CHAPTER 5
A loud knock on the door wakes me up. I jump from the sofa, rubbing my eyes. The knocking continues, slightly more agitated this time.
“I’m coming!” I shout back. “Can’t you wait a little…?” I murmur to myself, sliding into my slippers.
Still drowsy, I drag myself to the front door, and look through the keyhole. What I see, wakes me up immediately.
“You forgot the key again?” I ask Dominick, opening the door wide, but the moment I open them, my eyes fall on someone I know I’ve seen before.
The three of us stand like that, in silence for a few more seconds, then the man speaks first, and it’s the voice I recognize.
“Good afternoon, is this your son?” he asks, his hand gently resting on Dominick’s back.
I grit my teeth in anger. What has he done now?
“Yes,” I nod, extending my hand towards Dominick, urging him to come inside.
“Would you mind if I come in?” the man asks me, with that same authority, that same dominance, and I know that I can’t refuse.
I move to the side, allowing him in. I glance around, realizing it’s a mess. I worked morning shift again, helped Dominick with a few school things in the afternoon, did my round of grocery shopping, and he promised he’d stay out of trouble. I swear…
“Can I get you anything, Mr.…?” I wait expectantly, as he follows me inside, to the kitchen.
“Mason Towers,” he replied. “Mason is fine.”
“Mason,” I repeat. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you. I won’t take much of your time, Mrs.…?”
“Brunswick. Danica is fine.”
“That’s a beautiful name, Danica.”
“Thank you,” I smile, a little nervously.
I turn to Dominick. He’s standing in the doorway. I try to read him, but nothing prepares a mother for this. A stranger bringing her child home.
“Alright then,” I sigh. “Has my son done something?”
Mason walks over to the kitchen table, and sits on one of the chairs. He’s not wearing that bandana from last time, and his curly hair spills all over his face, framing it perfectly. His square jaw is slightly rugged, his beard black, neatly trimmed this time. A little golden earring glimmers in the darkness of his hair. He’s wearing a black checkered shirt, with rolled up sleeves. I wonder what happened to his leather jacket. Bikers never go anywhere without those.
He rests his fingers on the table, long and thick. Burned by the sun, just like his cheeks. His eyes are like the sky, endless and blue. No one can stare into them long enough, without getting lost. I think of Amelia Earhart and her love for the sky. It cost her dearly. She paid for it with her life.
“Maybe we should discuss this with both parents present,” he tells me, and my cheeks flare up immediately at the mention of Dominick’s father.
“My husband passed away,” I say, just like I practiced.
“Oh, my condolences,” he bows his head down quickly.
“Thank you, but it’s been a while, and we’ve learned to live with it,” I say again, this time also like I practiced. I think it actually sounds more convincing now. The thought makes me smile. Who knew I’d become such a good liar? I guess, when your life depends on it, you can get good at just about anything. “So, please go on.”
“Well, I suppose I should start from the beginning,” he sighs, and I already have a headache. “Your son, Dominick, trespassed on my property, and he spray painted my wall.”
“What!?” I storm at Dominick. “Are you fucking kidding me!?”
I am furious beyond belief. I just want to shout at my son and ground him until the end of time, but I can’t because this stranger is in my home, and I have to be careful with any stranger around us. People with skeletons in their closet can never be too sure of anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Mason. “I’m just…”
“Super pissed?” he asks.
“Yes,” I nod, hiding a grin. None of this is funny. And, yet, I’m hiding a grin. What’s wrong with me?
“I was, too, at first.”
He pauses, glancing over at Dominick, who’s looking at his feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, then back. He knows he’s wrong. Just, does he know how wrong he is? I swear, I’ll ground him until he’s too old to even think of doing something like this again.
Then, I think it’s probably all my fault. I haven’t been paying attention to him lately like before. What with the new home, new job, and everything. He started a new school as well, and I should have been there for him. Fuck. This is all my fault.
“Then, it hit me,” Mason continues, oblivious to the storm of emotions taking place inside my mind. “There wasn’t much damage. One of my friends caught him in time. And, besides, that old wall is just begging for a decent paint job.”
He looks over at me, as if he’s expecting me to read his mind. I stare back at him, still not comprehending.
“We could forget all this happened if he repaints the whole house,” Mason rounds up his offer.
“What!?” Dominick interferes, with a furious look on his face. “He said just that one wall!”
“Dominick!” I shout at him again, threatening him with my index finger. Although that has lost its power ages ago. Maybe around the time when he was 4.
“Actually, he’s right,” Mason chuckles. “Don’t get mad at the boy.”
I’m still seething with anger, and I want to get this over with now, but it seems this guy is having fun. At my fucking expense.
“I did say just that one wall. But, the thing is, the whole place could use a good paint job. He can do that one wall as punishment, and I’ll pay him for the other three.”
I could see Dominick’s eyes flash at the thought of doing it for payment, but I couldn’t accept it. This can’t be a reward in any way. It has to be punishment, all the way.
“Not a chance,” I shake my head. “He’ll do it all for free.”
“But, mom - “
“You’ve done enough,” I cut him off. “Now, maybe for once you’ll do what you’re told.”
Dominick grunts, and our guest’s eyes keep sliding from me to Dom, then back at me again. I don’t trust him for some reason. I guess I don’t trust any man with such deep, beautiful eyes. They’re too dangerous.
“If I may say, Danica,” he interferes. “Your son actually did me a favor.”
“A favor?” I ask.
“Me and the guys have been neglecting to do it for ages, but now we have to. And, I have your son to thank for it.”
“Well, that’s a nice way of looking at it, Mr. Towers - “
“Mason.”
“Mason,” I repeat. “And, I appreciate your kindness. I really do. That’s why my son will be happy to do it all for nothing.” I turn to Dominick. “Am I right?”
“Yeah…” he replies, sounding a little annoyed, but aware that he lost this battle.
“I’m sure we’ll be done in two weekends,” Mason tells me. “I wouldn’t want it to interfere with his school work.”
“Thank you,” I try a smile.
“Well, I won’t take up more of your time,” he stands up, then pushes the chair back to where it was. This surprises me. He looks like the kind of person who expects others to do those kind of things for him. “Someone will come pick him up on Saturday at, say 8 am?”
Dominick snorts, but before he can say anything I just nod.
“Perfect,” I solidify the deal.
“Thank you for your understanding,” he offers me his hand.
I swallow heavily, as I take it into mine, trying to give him a manly squeeze. His hand is warm, calloused, twice as big as mine. His thumb traces an invisible line on mine, then I quickly pull back.
“No, thank you,” I correct him.
Dominick and I walk him out of the house, and he just waves at us as he sits on his bike, and drives down the street. His broad back blends in perfectly with his bike, as the sound of the angry, revving engine dissipates all around us. Then, something hits me.
“Did he drive you on his bike back here?”
“Yeah, it was so cool, mom, you should have seen - “
“I’ll come pick you up next time,” I grind my teeth. “And, I can take you there on Saturday morning.”
The very thought of my boy on that bike, being recklessly driven by any of those biker guys sends shivers down my spine. We came here because this little town seemed to offer a safe haven. We didn’t come here for my boy to end up at the hospital because some idiot drove him on his bike, without all the necessary safety precautions.
The very idea of the hospital hits me like a ton of bricks. For others, it was a place of healing.
“But, why? He can just…”
“No!” I snap back. “It’s dangerous.”
“He wasn’t driving fast.”
“I don’t care,” I turn around, signaling that this conversation is over, at least for the time being. “Let’s get some dinner now.”
My stomach refuses any idea of food, but Dominick wolves down the mac and cheese I whip him up quickly, and surprisingly, agrees to being grounded without a single word of defiance.