Chapter 3 - The Lakeside #3
When he got outside, Robby pointed down the street to an upscale-looking log building, the last one before the lake. “That’s it.” They started walking.
The store was practically empty, no customers, just a woman, masked, behind the counter.
“Robby Song! You’re a sight for sore eyes!
Just what I need to brighten my day!” She came around the counter, then stopped short.
“I would hug you, but Covid. And, really, who knows where you’ve been. ” She laughed.
At that moment, there was a shriek, and a young woman, masked, maybe college age, appeared from the rear of the store and ran right at Robby.
“Ingrid! Covid!” the older woman shouted.
The girl paid no attention, and while Grace looked on in horror, she flung herself at Robby.
For his part, Robby tried desperately to extricate himself from her passionate embrace.
She was repeating his name over and over, crying, until the older woman and Robby were finally able to peel her off him.
Robby grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her to the door, saying over his shoulder as he hurried them out, “Sorry, Anna.” Robby kept hold of Grace’s hand, pulling her away from the building and toward the lake.
They were nearly out of breath when he finally stopped in an empty parking lot and let go of her hand.
“What just happened? Is that girl okay?”
Robby looked down, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
“She’s fine. I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.
Margie warned me, but I told her I’d risk it.
As usual, she’s right.” He looked around and saw a bench down at the end of the parking lot.
“Let’s go sit over there. I guess I’m going to have to explain.
” On the bench, he leaned back, looked up, and closed his eyes.
After a few moments, he opened them and turned to Grace.
“Have you heard of a band called The Laughing Gulls?” She nodded.
“Well, I play lead guitar in that band.” He watched Grace for a reaction, but she only looked puzzled.
“I knew you didn’t know. I suspected it right away.
I’m not your average-looking guy. Pretty recognizable.
I knew for sure when we took our masks off in the airport to drink that coffee, and you didn’t react.
” He sat back again. A few moments passed.
“It’s been surprisingly nice to be normal,” he turned his head in her direction, “aside from you being so damned touchy.”
“What do you mean! I’m stressed—I’m trying to change my life here.” She hesitated, tilted her head. “So you’re some kind of rock star? But from here?”
Robby sat up. “Not ‘some kind of.’ The real thing. Don’t you listen to music?
And hey, I’ve paid my dues. You have no idea about me .
. . my life. I’m good at what I do. I write hit songs, I can sing, and I’m a great guitar player.
” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “And I don’t have to prove myself to you. ”
Grace had heard of The Laughing Gulls for sure.
She knew it was a famous band, even outside the U.S.
, but she’d never seen them and wouldn’t recognize any of their faces.
When she listened to music, it was jazz, not rock or whatever The Laughing Gulls played, and with her life the last couple years, she wasn’t going out much.
After a while, Robby said, eyes still closed, “We need to talk about something else, so I don’t have to worry. I’m too tired to worry.”
“What?”
“That I’m Anishinaabe. You must know. It’s obvious.
To some people that’s a big deal, and I don’t want it coming up in front of Margie and Charlie.
They’re like family to me, and you’re . .
. unpredictable. I don’t trust you . . .
I was born and raised on the Fond du Lac Reservation, near Duluth.
A lot of my family is there. Two of my sisters live here.
Margie and Charlie are Ojibwe, too, but they don’t live on the rez.
I don’t either. I have a house off 61. We passed the driveway yesterday, but you were asleep. ” He stopped.
“You think I didn’t know?”
“I figured you must, but you haven’t been exactly friendly.”
“Ohhh . . . you think that’s because I have a problem with your being Native American?”
“Yeah. Some people do. I don’t care what you think, I just don’t want you to say something that might offend Margie and Charlie.”
“Look. Just because I’m Southern, doesn’t mean I’m racist. I knew you were Native American the moment I laid eyes on you.
And once I had time to think about the sticker on your suitcase, I knew where you were from.
It’s no big deal to me.” She looked away.
“Plus, you have a community. People who are glad to see you. No wonder you come back here as often as you can.” She looked back at him. “If anything, I’m envious.”
Robby sat back against the bench and closed his eyes, again. Grace looked back at the lake. They sat like that for a long time. “How’d you know about the sticker on my suitcase?”
“I saw it.”
“No. How’d you know what it means?”
“Oh. My dad. We used to drive all around northern Minnesota in the summers. He would tell me stories — about geological formations, about our ancestors sailing and rowing on the lake from Isle Royale down to Duluth, about when our ancestors met yours on Minnesota Point — Park Point, as people say now, that kind of thing. He told me how y’all got pushed west off the lake with the treaty .
. . about the reservation.” Robby was sitting up now, looking at Grace.
“And he used Ojibwe words?”
“Yes.”
“Did he speak it?”
“I don’t know. I never thought to ask. I was a child.”
“What did he think about the reservation?”
“Again, I was a child, but he always seemed sad when he talked about anything related to Native Americans.”
“Interesting.” He looked out at the lake. “This is so different.”
“Different from what?”
“What I’m used to . . . when I come home.
I’m not used to having conversations anymore with people I don’t know or who don’t know who I am.
I’ve been away for sixteen years . . . living a totally different life.
Normally, when I’m here, I have a sort of agenda.
I know who I’m going to see — family and old friends.
This time, I have no schedule, no pending dates, nothing to make me leave.
I hadn’t realized I’ve been so isolated from dealing with people .
. . with strangers . . . like you.” He leaned forward to get up and looked over at Grace.
“And the women I’m around don’t treat me like you do.
They’re much more agreeable.” He stood up. “I need food. You want to come or not?”
Grace looked up at him, pulling her hair back away from her face with her right hand.
“I can imagine how the women you meet act, now that I know who you are. You’ve been living in a bubble, but who you are doesn’t mean a thing to me.
And if you think I’m disagreeable, you’re in for a bad time if this pandemic lasts.
In the real world, women have lives, and they’re not all focused on stroking .
. . male . . . egos.” She stood up. “Not every woman is interested in being your groupie. The world has changed while you’ve been in your bubble. ”
“Well, if you’re any indication, I should invest in a suit of armor.”
“Probably not a bad idea.”
They started walking. It was uphill. There was no talk until they reached the truck. “I’m hungry. I’m going to the Dairy Queen, if it’s open. I’m craving a milkshake. Do you want to come, or do I drop you at the Lakeside?”
“I’ll come. I can’t believe it’s still there.”