The Walk

Long before the sun prepared to peak over the horizon, Jon was wide awake. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes locked on the water stain from five winters before when he and June had accidentally flooded the washing tub while pretending to be sailors.

June. His sister, his twin, his other half, his voice of reason.

The sound of boots crunching up the path pulled Jon’s attention from the ceiling.

With no small amount of effort, Jon heaved himself up from his bed. His clothing for the day lay draped over the back of a chair, no doubt placed there by his mother. He fingered the edge of the cloth. Pure white, the color of the heavens and forgiveness– Something he needed in spades. It was thick and scratchy and Jon knew he would be uncomfortable immediately.

He pulled it on anyway.

As he fastened the final button of the tunic around his throat, he heard voices from outside. The minister must have arrived.

Jon opened his bedroom door and three faces swung toward him: His mother, his father, and the minister. All three were frozen in an array of emotions that ranged from sympathy to pity that made Jon want to scream. Did they really think him that fragile? Was he that fragile? He was suddenly angry. How dare they? He wasn’t a child. He wasn’t like them, crying all the time. He had control over his emotions. He had control.

“You look handsome, Son.” His mother said. She didn’t use his name and that only made him more angry.

“Are you ready for The Walk?” His father asked. The minister said nothing, just smiled at Jon with a pitying quirk of his lip that triggered something violent in Jon’s stomach.

Control.

He nodded and followed his parents out the door.

The minister followed behind them as they made their way up the path that led from their home to the town square. Of all the traditions of his people, The Walk seemed by far the most pointless to Jon. They were to, as a family, walk from house to house and accept gifts of condolences from every family along the way. They were the ones who were supposed to be grieving. Why did they have to do the work of walking all the way through town? It didn’t make sense to him.

He knew what June would say if she was there. “It’s not about us, JJ. It’s about everyone else wanting to feel better about themselves.”

But of course, she wasn’t there to say it.

As they approached the first house, Jon felt an unfamiliar sense of dread creep up his body. It made his legs feel stiff and his palms feel sweaty. He wanted to scream and run back to the solitude of his home, his bedroom, but instead, as the ever-dutiful son, he raised his shaking hand and knocked on the door.

The door opened and they were greeted by the somber faces of the Greene family, all dressed in similar burial whites. The patriarch, Edward Greene, dipped his head low and handed Jon a neatly wrapped parcel that Jon knew would contain one of two things: something drinkable or something edible. Which one it was would determine if Jon got any or if he just had the good fortune to carry it around for the morning.

Jon dipped his head back and took the parcel. The sound of something sloshing inside told Jon all he needed to know.

“My family, both departed and living, thank you for your sympathy.” Jon said, his voice calm and rehearsed. He’d been instructed on the words to say for days. His mother had even made him practice in the mirror to make sure his face looked genuine when he said it.

“May peace find you.” Edward replied.

Edward and his family followed Jon and his parents down the road to the next house where they were greeted by the Farthings and a box that smelled like it held something that might have been appetizing at some point but wasn’t anymore. The Farthings followed them to the Mathers who followed them to the Warners. They continued on, collecting families and gifts until the sun finally made itself known, lifting itself above the horizon to light the last moments of The Walk.

When they made it to the center of town, Jon had all but forgotten why they were there. He’d been so focused on not dropping the teetering pile of packages they’d been given during The Walk. When they finally reached the square and Jon was able to put them down, he was, for a sweet short moment, relieved. Until he looked up to see a tall platform holding a dark wooden casket.

June.

Jon’s family had never done The Walk before, but he’d been a part of other family’s plenty of times. Without fail, when they arrived in front of the casket, the family members fell to the ground, weeping and wailing in show of sorrow. It had always struck Jon as artificial, like they were trying to prove to everyone watching how much they loved whoever was up there lying in a box. Jon hated it. Though now, staring up at the bit of wood that he knew held his sister’s body, Jon understood the urge. Something deep down was breaking, the pieces threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. He understood the weeping now.

June wasn’t only his sister, she was his best friend. Since birth, they’d never been without each other for more than half a day. Now he was expected to just go on with the rest of his life missing a part of him. And knowing that it was his fault that she was gone… No.

Control. He would keep control.

The minister was speaking now, waving his hands over June’s casket, performing the Death Rites, but Jon wasn’t listening to what he was saying. His eyes were focused on the casket, on June. He heard the sound of crying behind him and knew it was his mother. She hadn’t stopped crying since they’d left the house.

The sun was higher in the sky now, almost fully above the horizon, burning off the final haze of dawn. Soon they would begin the walk back. His mother would stop crying and their neighbors would disperse back to their own homes, their duties complete. They would go on with their days muttering things like “That poor family…” and “She was so young.” behind closed doors, but no one would come to check on them. Not even the minister. Jon and his parents would spend the rest of the day, the rest of their lives, in silence.

Jon preferred the silence. The more silence there was, the less chance that someone would ask him about June’s accident. Because Jon was the only one who knew that the accident wasn’t an accident at all. His control could only take him so far. June would be the first to tell you that.

If she was here.