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He smirks. “I know you pretty damn well, Boy,” he says, chuckling when my irritation shows on my face. “Well at least enough to know how to rile you up, that’s for sure.”
Ain’t that the truth.
I take a swig of the IPA dad likes to get from the local brewery, my eyes on the little guesthouse across the water.
The lights went off only a few minutes after I came out here to relax after the long day, confirming that Ruby probably dropped into bed like dead weight right after I dropped her off.
Not that I’m keeping tabs or anything. She’d have every right to get rid of me and stay up all night.
Still, it feels good knowing she only begged off because she was tired and not because she was trying to avoid any more time with me and my annoying siblings.
Bishop and I sit in silence for a while, long enough that I realize something might be wrong. A glance over at his face confirms it, his expression distracted, his eyes off in the distance, the rim of his beer bottle resting against his lip as he thinks over whatever big thing is on his mind.
“You know I love you, right, Bam?” I say, using the nickname I’ve had for him since he was a wild little baby. It fits him perfectly, a mixture of his intense personality as a kid, smashing into things and cackling hysterically, as well as his initials.
I don’t know why I feel the need tell my brother I love him, but I do. When Bishop reaches over and pats my hand a few times, I know I’ve said the right thing.
He might act like he’s full of swagger and charm 24/7, but my only brother has a big heart and big shoulders, big enough to carry quite a burden on his own without asking for help.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” he says a few minutes later. “I’m meeting up with Andy Marshall tomorrow to help with the buildout at the store.”
I nod, knowing Andy’s dad had heart surgery not too long ago and can’t do the same heavy lifting he used to. They planned to expand the store and started construction a while back, but it was knocked off course by Willy’s heart attack. They put up some plywood to block off the wall they’d already dropped and said they’d get to it later.
Now that I’ve made plans to do yoga and have breakfast with Ruby, I feel a little bad about doing something so self-indulgent when someone in our community is clearly in need.
“What time are you heading over?” I ask, wondering if I can make it work. “Maybe I can help, too.”
“Around 7, but I’ll be there all day if you want to swing by. I’m sure Andy would appreciate another set of hands.”
I nod. “I have plans in the morning, but count me in.”
Bishop smiles at me then ruffles my hair a bit. “Sounds good. Night Boyd.”
My brother heads back inside the house, the sound of the screen door squeaking lightly behind me. Then I’m alone again, taking another sip of my beer and turning my eyes back to the lake.
I really do love Cedar Point. There’s something about growing up in a small town that just creates a different type of person. When you’re encouraged to get to know your neighbors, you care about what happens to them.
It’s the reason my dad and I helped search for Roy Grove when he went missing on a hike when I was in high school. The reason my mother spends her Wednesday mornings at the elderly home on the south bank, teaching the ladies to knit or playing board games. Why my brother is going over to help the Marshalls finish building out the grocery store.
To some degree, we’re all family, and family is there for each other, whether times are good or hard, in feast and famine.
It’s also why Ken Bellows is such a confusing thing for me. I’ve never been particularly close with him, but I know his wife and kids and we always say hello when we pass each other in town, stopping for the surface-level chitchat acquaintances exchange.
So, to find out he has another kid, one he has largely ignored and then basically abandoned…it strikes me wrong. It feels like it doesn’t fit into the picture of what I assumed Cedar Point citizens are like.
I guess that’s another part of growing up that adults don’t warn you about.
The older you get, the less certain you are that people are who they claim to be. You find out the nice guy hits his kids, or the happy woman at work struggles with depression. There are all these layers to people, things that make them go much deeper than you’d guess at first glance.
With people like Ken, I start to wonder if there’s something a little less sincere than I was expecting underneath all those layers. But there’s also the flip side.
Like with Ruby.
She has this pure energy that radiates out from her core. It shoots out of her through every move she makes. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looks at me. Her teasing attitude.
I thought about it earlier today, and I can acknowledge it now. The girl has many layers, some of them going deep.
And I want to take my time exploring each one.
