58. Mason
Mason
The worst part about losing Simone isn’t the silence without her around.
It’s the way the silence makes every other sound louder—the sound of bottles hitting the bottom of the trash can beside my bed.
The echo of my dad’s voice in my head telling me I’m not shit and never will be.
The way my alarm goes off every morning like it’s taunting me for not sleeping and mocking me for being alive.
It makes everything I don’t want to deal with scream at me.
I’m on the back porch this morning drinking a Gatorade that I’m pretending is gonna fix all my problems, even though my stomach is still turning violently from last night—every night, really—and my phone stays face down on the table so I won’t be tempted to try to bulldoze my way back into her life every five minutes.
I haven’t texted her again since the day she told me she was letting me go—letting us go.
I don’t even know what I would say at this point.
Sorry that I keep blacking out and making you feel replaceable.
Sorry that I kept handing you pieces of me like they were gifts when really they were just sharp edges I knew would cut you.
Sorry that I’m a grown man who can’t drink like a normal person because any resemblance to “normal” stopped existing in my world the second my mom died.
Sorry that I don’t know how to love you the way you deserve, and even though I completely understand why you would want nothing to do with me, I still want to do everything I can in my power to get you back.
I hear the screen door behind me, and I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
Even though I’m the one who called him to come over, I would still recognize his footsteps anywhere.
They’re confident and strong, like he knows exactly who he is when he walks into any room and doesn’t need to look for validation.
I know those footsteps because they’re the opposite of mine.
Bash drops into the chair across from me with his coffee, looking like he got a full eight hours of sleep when I’m over here running off maybe two. Erik follows behind a second later.
“Morning,” Erik says, voice scratchy. “Or whatever we’re calling this. Since it’s—” He looks at the time on his phone before setting it back down. “Two in the afternoon, and you look like you just rolled out of bed.”
“Don’t,” I mutter.
Bash looks at me for a long moment, then sets his coffee down slowly. “What’s going on?”
“I fucked up,” I tell him, dropping my head.
“How this time?”
I look up at him, slightly offended. “This time?”
Erik slaps me on the shoulder before sitting down in the chair next to me. “We’ve got a list, actually. And it’s getting kinda long. Gonna have to start a new page soon.”
I shoot him a sarcastic smirk. “Funny.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve got one that’s probably longer than yours, so it’s okay.”
That pulls an actual smile from me. “I might need to look at that sometime. You know, when I’m really down and need to feel better about myself.”
Erik pulls his sunglasses down from his head and props his feet up on one of the outdoor chair across from him. “I’ll personally burn that list before I ever allow it to touch your hands.”
I let out a laugh. “Smart choice. I’d one hundred percent use it against you any chance I got.”
Bash clears his throat from beside us. “How about we try to focus on the situation at hand here?”
Erik throws back his head dramatically. “If I had known I was creating the world’s biggest party pooper with a stick constantly up his butt when I created Saint Bash, I would have never invited you to that Bible study group.”
Bash glares at Erik. “Saint Bash ain’t too holy to put these hands on you.”
“Oh Lord Jesus,” Erik mocks, “spare my soul from the wrath of big bad Bash.”
I’m stuck laughing, watching Bash’s patience start to run thin with Erik.
It lets me not think about my own shit for a second, and I appreciate the reprieve.
“I’ve got plans with Lydia today,” Bash says dryly, “so let’s get this intervention going.”
“Intervention?” I choke out.
He leans back in his chair slowly. “Yeah, you called us over here. I assume with the same problems you’re always having so…”
I nod.
“So talk,” he says. “Before I start using tactics you won’t like to speed this up.”
I stretch my neck, trying to relieve the uneasy feeling before speaking. “Like I said, I screwed up. Big time. With Simone.”
Bash looks at me, waiting for more. “Care to elaborate?”
“We’ve been kinda…hooking up for almost the entire school year…”
I let that sit for a second, let them process that new information. But I’m kind of annoyed that they’re giving me no reaction.
“Did…you hear what I said?”
“Yep,” Erik answers.
Bash kinda smirks. “What? You thought we didn’t know something was actually going on between you two?”
“I mean, I knew you knew I liked the girl, but…it’s not even a little shocking to you that we’ve been sleeping together?”
Bash takes a lazy sip of his coffee before slowly placing it back on the table. “I mean, I don’t personally care about your sex life, but…don’t you like sleep around with everyone?”
I cross my arms, pretty offended right now. “Actually, I don’t.”
Erik lowers his shades, staring at me. “Since when?”
“Since ever. Simone is the only girl I’ve slept with since being in college.”
“Hmm,” they both say in unison like they’re genuinely shocked.
“Don’t act all surprised and shit.”
“Sorry,” Bash says. “I just—”
“Thought I was a manwhore like everyone else on this campus does?”
They both nod.
“Well, I’m not.”
“But, like…everyone says it, and you never correct them?” Bash asks, confused.
“Cause, why correct them? It’s easier to let the expectations people have of me be on the ground. Means you can only go up, you know?”
“Does Simone know this information?”
I shake my head. “No, and that’s kind of the problem. She um…she thinks I slept with someone else. Or she thought I did. I don’t really know what she thinks now. She told me to basically leave her alone and that she needed to let go of me and have time to think about things.”
Bash continues to nod, taking all of that in, then scratches his chin. “So…is the sleeping around—that you’re not actually doing—the only issue here?”
I shake my head no again. “The um…drinking thing, too.”
Bash doesn’t look surprised. “Yeah, I’ve been watching you spiral with the partying a bit since you broke sobriety. I figured that was a factor.”
I rub my palms over my jeans, feeling embarrassed. “It’s worse than you think.”
Erik leans forward, elbows on his knees now. “Define worse.”
I hesitate, feeling stupid for having to admit it. “I don’t just drink at night, or at parties…it’s kind of…all day, every day.”
“Have you been drinking this morning?” Bash asks.
“No…but I’ve wanted to. This is the longest I’ve been awake without drinking in…a while.”
I can see Bash’s wheels turning, trying to figure out what the right thing to say here is.
I decide to fill the space for them.
“I think I’m actually losing her, before I even get a chance to have her for real.”
“What do you actually want with her?” Erik asks.
“Everything.”
It really is that simple. I want everything with her.
“But,” I continue. “I think I’ve screwed that up too badly. I’m not even someone who can give her everything right now, and she’s smart to look at the mess I am and wanna run away.”
Bash shakes his head. “Nah. That’s not how this is gonna work.”
“Huh?”
“You’re not gonna play the pity party game and then just stay in the same cycle.”
“Rude.”
He just shrugs. “Do you want her back?”
I nod.
“Do you want to stay an alcoholic forever? Or until it kills you?”
My shoulders drop. “I’m not a—”
They both deadpan at me.
“Okay. No…I don’t want to stay an alcoholic, happy?”
“It’s not about getting any satisfaction here,” Erik says softly.
“It’s just about acknowledging it, so you can do something about it.”
“Yeah? I already tried that, remember?”
“You tried it alone,” Bash states.
“Who else is there?”
“Us,” they both say.
I point between the two of them. “Y’all do that a lot. It’s kind of annoying…mostly because it makes me feel a little left out.”
They both laugh.
“Seriously,” Bash says. “We are. You don’t have to figure it out alone.”
I nod, but it doesn’t settle anything in my chest. Because alone is kind of my specialty.
I stare out at the yard for a second. “I don’t want to go home this summer. I don’t want to do the stupid internship; I don’t want to spend every day drowning myself, like I know I will if he’s around. The only things I care about are my brothers…and Simone.”
Erik makes a face. “You really hate that place, huh?”
“I don’t just hate it,” I say. “I feel like I’m suffocating in it. Plus, it’s pointless anyway…”
“Why?” Erik asks.
I inhale slowly.
“I’ve been…changing my courses,” I say.
They both freeze.
“Changing how?” Bash asks.
“I’ve been swapping out business requirements this year,” I admit.
“And next year. I’m…um, switching my major.
Well, I actually don’t know what I’m doing.
I’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone because I don’t know why I’m even doing it.
I just figured my dad would find out, get pissed, and make me change everything back.
But, I—I just can’t. I can’t take over his business.
I can’t handle that being my life. And I guess enough alcohol started to make me say screw him. ”
Erik sits up straight. “Changed to what?”
“Marine biology.”
They stare at me.
“And your dad doesn’t know?” Erik asks.
“No.”
Bash’s voice gets a little concerned. “Are you going to tell him?”
I stare down at my hands. “I wasn’t really planning on it,” I admit. “I figured I’d just…delay it. Avoid it. Pretend it wasn’t happening.”
Bash raises an eyebrow.
“But I guess I have to, don’t I?”
He nods. “I’d say with everything I know about him through you, I’d do that over a phone call before you go back there. I wouldn’t have that conversation in person. I don’t think it would be safe for either of you, honestly.”