dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (33 page)

Damn it,
Mason is my son?

How the fuck did that happen? I thought I had a daughter, but I guess going off your intuition or gut feeling isn’t always the best.
I didn’t know.
It was the same thing Mason had said just moments ago.
I didn’t know
.

How easy is it to use those words to accommodate for our actions or lack of actions?
I didn’t know.
But one person did know. Blake knew the entire night he spent with me. He even hinted at it in a cheap way to ease his conscience. But he didn’t tell me. He knew and he didn’t tell me.

I sat down on the floor in front of my dad’s old record player. He always had this playing in the garage when he worked outside or just wanted some time alone. He told me once that alone time was just as important as spending time with my mom. He said it’s what kept their relationship good. A lot of good that did for him or my mom.

I flipped through his old records and selected Elton of course.
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
was what worked at this point.

After the piano started in, I walked to his old metal lockers and pulled out his coveralls. They were still in the same place he put them and by keeping them in the garage, the smell of gasoline and oil remained on them. I hugged them to me and took a seat in front of the mesh speakers, closed my eyes and let the song consume me.

“Brecken you’re going to get yourself dirty,” my mother said as I ran through the mud with my bare feet.

“Oh let her be, Adriana. Every little girl needs to know what it feels like to run in the mud. We don’t want her being a priss, do we?” my father asked as he pulled my mom in for a hug, then leaned her back and kissed her passionately. She squealed in delight and then wacked him on the shoulder before running to jump in the mud with me.

The jump caused mud to spatter up onto her white skirt. She laughed as she picked up a wad of mud and threw it at my dad.

It was the same joke every time since I was young. The same conversation had transpired between my parents. It changed when it was in reference to my brother though. “Let him do the dishes and make dinner; we don’t want him to be a chauvinist.” They taught us both to be ourselves and to take care of ourselves.

I wanted to take care of myself because I knew it would make both my parents happy.

“So you turned eleven today, didn’t you Brecks?” my dad asked, knowing full well it was my birthday. He always remembered birthdays. He was better at it than my mom.

“You know what we’re doing today for your birthday?” he asked with a wide grin. The grin that always made me feel special because my dad gave it only to me. He had a special smile for each of us.

“What are we doing, Daddy?” I asked.

“We’re getting you your very own drum set. It won’t be just a practice pad anymore; you’re getting your own kit. I think that’s what they’re called,” he said on a laugh.

“Really?” I asked with excitement. “Thank you!” I said running to my mom and hugging her and then I jumped up onto my dad as he twirled me around the back yard.

My dad went and picked up the drum kit and brought it home. He set it up in our garage and told me now I could practice any time I wanted to.

The next few weeks I practiced nonstop.

Then my dad died and I stopped practicing.

I didn’t pick up a drumstick until a month after Mason was born.

Music brought me back.

It was surreal that Mason had chosen drums to play.
Mason.
He was such a good kid and I had felt an instant connection with him. He was my flesh and blood, but I couldn’t call him son. I just met him.

The door to the garage opened and I looked up to see Mason walking in.

“Hey,” he said as he sat next to me on the floor.

“Hey,” I said as I started the song over.

“Elton John?” Mason asked.

“Yep. My dad was a fan—err, your grandpa I should say,” I said as I looked down and crossed my legs.

“What was his name?” Mason asked with hesitation. “I mean if you don’t want to talk to me about family I understand. Also if you just want to be friends and work on music and not talk about this weirdness I understand that too. I don’t need anything, I mean I told you I have a close relationship with my adoptive parents and I love them a lot. But I do want to know you. I’ve already gotten to know you and it has been awesome,” he said as he toyed with the edge of his black socks he wore with his chucks and shorts.

“Can I tell you something Brecken?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“Yesterday when I found out, I freaked. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend because of this. But then I was so fucking happy too. I mean the fact that we have so much in common was crazy. But to know that you’re my birth mother filled me with so much pride. I didn’t want to believe it at first—that you could be my mom. I talked to Pike about it at the party. He told me I shouldn’t have put Blake in the position to keep it from you. So please don’t hold it against him. His heart was in the right place,” Mason said.

His heart wasn’t in my place though
.

“I don’t want to talk about Blake right now,” I said. “I’m sorry for not reading your letter.”

Mason laughed. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand. But it does suck that you thought I was a girl,” he said with a deep laugh.

“Yeah, sorry. How’d you know about that?” I asked with a laugh myself.

“Well, Blake told me yesterday.”

“He did, did he? At least he was open and honest with one of us,” I said, not hiding my annoyance and anger.

“Please don’t be pissed at him,” Mason said quietly.

“I can’t, Mason. I can’t talk about it right now. Do you want to work on some music?” I asked. I needed music. I needed something.

“Sure,” he said.

“Okay, show me what you’ve got, kid,” I said with a half smile. “Oh and you asked what your grandpa’s name was—William.”

“Hmm, William McNett—I like that,” Mason said as he took his seat behind the same drums his grandfather helped me practice on.

I tried to smile more, but I couldn’t let it grow into a full one. I felt like part of my heart was ripped out because of Blake.

But at the same time, part of it was filling back up as I watched Mason.

I gave birth to an amazing boy. He may not have been raised by me, but he’s here now. I may not be able to call him son, but at least I was going to be able to call him friend.

A black circle was painted across the wall. The question written in white through its center.

Did you feel the hole you left in your absence?

There are also montages in movies that aren’t filled with someone bettering themselves. There are those that have the solemn orchestral music playing over the main character sitting and staring at walls or drinking themselves into oblivion.

I did a little of both. No, I did a lot of both.

I mindlessly doodled the spiral design of her tattoo on my pad of paper. I couldn’t stop doing that either it seemed—staring at the wall or doodle.

Spirals. I was seeing the fucking things everywhere it seemed. I threw my pen and rested my head on the edge of my table, as my thoughts ran through the memories of that day. They repeated in my mind and I found myself trapped to them.

“I can’t Blake. I told you, I don’t deal well with major fuck ups. You kept something from me and you lied to my face. I saw something was wrong and when I asked you, you said you were fine. You played that bullshit card of something going to be shared with me today. Well, this is a major fucking something to keep from me. Then you made love to me. I think that hurt the most. You didn’t just screw me last night, you told me you loved me,” Brecken had said as tears filled her eyes. “I felt cherished and l even thought of fairy tales. But you know what, I was right. I was right all along. You know why?” she asked.

I shook my head in response.

“Because fairy tales always end on a high note—real life doesn’t.”

“Brecken,” I had said. “You need to get over yourself. I did it for you, and I did it for your son. It wasn’t my place to tell you about that.”

“Fuck you Blake. I told you. I told you how I felt about telling the truth. And don’t fucking tell me to get over myself.”

Then I watched her walk away. It was a combination of anger, stubbornness, and fear that made me stay put and not run after her. I knew she was different. I loved her, but I still couldn’t get myself to chase her.

She pissed me off. She didn’t even give me a chance to apologize. I knew I fucked up, but I did it out of trying to give her the truth she needed. She didn’t need to find out who her child was from me.

Granted how she found out wasn’t any better. The worst part of it was I felt it in her hand first.

I was holding her hand as she listened to her mother’s excitement at meeting Mason. Her hand went limp in mine and I never felt so weak in my life. I couldn’t do anything for her in that moment but panic at knowing the failure she was afraid to face hit her head on.

Then I tried to help Mason out by saying he just found out yesterday and I felt the realization hit her. The realization that I knew and didn’t tell her. The realization that I kept this from her while I held her in my arms the night before. I felt her reaction in her hand and I felt the severing of our connection.

I didn’t know you could feel a difference in how someone felt in your hand or arms. I didn’t know because I never felt truth and reality with someone before her and in one moment, I caused it all to be false.

I didn’t think there was any way to go back to the reality of us after that.
Us.

It wasn’t flashes that came back to me of the time we shared. I remembered every moment of it. She was different. We were different. She got me. She laughed at me. She let me laugh at her and didn’t get offended.

But the one thought of her that was the loudest were those tear filled eyes of hers. She shouldn’t cry from pain. I shouldn’t have been the source of her tears. I only wanted to see tears of joy. The tears she shed from being so moved by the music or art around her. But this was pain, not joy.

She was right. It would have hurt less if we had just screwed and if we didn’t feel something for each other. But I couldn’t do that with her. It wasn’t possible. I did love her. I do love her. It didn’t stop just because she left. Now we both hurt because I fucked up.

But she did too. If she wasn’t so fucking stubborn and would’ve just listened, we could have saved us. She’d understand why I didn’t tell her. It wasn’t my fault that she ran like a fucking tiger was chasing her.

Chase her.

I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t chase her.

Or could I?

I poured myself more whisky. I needed to go further into oblivion.

I finished my glass and slammed my hand onto the table. What the fuck was I thinking? We were only together about a month. I can’t be a fucking depressed asshole over her.

Blake Lawson is not that guy.

Fuck, I’m wasted. I just thought of myself in third person.

My phone rang and I answered it without issue, so I must not have been that drunk.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Oh, I can tell by the gruffness of your voice you’ve been drinking haven’t you?” Gabe asked.

“Yep, what of it?” I asked.

“Nothing, that’s what we’re here for. We’re outside your door—you going to let us in?” he asked.

I stood from the table and walked to the door. I unlocked it and opened it and didn’t say a word before sitting back at the table and tossing my phone on the chair next to me.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands as I watched my friends walk in.
Gabe, Karl, and Wynn
.

“We’re here,” Gabe said.

“I see that. I’m surprised you don’t have Toby with you too. But why are you here?” I asked and looked at Wynn. “I seriously surprised to see
you
here, man.”

“
I
seriously surprised?” he asked with a laugh. “How much have you drank?”

“How should I know? I’m in oblivion,” I said as I sailed my hand through the air.

I felt the hollowness alcohol brought with it, but it wasn’t enough to blind me from my emotions. I felt every one that I tried to run from. The strongest one was anger. Anger at Brecken for being so unforgiving. Anger at Mason for putting me in the position to lie. But mostly, anger at myself for not listening to the voice inside telling me to tell Brecken as soon as I knew.

“We aren’t here to drink with you,” Wynn said as he sat on the couch next to Gabe.

“Yes, we’re here to tell you you’re an ass,” Gabe said.

Karl took the other chair at the table as he frowned at Gabe.

“Not cool, Gabe,” Karl said.

“I didn’t realize we had the friendship to tiptoe around things. I’m trying to tell Blake to get over himself and do something,” Gabe said.