“I hope you know I wouldn’t have missed this,” he says, his eyes just as sad as I feel inside. “It wouldn’t have mattered where I was or what I was doing. I would have come.”
“I know,” I say, forcing my lips into a tight, closed smile, fighting the urge to cry. “You were a son to him, in every single way.”
Mason reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine, holding it in front of him loosely. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he says, and he turns his head to the side when his eyes start to water. “I should have been here.”
“No, you were right where you were supposed to be, Mason. You made my dad so proud. You were right where he always wanted to see you,” I say, wrapping my hands around his wrist and hugging his arm.
“We left the tour,” he says, and my breath completely stops. This is too much—too much for right now. I want Mason here, and I want him to stay here and never ever leave—but I don’t want it to be because of guilt or grief or both.
“Mason, you can’t…you have to see that out—it’s your dream. He would have wanted that,” I say, my hands moving to the collar of his shirt, my fingertips running on his neck, willing him to look at me.
“Kevin understood. It just…it didn’t feel right. None of it did, and it’s not where I wanted to be,” he says, his eyes back to mine, still red with emotion.
“I hope you didn’t do this just for me,” I say, immediately sorry how harsh my words came out. “I don’t mean it like that. I just…I don’t want you to do anything rash—not when everything is so raw. Just, promise me you’ll think about everything.”
“I promise,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine, and his face still serious. “Can I take you home? My mom brought a lot of food over to your house before the funeral. I told her I’d come over to help.”
“Thanks. And thank your mom for me. Mason, she’s been amazing—I don’t know what I would have done without her,” I say, taking his arm while we walk along the blacktop to where his car is parked.
“I’m glad my mom was here, too,” he says, opening my door and slipping the edges of my long black skirt inside before shutting it.
We don’t talk for the entire drive back to my father’s—I guess my—house. But Mason leaves his hand in mine the entire time, holding onto me tightly. And when we get to the house, he runs around the front of the car to help me out, grabbing my hand again. He keeps it in his for the next two hours, only leaving my side for minutes at a time to help his mom serve a few guests and to run upstairs once or twice to visit with Max.
When the house finally empties again, Mason and his mother are the last to go. I wonder if, perhaps, Barb wasn’t with him, if he’d try to stay—if he’d say something…more. But she’s loading up the back of his car with her empty trays, and Mason and I are standing at his car, the last light from the sun rapidly disappearing.
Claire has been staying at our house, sleeping in Mason’s old room. I know Mason saw her things in the room, and I overheard him thank her for not leaving me alone.
“Promise me you’ll call me, if you need anything,” he says, his finger lifting my chin, tilting my head to look up at him.
“I promise. But we’ll be okay, Mason,” I say, forcing my mind to shut off the floodgates of everything I now have to figure out.
“Promise me anyway,” he says, and I just smile and nod. He brings me into his arms then, holding me close, and I reach around him, my hands hard against the warmth of his back. He feels like home, and I never want to leave, but I also don’t want to hide in him. I want to deal with everything that’s in front of me, and I want him to too—if we both end up in the same place when we’re done, then it’s meant to be.
After he and Barb leave, I sit in the hallway waiting while Max finishes taking his bath. He asked me for privacy the other day, so our compromise was letting one of us sit in the hallway. I can’t help but remember the last time I sat here now though, and I look at the doorway, Mason’s old doorway, and pretend that the light on inside is there for him. When Claire opens the door, my illusion shatters, and I turn my attention back to the half-open bathroom door in front of me.
I feel Claire’s body slide down the wall to sit next to me, and I’m enormously grateful for her company. But it’s still not the same as if Mason were here. Nothing is. And I’m convinced nothing ever will be.
Chapter 24: Tonight, at Dusty’s