I nod. “Yeah, I hear ya.”
I don’t know what we’re going to do. Liam fired Sam and I was okay with that, but I’m not willing to let the band suffer for lack of a manager. We left Los Angeles assuming we could make it here, but maybe we can’t. Maybe we need to spend more time in L.A. working. The band is too important to let shit slide.
“Maybe things will get better.”
Liam smirks as he writes down a note. Maybe I’m just the eternal optimist and don’t want to give up the slight hope I have of making her see the real me. Not the guy she kisses and walks away from.
FOR a week I’ve avoided the Westbury household. Not because I’m mad at Josie, or upset that Liam yelled at me, I deserved the verbal berating I received. But because that is where I work, or used to work, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not cut out for the music industry or any industry for that matter. The tour was a joke, a complete and utter disaster that ended with DeVon’s manager calling and giving me her own tongue lashing and threatening to sue the band for misrepresentation. I’ve had enough. I can’t take anymore. So I’m going to quit before Liam fires me. Save face that way and keep our friendship intact. I should never have taken a job with him, but once again, my mouth got the better of me and now, here I sit with the Wanted ads and a red pen, circling potential jobs. Red because I need the reminder that my life is nothing but a downward spiral and I’m losing control, I’ve lost it completely.
I lay my head down on the cool ground, the grass tickling my cheek. I fight the urge to cry, and not just cry, but to throw a good ole temper tantrum about how unfair life is. I didn’t sign up for this. I never thought I’d be sitting here at twenty-nine years old worrying about a job. A year and half ago everything was so much simpler. My biggest concern was wondering what I’d make for dinner. We weren’t well off by any means, and we lived paycheck to paycheck, but it worked. We didn’t fight or struggle with making our minimum payments. We just lived.
I roll over and look at the clock. It’s after midnight and Mason still isn’t home. There’s a pounding sound coming from the living room. I get up slowly, realizing that I’m still in my clothes from earlier. Tonight’s game had been two hours away. A team trying to make a name for themselves asked if we’d come play them. Mason, never one to turn down a game, obliged happily as did the rest of the team. They loaded up the bus, plus two additional ones for fans and made the trek. The girls and I went, but left early because it was cold.
I walk out into the living room, its dark, but blue lights flash through the window. The pounding starts again. It’s the front door. Mason probably locked himself out.
“Crazy man,” I mutter. I open the door and am met by Paul Baker, the local police chief. “Paul, what are you doing here this late?”
“Hi, Katelyn,” he says as he tips his hat. I push the screen door open and look out into the driveway for Mason’s truck. It’s not there. I try to keep the feeling of dread from creeping in, but it’s there. Something’s wrong.
“I need to take you down to Beaumont General.”
“What for?” I don’t give Paul a chance to even tell me why before I’m asking.
Paul takes off his hat. His eyes are red showing evidence that he’s been crying. “Mason’s been in an accident. You need to come to the hospital.”
My knees buckle. Paul catches me before I hit the ground. “I got you. Come on Katelyn,” he says as he rights me. “Call Josie, tell her to come and sit with the girls. They’ll be okay until she gets here. Roberta will sit outside. We gotta go.”
I nod and walk on shaky legs to the phone. It takes me four times to get her number right. The phone rings and goes to voicemail. I hang up and try again. “Hello?”
“Josie, I need you to come watch the girls. Mason… he’s had an accident and I need to go. Paul’s here.”
“Okay I’ll be over.” Josie hangs up, but I stay on the phone listening to the buzzing sound. Mason’s been in an accident. An accident. The word plays over and over again in my head, but I’m not grasping the meaning. What kind of accident? Paul’s hand presses down on my shoulder and the other takes the phone from my hand. He sets it down so gently I barely hear it click.
“Come, Katelyn we need to go.”
“Is Mason alive?”
Paul doesn’t say anything as he guides me out of the house. He shuts the door behind me and pushes me toward his car. The blue lights blinding me the closer I get.
“The girls…”
“They’ll be fine. Roberta is right there, see?” I follow the direction he’s pointing and see another police car sitting in front of my house. My neighbors are standing on our property line in their robes and slippers, holding hands. I don’t want to know what they’re thinking when Paul helps me into the front seat and pulls out of the driveway.
We drive through the empty streets and even though he’s speeding, it feels like the fifteen-minute drive is taking an hour. My hands are wringing in my lap. My stomach turns and threatens to empty itself all over the floorboard that my feet rest on. Paul turns into the almost empty parking lot and right up to the emergency room entrance. I look out the window at the sliding glass doors and see a few people walking around. Everything looks calm inside, yet everything inside of me is burning and on edge.
Paul opens my door and holds my hand until I’m standing. Everything is moving in slow motion. I hesitate at the door, afraid to cross the threshold. The last time I was here was to give birth to the twins and something is telling me that I’m leaving here by myself. He nudges me, his hand guiding my back as we walk through the quiet halls. A door clicks and we are in the center of the action.
“Mrs. Powell,” I look at the doctor standing in front of me. His blue scrubs look clean, fresh out of the laundry. I nod, unable to find my voice. Paul motions for us to sit down. I can’t move. I shake my head. I need to know what’s going on.
“Where’s Mason?”
When the doctor looks at me I know. He doesn’t need to say the words. My hand covers my mouth and my head starts to shake back and forth. Paul’s arm comes to rest on my waist holding me up.
“Mrs. Powell, if you’d like to see your husband I can take you to him. He doesn’t have much time left. I’m sorry. We’ve cleaned him up and he looks like he’s sleeping. The machines are keeping him breathing, but he can’t breathe on his own and he has very little brain activity.”
“He’s alive?”
“At the moment, yes.”
The doctor turns and I follow with Paul beside me. He pauses at the door separating me from my husband.
“What happened?”
Paul clears his throat. “He was sitting at the bottom of the hill, waiting for the light to change when an eighteen wheeler came behind him. The truck’s brakes gave out at the top of the hill and he couldn’t slow down. The driver said the light changed, but by then he was already too close and hit Mason. He says he honked, but you and I both know Mason probably had the radio turned up, so he probably didn’t hear him.”
Paul takes deep breath. “As soon as he hit, Mason lost control. He hit the wall before jumping the guardrail and hitting a tree.”
I don’t acknowledge Paul or the doctor. I push the door open. My hand covers my mouth as a sob takes over my body. My husband… my school sweetheart lays before me with a white sheet covering his body. His arms are down at his side. His face… his beautiful face is bruised and covered in cuts. I can’t tell if this is my husband or not. I take tentative steps to his bedside and run my fingers up his arm. I bend slightly and look at his shoulder, unable to control myself, I lay myself on top of him and cry. This beat up man is my husband and he’s dying.
“Mason,” I say over and over again waiting for a sign or some type of response to show me that the doctor is wrong. My husband is strong. He can pull through this. He just needs to know that I’m here and that I love him. I cup his face, lean in and kiss his lips. They’re cold and uninviting. I run my hand over his hair. He has an a
ppointment tomorrow morning so he can get a trim. Every six-weeks like clock work.
“Mason, baby, please wake up.” I plead with him. “Open your beautiful eyes for me.” I lay my head on his chest to feel his heart, but it’s so faint.
“Katie?”
My head pops up and I see Mr. Powell standing at the end of the bed. I forgot to call him. He looks at me with such sorrow in his eyes. He comes to me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. He holds me while I cry. I scream loudly, but don’t know the words that are coming out of my mouth. His body shakes with mine as we battle the pain that is ripping through our bodies. Our world is leaving us and we are powerless to stop him from going.
“We have to say goodbye.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s strong, he’ll pull through.”
“I know, Katie.” He sighs, holding me tighter. The machine beeps. We break apart. I hold Mason’s hand while his father holds his other. My fingers twist his wedding band back and forth while my other hand strokes his cheek. I lean forward, setting my lips by his ear.
“I love you, Mason Powell. You’re the best husband and father. Our daughters love you. If you can hear me, fight baby. Fight so damn hard because we need you. I need you. I don’t know how to live without you.” My tears wet the side of his face. I hear his dad take in a deep breath. I can’t even begin to imagine how he’s doing this. We were in this same hospital not a year ago saying goodbye to his wife.
Mason’s body shudders. The beeping stops. I try to choke back a sob, but it wracks through my body. I cry for the loss of my husband and best friend.
I wipe away the tears that are steaming down my face. I hadn’t thought about that night in such a long time. The nightmares are few and far between. Now I just dream about him coming for me. Months ago that is something I wanted. Not the death part, but to have him in my arms again, but now? Now I wonder if there’s something out there for me. Is Harrison the one who can turn things around for me and give the girls a father figure? The answer is no because I have a feeling that if I replaced Mason, my father-in-law might be hurt, and there’s no way I’m going to hurt him.
“I need help, Mason,” I say to his tombstone, knowing that it won’t answer, but wishing it would. “These feelings I have inside me are raging, building up to the surface and I feel like I’m going to explode. I’m antsy and on edge. Something has to change, but I don’t know what. I hate having feelings for another man when I love you so much. I shouldn’t feel like this. My heart… it should know better, Mason. Please tell me what to do.”
Of course, he doesn’t answer. He’ll never answer. He’ll never sit by my side and help me through the tiniest of problems. He’ll never hold my hand and walk with me along the path that we set out for ourselves so many years ago.
“Harrison will.”
I sit up, looking around. I see no one and can’t imagine my subconscious would be telling me to move on. Not like this. Not in the place where my husband rests.
I know what I have to do, but it won’t be easy. I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the name that has been looming there since Mason left. I press the number and watch as my phone lights up, telling me I’m calling the one person I’d hope to avoid because I thought I was strong enough to do this by myself.
“Hello, this is Katelyn Powell. I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Brooks.”
I wait on hold until she comes back with my appointment time. I hang up and watch the other mourners, wondering if they’ll go through the same thing I have or if their lives will just continue. There are two little girls; they look to be about the twins’ age. Both are dressed the same. Mason was adamant that we never do that to our kids, but we did. I did. He laughed and went along with it, once.
I think about Peyton and Elle and how I don’t want them to grow up. How I need them to stay just the way they are so I don’t forget what it was like to have their dad around. I need Peyton to always love football, to keep Mason’s spirit alive on Sundays and for Elle to be the princess that her daddy said she was going to be. I think that is the only thing that is going to keep me afloat.
GROCERY shopping. I hate it. And once again, I’m asking myself why the fuck did I move so far from my mom or not bring her with me? What the hell was I thinking? Right, I wasn’t thinking with my brain, but another member of my anatomy; because I thought I could win the affection of the hottest chick I’d ever come across and look where it’s gotten me. I’m in the grocery store, looking at a million different boxes of cereal, standing next to my son who can’t make up his mind on which one he wants.
Quinn stands next to me with one arm across his stomach and his other resting on top of it. His hand is almost cupping his chin as if he’s deep in thought about what cereal is going to make his first day of school better. Who knew that buying breakfast food was so challenging?
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug.
“How can you not know?” his response confuses me. This kid eats cereal every day and he doesn’t know what kind he wants? This is exactly why I paid my mom to do all my shopping.
“Grandma says that I need to eat well because I’ll be getting up early and breakfast is the most important meal of my day.”
I look at him and roll my eyes because that is exactly what my mom texted to me last night after I asked her to send me the grocery list. My mom helped us get settled in Beaumont, but returned to Los Angeles when we went on tour. Big mistake. I had forgotten how nice it was to have her around. She was my personal assistant until this big move.
“Mr. James?” I turn at the sound of my name and find a tall woman with long blond hair, pushing a cart full of food, behind us.
“Yes?”
“I’m Monica Lowell… from Quinn’s school… his teacher. We met at the end of the school year when you came in and registered him.”
I look at her for a moment before her words set in.
“Oh yes, hi.” I extend my hand and shake hers.
“I see you’re getting ready for school to start.”
I look at our barren grocery cart and compare it to hers. I need a lot more food. “Yeah we just got back from being on tour, need to replenish.”
“Quinn, are you ready for school?”
He shrugs, which I’m starting to think is his new thing.
“I’m sure he’s ready.” Quinn looks at me briefly before turning back to the cereal selection. Maybe he’s not ready for public school.
“Well, it was nice to run into you guys. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Bye.” I watch her as she walks down the aisle. My head bends slightly when she bends over to pick something up.
“She likes you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can tell. She makes those eyes.”
“What eyes?” I ask.
“The same ones Josie makes at Liam all the time. Noah teases her about it. He says they’re the sexy eyes.”
“You guys watch too much TV,” I say as I push the cart away. “Pick a cereal and let’s go.”
I head to the next aisle and find his teacher there as well. She looks and smiles when she sees me. I wink, even though I don’t mean to, and the result is an instant blush. She fumbles with the box that she had in hand and I can tell she’s embarrassed.
I try not to laugh and have to turn away so she doesn’t see the shit-eating grin on my face. Quinn’s right, maybe she does have a crush.
“Oh ouch.”
I turn back around and find Monica bent over rubbing her head. “Are you okay?” I ask as I walk to her.
“Fine,” she responds is a raspy voice. This is the same voice that Elle uses when she’s trying not to cry. I reach for her hand and pull it away from her head. She’s got the makings of a nasty goose egg forming.
“What did you do?”
“It’s stupid. I’ll be fine. The shelf and I had a disagreement.”
�
��It doesn’t look fine. You need some ice.” I move her hair away from her face and study her wound as if I’m suddenly a doctor. I’m closer to her than I want to be, but I feel responsible for what she’s done to herself. I don’t intend to flirt with her, but it’s nice to be flirted with, so I inadvertently return the gesture.
“Dad, look who’s…”
My head snaps to Quinn’s voice and behind him is Katelyn. When I look at her, her eyes immediately look down to the ground. Well isn’t this great? I’m in a no-win situation already, so what the hell.
“You should really put some ice on your bump and call me if you need anything.”
“I will, thanks.”
I smile and go back to my cart. Katelyn is still standing there, and for the life of me, I’m not sure why. She made it very clear that we’ll never be anything to each other, so why does she look so down?
“Your teacher bumped her head,” I say to Quinn.
Quinn looks from me to Katelyn. I know he likes her, but I can’t force her to be with me. The look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He doesn’t want me talking to his teacher.
“Come on, we gotta finish shopping.” I set my hand on his shoulder and guide him out of the aisle without a second look at Monica and with nothing said to Katelyn.
Now I know why I paid my mom to do all my shopping. The grocery store is full of drama and confusion.
I fire up my bike for the first time in months. I don’t know why I don’t ride it more often, especially since Quinn likes it. It’s just not practical, unless we are going for a drive, and we haven’t done that in a long time. I drive to the water tower, Liam’s favorite place to sit and relax, except tonight is some type of celebration that he’s invited me to. I’m surprised that the town of Beaumont hasn’t removed the ladder and deemed water tower drinking against the law, but I suppose when your police force are all locals, they turn a blind eye to such a thing.
When I arrive, the party is in full-force. I park away from most of the trucks, the last thing I need is for a beer bottle to hit my bike. I leave my helmet on my seat and look around for Liam or Josie. Music is blasting out of a stereo, a throwback to the 80s.
My Unexpected Forever Page 11