Page 56 of Anchored to the Storm

In our dark room, as her footsteps were making their way up the attic stairs, Ethan would whisper, “Maybe someday you will run to me.”

And here she was, in his bed, whispering, “I want to be with you for every one of them, from now on.”

My friend was barely audible as he whispered, “Then I’ll look forward to every horrible dream.”

It took everything I had not to let them know I was awake. I wanted to celebrate their beauty being found in all this darkness. As hearts kept breaking in this house, some were finding peaceful moments.

My lungs filled… and I quietly exhaled my gratitude. All these young bodies housing the oldest of souls, finding each other through the gates of hell.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Sarah.

I appreciated Sarah taking a moment to answer. It told me she was speaking the truth when she said, “I hear the crying again.” Her whisper was so tiny and sad that I could almost feel Ethan’s throat close up in response. “Tonight, I heard Blue’s cries along with the other kids.”

Shit.

“Do you want to talk about it?” my friend bravely asked.

I say ‘bravely’ because I wanted to pipe in and say, “Please don’t rock my world by sharing a tale I know I’ll never forget.” I think that is part of the beauty of darkness. It gives you the strength to see much more than normally, and the strength to help another. Maybe Ethan was simply that. Giving. Loyal. Because he listened… to it all.

“I felt you holding me.”

His voice cracked. “Good.”

“It helped me hear all the gunshots.”

“I’ll be here for every bullet, Sarah.”

Her whispers were now strained. “Everyone tried not to make a noise. I even covered my ears. Isn’t that silly? I thought if I couldn’t hear it, it would stop. But the noises were so loud, and the gunshots just kept getting closer.”

He didn’t interrupt her. He stayed on course, doing what Johnny had claimed she needed. Quiet, while she sorted it all out.

“I peed my pants.” She sniffled. “My body just froze when the door opened to our classroom, and I couldn’t hold it. My whole body shook with fear, and I just… I couldn’t move, Ethan.”

Today was the anniversary of a school shooting, and I didn’t think there could be anything worse in the world.

“It was my father, Ethan. He was the one with the gun.”

But I lay there, in the dark, gruesomely corrected.

Sarah spoke in a haunted manner. “He pointed the gun and shot several of my friends, but when he got to me, he stopped. I remember seeing him standing there from under my desk. Terrified. Wet pants. Hands over my ears.”

I thought of all the other parents who couldn’t hold their kids and never would again.

Jesus, how do you let this happen?

“He stared right into my eyes. I don’t know for how long. Then he just turned around and left. When the police came to the school, I heard them whispering. The shooter had gone home and killed his wife, then himself.” She hiccupped a cry. “I guess beating her was no longer enough.”

I heard sheets rustle. I knew Ethan was pulling her close and holding her. I could hear his breath shaking…

I dared to open my eyes.

Over her shoulder, him holding her tight to his chest, he stared at me with so much sorrow I wasn’t sure he’d ever get the images out of his head.

Silently, I blew out air, reminding him of what he told Sarah to do.

Eyes locked on mine, he inhaled deeply… then released some of the pain. I knew he had because I somehow felt it. And I also got to witness it as he pressed a kiss to her hair, then mouthed, “Beloved.”

It was an endearment he used to hear his grandparents call one another. They had been married for over sixty years before they both passed away when Ethan was young. He had vivid memories of their obvious affection for one another.