As I watch, one of the tiny figures stumbles, catching a foot in a crevasse and falling to their knees. The sight urges me forward, and before I know it, I’m running.
“Hey!” I call, waving furiously at the two kids. “Get off the rocks, it’s not safe!”
They either don’t hear me or are choosing not to. Somewhere along the way, I drop my heavy garbage bag, picking up speed,but I’m forced to slow again in order to pick my way carefully across the increasingly uneven ground.
“Hey!” I call once more as I approach the boulders. “Did you hear me? You need to get down from there!” A sprightly tween girl straightens above me. Her long blonde hair whips around her narrow shoulders, a stark contrast against the ever-darkening sky. She places her hands on her hips and glares down her nose at me.
“We don’t have to do what you say,” she shouts, and her indignant posture, coupled with the almost white-blonde of her hair, sparks my recognition. Immediately, my eyes jump to the lanky dark-haired boy moving swiftly across the rocks to her side, and my chest aches with familiarity and loss.
It’s Riley’s little brother, Aidan, and his best friend Ava.
The boy’s face is sullen, but so like his brother’s. His hair is a darker shade of brown, and his eyes are a cool blue, whereas Riley’s are the pale grey, almost silver, of his mother’s. The features, though, the straight line of his nose, even the sharpness of his youthful jaw, peppered with an uneven puberty-induced smattering of stubble, cause my heart to seize painfully.
God, I miss him so much.
“Aidan,” I manage to croak out.
The boy nods, then moves to the edge of the rock. My breath freezes in my lungs as he takes a running jump and then launches himself from the boulder. He hits the sand a few feet from where I’m standing, and we jointly expel an “oof” at his rough landing.Ava alights from the rocks a moment later and joins us, slightly more gracefully.
“Jesus, you two need to be more careful,” I scold, and am met with dual eye rolls.
“It’s no big deal, we climb these rocks all the time,” Ava challenges. Aidan nods his agreement.
“Do your parents know that? I doubt they’d be okay with it. Especially this time of year when the water’s so high.”
That finally sobers them.
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” Aidan asks.
I study his worried expression. “No. Not as long as you promise to stay off the point from now on.”
They exchange a glance, then turn back to me. Ava nods in agreement, though she refuses to meet my eyes. I have little faith this ‘promise’ extends beyond today, but I’ll take it.
“Whatever,” Aidan mutters.
“What made you decide to climb out there anyway? Have you looked at the weather?” I ask, gesturing towards the gathering clouds over the lake.
They share another look, and Ava frowns. “Aidan just … really needed to get out of the house. There’s some … shit going down,” she mutters. I glance back at the boy who’s glaring out over the water. He crosses his arms, and the stubborn set of his jaw reminds me so much of Riley it hurts.
“So you decided to climb dangerous rocks?”
She rolls her eyes again, attitude coming off her tiny figure in waves. “Like I said, we’ve done it plenty of times. This is where we come to think and, like, vent and stuff.”
I know it’s not my business, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Aidan, having spent plenty of time with him and Riley together over the last couple of years.
And he’s clearly hurting right now.
Despite the five-year age gap between the brothers, Riley and Aidan share a special bond, one that was only strengthened with the death of their father. The two of them have always been close. Or at least, they were before Riley left. Now I’m starting to wonder if that’s still the case. Has Riley’s increasingly infrequent visits home affected their relationship as well? As far as I know, he hasn’t been back since Christmas.
I feel a twinge of guilt for not having thought before now of the boy who’s likely been missing his brother as fiercely as I have. I’m probably not the only one who feels abandoned, but I’ve been too caught up in my own heartbreak to think of anyone else. Does Riley’s seeming indifference extend to his family as well? And if so, why?
“What happened?” I ask.
“My asshole brother,” Aidan spits. “That’s what happened.”
So I was right. I study the boy for a moment, searching for something, anything, to say. His jaw is clenched so tightly that a muscle ticks in his temple. His shoulders are tight, and he keeps his eyes averted.
I swallow thickly. “Well, uhm. I—”shit, this is hard. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, exactly, but I know your brother loves—”
