do it. I told them the old you would do the eulogy in a heartbeat. But I wasn’t sure about the girl who left here and never looked back.”
Sipping my tea, I remained quiet. I didn’t know what to say to that because I understood where he was coming from. To try to explain away or rationalize all my behavior before I left town would be disingenuous. Not wanting to sit in awkward silence, I changed the subject.
“Benny’s taking over the garage. Uncle Rob is semi-retiring. I think he’s going to stay on part-time or as much as he feels like anyway to help Benny out, especially at first.”
“Wow,” Jack said. “I haven’t seen much of Benny lately. Maybe that’s why. I had no idea. That’s pretty huge. Is that what he wants?”
“I only talked to him about it for a few minutes this morning, but I think so. He said he has some changes he wants to make. Honestly, he seemed a bit overwhelmed. I’ve never seen him unsure of what to do next,” I said. “He always knows what to do.”
Jack looked at me. “Benny doesn’t always know what to do,” he said, clearly annoyed with me. “You are growing up. We are growing up. We’re adults now. Part of being an adult is realizing the people you thought had all the answers are human like everyone else. I used to think my parents knew everything. I never questioned it. But, now I’m an adult and they are treating me like an adult, so I see the part of the process I never had insight into as a kid. They sit and talk for hours and do research for days, weeks, and months to figure out if something is a good business decision. Now, I see the aftermath when they make the wrong choice. They kept us away from all of that as kids. Benny did the same for you. I’m sure he didn’t always have the answers after your parents died and when he was trying to raise you, but he made sure that part was hidden from you. You needed to know you still had someone to count on.”
The cold condensation from the tea glass ran down the glass and through my fingers. Focusing on the cool sensation helped me keep my emotions under control. For the second time today, I realized how much Benny took on and how much I took him for granted.
“I’m going to help him,” I said. “Benny doesn’t have to do everything on his own. He doesn’t have to protect me anymore. I want to help him do this, make this business what he wants it to be.”
“So, you are definitely moving back here? For good?” Jack asked.
I hesitated because I didn’t know that. And I couldn’t promise it.
“No one knows what’s going to happen down the road, but I’m here now. Though, in hindsight, I probably should have asked Benny before showing up and moving back in,” I said with a little laugh.
“No, he probably would’ve been insulted if you asked him first. He made that home for you and him. He always wanted you to feel like you had a place to go if you needed it.”
All the times I made excuses when Benny asked me to come home for a holiday or birthday ran through my head.
“Why did you come by here?” Jack asked quietly.
It was a valid question. I wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. You know how when you are driving and get to work, home, the grocery store—some place you’ve driven to a million times—and don’t remember actually driving there? That was how I ended up at Jack’s house.
“I don’t know.” And that was the God’s honest truth. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around Leigh being gone.” I stopped and took a deep breath. My chest felt like there was a weight on it. Taking a small sip of tea, I focused on the coolness of the liquid running down my throat.
Jack waited patiently, saying nothing.
“I alienated the people who care about me most. I want to fix that.” Until I said it out loud, I really didn’t know that reconnecting with everyone I left behind was part of what drove me to come back. “I don’t entirely know how, but I’m going to try. For Leigh, I’m going to be there for her family as much as they will have me, and that starts with writing the eulogy. I’m great with writing about us growing up but recent memories are few and far between. Can you think about the past few years? Anything about her that would help me with writing about Leigh, the adult, would be very helpful.”
He nodded. “I have a few thoughts.”
“Great,” I said, standing up. I took my glass to the sink, washed it, and put it in the strainer out of habit. On the notepad that was always next to the refrigerator, I wrote my email address and cell number for him. “Please email me whatever you can think of. Or call… if you want to talk,” I said a little hesitantly. I didn’t know where I stood with him. If he would even be interested in talking to me anymore.
He nodded but nothing more, so I turned away and left him sitting in the kitchen.