Chapter Twenty-Six
Mara-Preset
Trouble-Coldplay
Jason is gone by the time I wake up the next morning, probably working off steam in the garage gym. Like usual.
Last night plays on repeat in my head with the steady beat of the drumming in my temples.
My body is sore, I’m tired, my brain is exhausted.
I haven’t felt this way in a while. It’s too all consuming to ignore but I’m no longer in a position where I can stay in bed for god knows how long.
So I rip myself out of bed and start getting ready.
I can’t believe I told Jason about my suicide attempt. And I can’t believe Dylan heard it too.
That should be the least of my worries considering Jason attacked his brother last night. But I have a feeling Jason will do whatever it takes to make things right with Dylan. They are too close and have been through too much together to let this tear them apart.
Besides, Dylan doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge. He loves his brother, that much is evident. And doesn’t love overpower everything else?
While I’m washing dishes after breakfast, I notice both boys standing in the open door of the shop.
Dylan holds something in his hands while Jason leans against the doorframe with his hands tucked in his coat pockets.
Something about the way he stands looks so unsure, like a child waiting to be told they misbehaved.
He looks so innocent I just want to hug him and brush my fingers through his hair.
No, Mara. That’s coddling and he doesn’t deserve to be coddled after the way he behaved.
Snooping through the window, I see the two brothers embrace one another in a man hug which makes a heavy weight lift from my soul. They’re too important to one another to stay mad for very long. I just hope Jason found a way to adequately apologize. Dylan deserves that much from him.
They head back to the house, traipsing through the snow.
We had another snowfall last night. Doesn’t look like I’ll be able to get down the mountain anytime soon.
Not sure I want to, either. It feels like we have unfinished business.
It feels like I have unfinished business.
Like I was sent here for a reason and it hasn’t been fulfilled yet.
I can’t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction.
As soon as the pair walk through the door, kicking snow off their boots, I observe, “That was a fast recovery.” Leaning my hip against the sink, I cross my arms over my chest and stare them down.
Dylan looks between me and his brother and shrugs one shoulder. “We’re brothers.” He states it like it answers every question under the sun. “We can’t stay mad at each other long.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I go back to washing the pan in the sink but continue to talk to them with my back turned. “You both need haircuts. I’m not saying I’m a pro but I think I could do a pretty good job if you’re willing.”
I hear a subtle chuckle behind me and I’m not sure if it’s from Dylan, Jason, or both. But Dylan answers, “Why not. If you fuck it up, it’ll grow out by the time I have to see other human beings again.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I flick soapy water at him as he dodges past. “Let’s do it before dinner. Do you have clippers?”
“In the bathroom upstairs. I’ll bring them down later. I think your man wants your attention right now.”
I turn my head over my shoulder to see Jason standing only a foot away from me.
Downcast eyes and worried brows clue me in to how vulnerable he’s going to be, or at least it feels that way to him.
I dry my hands on a towel then turn to face him, resting my hip against the counter waiting for whatever it is he has planned to try and make up for last night.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Jason extends a piece of paper gripped in his hand toward me.
What is this?
I take the paper from him and unfold it to see what is clearly a man’s handwriting—Jason’s handwriting.
He wrote me a letter? I thought he doesn’t communicate with anyone. Not even like this.
Dear Mara,
Fuck, this feels weird. I haven’t written in years. But you asked me to try. So I am.
First off, I want to apologize for last night, for almost hitting you and for losing my temper.
Last night, I morphed into a version of my father, the man I’ve hated for so fucking long.
I didn’t even realize I was becoming him until last night and that’s not who I want to be.
That’s not who my mom raised. I’ve been angry for so long and I don’t want to be. I’m trying. I’m trying for you.
Secondly, I’m sorry for making you feel like you can’t talk to me.
I’m sorry you had to hold so much in for so long.
I wish I could change so much about our story but I can’t.
I wish you and I had had a better start.
And that you’d had a better life. You don’t have to tell me what led to you driving to the bridge.
It’s none of my business. I want to be here for you if you need to talk about it.
I want to be more for you. I want to be enough.
I know there’s so many obstacles and my speech issue doesn’t help.
But I hope you can accept it for what it is.
Lastly, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we got a second chance. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until now. You were right, last night, we are more than just casual. We’re more, Mara. We’re more.
Sincerely,
Jason
PS Sincerely sounds weird. Scratch that.
I giggle at the post script. I can’t believe my eyes. I can’t believe he wrote to me. I have no idea what his voice sounds like but in a way he’s showing me. His voice doesn’t have sound but it has meaning. It has character.
I look back up at Jason and the worry etched into his features. I’ve never seen him look so helpless. I eliminate the space between us in two quick steps and wrap my arms around him, hands clasped behind his neck. Our lips come together in a searing kiss that binds us together.
“Jason,” I utter as I stroke one hand through his hair. His arms band around me as he nestles his face in my neck and breathes like I’m a life force he thrives on.
“Thank you.” I have no other words for this gesture because I know it must have been hard for him. He’s trying. It’s not perfect but it’s a huge step in the right direction. The fact that he acknowledged our relationship means the world to me.
We’re more.
Those words will be branded on my soul for eternity.
While the roast is in the oven, I set to work trimming the boys’ hair. I think they just agreed to it because we’re all so bored. Cabin fever is a real thing and we are seeking anything new to entertain ourselves with.
It’s clear Jason’s last haircut was quite a while ago, longer than Dylan’s based on the length of his hair.
As far as tools go, I have a pair of scissors and clippers with only the two, four, and seven length attachments. Looks like I’ll be getting creative.
Dragging one of the dining chairs into the center of the kitchen I ask my willing victims, “Ok, who wants to go first?”
The two brothers exchange worried glances before Dylan makes an executive decision. Waving a hand as if he’s presenting a grand gift to his brother, Dylan declares, “She’s your girl, you get to be the guinea pig.”
Jason rolls his eyes then takes the chair like a man, unafraid and confident. But that doesn’t stop Dylan from asking, “Have you ever cut hair before?”
“A couple times in college,” I answer while assessing Jason’s hair, running my fingers through the long strands fully knowing what that does to him.
Maybe I’m being a little devious. “Some of the guys in my hall needed haircuts but starving college students don’t really want to pay for haircuts.
So I was nominated to give it a try. I watched a few YouTube videos and did a pretty good job if I do say so myself. ”
I start to wet Jason’s hair by dipping my hand in a bowl of water since I’m lacking a spray bottle.
“I’m going to be honest,” I lean over Jason’s shoulder, “I like your hair a little longer. But it seems a little hard for you to manage. How about I just give it a trim?“
He smirks up at me. He knows exactly how much I like his hair. Then nods in agreement so I take the scissors in hand and start trimming off an inch or so, shaping it a little bit better so when it’s down it looks less like a mop. Less unintentional and more like he styled it that way on purpose.
“When was the last time you had a haircut?” I ask Jason. His hair was more like Dylan’s length in high school.
He holds two fingers in the air in a peace sign which confuses me, at first I think he means two months which isn’t accurate since we’ve been stuck at the cabin since November.
Then I realize, “Two years?” He nods. “So this sexy hipster man bun thing wasn’t to look like a lumberjack, just pure neglect.
” I can’t help the laugh bubbling out of me.
Only Jason Alder would look sexier when he neglects his appearance.
“What about you, Dylan?”
“Got one at the start of November before the snow fell. I knew it would be a while so I try to get it under control before we go into hibernation.”
His hair is much more awkward looking at the moment, the disheveled phase between short shaggy hair and the 70s face framing look.
“Who do you usually go to to cut your hair in town?”
“Remember Ally Herm?”
“Yeah, I used to be friends with her.”
“Used to go to her, she went to beauty school after high school.”
“I thought she was going to University of Washington for pre-med.”
“Yeah, I think being a rocket surgeon was a lot harder than she thought it would be. She came back to town after one semester and enrolled at the local cosmetology school and became a hairstylist. She was pretty good but I had to stop going to her after this one,” he points at my current client, “slept with her. She wouldn’t stop asking me about him so I tried a real man’s barber and I gotta say, women like me a lot more than straight guys. ”