Mason
That wasn’t planned. I mean I did want to say something that would let Avery know how sorry I am. But that last part? That came from somewhere else entirely. What’s weird is that I don’t regret it. Hell, I felt unbelievable the second the words left my mouth. Maybe it’s just the chase…but I sorta don’t think that’s it.
I saw something in Avery’s eyes. I’m not going to say it was forgiveness; I’m not naïve to believe I’ve even come close to earning that yet. But I think there is definitely a part of her that wants to forgive me.
She was gone by the time I wrapped up my set. Gone! I had the usual crowd waiting around to talk to me, buy me drinks, and all that shit. All I wanted to do was talk to Avery though; ask her what she thought. I saw Claire talking to her briefly, and then I watched Claire leave with Max. I was pretty excited that he stuck around too. But Avery was the one I really wanted to talk to. And she was already asleep—or hiding—in her room by the time I made it home.
The house was empty this morning. Ray always works long hours on the weekends. He goes in early to set up for Friday and Saturday nights, and Sunday crowds are usually pretty full, too. Sunday is always country night.
I notice Avery’s car in the parking lot when I pull in to Dusty’s. She must have gotten up early to get out of the house before I woke up. I wonder how she talked Max into getting up early too?
They’re all sitting at the bar together when I walk in. Ray’s the first to notice me, and he slides a stool out next to him, waving me over.
“Mason, come on over. We’re having pancakes for breakfast. Made them myself on the grill,” he says, giving me a wink.
I climb onto my seat, and give Avery a sideways glance, but she’s looking only at the plate in front of her, nowhere else. Max is busy working with his fork to get his pancake into his mouth. His is cut into perfect squares, and his plate seems free of syrup.
“Hey,” Ray whispers to me, urging me to lean in. “Just so you know, these are gluten-free, and they pretty much taste like crap, so be generous with the syrup, okay?”
I nod once, and grab the syrup, making a layer of sweet, sugary goo on the plate before I add my pancake. I catch Avery’s reaction when she snickers at me, and I use it as an opening.
“What? You never syrup the bottom?” I say, cutting a huge bite, and stuffing it in my cheek. Ray was right—these are bland as hell. I reach for the syrup and add more to my plate.
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s unique to only you,” Avery says, laughing lightly. She seems nervous, and damn if it isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“So, you took off last night. I didn’t get to ask you, what’d you think?” I really want to have this conversation with Avery alone, but I don’t get a sense that she’s going to let that happen anytime soon, so I dive right in.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Max was up late and Claire took him home. I kind of wanted to get home, too—you know, so I could be with him,” she says, and I’m sitting at the edge of my stool, just waiting for her to say something about my song, my choice of song. And that damn bomb I dropped in front of everyone.
“Sure, I understand,” I say, smiling with my eyes wide. Still waiting. She senses my prodding, and I feel like a jerk that I have to beg her to tell me I was good.
“You were great, by the way. I knew you would be. See? I told you,” she says, picking up her plate and walking it to the kitchen. That’s it? I was great, she was right? No reaction to the fact that I pretty much publicly asked her to let me kiss her?
“She’s right, Mason. You were you last night. That’s the Mason I remember playing here, the kid I rolled out there for the world to see,” Ray says, standing behind me and giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Whataya say? You wanna try that again, say next weekend?”
“Uh, hell yeah!” I respond. I’d do it every night if Ray would let me. But I know he has a pretty long waiting list. The fact that I get the prime spot whenever I want says something about how the man feels about me, and I’m honored.
It’s just me and Max, and our pancakes now, so I take this opportunity to see what Max thinks.
“I’m glad you were here last night Max. What did you think?” I ask, hoping that this progress he and I have made keeps moving in this direction. I’m still surprised when he puts his fork down and acknowledges me.
“It was a Saturday, and I like when I get to sit up later. It was good,” he says, before picking up his fork to finish his last few bites. Sometimes I think Max isn’t so different from other five-year-olds, he just doesn’t have the filter that blocks out the honesty. Sure, Max thought last night was great—he got to sit up past his bedtime. The fact that I happened to be playing music in the background is meaningless to the fact that he got a couple extra hours of iPad game time. And I don’t blame him a bit.
“Yeah, last night was pretty awesome,” I say, smiling to myself, and stuffing the rest of my tasteless pancake into my mouth.
I pick up my plate and ask Max if I can take his. I figure he doesn’t mind when he pushes it to the side toward me then goes right back to the iPad. I sort of wish his mom was just as direct. Might make figuring out where I stand a whole hell of a lot easier.
Avery’s washing up the plates in the kitchen. I pass Ray when I take mine over, and I could swear he gives me a signal with his glance, urging me to talk to his daughter. There’s also a good chance I’m imagining Ray’s approval—truthfully, disappointing him—again!—scares the hell out of me. And I can’t think of anything that would disappoint him more than me chasing after Avery.
I start to help with the plates, but she just grabs mine from my hand and smiles curtly. It almost felt…hostile.
“Okay…uh, thanks,” I say, taking a few steps back to the door. I stop, though, mid-stride and close my eyes. Come on, don’t be a pussy. I come back and lean on the edge of the nearby counter, close enough to make her noticeably shift her weight. “So…what did you really think? I heard what you said. You thought it was good. And thank you. I appreciate that. But…now that we’re not at the bar…with your family…”
She finishes the last plate and turns the faucet off, but she keeps her gaze focused on the damn soapy water, her hands wringing the sponge dry. She looks so uncomfortable that it has me just wanting to retreat—but I’m in too far. And I’d regret turning back.
“I want to know the things you can’t say…in front of them,” I lean in closer while I ask this, and her breath halts. I swear her fingers are trembling, and it’s making me want to reach out and touch her, just to let her know it’s safe.
It feels like forever until she finally exhales. And just when I don’t think she’s going to acknowledge it—directly—she does.
“Don’t do this, Mason,” her eyelids flit, almost as if it’s with exhaustion. I’m so taken off guard with her response, I react immediately.
“Don’t…do what? Say ‘I’m sorry?’” I spit back, probably a lot harsher than I mean to.
“Yeah,” she says, tossing the sponge in the sink and wiping her hands dry on the front of her jeans while she walks past me. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”
Shit!
I follow her back though the kitchen door. Max is still sitting in his place, playing on his iPad, and Ray has moved on to business already, loading in some crates from the back. I look over and think about helping him just so I have an excuse to leave this conversation. But it’s really my fault I’m having it in the first place, so instead, I decide to be a prick about it and slide up on one of the stools next to Max.
“What are you guys doing today?” I ask, knowing Max will probably answer before Avery. I can actually feel her dig her heels in behind the bar while her eyes roll.
“Mom says I am to get a haircut,” Max says, his voice almost robotic, and his eyes not leaving the screen of his tablet.
“Haircut, huh? Okay, that sounds good,” I fold my hands and smile smugly at Avery. I’m totally tagging along for the haircut. And hell, I might just follow along for groceries, and watch her do her damn homework just to piss her off at this point.
“I don’t like having people touch my hair,” Max’s eyes flair when he says this, and his tone seems more irritated, so I don’t tease anymore. I don’t want him to think that I’m teasing him.
She leans forward now and forces Max to acknowledge her gaze. “But you are starting school next week, and part of that means getting a haircut. We’ve been over this, right Max?” She seems tense again, so I decide to back off. I’m about to let her off the hook completely when Max becomes my unexpected wingman.
“Can Mason come?” when Max asks, Avery’s eyes almost leave her head. I can actually hear her swallow in response, and she quickly turns her attention to me, her lips barely open, but her face saying everything. She doesn’t want me to come—I don’t even have to ask. But she needs me to come—because Max asked. I haven’t known him long, but I know enough to know this is a big deal.
My eyes lock with Avery’s, and I do my best to smile, genuinely. “I’d love to, Max. I’d love to,” I say, and Avery’s shoulders instantly relax.
I understand why getting a haircut was such a big deal the moment we pull into the parking lot in front of the barber. Max seemed fine for most of the car ride, his mind occupied with his game for most of the way. Once we pulled in, and Avery took the iPad from him to store in her purse, everything about Max began to change.
It’s not a normal tantrum like I’m used to seeing. My mom used to babysit kids Max’s age, and when they didn’t get ice cream or to watch their favorite cartoon, it was hard to convince the neighbors that my mom wasn’t beating them.
But Max is different. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable. Something is suddenly off, and his eyes are darting in all directions, not able to focus on a single person or place. It’s almost panic, but yet it seems so much worse. He’s unsettled, like he doesn’t belong.
When Avery opens the back door, rather than exiting, Max starts to kick and rock, each time his movements gaining more power. I want to help, and I feel like I’m intruding by just standing behind her, but honestly, I don’t know where the hell to even begin. When she reaches in, just hoping to get his hand, he smacks it away, repeatedly, and starts humming anxiously.
“Max, you need to use your words. Tell me what’s wrong?” she sounds so desperate, and I can’t help but join in.
“Yeah, Max. I was excited to come along with you. What’s wrong, buddy?” I say, but Avery just shoots me a death stare over her shoulder when I speak. I shrug my shoulders with frustration. I know she’s trying to dissolve this situation, and I know she’s embarrassed, but fuck! I’m just trying to help. I have no idea what to do.
Avery gets in the car next to Max and shuts the door, locking me on the outside. I’m left to do nothing but lean on the nearby light post and watch. I can’t hear them, but I know Max is still humming. Avery’s eyes are closed, and she’s sitting calmly next to Max, just waiting. Her lips are barely moving, almost as if she’s talking to herself. After a few minutes, Max seems to be relaxing, and that’s when I see Avery’s eyes open. She unbuckles her purse and shows Max a bag of something that looks like candies, and she pulls one out and hands it to him before putting the rest in her purse. Finally, after at least ten minutes, Max turns his head in her direction; his eyes are almost on hers when he talks, before he suddenly turns back to the front.
I look away when the door opens, mostly because I don’t want to make things worse. Max follows Avery into the barber, and I trail behind, noticing how he’s dragging his feet and fidgeting with his hands. He’s terrified.
“Hey, Nick. Thanks for opening up for us,” she says, her smile soft and utterly defeated. Nick opened up special…just for them. I get it. And I wish I could tell her. But she doesn’t want pity. She just wants the next two hours to pass, and me to never bring them up to her. And I get that, too.
“Sure thing, Avery. You know Max is my favorite customer,” Nick says, his overgrown, graying mustache dusting the top of his lips. “Max, can you sit on the special chair for me? I’ll let you decide how high it needs to be.”
I can tell that Nick has done this before. I can also tell that he’s not sure if it’s going to work today. Max is still rocking a little from side-to-side, and his hands have started tugging at one another harder. I’m so goddamned heartbroken for him that I just jump in with both feet, and try something completely unwelcomed, but that I think just might work.
“Hey, Nick. I’m Mason,” I reach over to shake his hand, and Nick smiles at me with a hint of surprise.
“Yeah, I know who you are. You’re Barb’s boy,” he says, and I cringe inside a little, hoping like hell he’s not one of my mom’s conquests.
“Yes, sir. That’s me,” I say, half-squinting, and holding my breath, waiting for the lecture on my mother, or worse—me, and what a douchebag I am.
“You were good over at Dusty’s the other night. You planning on playing there again?” I’m pretty sure Nick notices my huge sigh of relief, but I don’t care, because I also notice that Max has stopped swaying.
“I do. Next weekend, in fact,” I say, looking to Avery next, and making a mental note of her lip tucked nervously in between her teeth. “I’ve got a few more songs I’d like to try out.”
“Good, I’ll be there with the wife. She loved your show,” Nick says, his eyes darting between Avery and me now. I manage to give him a silent shake of my head before he asks if we’re together, so he lets it pass. Thank god, because I think that would pretty much do Avery in for the day.
“So, I was thinking, Nick. I probably need a haircut, too,” I say, and Nick is nodding in full understanding. Avery’s eyes are wide with surprise, and I take this opportunity to wink. I’m proud when it makes her blush. “You know, it’s what you do, when you start something new. And now that I’m playing at Dusty’s, I probably should look my best.”
Nick takes my lead perfectly and pats the seat next to the one meant for Max and invites me to sit down.
“Max, you mind if Mason gets his hair cut too?” Nick asks, and Max shakes his head no slightly. I see his eyes shift to my feet while I step up on the seat, and he leaves them there while I work my way into my chair. Nick fluffs the cape out next, shaking it out to lose the wrinkles, before swinging it around my body and fastening it around my neck.
“So, what are we getting?” Nick asks, scissors in his hands. Honestly, I hadn’t thought things through this far. I wasn’t planning on cutting my hair for a long time—I sort of liked the length. But…this was more important. And I was coming to terms with the fact that I was going to be in Cave Creek longer than I originally thought, so my hair would probably grow back by the time I hit the road again.
I look to Avery, prompting her to help me answer this—I wanted whatever Max was getting. Her eyes are still wide, but she curls the edges of her lips slightly when she starts to speak, and I swear I can feel my heart kick at the sight of it. “An inch off the top, and shorter on the sides,” she says.
My hand runs through my hair one last time on instinct, almost like I’m saying goodbye. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ll have that,” I say, noticing that behind Nick, Max has now climbed into the seat. I tilt my head to Nick so he notices, and when he looks back at me, his smile says it all. Thanks.
Avery hasn’t said a word about my shorter hair, but I caught her looking at it in the mirror during the drive home. I decided to ride home in the back, next to Max. He let me, and I felt sort of honored by that. He showed me some more details of the music program he was working on the other day. Since the last time, he had composed an entire song. The instrument choices weren’t the best, but the intricacy of the song he built was impressive. Every rhythm and count matched perfectly, and it made me wish I could get a real guitar in Max’s hands.
Max’s blonde curly locks look nice, and I’m glad Avery let Nick style things for the kid. She mentioned that he’s starting school, and I know from the small bits from Ray that she’s nervous about it. Max walks ahead of us up to Dusty’s, eager to get inside and count out the candies he earned from finishing his hair cut.
I start to talk at least a dozen times, but I choke on my words every time, so I just follow Avery up the steps to the front door. We’re almost inside when she pauses with her hand flat on the door, her damn lip back between her teeth.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice so quiet, I almost don’t hear it. But I do.
“Don’t mention it,” I say, shrugging off the attention. I don’t like to feel intimate attention, I’d much rather be the person giving it.
“No,” she says, turning to face me. I’m suddenly aware of the small distance between us, and I can tell from her quick breath that she is too. She’s boxed in by the door, and I know I could back up and give us some room, but I’m having a hard time getting my feet to move. Avery looks down at her feet, her nerves literally radiating from her body.
“No, Mason,” she says, her breath hitching slightly, and I realize then that she’s trying not to cry. “Thank you. You have no idea…just having someone else there. Just…thank you.”
Her eyes crawl up to meet mine slowly, and the look on her face breaks my heart. The tears are pooling just above the faint freckles on her cheek, and a single blink forces them to slide down her face. Without even thinking, I raise my hand to her right cheek and stop the trail of one with my thumb, slowly sliding it away, but leaving my hand there on her face, probably longer than I should.
I start to think that I would be perfectly content just to stand right here, right like this, for the rest of the afternoon, when the door swings open behind her, and the face that greets me is suddenly the last one I want to see.
“Hey, fucktard!” shouts Ben, the drummer in my band, breaking apart any moment I was possibly having with Avery. In the brief second before Ben pulls me inside, I notice the painful look on Avery’s face as her eyes shut tightly, and all I want to do is punch my best friend in the gut and run away with her.
She’s gone within seconds, and so is Max. My band mates are on their second pitcher of beer, and talking about our set next week at Dusty’s—and inside, I want to protest and tell them I’m going on alone. But I just sit there and stare at the place where Avery was standing minutes ago, just nodding and smiling and pretending I’m glad to see them.
And two days ago, I would have been.