Maybe This Time(38)

“Are you talking about Gunnar or Andrew?”

“Both.”





The boathouse was on the far side of the small lake. It was a decrepit building that used to store paddle boats and canoes but now mostly stored garbage. I wasn’t sure how Andrew felt about being dragged around by my little brother, but Gunnar was my responsibility. I picked up my pace, jogging along the well-worn path that bordered the lake.

I could hear Gunnar’s voice as I approached the building.

“And this is a kayak, or it used to be a kayak but now it has a hole in it.”

“I think it’s still a kayak,” Andrew said.

I pushed open the wooden door that was only connected by one hinge. Andrew’s phone flashlight was on, illuminating the scene with a soft glow.

“Sophie!” Gunnar said. “I was showing Andrew the boathouse. This is a paddle boat. Have you ever seen a paddle boat?”

“Yes, I have,” Andrew said. “But I’ve never been on one.”

“You’ve never been on a paddle boat?” Gunnar asked with a laugh.

“Gunnar,” I said. “We better head back. The fireworks are about to start.”

“Let’s watch them from here.” Gunnar pointed to the ceiling and I looked up to see a large jagged hole.

Andrew tilted the flashlight a little so it shone on his face, and he mouthed, “He’s scared of fireworks.”

I shook my head. I knew Gunnar wasn’t scared, regardless of how self-assured in all opinions Andrew pretended to be. “We won’t be able to see them that well from out here.”

“They won’t be as loud,” Gunnar said.

“They’ll probably be just as loud,” I said.

“But maybe not,” Andrew said back.

“Yeah,” Gunnar said. “Maybe not.”

Was Andrew right? Was Gunnar afraid? The first firework shot into the sky, and a big explosion of red lit the inside of the boathouse.

Gunnar jumped. “Let’s just sit over there.” He pointed to the far wall.

“Okay,” I said, taking his hand. It was cold and clammy. We walked to the wall and sat down, Andrew on one side of Gunnar, me on the other.

As the next firework exploded in the sky, Gunnar buried his face in Andrew’s shoulder.

“Told you,” Andrew mouthed.

Of course he’d rub it in. I put my hand on Gunnar’s arm. “Hey, kid. They’re just fireworks. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Gunnar didn’t budge and another loud boom went off. I looked up at the partial view we had through the decaying roof. I leaned against the wall, sure the entire back of my dress would be covered in dirt when we left, and watched the sky.

“When I was a kid, I was scared of thunder,” I said.

“I thought you still were,” Andrew said dryly.

“No, now I’m scared of rich boys who take over local businesses.”

“Understandably.”

A blue explosion lit the sky.

“I used to think that thunder sounded like the whole sky was fixin’ to fall. I’d sit up in bed at night, unable to move. And Mom tried to tell me it was just a bunch of lightning bugs up there that were mad at each other. I knew that wasn’t true, and I thought that if she had to tell me a lie then whatever was making that awful noise must’ve been something pretty bad.”

“What did you do?” Gunnar asked, peeking up at me.

“Yes, what did you do?” Andrew asked, his twinkling eyes looking my way.

I glared at him and he smiled.

“I went on the computer and learned all about thunder. What caused it. Why it happened. And then I forced myself to sit on the porch one day during a lightning storm and watch it.”

“But I know what fireworks are,” Gunnar said.

“I know. But maybe you should watch a few. They’re really pretty. You don’t even have to move, just look up. Nothing bad is going to happen. The more you see that, the less scared you’ll become.”

Gunnar turned his head and watched several explode. “I know you think I’m being a baby,” he said. “But I can’t help it.”

“I don’t think you’re being a baby,” I said, surprised by his accusation. “There’s not always a rhyme or a reason for fear.”

“There’s a reason for mine,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Last New Year’s Eve when you were working, Momma had a party in the backyard and I was supposed to be asleep.”

“What happened?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“Some guys started shooting their guns into the sky and my window got broke and a piece of glass hit my arm and I thought I was shot. And nobody came to help me. And now loud noises just make me remember that.” I could tell he was trying not to cry. He had his brave face on, the one that consisted of a quivering chin.

“What?” I said. “That’s how your window was broken?” Anger coursed through my veins.

He nodded.

“Gunnar, I had no idea. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d get mad at Momma. You always get mad at her.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. You can tell me things. Anything you need to. I’ll try harder not to get mad.”