26. Kellen
Twenty-Six
Kellen
My nephew shows up late. I don’t like this. I know my way around a bike just fine, but that’s not the point. I didn’t specify that I was on a schedule for today, and that’s not the point either. I did ask if he could be here by eight and he’d said yes. In our family, we prioritize each other.
“Cal, you’re looking rough, son.” His eyes are a little bloodshot and he doesn’t seem to have showered. “Things going okay in your new apartment?”
He sighs. “It’s a condo, Uncle Kel. That’s what Logan keeps insisting we call it. Drives me freaking insane. Anyway, I’m sorry I’m late. I don’t want to be that guy.”
I feel relieved with his apology. “Thanks for being here, Cal.”
He nods and walks a lap around the two bikes in the garage, considering. “These haven’t seen the light of day in a long time, huh? You going out with Orla?”
Callum starts oiling the chains on the bikes, checking out the brake cables and muttering as he struggles with an Allen wrench. “You never answered me, Unc. So I’m guessing it’s not Orla, considering she’s with Liam en route to Kentucky to present to the power line people.”
I don’t like that Orla left town with things still unsettled between us. I don’t have time to dwell on it because Cal looks up at me with a grin. “You going on a romantic ride with the neighbor lady?”
I scrape a hand along my jaw. It’s not that I’m hiding things from my family. “It’s very new, Cal. I’m still figuring everything out.”
He nods. “Does Orla know you’re seeing her? I mean seeing her like that. Obviously we all know she lives across the street. Man, how’s that going to work when you guys move in together? I guess she’s renting.”
“Callum, you’re rambling.” I squat beside him and help him peel the rubber tire off Orla’s bike wheel so he can change the tube. I ruffle his hair like I’ve always done. It reminds me of mine when I was younger. Dark. Unruly. Too long. “We’re just spending time together, son.”
We finish up the bikes and he asks if he can nap on my couch, which is a surprising ask but I shrug.
I like that he feels at home here. I get the bikes and bike rack loaded on my car and head inside to get ready.
I pace around the living room as Callum snores, wondering why he doesn’t just head home to his condo, and waiting for Elizabeth to return from dropping off Jake.
I consider Orla’s argument and Cal’s discomfort. I try to assess the situation objectively and consider making a rubric. That’s what I’d do if it was an engineering challenge at work. Mentally, I consider family obligations, and those are not impacted by my pursuing a relationship with Elizabeth.
I consider the impact on Jake, and I don’t want to think too highly of myself, but I seem to be getting along with him very well.
I have no intention of being awkward or hostile with Elizabeth, no matter what happens.
If my brother can maintain a cordial relationship with the ex-wife he cheated on, surely I can successfully live across the street from Elizabeth and Jake even if things turn sour between us.
I’m certainly not going to cheat on her, although that reminds me we should probably have a conversation about being exclusive. Just to be explicit about it.
I bring a fingertip to my lips, remembering the feel of her skin beneath my kiss.
Adult Elizabeth radiates calm and strength.
Her skin seems to vibrate with a wisdom I find alluring.
I give a lot of thought to the question of whether Orla’s right that I’m pursuing her because it’s convenient, and I dismiss that immediately.
I’m interested in Elizabeth because she’s Elizabeth.
I see her car turn into the driveway from dropping off Jake and I spring to action, grabbing the messenger bag of water bottles and snacks that I put together.
As I cross the street to greet her, she beams, and I know I’m also smiling like a kid.
“Hey, you,” she says, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. “Am I dressed ok?”
She spins around in her black leggings and turtleneck.
My eyes are drawn to the shape of her backside and I swallow, knowing I’ll spend my day staring at it as I ride behind her.
“Perfection,” I tell her, guiding her toward my car.
I drive to the trailhead for a portion of the Great Allegheny Passage trail, and Elizabeth helps me get the bikes set up once I park.
“This trail really goes all the way to D.C.?” she looks toward the southeast, incredulous.
I nod. “Used to be a railway, so it’s mostly flat the whole way. Someday, I’d love to ride with you. We can stay at bed and breakfasts on the way. Or camp.”
“Let’s just see if I can ride without tipping over and we’ll build from there,” she says, laughing. She tests out the brakes and timidly climbs on the bike. “God, it’s been so stinking long since I rode one of these.”
“You can do it,” I tell her, clipping my bike shoes into my pedals and starting a slow, wide circle to get acclimated to the paved trail.
Elizabeth takes a deep breath and presses off with her foot on the pedal.
She wobbles a little and then squeals in delight as she starts riding forward.
“Kellen, we’re going. Can’t stop now!” She laughs, the sound tinkling through the morning autumn air, and I fall into pace behind her.
The view is spectacular, and I don’t mean the foliage or the riverbank.
“What happens if we need to turn? I’ll tip over,” she says.
“Well,” I pull up next to her so I can concentrate without getting distracted. “For one thing, there aren’t really any turns on the path. For another, you’re doing great, Beth.”
Keeping her eyes on the path ahead, she pedals, her knuckles a little bit white on the handlebars. “You’re the only one who calls me that, you know,” she says, not taking her eyes off the path.
“I can’t help it,” I tell her. “It’s how I think of you.”
Elizabeth flexes her fingers, lifting one hand and then another to gently shake it while the bike keeps moving. “I like it,” she says. “Woo, we’re really doing this!”
We ride for a few miles, past the training center where the professional football team trains. We ride past the shuttered steel mills that built Pittsburgh’s reputation as a manufacturing jewel. We pass the bridges and trusses that brought Beltane its first major clients.
“Holy shit, Kel, is that Kennywood?” Elizabeth skids to a halt. I don’t point out to her that she has successfully stopped the bike and not tipped over. I pull off to the side with her and unclip my feet, reaching to drink some water.
“It is indeed.” We stand there for a good long while, gazing up at the roller coasters we used to ride together. The park must be open for the weekend, because a car of screaming passengers flashes past, just on the other side of the trail from where we stand.
“We had some good memories working there,” Elizabeth says. She runs the back of her hand across her forehead and guzzles the water.
“I’m making some good memories with you here now,” I tell her. I can’t hold back. I’m so impressed with her tenacity, her willingness to try something she was nervous about. I lean in to kiss her, tasting the salt of her exertion on her upper lip. “Thank you for trying hard things with me.”
I can see happiness radiating from Beth’s eyes. “Come on,” she says. “We can’t stop now!”
We cross a rail bridge and then another, stopping to see a bald eagle nest above the crumbling frame of an old steel mill and admire our view of the new robotics manufacturing center being built across from it. “Pittsburgh’s renaissance,” I mutter.
“What’s that?”
I swat a hand, dismissing my comment. “People in engineering. They’re calling all the new robotics centers and tech startups ‘Pittsburgh’s renaissance,’” I tell her.
She brakes and comes to a stop, cupping her hand on her forehead to try and see the eagle. “I like the sound of that,” she says. “A revival. Like us.” Her cheeks flush as she looks at me, and I don’t have to guess where her thoughts have traveled.
“Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s bike back and revive other things.”