The Sea of Lost Things by Kelly St-Laurent

Author:Kelly St-Laurent [St-Laurent, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kelly St-Laurent

14

The rain begins before eleven and doesn’t let up all day. It seems the perfect weather to fit my mood. We’ve managed to cross eight more towns off the list and are still no closer to finding any answers.

To make matters worse, things between Jonah and I have reached an all-time high of awkwardness. After we left the farmhouse this morning, I’d had this fleeting sense of comfort from what he’d told me, sharing his childhood story, encouraging me not to give up.

It lasted until we got to the next town.

When I’d first realized how close the communes were to one another, I’d figured it wouldn’t take us that long to visit them. What I’ve come to learn, however, is that it isn’t the traveling that takes time, it’s the conversations.

Most of the people we’ve met have been open and kind, willing to answer our questions, or guide us to someone who might be able to. But the stories can be difficult to hear, the memories of what was lost as raw as when they happened.

Today, I’ve heard people tell stories that broke my heart. In Montaigu-la-Brisette, an older woman named Jeanne told us that she had lost every one of her children during the war. All six of them.

I sat, listening to her, willing myself not to cry in her presence. When we got back in the car I was so angry. At her loss. At my own. At the injustice of it all. In the moment, Jonah had reached out to touch my hand, and I’d recoiled. I’m not even sure why. A reflex, I suppose.

He didn’t touch me after that. He barely looked at me.

The tension between us only got worse.

Apart from the necessary conversation during our visits, we haven’t talked since. It’s the kind of silence that feels so loud you may as well be screaming.

“We need gas,” he tells me a few minutes after we leave Saint-Germain-de-Tournebut. “There’s a restaurant up ahead, so I’m going to drop you at it first.”

Somehow, I don’t think it’s my hunger he’s worried about. We pull into the parking lot, and as I get out of the car, I notice that his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

He doesn’t look at me, or speak, and the second my door closes, he drives off. I feel like we’re back at square one. Omaha all over again.

With the rain falling hard, I run into the restaurant. A somber looking hostess greets me and leads me to a table with a view of the parking lot. It turns out she’s also the waitress, and after fifteen minutes of me not ordering, her attitude sours.

To appease her more than myself, I order a burger and fries. Being one of the only people in the place, the food comes quick. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, so I dig in, momentarily forgetting Jonah. When another twenty minutes passes with no sign of him, however, my unease comes back tenfold.

He said he was going to get gas.

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