Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mase—Eighteen Years Old
Play the part.
Act the fool.
Be the asshole they think you are.
Those are the words circulating my brain anytime I’m with my four closest friends: Jacob, Neil, Jason, and Campbell.
That’s what I’m telling myself as I tease Jacob about Jennifer—a girl from school who he’s liked for a long time—and the fact he’s trying to see her tonight, though he claims otherwise.
“I’m not going there,” he denies after I bring up the party happening nearby. “It’s on the way home. Can’t help passing by it.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, not looking away from the TV and plastering on a smile. “And are you hoping to maybe run into someone outside the house on your way past, Jacob?”
The poor guy looks like he wants to disappear into the ground, and that only makes me double-down on my assholery.
If I keep them at a point of slightly hating me, they’re less likely to give a shit, and less likely to want to know anything about me. Less likely to dig.
I always watch the guys with an unwarranted wave of jealousy and longing. Jacob has Campbell, and Neil has Jason.
And me? I have no one.
But they’re unwarranted feelings because that’s how I’ve let things be. How I’ve made things be. I’m different from them. Different from everyone.
Right now, I’m half laying on the floor in Campbell’s room, with my back against the couch, purposely looking like a sloth who gives no shits.
Campbell often plays host to us, and if we’re not here, we’re usually at Jacob’s.
“Jennifer Lapmor did mention she was going to be there.” Campbell quirks a brow at him.
“She actually talked to you guys?” Neil asks, surprised.
I watch as Jacob fidgets, so fucking uncomfortable that I’m tempted to tell them to shut up. I don’t, though. Keep playing along.
Campbell laughs. “No. I doubt she even knew we were behind her when she was talking to her friends.”
“Now that sounds more like it.” I grin at him.
It’s not that I don’t want Jacob to be happy. If a relationship with Jennifer were in the cards for him, then I’d be ecstatic for him . . . mostly. Not that I’d show it.
But I observe everything a lot more than they realize, and I can see that she barely knows he exists. I feel bad for him—not that I show that, either.
Jacob lands an irritated glare on me. “For your information, she talks to me all the time.”
“Probably asking why you’re staring at her.”
“No. She’s said plenty.” Jacob stomps to the bedroom door, trying to convince us he’s just passing by the house where the party is being held. But we all know better.
Remembering the condom I have in my pocket for no other reason than to keep up the act, I call out to stop him from leaving and push to my feet, quickly jumping over Neil on my way to meet Jacob at the door.
“Here.” I whip the condom out and slap it into his palm. “You know, just in case.” I bark out an obnoxious laugh and walk back to the same spot I just vacated.
“Laugh it up now, boys, but you know what? She will be mine one day. I’ll make sure of it. You just wait and see.” He waves the packet at us. “And then I will need this.”
I smile while everyone else chuckles, but his words crawl around in my head, scratching at the surface of my sensitive mind.
I know he didn’t mean he’d force her. Of course, he didn’t. But it rubs me the wrong way regardless, and it’s a struggle to shake off the first thought that comes to mind. “She will be mine one day. I’ll make sure of it. And then I will need this.”
No. I’m being ridiculous.
Get a grip, you idiot.
The vibration of my phone drags me back to the moment, but after a peek at the screen, every other thought ceases and my stomach clenches with worry.
I need to leave. Now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Campbell grab a pillow and I just know it’s headed for my head. Somehow, I catch it before it makes contact with my face.
“You’re an asshole,” Campbell says to me.
With my mind distracted, I force the grin I’m known for and throw the pillow back at him, knowing that if I don’t pull it together, they’ll know something is up and pester me.
“I was just tryin’ to look out for my boy. We all know he doesn’t walk around prepared like some of us.” And that’s a perfect segway into me leaving right the fuck now. “Anyway, I have to go as well. Unlike you losers and the love-sick puppy who just left, I have someone I gotta meet up with.”
I make sure to be a dick as I’m leaving, purposely dropping the controller onto Campbell’s nuts and mumbling some reply to his protest that I don’t even remember because I’m rushing to get out the door.
With one thought on my mind, I jump into my car and speed home as fast as I can.
I’m through my front door seconds after pulling up. “Mom!”
“In here,” I hear her soft voice call out.
Standing outside the bathroom door with my stomach in knots, I knock twice before reaching for the handle. “I’m coming in.” With a quick twist of the knob, I push the door open and walk through, finding Mom’s fragile body naked on the floor, wedged between the toilet and bathtub.
All those knots that grew in my stomach the second I received the SOS text crawl up into my chest and tighten at the sight.
“Fuck.” Rushing to her, I crouch on the ground, reaching for a towel from the rack to cover her body.
“I’m sorry I pulled you away from your friends.”
“Shit, Mom, don’t ever apologize.” I drape the towel over her exposed parts. “Are you injured anywhere?”
“Just a few bruises, I think. Nothing serious.” I know she’s shaken up when she doesn’t call me out on my swearing.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you more when I pick you up.”
She shifts a little. “No. No, I’m okay.” A huff of a laugh. “I just couldn’t get myself out of here.”
Leaning down, I maneuver my hands under her body and lift her into my arms, watching her face for any discomfort. When it appears she’s telling the truth, I move her the rest of the way.
“You know I don’t like you trying to shower without me here. We need one of those walk-in tubs. These bars do shit-all.” I gently place her into the shower chair, briefly checking her back, arms, and legs for bruises, then close the shower curtain.
Embarrassment is not a luxury either of us can afford, though she still wishes she didn’t need me to help her like this.
“And you know I don’t like putting that burden on you, honey.”
“It’s not a burden,” I tell her softly, picking up her phone from beside the toilet. “I don’t mind helping you.”
I owe her everything. My life.
“How did I get so lucky to have a son like you?”
Emotions travel up through my body and get clogged in my throat. Luck had nothing to do with it.
“I’ll just wait outside until you’re done. Don’t try to get out by yourself.”
After her resigned agreement, I step into the hallway to give her some privacy, then close the door behind me, leaning back against it once I hear the water running.
She was diagnosed with a rare neurological disease that attacks her muscles, causing atrophy in her arms and legs.
The symptoms have slowly gotten worse over the years, and though she has suggested she go live somewhere with assisted living, it’s not something we can afford, and I know it’s not what she really wants to do, anyway.
Besides, I don’t think it’s that bad yet. And after all she’s gone through for me, the least I can do is look after her any way I can.
It’s always been just the two of us.
“I’m serious about the walk-in tub,” I yell through the door. “I’ll sell some feet pics to help pay for it if I have to.”
Her laughter loosens the knot in my chest, and I breathe a little easier, relaxing against the door. The soft melodic sound of her joy is what I like to hear.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out while I wait.
Campbell: You lame-ass fucker, ditching having some beer with us to get some dirty pussy.
Mase: Nah, your mom was busy.
My stomach churns and I feel sick just typing that out. I have to look away as I press send.
Campbell: Shut the fuck up, you asshole!
I hit the intended nerve, pissing him off enough to leave me alone tonight. The dude hates any jokes about his mom.
Pocketing my phone, I drop my head against the door.
Any time I’ve left the guys with the excuse of seeing a girl, it has really been to help my mom in some way.
I know she’d be embarrassed if they knew I had to occasionally lift her into and out of the shower.
And besides her being extremely private, I’m highly protective of her.
If they ever made a joke about it, I’d likely knock them the fuck out, and that would be the end of our friendship.
I guess me and Campbell are similar in that way.
Once Mom’s finished in the shower, I help her out and then get her into bed, making sure she has everything she needs.
Since I’m not sleepy and have nothing else to do, I throw on a movie and settle in to watch it by myself.
*~*~*~*~*
By the time I peel my eyes open in the morning, the sun has already well and truly risen, making dust particles float through the air in the rays shining through my window.
With a scratch of my stomach, I step out of my bedroom and into the small living room. Mom sits in her favorite armchair by the window, her auburn hair shining in the sunlight. Her golden-brown eyes are lowered to her phone as I pass.
I’ve never looked like her—a fact I’ve hated for years now.
Where she’s reds and browns, I’m black-haired, with eyes so dark they might as well be black, just like my soul. And while her features are soft and friendly, mine are angular and hard.
I’m sure my mom can’t help but secretly resent what she sees when she looks at me.
Running a hand through my sleep-mussed hair, I head for the kitchen. “Do you want me to make you a fruit smoothie?” I start pulling bags of frozen fruit out of the freezer, getting everything ready. “Mom?”
When she still doesn’t respond, I poke my head around the corner. Her eyes are still lowered, but what I can see of her face is concerning. Mom’s features are tight, her skin paler than usual, and her fingers are clenching the phone in her hands.
I haven’t seen her look this way since her older sister visited for the last time years ago.
Everything changed for me after that visit, and I started to understand.
So what could possibly cause that same reaction?
“What’s wrong?” Walking over, I crouch in front of her, noticing it’s the community app she usually has open on her phone that has her attention. Since she doesn’t really get out, she likes reading it every day to stay in the loop about what’s happening here in Plainfield.
News and gossip travels faster than light in this town.
Looking up at me with intense brown eyes, she takes hold of my hand with her clammy one. “It’s your friend, Jacob . . .”
“What? What’s Jacob?”
“Maybe you should . . . I can’t.” Mom hands me her phone, and my mind buzzes with confusion, shoulders tensing with apprehension.
I scan the screen, feeling the blood drain from my face as I start reading. Jacob was found with Jennifer last night, and he has been arrested and taken into custody for sexual assault . . . for raping her.
What the fuck? This isn’t right.
My brain scrambles, searching for the lie, something to reveal that it’s untrue. I spend several minutes scanning everything, but the more I read the articles, comments, and opinions, the less clear it all becomes.
But this is Jacob. My friend.
I would have known he was like that, wouldn’t I?
Except . . . except maybe not. Maybe it’s my cruel fate.
Payback from the universe.
Burning begins behind my ribs, crawling up my throat and then to the backs of my eyes, causing them to lose focus.
Jacob hinted at what he planned to do, didn’t he? Were there other signs I had missed? Nausea makes me want to empty my stomach, but there’s nothing in it to expel.
The squeeze of my mom’s hand on my arm startles me, and I drop her phone to the floor.
“Mase.”
I shake my head, Mom’s face coming back into view.
A look passes through her eyes. So brief. There and gone in an instant, but there, nonetheless. Was she wondering if they were right? Wondering if I already knew about it? Wondering if I am just like him?
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, the thought having withered away, or just shoved to the back of her mind where it lingers quietly. “He’s your friend.”
I stand abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room and back, stabbing a hand into my hair and pulling. He was my friend. I’ve known him for almost five years.
At least, I thought I did . . .
I turn back to stare at the phone on the ground, all the words I read that told me otherwise, burned into my brain.
He’s in fucking custody, and that doesn’t happen for no reason.
How can I even associate with him now? I can’t.
I need to show her—prove to myself, prove to all of them—that I am nothing like him.