Where We Left Off (15 page)

Chapter 25

She stood alone in the middle of the driveway and watched him until he was no longer in sight. Her ears echoed the sound of crickets chirping into the empty night air blending in with the sounds of a light wind rustling through the trees.  There was no more arguing, there was no more trying to make sense of a senseless night; there was nothing.  A sadness that scared her more than anything weighed on her shoulders like storm clouds over rough seas.  They had never been in an argument before, and she had never seen that look in his eyes.  In the midst of all the reasons she was angry with him, she felt horrible about him deciding to leave her there and go to the hotel without her.  She walked into the house through the garage door that led into the kitchen.  Neither her mother nor her father was in the room.  Just as she closed the door, her father walked into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?”

Tears lined the tips of her fingers as she wiped them away.  Her father took a deep breath, poured a glass of sweet tea from the refrigerator, and placed it on the counter towards her in front of an empty stool.  He leaned back against the edge of the island and waited for her to sit down.  By then her tears were falling faster than she could wipe them away.  Although he had a lot to say, he put his thoughts and feelings aside and didn’t go into any of what he heard or any of what took place between he and Mason at the restaurant.  From the expression on Sydney’s face, that couldn’t have been the Mason she knew; he could see that.  She took a sip from the sweat tea, waiting for her father to pass his disapproval, but to her surprise he didn’t.

“You love him, don’t you?” he asked.

Trembling with tears she answered him, “Yes daddy, I really do.”

They stayed up for a large portion of the night talking.  Even after her mother had gone to bed, they remained.  They moved from the kitchen to the family room and sat in almost complete darkness, had it not been for the glowing lights from the Christmas tree and the glaring fire from the fireplace.  Knowing very little, he asked her more about Mason and she told him everything.

She bundled herself in an old blanket on the sofa with her legs resting tightly beneath her.  Thurgood, as he did most days, sat back in his seasoned recliner and listened as the tears that once fell down her face disappeared behind moments of smiles and good memories.  He knew the more she talked the better she would feel.  Every so often, in between one story and the next, he would catch her glancing at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace.  Neither one of them realized how late it was.  The time was not why she was looking, though.  Between the clock and her discreetly glancing at her cell phone, the two were a disheartening reminder that Mason hadn’t once called. 

Thurgood stood up from the chair preparing to head upstairs for bed, pushing the footrest in so it wouldn’t pop out later, and kissed her on the top of her head.  “Get some rest sweetheart.  He’ll call,” he said with a subtle tone of assurance. 

“Good night, daddy,” she sighed.

His footsteps faded into the background, up the stairs, and into his bedroom.  Sydney could hear the floorboards above her squeak as he got into bed.  She went into the kitchen and warmed up a cup of hot chocolate and rested comfortably on the sofa, even though her mother had prepared a room for her upstairs.  She put her phone on the coffee table in front of her and stared at it as if it were going to ring any minute.  The longer she stared, the more she felt like an idiot.
Why am I waiting for him to call me?
she asked herself.  She quickly sat her cup of hot chocolate down and dialed his number.  She leaned back, biting her fingernails waiting, with each ring in anticipation of hearing him say hello.  By the fourth ring, she knew it wasn’t going to happen.  His voicemail answered.  Maybe he was asleep, or at the very least just away from his phone, she hoped.  The one thing she didn’t want to think was that he was staring at her number as the phone rang and intentionally didn’t answer.

“Sir, can I help you?” a voice called out trying to get Mason’s attention

Mason stood in line staring at the missed call from Sydney.  He slid the phone back into his pocket without thinking twice.

“I’m sorry,” he responded. “I’m checking in.”

“And where are you flying to?” she asked.

“Home,” he tiredly responded.

He never checked into the hotel; from the looks of it, he never intended to.  When he left Sydney in the midst of their heated argument, he decided instantly that he wasn’t going back and he wasn’t staying in Charleston.  He took the first exit he saw to the airport and drove straight there.  He checked in his luggage and had them hold hers in baggage claim for her flight in few days.  A part of him felt guilty, but in that moment nothing mattered to him except getting away and getting home.  It was like he had turned off his ability to feel anything at all. 

             
He was one of only a few people in the terminal waiting for the flight to Philadelphia, or anywhere for that matter.  The wait was long, which meant he had a lot more time to think - more than he’d hoped for.  After a while he began to wonder if leaving the way he intended to, tonight, was the best decision.  As far as Sydney knew he was at the hotel, asleep, and she would see him in the morning.  As he stepped foot on that plane he knew that when morning came she would know, and she would never forgive him. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention; flight 1765 to Philadelphia is now boarding at Gate C13; flight 1765 to Philadelphia now boarding at Gate C13.”

He boarded the airplane and was greeted by the attendants smiling and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.  He hadn’t realized the hour had already crossed into morning.  He took a seat in first class and was instantly greeted by another attendant, who took his drink order.  It was almost twenty minutes after that before he heard the doors to the cabin close and felt the movement of the plane beneath him getting into position to take off.  The flight attendant had already gone over the safety procedures and was on the loud speaker instructing all of those who had electronic devices to turn them off.  He thought by then his battery had already died, but as he checked it to be sure he noticed his voicemail icon blinking and remembered the missed call from Sydney.  He moved his finger over the icon and then back away indecisively. 
It’s just a message,
he thought, and he listened.

“I know it’s late and you are probably asleep.” She paused, “I’m really sorry about tonight, I really am.  I don’t know all of what happened with you and my dad and I really don’t care.  I just wish you were here.  Anyway, tomorrow is Christmas and the only gift that I want is what I already have and that’s the best gift in the world…
You!
  So I’m going to tell you at least one of your gifts, although I’m sure you’ve already known for some time. 
I love you
.” She chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sir, please turn off your phone, we are preparing to take off,” the flight attendant interrupted.

It was the first time she had ever told him she loved him, and definitely the last thing he needed to hear.  He pulled the phone from his ear and pressed the power button with more mixed emotions than he had when he first arrived at the airport but he was already in motion, though, and technically already gone.  He watched through the window as the airplane left the ground over Charleston, and his expectation of tomorrow over Sydney.  It wasn’t a question of whether or not he had overreacted; it was obvious he had, but there was nothing he could do about it.

By the time the flight touched down it was early morning.  He had watched the sun rise above the reaching towers as the plane made its way into the city.  Everything was different.  The weather caused a chilling breeze to blow against him, bringing the harsh reality that Charleston was no more. Now, like every year before, apart from spending the holiday with his brother, he was alone on Christmas.  He took the shuttle to his car, threw his luggage into the trunk, and sat in the driver’s seat without turning on the engine, the heat, or the radio; he didn’t move. 

             
“What did I just do?” he asked himself aloud.

             
His head fell back against the headrest and he took a breath so deep it was almost hard for him to catch.  He finally started the car and pulled out of the parking garage.  It took him almost an hour to get home.  He turned into his neighborhood, noticing that more cars were parked in his neighbors’ driveways and along the street than there had been when he left.  The holidays usually brought everyone out, and not one of the driveways on his street was bare except for his.  That wasn’t new he usually spent Christmas at Jackson’s but it seemed to be the first time that it actually bothered him.  

He parked his car without pulling into the garage and walked into the house.  It was empty and cold.  He could see the Christmas tree in the house next door through his window; Mason watched their little boy opening gifts and his parents sitting back cuddled next to each other, smiling contently.  He looked around his own house. He took a good look from where he stood, and for the first time he saw nothing.  There was no Christmas tree, no decorations, no fire burning in the fireplace or gifts being opened along the floor accompanied by excitement and smiles - just his overpriced furniture, his flat screen television, and everything he once prided himself on having as an eligible bachelor. 

He dropped his luggage at the door, took off his shoes, and slowly walked up the stairs and got into the shower.  The water hadn’t quite warmed up yet but he let it run down him, hoping with every drop it would somehow wash away the guilt and regret that hung over him.  The silence that echoed once the water stopped running made it clear, though, those feelings weren’t going anywhere.
  Sydney has to be awake now
, he thought.  He considered calling her, but if he did, what would he say,
I’m sorry?
  The exchange of words with her father at the restaurant and the argument he had with her in front of their house – the things he said to her.  He shook his head in resentment.  He knew if he called her there wouldn’t be a single word he could say to make anything better and there would definitely be no explanation when she asked, “Where are you?”

Chapter 26

             
“What do you mean you left her in Charlotte!?”    

             
Jackson and his wife Kerri were up preparing a Christmas breakfast for her family, who was coming into town later that morning, when Mason got there.  Jackson nearly dropped the eggs when Mason told him what he had done.

“So wait… let me get this straight.  You got into an argument, a simple disagreement, and instead of just dealing with it you got on a plane in the middle of the night and left her in Charleston…alone…on Christmas?” he rhetorically asked.

“She’s with her family––”

“But not with you, the man she’s dating, the one who surprised her with the trip in the first place,” Jackson shook his head.

“Sounds a bit childish to me,” Keri added, pulling milk from the refrigerator.

“And I’m looking for where your opinion matters, Keri,” Mason said irritably.

“Mason,” Jackson interrupted.

“What?  I didn’t come here to be evaluated  by a shrink, Jacks.”

Knowing Keri, and knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to say something else given the chance, Jackson washed the flour from his hands and went down into the basement with Mason to finish talking.  He could tell by the way Mason skirted around certain parts of the story that there had to be more to it. Whatever it was, it had to be serious for him to leave the way he had.

There were boxes everywhere, some opened and some sealed with writing on them. 

“Are y’all moving?” Mason asked

“No.  Just getting rid of a few things,” Jackson replied, going behind his bar. 

He reached inside the small refrigerator beneath the counter and slid Mason a Heineken.  “So what exactly happened?” he asked. 

Nursing his drink, Mason rested his arms on the bar and told Jackson everything from the beginning. 

“But you were having a good time, right?” Jackson inquired midway through, leaning against the counter behind him.

“I was having a great time! I honestly really was enjoying the trip.  When we finally got to her parents’ house we were both excited to see her family, apart from being a little tired.  I met her mother, and she was great.”

“What about her father?

Mason chuckled darkly, “He reminded me a lot of Kevin.”

Jackson had a pretty good idea of how the rest of the night must have played out. 

Kevin was their stepfather, the man their mother had married a few years after their father passed away.  Jackson was sixteen at the time, and Mason only twelve.  He was the assistant pastor of his father’s church, and a great musician. 

Jackson’s experience with Kevin was no different than most young boys’ experience with a stepfather.  They had thrown the ball around on the weekends, gone to the occasional football game, and had even talked about girls. Mason, on the other hand, had a completely different experience. 

They had stopped playing ball on weekends soon after the wedding, which was only two years after Kevin and his mother first met.  They never talked about girls, and they never went to football games. They had even stopped the piano lessons.  Jackson could still remember the look on Mason’s face when he had left for college; he had never seen Mason more afraid.

Jackson reached into the refrigerator and took himself out a Heineken and popped the top open.  “She never told you about her father?” he asked.

“That he was a pastor?” Mason shook his head.  “No, she never talked a lot about him.  I mean not that that was a bad thing; she just kept it minimal.  I tried my hardest to be myself, to act like everything was okay but it wasn’t, and he kept on talking in that same condescending, arrogant, I’m better than everyone tone.”

Jackson had to interrupt him “Mason,” he put his head down, “at some point you’re going to have to move past this.  I’m not even going to pretend that I know what it was like for you, but you can’t hold every priest, pastor, or church accountable for the acts of one man.”

“Can’t I?”

“No, you can’t!  I get that he reminded you of Kevin, but he wasn’t Kevin.  He may have been a pastor like Kevin, he may have even worn the same kind of clothes as Kevin, but it wasn’t him.  I mean, you’re almost thirty years old how long are you going to let your past dictate your future?”

“You sound just like your wife, you know that?” 

But Jackson was right. Even though Mason knew that, it was still hard to process.  The way he felt around Kevin was the same exact feeling that had come over him the moment Sydney’s father walked into the kitchen.  Kevin had a way of making a grown man feel like a child in his presence; or at least that’s how Mason had always felt.  For years, growing up in that house was like living in a cult.  Kevin was the one who decided right from wrong, who said go or stay.  He was the one who chose what was okay and what wasn’t.  Jackson had gone long before that side of him came out, but Mason remembered it vividly.  It was imprinted on his entire being. 
Kevin was the one who decided what was right and what was wrong. 

Mason took a sip of his drink, “You weren’t there Jacks.”

“And neither was Sydney or her father but they are the ones being treated like they were.  Not to mention Sydney, for whatever strange reason,” he laughed, making the moment less serious, “actually cares about you.  But you probably just messed that up.”

“Yeah,” he subtly agreed, shaking his head and pulling a box out of his pocket wrapped in lilac wrapping paper with a hand tied white bow.

Shocked, confused, and proud at the same time, Jackson’s eyes fixed on the box as Mason moved it about in his hands.

“Are you serious?” Jackson inquired curiously.

Mason looked at him with a stare of knowing he had made a huge mistake.

“I was going to propose to her today.  That was the real reason behind the trip. Or…it became the real reason for the trip.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”  He paused, looking down at the unopened box as if he’d just missed the biggest opportunity of his life.  “Maybe I shouldn’t do anything.”

Still at her parents’ house, Sydney had been up for hours, awakened by the burst of excitement and the loud voices of her nieces.  They had the living room a complete mess from opening Christmas presents.  Empty and torn boxes and colored wrapping paper covered the carpet and left hardly any room to walk.  Sydney, who was still asleep when they burst through the front door, watched them with endearment almost wishing she had children of her own.  Ironically, she immediately thought of Mason.  She walked over to a chair beside the window, away from all the unwrapping madness, almost tripping over a pile of unopened gifts.  It was a new day, a beautiful day, and the only thing that would make it better was to hear his voice and to see his face. 

She called, but his phone was going straight to voicemail. She waited and called again, and again, and again.  Something was wrong.  She tried not to believe it, but she knew what she felt.  She made a few more calls to see if he had checked into the hotel, and still nothing.  He wasn’t answering his phone, and the hotel they were supposed to stay at had no record of him ever checking in.  There was only one more call to make, one that she put past being remotely possible even as she dialed the numbers and reached the automated system.  With a few selections and the mention of his name, her heart fell like a weight to the bottom of the ocean.  She slowly dropped her phone from her ear and sat in the chair staring out the window, almost fading in the stillness of the trees draped in snow. 

Her father noticed her as he walked into the study to find batteries for his camera.  “Is Mason on his way?” he asked from a distance

“He never made it to the hotel,” she answered softly.

“He never made it!? Is everything okay?” he asked, walking towards her. 

She took a minute, stood up from the chair, and cleared her throat.  “He went home,” she said in humiliated disbelief.  “I just got off the phone with the airport.”

She forced a smile on her face so as not to cause anyone else to see what she was feeling, and walked back into the living room.  She laughed and played with the kids as if nothing in the world was bothering her.  It was obvious, though; one word could have brought her to tears.  And by the end of the night, the lack of one would.