I didn’t feel like sleeping yet, so I stretched and got a drink—a soda, this time. Then I stepped out onto the balcony and sat so I could look out over the lake.
At midsummer in Canada, the sun stays up pretty late, and there was still a glow to the west where the sun had gone down. The lake—heck, everything around us—was beautiful, and oh so peaceful. I could appreciate it even as I ruminated on the things Uncle John had talked about.
The first question that came to mind from Uncle John’s talk was, ‘Do I believe in myself?’ For me, the answer was easy: it was a definite ‘yes.’ I wouldn’t be where I was if I hadn’t. My accomplishments, not just in financial or sports terms, but also in the friends I had made, seemed to justify that belief.
I also started to consider who was in my innermost circle. That seemed pretty straightforward at first blush. Mom. Dad. Greg. Grandma. Uncle John. Definitely not Angie. Not Tami, at least not now. Not Uncle John’s new bride, although she seemed like a wonderful woman. I just didn’t know her well enough.
But then I thought of Mom with Tami. I couldn’t trust Mom regarding information about Tami. Similarly, Uncle John had shared my concerns about Angie with my mom, even when I hadn’t wanted him to. It had gotten back to Dad and Greg as well. It seemed there were exceptions to how much I could trust them, but how could there be exceptions in my innermost circle of trust?
Beyond that, it was too much for one sitting, especially at the end of such a beautiful day. I realized I was now dealing with a large number of people in all sorts of ways. Sorting it out was going to take time and a bit of effort.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. Later I jerked awake, realizing I’d nodded off. I was okay with that—it was one of the things guys’ weekends were for. I stumbled to my bed, and it was immediate lights out for me and my brain.
◊◊◊
Chapter 18 – Trust, Mistrust, And Bonding? Monday June 27
I wasn’t feeling too charitable towards my younger sibling when I crawled out of bed. He snores!
“Wakey, wakey!”
{groan}
“Get up! It’s a gorgeous day!” I said as I bounced on the side of Phil’s bed.
“Go away,” he said as he tried to shove me off the side of his bed.
“We have the breakfast surprise,” I whispered conspiringly.
“Okay … okay, give me a minute,” Phil groaned.
I was an evil genius. I was finally going to get my brother and dad for all the times they’d stolen my favorite doughnut, Boston Cream. It had a chocolate frosting and a creamy vanilla-flavored custard filling. It was the perfect doughnut, in my humble opinion.
The evil men in my family knew it was the superior doughnut and that I would do just about anything to have one. Since Greg had moved out, I only had to contend with my dad stealing them. When we got doughnuts, Mom would make sure to get one for each of us. She limited it to one each because she knew we would each eat a dozen of them if she bought that many. Having just one made it a special treat.
I suspected she secretly liked to watch us fight over them. The last time we had them, Dad had shown his childish side: he’d licked both doughnuts and then ate them in front of me.
Today I would get my revenge, with Phil’s help.
I’d brought him in on the fun so he wouldn’t think we just picked on him. He was the youngest, so I thought it only fair he make up for the years he wasn’t around in which I caught the abuse as the youngest. It was sort of a passing of the torch that had been delayed too many years.
We came out to find Dad and Uncle John sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
“I thought I saw Phil bought doughnuts,” Dad observed.
“I hid them because I knew you’d eat all the good ones before anyone else had a chance,” I said with a sense of self-righteousness.
Uncle John and Dad looked at each other, and little smirks touched their faces. Greg and Paul came out of their room.
“What’s for breakfast?” Greg asked.
“Phil got doughnuts, but David hid them,” Dad announced.
I stepped over to my secret hiding place and pulled them out. I’d put them in the cabinet over the refrigerator. Everyone knew that was where I hid things, especially cookies, because my mom was too short to get them from there. I had a sneaking suspicion that either Dad got them down for her or she used a chair because there always seemed to be some missing.
“I had Phil get six Boston Creams so we would each get one,” I announced, to make it clear that Dad and Greg only got one each.
Phil got napkins, and I had him make a big show of each of us getting one.
“Hey, look! Is that a bear?” Uncle John said as he pointed out the big picture window.
Phil and I jumped up to go look.
“I don’t see it,” I said, using all my acting skills.
Phil and I turned around to see Greg and Dad had stolen our doughnuts.
“Hey!” Phil complained.
They made a big show of licking them.
“You two are just not right,” I complained.
