Avery
I don’t want to go downstairs. Max is already at the table with my dad. I can hear them going about business as usual. For Max, last night isn’t even a memory. He’s already on his checklist of what today brings. It’s Sunday, and usually we do something fun. I don’t even remember what we had planned now. Maybe it was the zoo.
Mason’s door is open, so I know he’s left his room. I can’t hear his voice downstairs though. And I don’t think I can handle seeing him.
When he didn’t show up at the house after his meeting, I was nervous. When the night grew longer, and he didn’t respond to any of my texts, I started to feel dread. And then nine thirty came and went, and Max noticed, growing more and more agitated each minute. I didn’t know how to set up the telescope. It’s old, and my dad has repaired it more times than I can count. I didn’t have it mounted steadily, and I know that’s why it tipped over so easily when Max pushed on it.
I know my dad won’t care. The broken lens isn’t a big deal. The thing that keeps eating away at me though is that damn letter from Adam. I know Mason meant well, but I don’t think he realized exactly how self-absorbed Adam was. Maybe it’s my fault; I didn’t portray an accurate picture after my dinner with him that night. My feelings—Max’s feelings—are of no consequence to Adam, and Mason must have put the fear of God into him for him to have even written the letters in the first place.
Adam actually blamed me for Max’s autism. He pointed to some article he read that said the “mother’s genes are the main contributing factor.” I know that’s bullshit, but that’s because I’ve done nothing but live, eat, and breathe research about Max’s diagnosis since the day his first doctor wrote it down on a file.
That’s Adam, though. When I look back at our relationship, I can see those pivotal moments—warning signs that he was not a good person. He wasn’t really a gentleman in high school, demanding we go dutch to prom, always calling the shots in our relationship. He was more interested in making sure my father loved him and approved of his plans for me, than involving me in the decisions and planning our future together. Adam picked where we went to school. He dictated whether I took morning classes or evening classes. And our pregnancy was because he insisted on not using protection.
I’m not saying I was completely complacent, but our lives definitely happened according to Adam’s will. His leaving forced me to be strong, and in some small way, I’m thankful for that. I need to be strong—Max needs me to be strong. And I have to be strong now.
Mason is sitting with his back to me at the table when I finally walk down the stairs. I know he hears me come down, and I can visibly see his shoulders tense.
“Out of bacon. Do you want some eggs?” my dad asks, his face telling me he’s in on everything that happened.
“I’m not very hungry,” I say, and Max picks up on his opening.
“I’m not hungry sometimes, but you make me eat,” he says, taking a bite of his pastry. He’s hungry this morning, so I’m not even sure why he’s being contrary.
“You’re right Max. But it’s because your body is still growing, so we need to make sure we take care of it,” I say, sparing a small glance at Mason. He hasn’t lifted his head from his plate once, and from the look of his breakfast, he isn’t very hungry either.
“What’s on our schedule for today?” I say, going to the small whiteboard on the fridge. It’s the zoo—sort of the last place I want to be today, but I will go.
“Zoo, and you said this time I can feed the giraffe,” Max says, standing and carrying the crumbs from his shirt over to the trash. Max doesn’t really like to be messy, so he’s always meticulous about cleaning up after a meal.
“I’d like to come,” Mason says, completely knocking the wind out of me.
“We won’t be there all day. I have homework, so we’re only staying through lunch, and it’s kind of expensive to get in without the pass,” I say, trying to deter him.
“That’s fine. Five minutes—five hours, I’ll take what I can get,” he says, and the pained look on his face makes me start to soften my resolve. But then I remind myself that I can’t just swoon because my heart and body wants Mason Street—I have to use my head.
“Here, you can use my pass. Just hold your thumb over the part that says senior,” my dad says, flicking the card from his wallet onto the counter. I grimace at my father when he does this, and he just pulls up one side of his mouth and shrugs.
“Fine, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” I say, and Max cleans the rest of his table space and heads up the stairs to change and get ready.
“Well, I’ll be home early tonight. I’d like to hear about that deal you made, Mason. Maybe you and I can chat about it later?” my dad says, purposely asking in front of me. I was pretty sure Mason’s meeting was a success. I vaguely recall him saying something about a deal last night, but I didn’t really have the mental space to ask him about it. That…wasn’t really my focus. And that was the problem. I’d lost my focus. It was time I got it back.
“That’d be great, Ray. I’ve got some questions about it,” he says, his eyes on me the entire time.
I can’t look at him squarely, and whenever my eyes hit his, my heart actually stings. My dad packs his small cooler and gathers up his books before heading out the door, and the second it shuts behind him, it feels like the room gets a million times smaller—the air completely gone.
“Ave, we have to talk,” Mason says, his voice desperate.
“Well, I guess we have all day,” I say, banging about the kitchen. I get more and more forceful with everything I touch, first slamming the cabinet when I reach for a coffee mug, and then tossing dishes in the sink rather than setting them down. I finally snap one of the plates in two, and it forces me to come to my senses.
Mason doesn’t interrupt me, and he doesn’t chastise me for acting out. He just sits there and watches, never once judging. He’s making this so unbelievably hard.
Max is downstairs seconds later with his usual zoo-ready backpack. He likes to use the binoculars, and he has a book on all of the animals. He’ll read us the paragraph about each one, and he likes to see them all, so I know that I’m in for at least two hours of walking.
The drive is silent—and I’m grateful Max is in the car. It gives me time to prepare my thoughts, to play out every possible alternative Mason might throw my way. Of course, when he’s sitting right next to me, it’s hard to stick to my plan. His smell has permeated my car, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to get it out completely. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt and black jeans, and it’s probably my absolute favorite look on him, so I keep my eyes plastered to the road.
We get to the entrance, and the man scanning passes at the gate does a bit of a double take when he runs Mason’s card under the machine. I can tell he’s thinking about questioning it, but then he looks at Max, already wearing his binoculars and anxious to get to the first animal, and he waves Mason through.
It only takes us minutes to get to the first section—the lizards and snakes. Max will be busy here for several minutes, so I stand back with Mason while Max moves from window box to window box.
“Avery, what can I do?” he asks, and I wish like hell I had an answer for this one. I planned for this question, so I give him the only response I can.
“Nothing, Mason. Nothing,” I say, my stomach twisting at the actuality of what’s about to play out.
“It can’t be nothing. I’m so sorry—truly, deeply, unbearably sorry. For everything,” he says, and I know he is. And I forgive him. But it still doesn’t change the fact that he and I aren’t a good idea.
“I know you are, Mason,” I say, forcing myself to be brave and look at him. When I do, the stabbing sensation is back, and talking becomes even harder. “I’m not angry at you. Don’t get me wrong, I was. And I wish like hell you let me handle Adam, but I know your heart was in the right place—with everything. And I know you didn’t mean to miss our date with Max. It was a mistake. A simple mistake—one that anyone in the world could have made.”
“But…” he says, knowing there is one.
“But I can’t make mistakes with Max,” I say, my breath shallow, and not reaching the depths of my lungs. “And as much as I want to be with you, Mason, I’m not the only one with something at stake. And I have a feeling your life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.”
He doesn’t respond, and I know it’s because I’m right. He just stands there, his eyes burning a hole through mine, his hands linked behind his neck while his arms flex. Finally, he tilts his head up and breathes out hard, letting his arms collapse to his sides before walking over to look at one of the reptiles. I give him a few minutes alone, and then I follow.
“He’s signing us to a Southwest tour,” he says, not looking at me while he speaks. I knew it was coming, but my stomach still hurts hearing it anyhow.
“That’s amazing, Mason,” I say.
“Is it?” he asks, turning to me, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his lips shut tightly.
“Yes, it is. This is your dream, Mason. And you have to see,” I say, knowing he does.
“What if I don’t go?” he asks, and the way he’s biting at the edge of his lip, I can tell he’s serious.
“You have to go. You’ll regret it,” I say, my insides kicking myself. But I also know a thing or two about regrets. Not that I regret a minute of my life with Max. But Adam—I regret him.
“But, would it make a difference?” he asks, this time reaching forward and holding my chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger. My lips tingle just wanting to kiss him, but I can’t.
“Probably not,” I lie. As soon as I speak, his hand drops from my face and his eyes close.
“Because of Adam and the letters?” he asks, looking at Max with his face pushed close to the glass of an exhibit.
“Because of a lot of things,” I say, promising myself I won’t cry now in front of him.
We follow Max through the entire dark room back out into the sun, and start the large loop that winds throughout the zoo. The desert animals are next, and I know he will spend a lot of time on these, so we walk slowly until Max is satisfied. Mason is quiet, and it starts to feel like we’re angry with one another the longer the silence goes on. By the time we reach the elephants, I’m frustrated with him, and I’m about to ask him why he even bothered to come, when I feel his fingers push through mine.
The touch of his hand startles me, and I let out the smallest cry, which only makes him squeeze me tighter. Neither of us looks at one another, but we keep our hands locked for the small walk that is left. I let Max sift through a few things in the gift shop, and he zeroes in on a resin paperweight with a scorpion sealed inside. We take it to the register, and before I can hand over my card, Mason gives a ten to the cashier.
“I used to have one of those when I was your age,” he says to Max, who isn’t really listening to him, but just looking at his new treasure, wondering how someone got the scorpion sealed inside.
Mason looks at me next, and smiles softly. I mouth “Thank you,” for giving Max the gift.
The ride home feels heavier. Mason reaches for the radio at one point, turning the music up a tick, looking at Max in the mirror to make sure it isn’t too loud. Max is busy with his scorpion though, completely lost in that world.
“My birthday is tomorrow. My mom is making dinner, and she wanted us to come,” he says, his head flat against the passenger window.
“I’d love to have dinner with you and your mom,” I say.
“Max, too,” he says.
“We’ll both be there,” I say, my words lingering with everything else I want to ask. We’re only a few miles from home, so I force myself to stay here, in this moment. “When do you leave?”
“Tuesday morning,” he says, and I can hear him swallow hard. “Avery, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
I reach over and put my hand on his knee, and he covers it with his hand, his eyes low, looking at our touch. I squeeze once to get his attention, and he turns to me. “You’re doing it. You have this tremendous opportunity. And we…we probably rushed into things a little.”
“I’d do it all again. Just the same,” he says, his face serious as he looks at me. All I can do is suck in my bottom lip and force a smile in return, because I know if I say anything else, I’m going to fall to pieces and run us off the road.
When I pull into the driveway and park, Mason gets out and walks right to his car. “I’ve gotta meet the guys. If your dad calls, tell him I’ll stop by Dusty’s,” he says, his words barely ending before his car door shuts and his engine is on. His eyes are intent on the gravel drive in front of him—and nothing else—as he pulls away. I gasp for air, forcing myself not to cry until I get Max inside, and I can hide in the bathroom.
Mason
The partying for the guys never really stopped. The three of them were passed out still when I got to Ben’s. He never locks his door, and I just walked into the house, greeted by a coffee table filled with half-eaten take-out boxes and a few flies.
I managed to wake everyone up, but they weren’t really good for much, and anything we talked about right now would only be remembered by one of us. I think they soaked in enough to know we had to catch the bus in Phoenix while the tour we were joining was passing through on the way to Vegas. I told Ben I’d just spend the night at his house Monday so we could leave early together in the morning. I didn’t want to have to leave Avery more than once.
When I pull up, the Dusty’s sign is flicking off and on again. If I come back here after our tour, I’m going to fix that for Ray. The last thing that man needs to do is climb a ladder, and it’s probably just a short in one of the bulbs. Ray has a local country band booked for tonight, so the parking lot is full of mostly pickups and girls with big hair and bigger hats. I recognize the song when I walk through the bar, and it hits me that this is the same band that was playing when I first rolled into town weeks ago.
I sit down on one of the stools and give them a good listen, I guess hoping it might help me remember everything just a little more vividly.
“Hey, man. I heard about the tour. Congrats,” Cole says, pulling the cap from a Heineken and sliding it over to me, and then popping one for himself—we both take a drink, a sort of silent salute. “Ray’s waiting on you. Said to send you on back when you showed up.”
“Thanks, man. Hey, in case I don’t see you—take care of these guys…a’right?” I say, and Cole shrinks his eyes a little when he looks at my hand before finally shaking it. He doesn’t say anything else, just gives me an understanding nod and smiles before getting back to the growing line of ladies waiting for him at the bar.
Ray is busy in his office, filling out a few order forms and checking them against the inventory books. I used to help him with this when I was a kid. I was good at counting crates. “You know, the business is out there, old man,” I say, and Ray laughs lightly and pulls the reading glasses off his face.
“I can’t concentrate worth shit out there when someone’s playing,” he says, kicking back in his chair, and motioning for me to sit down. “So, tell me…how’s this thing working? When do you leave?”
“We hit the road Tuesday, early. We’ll be gone at least six weeks, maybe eight,” I say, watching him chew on the end of his pen and study me. I can read the thoughts he’s not saying out loud, what he really wants to know. What does this mean for Avery and me? It’s the same question I had, and the same one she answered for me. And it’s probably going to be the theme of whatever album my ass is lucky enough to write.
“You coming back after that?” he says, his own way of getting to the point.
“I guess that depends…on a lot of things,” I say, rubbing my hand over my face, trying to find feeling somewhere.
“Well, I’ve got something…sort of a good luck thing I wanna give ya,” Ray says, grunting as he gets to his feet and moves into the back storage area. I can hear a few boxes sliding around, followed by more grunting.
“You want me to come lift whatever it is? You sound like a walking hernia,” I joke, and Ray’s face reads smart-ass when he comes back into his office. He moves closer to his desk and sets a dusty guitar case on top, flicking open the buckles on the lid.
“I had her fixed up,” he says, reaching in and lifting his old guitar—a classic Les Paul. The color was always my favorite, tan in the middle, and burnt black around the edges. Ray taught me everything I know on this guitar, and I secretly wanted it for most of my life.
“Ray, I…I don’t know what to say,” I say, my hands shaking as I take the guitar from him and hold it close to my body.
“I don’t really play much anymore, and it just seemed like a waste. I got her out when you first came to see me, sent her over to Pitch Fork’s for tuning up. Just turned out I had an occasion to give it to you,” he smiles, and I know he’s proud of me. I also know he knows how conflicted I am about leaving, but he’s a good enough man not to make it worse with a lecture about the promises I made.
I strum a chord, and it sounds like it did the first time I heard it, my mind flooded with memories—from the first time I drank chocolate milk on the stool out front to the first time Ray pushed me up on that stage. I want to race home and test it out, plug it in and see how it sounds…but then I’d also have to show it to Avery, and we’d have to talk about it, talk about me leaving, about me disappointing her, and letting down Max. And she’d have to remind me that there’s nothing I can do to make her change her mind…again.
“I know I should probably say it’s too much and I can’t accept it, but…I’m not going to lie, I want it,” I smile, and he laughs at my honesty. I play a few more chords and then hand it back over for him to tuck safely in its case.
“The handle’s shot, so be careful when you lug it around. You might want to invest in a better case,” he says, handing it over to me completely.
I can’t get over looking at it in my hands. The depth of his gift isn’t lost on me, and it has my eyes tearing a little, so I set the guitar down on my chair and walk around the desk to give him a hug.
“I’m proud of you, Mace. Real proud…no matter what happens, huh?” he says, pulling me square with him, his hands on my shoulders. “Ave’s real proud of you too. She’ll come around; she’s just careful. She has to be. You get it, right?”
“I do,” I say, my heart absolutely sick knowing that after tomorrow night’s dinner, there’s a chance I may never see Avery Abbot again.