Where the River Ends

Chapter Two

The sun was out and the heat was coming real hard, but the whole town was dead as hell. The streets were struck with silence and not a soul roamed the streets. I could hear the birds chirping endlessly and the wind's force swaying the leaves. The bees and flies buzzed in tune as if they were trying to drown the silence, and they did a good job at that. Silence had a way of bringing out the smallest, overlooked things in life, sometimes I wish I had more of it.

I guess the sullenness stuck after word spread around town about old Johnny's death. The funeral was three weeks ago but everyone was still in mourning. It was the second funeral I've ever been to and I wasn't sure how to feel about it, I knew I was sad but the rest of the emotions that came along were hard to describe.

It was beautiful on the day of the funeral too, the flowers swayed gently between the grass and the sky was so blue and clear it made me furious. A day like this should have been saved for a better time, but who was I to question what God is doing up there. The pastor stood in front of a white balcony where old Johnny's coffin was being kept and began to read bible verses on the podium.

"Now, lemme read right here, Second Corinthians 5:8," Pastor Arby, the only pastor we had in town was one of the good ones Ma would say. A true man of God. She lived by his words and praised him like he was God himself. "We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord," pastor Arby preached raising his right hand up to the crowd. "Isn't that the truth? Old Johnny's up there celebrating with the Lord, receiving his blessings. There is no reason to be sad, o-or depressed, miserable. Oh no, we need to be celebrating, celebrating his journey back to his true home, the one and only home," he said adjusting the glasses on his face, as sweat dripped from his forehead and he quickly wiped it off with his handkerchief. Pastor Arby was a short, stubby man with a thick moustache that sat uncomfortably over his mouth. People in the crowd turned to each other whispering and nodding their heads slowly. I couldn't believe it. Old Johnny spent his entire life here, knew all there was to know about it. Every dead end road, all the beautiful parts and the ugly, knew everybody in each house along the streets. This was his only home, his true home. Where ever Johnny was going to I knew he'd be miserable, he'd be lost. He's never known anything else than Marlton, he wouldn't belong.

I got up from my seat slowly and started to make my way out of the seating area. I could feel glances and whispers coming in my direction.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Ma murmured under her breath. I could feel her eyes piercing my back, but I didn't bother to look back. I knew I was going to get hell and more when I got home but I kept on walking. I wasn't sure where I wanted to be until I walked to the end of the street and saw old Johnny's house. I didn't know why I expected to see something else, I guess I wanted it to be buried with him, torn down and ripped a part. It served no purpose anymore but to remind everyone of a loss. The memory of Grandma holding my hand as she swung me gently from the river over to old Johnny's house came to my mind and a subtle smile appeared on my face. She would teach me songs on our way back home and tell me never to sing them around Ma. I never did, it was always our little secret. Old Johnny would give us a glass of lemonade and I'd start singing to him and grandma, they would laugh and scream their heads off. Oh, your mother wouldn't like to hear that, now would she? He'd say with his hand on his stomach after a long, hard laugh.

I hadn't been to Sweet River ever since Grandma died, it didn't seem as beautiful know that she was gone. I wondered if old Johnny had liked it, if he missed it. I still remembered the path to get there and I decided go see it again, for old Johnny. I was walking into the past it felt like, the overgrown bushes leaned into the pathway now, and the tree branches hung low slightly brushing my head. I could hear the sounds of the river and I knew I was getting close. Suddenly the bushes opened up, and there it was. Sweet River. It didn't look quite the same as I remembered, but it had still had all it's beauty. Grandma used to tell me the river went on and on forever, that I would reach the end of the world if I tried to swim across it. I stood in amazement and I still now. I walked over to a big slanted rock that stood real close to the river and layed my back on it. My eyes were shut and I lifted my head up to the sky, a tear ran down my face and I tried to calm myself. I opened my eyes and the blue clear sky was still there, still making it's unwanted presence. My eyes wandered down, then straight ahead in the same direction of the river.

It was a heart attack. That's what took old Johnny, took Grandma too. It's hard to imagine the thing that's kept us breathing, alive for so long suddenly decides not to, decides that we've lived long enough and seen all there is to see. I wondered when my heart my would stop beating too, I hoped it would be soon.