Chapter Twenty-Five
Ella hugged Mason when he answered the door at the McNaughton house. For the first time, she held on longer.
“Wow, you’re becoming a master Jedi,” he said. “Gram said I’m supposed to ask if you would like something to drink.”
“I would love some water.”
He wrinkled his face.
“Or a glass of wine?”
“Better answer.” He took her hand and pulled her into the kitchen where Bri and Sistine were sitting at the round kitchen table talking with Sara, Boyd’s mom.
After greetings, Ella told them Vienna was running late.
“Something about finally getting a guy in to repair the lighting in her front pastry case. Is Aspen coming?”
“On her way,” Sara said.
Her eyes were the same color as Boyd’s. A sort of fairy-tale green. Ella had met Sara a few times now and she’d never noticed that before, but as she had with Patrick, she spotted pieces of Boyd everywhere now. Mason stood next to his grandmother, and the warmth in Ella’s chest grew.
“Do you have any updates for me?” she asked Mason.
He shook his head. “The friend thing is working, but I’m kind of moving on. Besides, I’m too psyched about graduation. Are you coming?”
She glanced up at everyone around the table, their expressions as if they knew something she didn’t.
“When is your graduation?”
“This Wednesday.”
“I… wow, that is so soon. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.” Her eyes met Bri’s and sent out a call for help.
“She tried to get it off when your dad invited her, sweetie, but we’re short-staffed.”
Mason huffed. “That sucks.”
Sara cleared her throat.
“I mean that is a shame. That’s what I meant to say. I guess saving people’s lives is important though.”
Ella was dumbfounded as her mind tried to order what exactly was happening. Mason was graduating in three days, and Boyd had not invited her. It seemed everyone at her book club meeting knew how screwed up the situation was, but that didn’t explain why.
“Sorry I’m late.” Aspen stopped short at the silence. Mason ran past her when his grandfather called from the other room. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing.” Sara offered drinks.
Aspen put her stuff down and Vienna arrived with boxes of goodness. Before Ella could think much more about why the man she’d poured her heart out to had not seen fit to invite her to her favorite eighth grader’s graduation, the book club meeting was underway.
She tried to concentrate on the questions Sistine found online, but it was no use. Maybe there were only so many tickets, she thought. By the time they got to whether Leland Gaunt was supposed to represent the devil, thus bringing in a religious theme, or if he was simply evil, Ella had convinced herself she was being silly. There could be a dozen reasons why Boyd had not invited her to Mason’s graduation or even mentioned it. At all.
“I’ll admit I may have slept with the lights on for a couple of nights, but it was a great read,” Sistine said. “I’d like to ask the group though, what do you think King is trying to say? It’s bad to want something or it’s bad to want too much? I know there’s a message that greed is evil, but that seems too simple.”
Ella heard bits and pieces of the discussion that followed. She nodded politely and even managed to pour her wine down the sink and get a glass of water now that Mason was inside watching a movie with his grandfather. She was no longer in the mood to sip wine with friends. She was suspended in her mind, trapped amid a running list of reasons. She should not have assumed she was important to Boyd, that he loved her back. What had Mason said when they were at the Art Walk? Assuming makes an ass out of you and me. It was funny then, not so much now. Boyd had looked dumbfounded when she told him she loved him. It had not mattered because she felt loved by him, it encircled her every time they were together. He was never much for words and she assumed he would… there she went again assuming. Oh, God!
“Ella,” Bri said. “Do you agree?”
“With what?”
“That King is saying perceived need brought on by consumerism and propaganda is the real downfall?”
“I have no idea.”
“Are you okay?” Vienna looked up from the notes on her Kindle.
Ella nodded. “Yes, sorry. I’m good, fine. I think he’s trying to say it’s all a load of crap. That people get along and think they’re happy, but all it takes is a little pressure and everything falls apart. It’s best not to need anything. It’s best to keep your damn hand up and your heart on ice. That seems to be the overall arch, don’t you think?”
Several mouths were hanging open by the time Ella was finished with her literary rant. The whole table knew she’d been set aside, left in the dark. As hard as she tried, she could not escape slipping on the cloak of embarrassment. The last time she’d felt this way, it had been the result of private whispers. This time, the fact that she was among friends, made being in the dark somehow worse. Not that she could compare withholding an invitation to an eighth-grade graduation to screwing someone for two years behind his wife’s back. They were certainly not the same things or themes since they were discussing books.
And yet they were, Ella realized as she politely explained she had a headache and went home.
Marc never offered her any of his life, none of his real life anyway. Boyd, while certainly not a scumbag, was giving her the pieces he wanted to give her. He wanted her at the brewery, in his bed, and among his friends. She was even allowed to have a relationship with his son, but there was a limit, a door she was not allowed through.
On the drive home, something changed. Her instinct was to crawl back into herself, as Bri so aptly put it. But this time she wasn’t cowering, she was accepting certain things about her life so far. She was tired of half, sick of being grateful for the crumbs her parents sprinkled and less than everything from the men in her life. Being in Petaluma, doing the work on herself, and letting people in wasn’t something she was going to run from. It had taught her to want it all. She’d expected excellence in her education, her work. And now, no matter how much it hurt, she was ready to hold the rest of her life to the same standard.
Boyd’s mom called him when Ella left the book club meeting early. She wasn’t much for lecturing her adult sons, but he recognized the edge in her voice. The edge that said he was screwing up. Ella had not stopped by after the meeting as planned and was not returning any of his calls.
He sat in the cell phone lot, blindly staring at the list of flights and waiting for Delta 455 to read “ready for pick up.”
He couldn’t think about it right now. Patrick claimed Boyd was a master at putting things in buckets and shutting off any stresses while he was making beer. Boyd was grateful for those skills at the moment. He knew he was screwed, but he also knew his son was graduating and a woman he hardly remembered anymore would be sitting next to him in—the sign flashed ready—a few minutes.
He focused on the most pressing buckets and did his best to ignore his heart screaming that he was a moron, at least for the time being.
He thought about calling Claire to confirm she was on the curb and then realized he rarely called her. They sent text messages and pictures of Mason occasionally, yet they rarely spoke anymore. Mason was getting older now and with his frequent visits with Ella and the other females of Petaluma, Boyd didn’t know if he was supposed to tell Claire what was going on. She’d never been all that interested in being a parent before, but she was older now and maybe he was supposed to include her? For some reason, the thought made him angry. What the hell, was she allowed to check back in now?
For the first time, maybe ever, Boyd wondered what went through Claire’s mind. Did she think of herself as a mom? Did she feel even a moment of what Ella said she felt around Mason? Did she think about Mason or what he was doing all the time and if not, how did she turn it on and off?
He supposed he could ask her, but there seemed no way to do that without sounding like he was judging her. They had a good relationship, and this was the best situation for Mason. Boyd didn’t want to jeopardize that with his own curiosity. Besides, it didn’t matter what was going through her mind. All that mattered was she was going to be there for his son, their son.
Pulling up to the yellow curb, he saw Claire part through the crowd of arrivals. She was in a white coat, her long brown hair fastened somehow at the back of her neck. She appeared the same, maybe a little shinier, and there was no ignoring the huge rock on her left finger.
He had met Claire Danner their sophomore year in college. She was studying design and he’d settled on general business, his third major change since arriving at UC Berkeley. He would change two more times before getting a degree in engineering. Boyd was in a frat; Claire was in a sorority. They met at a party and were inseparable. She was everything he was supposed to want and he was everything that drove her parents crazy. They were a match made in college, but as parties and dreaming of “what if” faded into a shared past, he and Claire began to grow apart. She wanted to be one-half of a power couple and Boyd wanted more time to figure things out.
They’d started spending less and less time together, but they did go to their last formal, and that’s when she told him she was pregnant. Punched him right in the stomach with the news as they were getting on some stupid party bus. She wasn’t crying or scared—it was a simple matter of fact that he was going to be a father.
Claire moved into his apartment, and a month later, she moved out. She received a job offer in Chicago the same week Mason was born. By January of the following year, she was in Chicago and Boyd had moved back to Petaluma with a six-month-old baby.
“I’ll keep him with me. I have family to help, and it will be fine,” he had told her, having no idea what he was getting into but knowing he needed to be near his son.
“Are you sure you want to take this on? My mom has a list of nannies and we’ll be great.”
“I don’t want to live in Chicago, Claire.”
“You don’t have to. We’ll come visit, or you can visit.”
“I’d like to be a full-time father.”
“Okay, well, if you know what you’re getting into. I’d appreciate the help and I should focus on my new job anyway. It will be nice knowing he’s with you.”
Boyd knew what people thought. That she was a heartless bitch only concerned with her career and money. Over the years, when people learned their story, he’d heard the grumbling about how a woman could abandon her son, but he ignored it. It might not be typical for a mother to leave her son with his dad in lieu of a career, but men did it all the time. Men chose career over parenting, and the truth was Claire wasn’t interested in being a mom. She tried, but it wasn’t enough for her. Boyd saw raising Mason as the greatest adventure of his life, so why wouldn’t he take him? Why stand by and watch nannies raise him to maintain some social order that made everyone else feel more comfortable?
Looking at her now through the windshield of his truck, Boyd noticed how Claire’s heels stood in stark contrast to the all-white of her outfit. She was one of those women who seemed comfortable in heels, even when they were younger. Her sandals had all been heels too now that he thought about it. Her hair was a lighter shade and her lipstick brighter. Mason had her nose, Boyd thought, and her full-face smile. Claire took off her coat and draped it over her arm as she wheeled her bag to the curb. The emotions and questions swirling in Boyd were quickly silenced as he opened the door to the noise of arrival traffic and helped the mother of his child with her luggage.