I’m too terrified to cry, but my insides are holding on, just waiting for the sobs to come pouring out. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I say, my voice cracking with my own fear.
“Go,” my dad says, his lips tight, and his face daring me. My legs are wobbly as I try to stand, and my hands shake as I reach for my purse and pull out my keys. “Girl, I can’t drive you, so you’re going to have to pull yourself together. Just breathe—and go tell that boy you love him, and you’ll see him soon.”
I nod yes and race through the door, dropping my purse open on the porch, spilling the contents everywhere. I shove everything back inside, and toss it in the passenger seat of my car, firing up my engine and actually peeling out of the driveway when I leave. My heart is thumping in my chest, and it races faster and faster the harder I press my foot on the pedal. The streets are quiet, and the main drag is dead on a weekday night, so I don’t even bother to stop at the four-way stop between my neighborhood and Barb’s. I circle through her apartment complex, but I don’t see Mason’s car, and panic fills me.
“Ben’s!” I think, slamming the car in reverse, and pulling back out on the main road through town. Ben is closer to the city, in a rougher part of town, so I slow down as I get closer, careful to watch for any other drivers. I recognize Ben’s car out front, so I know which small house belongs to him, but I don’t see Mason’s car anywhere. I keep the engine off and I wait, like I’m stalking him in the dark. Minutes pass, and not a single car drives down Ben’s road—nothing to even give me hope. I’m about to give up when a light flicks on at the side of the house, and the side gate swings open. I get out of the car without even thinking, just hoping it’s him.
“Mason?” I say, my voice a loud whisper.
“Oh shit! Damn, Birdie. You scared me,” Ben says, and my heart literally explodes with disappointment.
“Is Mason here?” I ask, my mouth watering with the need to be sick.
“Nah, he took off an hour or two ago with Matt and Josh. They had some things to take care of, and I think they were going out for a while, meeting Kevin and one of the bands we’re leaving with tomorrow. You need something?” he asks, and I don’t know what to say. I need Mason. I just stare at my phone, considering calling him, but I can’t help but note the shakiness of my fingers as I slide them back and forth over the phone screen. My whole body is shaking, so badly that I have to hold myself up against Ben’s car.
“Are you…all right?” Ben asks, his face bunched at the sight of me. I feel really ill, and my body is covered with beads of sweat.
“Yeah, I uh…I suddenly don’t feel very well. God, I’m sorry,” I say, shuffling my feet backward closer to my car, suddenly questioning everything I’m doing.
“You want me to just tell him you stopped by?” Ben asks. I stop and look at his feet, scratching at the side of my face, and tugging at my lip while I think about his question. I could call Mason right now. I could sit here at Ben’s house, or in his driveway, and just wait. Or I could have Ben tell him to call me. But the end is always the same—I’m always…waiting. I’ll be waiting for Mason, just to tell him I’ll keep waiting. And that’s the change I would have to make in my life—to decide to wait on Mason for the rest of my life. Because in my heart, I know that the second he gets on that bus in the morning, his career is going to take off—he’s that good. And I have to decide if I want to wait for those moments he can fit me in between everything else. And I don’t know if my heart can take all of the doubt and worry that comes along with Mason’s success.
“You know what, it’s nothing,” I say, and my pulse slows down as soon as I give in. “I’ll just…I’ll just call him later this week. Really, it’s not important.”
Ben just nods and shrugs his shoulders. “A’right then. Well, see ya when I see ya! Hey, maybe the next time we play Dusty’s we’ll be f**king millionaires!” he says, tossing the small bag of trash in the can outside and heading back through his gate. All I can do is smile and hold up my hand, a total farce to the self-loathing now kicking off inside. I get back in my car, and I drive home. My dad has gone to bed, and I’m thankful—I don’t think I can handle having him talk me into risk ever again. I’m starting to think regret is just easier, and I resolve myself to learning how to swallow it.
Chapter 22: The Road
Mason
The shows are good. That’s what’s getting me through. That and the way the crowd reacts every time we play some of our new songs. People seem to love “Perfect.” It’s probably because out of everything, that’s the one song I play with everything I can. We did a cool thing during the last show—I talked the guys into letting me play it solo on the piano. My piano playing isn’t the best, but the melody is simple enough. I had chicks in tears by the time I was done.