She nods. “Go ’head and eat.”
“I did.”
“Mason, you have to chew.” She demonstrates mastication. “See, like this, or else you’re going to choke.”
I snort. “At least I’ll know someone when I check in at the pearly gates.”
“Touché.”
“Now it’s your turn. Go get something to eat. I need to use the head.”
She doesn’t even think about it or protest that she’s too sick. Just gets up and goes somewhere that I can’t see her. “I want to see what you’re eating!” I yell.
“Okay, Mason! I’m going to need a minute to push a button!”
“Noted!” I yell back, giggling like Chloe as I say it.
I didn’t need the bathroom. But we’ve shared, like, ten meals together, and I’m the only one who ever eats. In fact, I overdo it a little—I really do eat a lot. I check my phone and I’ve got a text from Gram.
What can she eat?
“Hey, Chlo. Gram wants to know what you like to eat.”
“Food!” she yells back. And that’s just what I type back to Gram before turning off my phone.
She plops down on the futon with her plate on potholders. “Ahhh, now I get it. That’s what those things are for.”
She nods and digs in with chopsticks, like she’s never heard of a fork.
“Wow, Chlo. You really know how to push a mean button. What is that? Orange chicken? Is that…beef and broccoli! Holy shit, you can come push my button anytime.”
She giggles. “Relax. It’s from the Golden Dragon. Lola picked it up for my not confession. It’s so good.” I’m happy to see her eat with gusto.
When our hearts meet through story, Chloe’s stomach doesn’t bother her. Good to know.
“Where was I? I was always the apple of her eye. My Gram. Raised as far back as I can remember by women. Even when my dad was in the picture, he was just a face in the background with a phone attached to it.”
I try not to let in the anger that’s threatening as I speak, but she catches it.
“Are you okay talking about your dad?”
I think back. “It’s going to be hard, Chlo. I’ll try. If it gets too intense, just disconnect.”
“Will do.”
And then it’s my turn. “That’s it? Will do? We’re not going to talk this to death?
She shakes her head as she looks at me over an eggroll. “I’m afraid too. I don’t want you walking out on me.”
I smile, but it’s forced. I blow out a shaky breath before saying, “I hate this part. The day my dad officially left, clearing out his half of the closet and Mom’s jewelry box—it was his family that had all the money, so he figured he could give it to whoever he damn well pleased.” My voice lowers, like I’m the jewelry robber.
“That day had been business as usual. Gram didn’t even stop whipping potatoes as he said goodbye to her. ‘I can’t believe you’re staying. How do you know Gabby Gail even wants you?’
“That’s what he called her. The mousy woman who never opened her mouth unless she had something really good to say.” The realization hits me as I say the words. “He didn’t know her at all.”
Chloe’s still eating, but her eyes are on me.
“I didn’t wait for her answer. I was afraid to hear it.
“I hollered from the kitchen table, ‘I want her here! I do! I love her.” The last thing I ever said to him until the night before my mom died ten years later.”
“Wow, Mason. Ten years? That must have been an awful burden for you to carry.”
I nod. “It was, and not just for me. I know it kills Gram to see what’s become of the remainder of her family. It’s just, I don’t know.” I run a hand through my hair.
“And Gram wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Somebody’s gotta help raise your son, take care of your sick wife. One of us has to be a man.’
“I missed what he mumbled on the way out. It got lost under Gram’s boisterous call of ‘Who’s hungry?’”
I hold up the Amstel I’d gotten earlier. “Do you mind if I drink?”
“Do you mind if I don’t answer your stupid question?” Chloe says and smokes her pipe. “There’s still half that dinner on your plate.” I nod towards it.
“Maybe I’ll get the munchies.” Wiggling her eyebrows, she takes another puff. “Your Gram sounds badass.”
“That, she is. Every fish I caught, every bullseye I hit, every cannonball I landed, all courtesy of Gram. She taught me survival skills along with ballroom dancing.”
“You can dance?” she asks rather skeptically.
“I’m no Fred Astaire, but I can hold my own.”
“Noted,” she says.
“By the time I was twelve, I knew to open doors for ladies, the proper use of ma’am, which fork to use with what, and bonus, I could smell whiskey and just know when it was properly aged. She had me on the line corking barrels, sweeping, packaging, but never for free. She paid me.” Even now, I feel a surge of pride as I tell Chloe this.
I don’t want you to think she spoiled me. Gram had a way of telling you not to mess up without really saying the words, you know?”
Chloe nods, understanding written all over her face.
“My gram would come in, maybe I’d be goofing off, never even noticing that real people were trying to do their job with some kid in the way. She’d pull me aside. That was her thing, never berate in a crowd. Only one on one.
“‘You’re not the owner yet, son. Someday you’ll do all of this for your own grandchildren.’ I nodded. I probably would. Whiskey was in my blood. ‘But today.’ She leaned in and whispered, ‘You’re hired help. Now get back to work!’
“Something inside of me turned on during Gram’s gentle lecture, and it made me want to be better. Work harder. I didn’t want Gram to come in and catch me goofing off ever again. On Friday, when all the other guys got their pay, Gram tried to pay me. Under the table. But I wasn’t having it.
“I watched her count out $24.32 and push it across her desk to me.
“‘What’s this?’ Befuddled, she said, ‘It’s your pay. Here, take it. You earned it. I noticed.’
But I shook my head. I wouldn’t be bought. ‘All the other guys get a paper check at the end of the week. I just want to be one of the guys, Gram. I’m like the hired help, right?” I had her there. Fed her words right back to her.
“She grinned. ‘That’s right! What was I thinking?’ She tucked the bills back into her brassiere and swept the change into the jar on her desk.
“‘I’ll let Jen know. You’ll be on the payroll by the end of the day.’
“She got up and headed to the front office, and I heard the compliment she gave my mother. ‘Abigail, this son of yours is full of charm with a capital C.’
“And true to her word, later that day I was called to the front office to pick up my check. Puffed up on licorice, I marched into the front office, gave Gram a wave as I headed to the pay window.
“I cleared my throat and asked Jen, or Mrs. Jones, for my check. A real payroll check. That time and every one after, Mrs. Jones would make me show my school ID, like I wasn’t the only twelve-year-old on the payroll, before she’d hand me my check, which I ended up handing right back. I mean, who else was going to cash a check made out to a twelve-year-old?
“She’d count out my pay on the counter. Without fail, she’d tap the desk, show her open palms—she was a card dealer in Vegas when Gram met her—and say. ‘Don’t spend it all in one place.’
“I loved it…working at the distillery. It’s like one big family, Chloe. There was always someone there, making sure I ate or had breaks, like...everybody cared about me.”
I check to see if she’s even awake. If I don’t have to tell this part, just this one part, I might be able to sleep tonight.
“Just spit it out, Mase. You’ll feel better once you do.” She gives me an encouraging smile. I give her a quick one in return and look away. I can’t look into her kind eyes or I wo
n’t be able to make it through.
I wet my lips. “Except for my dad. His actual work days were few and far between. I knew when my dad was in the building. I’d show up at work, and Joe the foreman would call me over and send me to Gram’s office, by the back stairs. Those days I got sent on errands. Long errands. If there wasn’t enough on the list to keep me busy, Gram would throw in, weed the garden at home.
“Without having to be told, Gram just knew about my oath to never speak to him again. I’d be given petty cash and asked to run and pick up lunch for the crew. Even if it was 9 a.m., I’d be scooted out the door. A slip with all the orders written on it, wrapped around a wad of cash. ‘Give me a full report on the arcade,’ She’d yell, and then remember to add, ‘Don’t forget lunch! 12:30 sharp!’
“My mom, on the other hand, would scoot to the ladies’ to reapply her lipstick.
“In my little boy mind, it was my job to protect her honor. Once I saw her searching her top drawer for her makeup, I knew I wouldn’t be playing any games that day. Instead, I decided to see just what it was I needed to be sent away from. I already knew it had something to do with my dad.
“So, I camped out in the stairwell across from his office, sneaking peeks. I’d brought a comic book with me, but just watching my father, as an actual man, held too much appeal. His boat shoes were on the desk, swinging to a fast beat. He was on both his office phones at all times. He was a real mover and shaker.
“I knew the minute my mom stepped off the elevator. His boat shoes hit the ground, and he hung up both phones. As she made her way down the hallway, she returned hellos and waves without ever taking her eyes off the prize.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. It was like watching a big cat hunt. The slink of her walk, the bounce of her curls, all her movements coordinated. She looked more alive in that hallway than I’d ever seen her. Which made me mad, Chloe. Here I was, not speaking to the bastard, not even making eye contact, and she was strutting right to his office!
“I stewed as I watched my mom pass back and forth in front of his glass doors. Never once was she invited in. She’d regroup after each pass, straightening her skirt, unbuttoning another button, fluffing her chestnut-colored hair. The feline instinct bleeding out of her with each unsuccessful pass.
“But he never noticed. Didn’t even spare her a glance. When she realized her attempts were falling on the floor, she walked in. Without being asked. My dad hated that.
“I opened the exit door then. I had to hear this.
“‘Get out.’ The banging he was doing on the keyboards didn’t stop.
“‘Dar,’ she crooned, sidling up to his desk. Making a damn fool out of herself. I wanted to yell at her, get out! He said get out! But…Gram had taught me manners.
“‘Get out. There’s nothing for you here, Abigail.’” I heard a desk drawer slam, and I looked around the open door. He was gulping whiskey right from the bottle. But he was looking at her now. Really seeing her, with the lipstick and the tight skirt. He took another long drink as he watched her.
“And I wish I never would have heard this. She dropped her voice invitingly. ‘Well, I’ve got something here for you.’”
I turn my eyes to Chloe and she’s already there. We meet in the middle.
For a long time neither of us speak. But even now, I feel like I have to explain my mother’s actions. “I know she meant it to be cute or sexy, but to me, it just sounded desperate. I remember praying in that hallway for a knight in shining armor to rescue my mom and point out to her that she was a young beautiful woman. Plenty of guys would be interested, especially with that pickup line.” My laugh sounds mean. It’s short and harsh.
Chloe doesn’t laugh. She just watches me. I finish the beer and continue.
“I saw a side I shouldn’t have seen of both of them that day. My dad getting drunk before my eyes, belligerent and rude to my mother. ‘You’ve got nothing I want.’ But the blinds were being closed even as he taunted her. ‘This is your last chance to run, Gabby Gail.’
“I waited, ready to spring in her arms when she came running out. And waited. The lock snicked in place. And my little boy mind wanted to run away with me. You know…I really thought he was going to kill her?”
“You were too young to even know about all this, Mason.”
I nod.
“My age or lack of muscle didn’t stop me from running to the door and pressing an ear against it though. I thought I’d hear begging, maybe crying. I just didn’t know; you know?
“She was doing all of those things. I reached for the knob, then I heard it. The muffled groans and kissing noises that stopped me from turning the knob.
“I was furious with her, but I didn’t know why. Didn’t understand any of it. After, she’ll hate herself. After, he’ll go back to his girlfriend, leaving my mom to hope that one day he’ll come back home.
“Which never happened.
“I almost broke my damn neck taking those stairs two at a time, and hit the exit door so hard the alarm went off. As I looked at my bike, which was impossibly far away, I wished I would have just gone to the arcade like Gram wanted.
“There was no way I was getting that bike without her seeing me. I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to slouch down, like she wouldn’t know it was me. When I saw her standing in the door, I almost fainted. She was wiping her guns down.
“Let’s go shoot something, shall we?” Her expression matched my own. She knew it had something to do with my dad. Her offspring was the cause of all of my misery. I swiped at tears—tittybaby!—and got in to the passenger side of the truck.
“We stopped and picked up some fruit. ‘We’ll have fruit salad for dinner.’ I nodded, no smile. I wasn’t over my recent trauma yet. ‘And Snickers for dessert.’ I tried to remain blasé, but did take the offending candy from her hand and switched it for a Hershey’s bar. ‘There’s my boy.’
Chloe’s head pops up and I jump. “I forgot you were here!”
“You don’t like Snickers?” She asks it like I said I don’t breathe air or something.
“No, I hate caramel.”
“So, no caramel fraps then?”
I make a face. “And no caramel sundaes either.”
“Was the fruit really for eating, or for shooting?”
“Damn, Chlo, you might have a little country in you! For shooting. Well, she shot while I talked.
“At least, till I was calm enough to hold a gun. ‘Why can’t he just love her? She needs him!’
I learned my first lesson of the heart that day.
“‘The heart wants what the heart wants, Mase. It can’t be told what to do.’
“‘I will! I’ll tell hearts what to do. When I grow up, I’m going to make a safe place. Somewhere people like my mom could go to find someone to be nice to them. Wants her something special. She wouldn’t feel bad if there was a place where she was wanted.’
“I saw the sadness in Gram’s eyes. Just from my admission, she knew what I’d witnessed. ‘Sometimes grown-ups don’t get along, but it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.’
“‘If he loved her, he would leave her alone!’”
“‘That’s what he’s trying to do.’”
“She was right. He just wasn’t trying very hard.”
“‘When I grow up, I’m never getting married. I don’t want to ‘not get along with’ but love someone, Grammy.’
“‘You’ll find sometimes that not getting along with someone is a hell of a lot better than not knowing them at all.’”
I lie still and count to twenty. She doesn’t move. I get up and toss the empty bottle. No sign of life on the futon. So I whisper, “Chloe.”
She’s down for the count.
Chloe
When I wake, it’s to a dead laptop. I can’t believe I fell asleep during his story. How rude.
A text from Lola: We’re talking tonight. I gasp and look at the date. Shit, it’s Thursday.
I text ba
ck. I’m gonna talk your ear off…TOMORROW, I’ll be at your Dumped Drunk Party, I promise. I’ve got plans today, Sorry Charlie.
One text from Mom, then Dad. You okay? They both want to know. I start to text back and think why not? and give her a call. It’s not lost on me. I’m lucky she’s there for me.
She answers on the first ring, enthused by my rare phone call. “Chloe! What a surprise. Are you coming over for some dinner, maybe a little CSI later?”
“No, I can’t tonight. I just wanted to call to tell you how much I love you. You’re the best mom for me.”
I let her aww and really listen to how much she misses me and what a treat it is to have one kid that calls just because they miss you.
“No word from Ronny yet, I take it.”
“No, you’d think, with all that’s going on, he’d at least call you.”
I roll my eyes, but say in my gentlest voice, “I haven’t heard a peep, and that’s fine. He’s processing. Plus, you know he’s working, Mom. You can’t hold it against him. He’ll be back eating you out of house and home before you know it.
Speaking of Ronny, what a great time to ask about Mason.
“Dixon?” Mom thinks. “Ronny’s friend with the pool?”
In her mind, we’ll always be twelve years old. “Yeah, Mom. That’s the one.”
Mom gives a little gasp, then in a cautious voice asks, “He’s not trying to get you to give him money is he? I saw on the news…”
But I stop her. I’m not irritated with her, but now I know how my nurse felt. I’ll save my displeasure for the friggin’ news. “He’s not like that, Mom. He’s a…cancer buddy of mine. He’s helping me, Mom. I can’t explain it. But he’s not like what they’re saying on the news at all. He gives me...something else to think about, besides my damn cancer.”
I don’t miss the breath she sucks in at the name of my disease.
“He makes me feel not sick,” I whisper, and I’m not sure how I should feel about that.
Her voice has a slight clip to it when she asks, “What are you going to tell Paul?”
“Mom, Mason is not my boyfriend, even though he’d make a great one. He’s a good friend who just so happens to be a guy. He’s a good guy, Mom, I promise. You’ll see.”
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