Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Mascen
After dinner, we leave the parents behind in the house and head outside to the firepit. It’s a chilly evening but the fire more than makes up for it. Liam sits on the ground with his wife Ariella between his legs, his hands on her small round bump. I don’t know how the fuck we got to the point of being the age to start having kids. Dean sits in one of the chairs with Willow in his lap, leaving Lylah, Rory, and me in the other chairs.
“How are things going?” I ask Liam. It was hard to catch up over dinner with so many people and clashing voices.
“Couldn’t be better.” He smiles conspiratorially looking between Rory and me. “Seems you’re not too bad yourself. How’s baseball?”
“Good. Things are about to get busy.”
Lylah heaves a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Are all guys this lacking in detail when it comes to things?”
Willow and Ariella laugh, blurting a simultaneous, “Yes.”
I lift my beer to my lips, refusing to acknowledge them.
“You grew up next door, right?” Liam addresses Rory and she sits up a little straighter.
“I did, but we left when I was eight.”
“You and Mascen kept in touch?”
Her cheeks color. “No, just happened to go to the same school and ran into each other. Here we are.”
“Interesting.” Liam winks at me.
I pull my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket needing to light up the way this conversation is going.
“If you ask me, it’s serendipitous. Chances like this don’t come around often.” Ariella looks between the two of us. I hate being in the fucking spotlight like this.
Sucking on the cigarette, I exhale the air out of my lungs. “Didn’t know we asked your opinion on it.”
Liam straightens and Ari whispers something to him, but he shakes his head. “Dude, don’t talk to my wife like that—and could you put that thing out? Ari’s pregnant in case you failed to notice.”
I narrow my eyes and stand. “Fine.”
Grabbing my beer, I stand. “I’ll be over here, smoking on the opposite side of the yard.”
Settling under the gazebo on the other end from them in front of the pool I stretch my legs out and lie back on my elbows. The furniture that’s normally under here is packed away for the winter months.
Rory walks over sitting beside me.
“You know,” I drawl lazily, “you coming over here will only excite them further and stir the gossip.”
“Let them talk.” She pulls her knees up to her chest wrapping her arms around them. “You’re not a very good conversationalist are you?”
“I don’t like social gatherings.” Crushing the butt of the cigarette against the ground to extinguish it I toss it into the bushes for the landscapers to find later. Lighting up another, I say, “I love my family, but I’m not good at this. I’m too…”
“Secretive?”
“It’s not even about secrets.” I shake my head. “I just don’t like talking about myself. But I guess when you don’t like yourself that’s what you get.”
She stiffens in surprise. “You don’t like yourself?”
I roll my head her way. “What’s there to like? I’m not a good person.”
“Why is it you think you’re that way?”
“Didn’t know this was going to turn into a goddamn therapy lesson. If I wanted that we could’ve had this talk in the treehouse.”
A smile plays on her lips and she tucks them together like that can erase her amusement. “Tell me anyway.”
“It’s easier to know why people don’t like me—because I give them a reason to—than to question what I’ve done wrong.”
“You’re talking about your dad aren’t you?”
I finish my cigarette. “I guess.”
“Have you ever tried having a conversation with him about how you feel?”
“Why would I? It wouldn’t change anything.” I think about how I blew up at him the first night home. He hasn’t brought it up and our conversations have been like normal. Short and to the point.
“You never know.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
She looks at me for a long moment, searching for something but what I’m not sure. “Okay isn’t good enough. Not for anyone. Don’t settle for it.”
She starts to get up, but before she walks away I grab her hand, forcing her to look back at me. “Thank you for coming here with me.”
A smile softens her face, her eyes warm behind her glasses. “You’re welcome.”
Her hand begins to pull from mine and I tighten my hold. “Rory?”
“Yeah?” She hesitates, her smile a little wary.
“Don’t settle for okay either.”
The days pass quickly and suddenly it’s my last day home. A part of me is relieved to be going tomorrow, but I also don’t know how that’s going to change things between Rory and me. Here we’ve been in our own little bubble, a silent truce cast between us, and come tomorrow we’ll be entering our old world and I’m not sure what that means.
Walking down the stairs I turn for the hall nearly walking straight into my dad coming out of his hedgehog room—yeah, he has a whole room for his hedgehogs. He tried to convince Rory to adopt one, but I cut him off because no way are they allowing one of his spiky little monsters into a dorm.
“Mascen, I wanted to talk to you.”
I jerk back in surprise. “Uh, really? About what?”
“Come on.” He opens the door back up, nodding for me to follow him inside. I feel uneasy, like I’m being led to slaughter. Contrary to popular belief I hate confrontation.
Inside he motions for me to sit on the couch. One of the hedgehogs runs on the wheel he custom built for it and I stare at the weird looking little animal so I don’t have to look at him.
He sits down in the chair waiting for me to acknowledge him.
“What do you want, Dad?” I know it’s better to get this over with than to drag it out.
“I think we need to have a talk.”
“Honestly, Dad, it’s not necessary. I shouldn’t have blown up at you. It’s fine.” I start to stand.
“Sit down, Mascen.”
I plop my ass down immediately. I might be an adult now, but his tone is the one every parent has that the kid knows not to argue with. When your mom or dad uses that voice you shut up and listen.
Resting his chin in his hands he seems to be gathering himself.
“I’ve thought non-stop about what you said. It hurt, I won’t lie, but I never saw things the way you did.” I open my mouth to speak but he holds his hand up for me to shut up. “I’m not saying you’re wrong—everyone has a right to how they feel and a reason they do, me telling you that you’re wrong wouldn’t change the situation.”
Leaning back, he runs his fingers through his hair. “I love music, I love my band, I love making fans happy and being up on stage, but you, your sisters, your mom, that’s my real reason for breathing. My family has always meant more to me than that. It’s why we chose to stop touring for a while, to give you kids a chance to go to a regular school and live as close to a normal life as possible. But just because we weren’t in L.A. as much or touring it didn’t mean it changed who I was. Who I am.”
He shakes his head, giving himself a moment. “I feel like I’m explaining this all wrong, but I’m trying. You’ve always been the most independent out of the three of you. Sure, Willow is wild and carefree, but she needs her family to thrive. She needs a tether. Lylah is a social butterfly, but she’s still always wanted me and your mom to hold her hand through things. But you were always so stubborn and fiercely independent. You always told me not to help, that you were a big boy and could do it on your own. Even as a toddler you were always saying that. You’ve always reminded me of my brother in that way. Mathias has never wanted to admit when he needs help or someone to be there for him. He’s afraid he’s admitting weakness if he can’t handle something on his own. You wanted to take on the world and I stepped back to watch, because I knew you could do it. I’ve always believed in you, son. You talked about your games and me not being there or leaving, and that’s on me, not you, and how I felt. I thought you didn’t want me there. Any time I was you’d find me in the stands and glare like you wished you could erase me. I figured it was because of the attention I’d get and the disturbance it caused, so I’d leave, and then I stopped coming all together.”
He pushes up from the chair and comes to sit beside me. “I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel any less than loved. You kids are my world, the one your mom and I created together.”
“Ew, Dad,” I protest, not wanting this to jump to a birds and the bees topic.
He chuckles, ruffling my hair like I’m five. “Never doubt that I’m proud of you, Mascen. I’m beyond honored to be your father. We might have different interests, God knows I can’t play sports to save myself, but it doesn’t mean we don’t have other things in common. I love you. So much.”
“Don’t make me cry, Old Man.”
He chuckles, his eyes brimmed with tears and he yanks me into his arms in a tight hug. He releases me from the hug but keeps a hold on my shoulders. “I know words can’t make everything better, or change the way you felt, but I’m going to do whatever I can to make it up to you.”
I don’t even know what to say, but I guess sometimes you don’t need words.