“That’s fine with me, Dad. I have plenty of books.” Was it bad that I was looking forward to a few days ofquiet in the house?
Cole was looking at me a little intensely. “Hey, I was thinking — I’m just going to walk down the hill a little bit and see what the rest of town looks like. Do you want to come?”
“Is that okay with you, Dad?” I asked. “Do you need me to do anything here?”
“No, I think we’re alright for now, although I’m sure there will be lots of jobs to take on soon. But boys, be careful. If you see any water,do notgo in it for any reason, okay? And stay out of the way.”
Things didn’t seem too bad at first as we started down the street — more fallen trees and debris strewn everywhere, but the houses were mostly intact. I started to wonder if we had all been spared the worst of it. But when we reached the base of the hill, Cole drew in his breath sharply.
“JesusfuckingChrist.”
The bay had completely spilled over its banks, and it was now nearly impossible to tell where the water was supposed to end and the town was supposed to begin. There were half-submerged cars as far as we could see, speedboats washed up onto lawns, the water rippling in the light breeze. Off to our left stood the Rusty Harpoon, flooded up to the first floor windows, the sign outside still advertising the surf and turf special.
We picked our way along the ridge above the water line, neither one of us saying much. When we reachedRoute 36, we saw other knots of people standing in the roadway, two or three at a time, looking just as shellshocked as we felt.
But it wasn’t until we reached the other side of the highway that we really understood.
Water, as far as we could see. Every house, every store, every restaurant was partially submerged, muddy lines along the exterior walls telling the tale of an even greater storm surge. Boats were piled up everywhere we looked, the entire marina washed ashore. And refuse eddying in the muddy water, the detritus of hundreds of lives, forever changed.
I barely knew that I was putting both hands to my mouth, that I was shaking. Beside me, Cole was crossing his arms over his chest, hugging himself tightly.
“Most of the kids we know live down there,” he said, and his voice was high and tight. “We have to do something to help.”
Gritty pavement under my feet. Foul air in my lungs, the sour stench of seawater and raw sewage. A lifetime of memories, sunk beneath the water.
I had thought my childhood ended the day Mom died. But the rest of my life — everything that was to come after — would begin with this.
***
“I’m not — no, I won’t — I’m not leaving her!” Coleburst out. He was standing on the porch of his grandmother’s house, one hand chopping the air for emphasis as he pressed the phone to his ear. “You don’t know what it’s like down here — sheneedsme, and she actually cares about me, which is more than I can say for —”
He paused to listen, and when he noticed me standing at the base of the stairs, he held up a finger for me to wait. “Well, you should have thought of that before you sent me down here — yeah, I really don’t care. I have to go.”
When he hung up the phone, he stared at the screen for a moment, a frown knotting his brows. Then he shoved it back in his pocket, and when he lifted his head to look at me, he was all sunshine once more. “Hey, Ezra! Ready to go?”
“Sure, let’s do it.” We started up the hill together, falling into step as we walked. “So, what was that about?”
Cole shrugged. “Parent stuff —you know.”
I’m shit at emotions, but even I can spot anI don’t want to talk about itwall a mile away, so I kept my mouth shut, leaving Cole to his thoughts as we trudged along. He would come around when he was ready.
It had been an exhausting couple of days. For the first day or so after the storm, there wasn’t all that much to do. But as the floodwaters receded, the families who had evacuated began to trickle back into town, and the full extent of the damage Sandy had caused becameclear. Dad was putting in fourteen-hour days with his crew, out amidst the wreckage from dawn until dusk, assessing one ruined house after another. Meanwhile, Cole and I had taken to gathering up a few tools at our respective homes, and then riding our bikes down into the mess to help in any way that we could. We shoveled piles of sand out of stores and restaurants, carried sodden garbage out of ruined homes, and picked up refuse on the streets. Cole’s grandmother was constantly preparing food, dishes that would be easy to eat and reheat, and we delivered the meals to families who needed them. And as we did it, we got to know each other better, and learned to work as a team. That queasy feeling that had turned my stomach upside down every time I looked at Cole began to shift into something warm and comforting, something that sustained me, that kept me going even if I didn’t have the words to name it.
It was justeasybeing around Cole. And I could tell I wasn’t the only person who thought so.
Wherever we went, people opened up to him. There was our classmate Tyler, who had always been pretty standoffish with me. But one afternoon, while we were helping him throw away several lifetimes in his family’s garage, he burst into tears and let Cole hug him while he sobbed. And he wasn’t the only one — neighbors I had seen in passing every day since I was a kid were suddenly telling Cole their whole life stories,and he seemed to know just the right questions to ask to keep a person going. And somehow they seemed to like me more, purely by association, as Cole’s natural light could brighten even my dark corners.
On this particular day, we were headed up the hill to the high school. It had been serving as a temporary shelter since the storm, with whole families sleeping on cots in the gym. The cafeteria, meanwhile, had been converted into something of a command center for donations to provide those who had lost everything with basic necessities. When we pushed open the doors, the room was bustling with activity, and Courtney was in the center of all of it, consulting a clipboard as she issued orders.
Cole made a beeline for her. “Hey, is there anything we can do to help?”
Courtney had to crane her neck to look at him, and I noticed the flush on her cheeks. “Oh — hey! We just had a couple of vans pull up in the parking lot with some new donations. Could you two help unload them?”
“Sure thing! Is there anything in particular we should do with them?”
“See Melissa over there?” Courtney pointed across the room. “She’s handling the sorting, so start with her and she’ll tell you what needs to be done.”
As we started out toward the parking lot, Courtney called after me.
