How We Deal With Gravity (23 page)

The driver just nods at me, and I settle back into the
corner of the cab, my head resting against the window. The closer we get to
Cave Creek, the less lights there are along the road until finally the sky is
pitch black. I don’t know what made me look up, or why I even decided to sit
like this for the ride home, but in that very second I see a white light streak
across the sky and my heart falls into my feet.

Max
!

I pull my phone from my pocket, and when I realize it’s
10:45, I go into a full-on panic attack. “I’m sorry, I just realized I’m late
for something. Can you drive a little faster? I swear man, I’ll pay for your
ticket,” I clutch the seat in front of me, half considering diving from the car
and just sprinting the rest of the way home.

I feel the car move a little faster, but it’s never fast
enough. The driver gets me to Dusty’s, and I still see Ray’s truck in the lot,
which for some reason makes me feel a little better. At least he doesn’t know
what a huge, fucking asshole I am. I give the driver directions for the last
few blocks and hand him my credit card the second he pulls up in front of
Avery’s house. I’m waiting at his window for him to hand it back to me, and
when he does I literally bolt inside.

The house is dark—completely dark. I try to control my
breathing so I can listen to see if I hear anyone, but there’s nothing. I race
up the stairs, slipping on the middle few and banging my shin hard against the
steps, gashing open the front of my leg. “Shit!” I say.

I push open my door and fling on the light, but no one is
there. The bed is empty, and Max’s pillow and sheets are gone. For some reason,
this makes me worry even more, so I race to the other end of the hall and stop
at his and Avery’s door, holding my hand to my forehead and closing my lips
tightly, trying not to make any noise even though I’m panting and my stomach is
churning with the want to throw up. I don’t hear anything, but I’m not sure
that I would. I turn the handle on his door slowly and push it open gently,
careful not to let it squeal, and when I see his body laying stiff in his bed,
arms straight out next to him and his eyes shut tightly, I collapse to my
knees. He’s sleeping—and I watch him for a good two minutes to make sure
he’s
really
sleeping, not just
pretend
sleeping.

I manage to get the door closed, and I slowly walk back to
the steps. My body is drenched in sweat now, so I pull the sweatshirt over my
head and throw it at my door before climbing back down the stairs to the
kitchen. The lights are all off downstairs, but I can see a hint of light
coming from the back yard, so I take a deep breath and push the back door open,
following the sound of sweeping.

Avery’s back is to me, and she’s sweeping thousands of tiny
pieces of glass into a pile in front of the trashcan. I can hear her sniffle
every few seconds, and it breaks my fucking heart. I can’t believe I did
this—I can’t believe I forgot, that I missed something so important.

“Let me get it,” I say, grabbing the end of the broom. She
lets it go from her hands instantly, and her body just goes still. I don’t know
what to say, so I just start sweeping.

Ray’s telescope is lying on its side, and I can tell from
the crystals I’m piling up that his lens is what broke. That’s the first thing
I’m buying with any money I make from the tour, a new one of these. I’ll just
get the best one I can.

Avery walks over to the small patio table to get the
dustpan, and then comes over to my pile to start scooping it into the trash. I
bend down with her and grab her wrist when she does, hoping like hell she
doesn’t jerk away. Instead, she starts crying.

“I totally blew it. I’m so sorry. I was out with the guys,
we signed a deal, and…fuck, there’s no excuse. I’m so sorry Avery,” I say, the
words coming out sloppily, though seeing all of this has me sobering up some.

“I know,” she whispers, standing back to her feet and
sliding away from me a little. Her movement rips right through me, and I hate
that she’s running away from me.

“Honest to God, Avery. I had no idea how late it was, and I
completely forgot,” I keep saying words, like somehow one of these times I’m
going to say something that’s going to make it better.

“He was pretty good at first. We were just going to watch
the meteor shower without you. I told him you were stuck in traffic. But then
he found this,” she says, holding out a folded piece of yellow notebook paper.
I unravel it, and walk closer to the porch light so I can read what it says.

Dear Max,

I am sorry that I was
not a better father to you. What you have isn’t something I can fix or make
better, so I left. I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I just don’t
know how to be your dad.

When you are older,
please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I owe you that.

Sincerely,

Your father,

Adam

That fucking douchebag! I threaten him, and I swear I plan
on following through with that threat, regardless if it lands my ass in prison,
and this is the letter he writes? I’m pacing now I’m so mad, and I’m about to
unleash one hell of a rant when Avery’s soft voice absolutely wrecks me.

“I’d let you read the one he wrote to me, but I burned it.
He said you made him send the letters, and that’s the only reason he did. What
the hell were you thinking, Mason?” she says through the downpour of tears that
are streaming from her eyes.

“Avery, this is
not
what I meant,” I say, reaching for her. She shirks away from me though, and it
feels worse than being slapped.

“God, don’t even, Mason! You smell like a fucking casino!”
she yells, pulling her sweater across her body tightly. “Max can read. Not
well, but he can read. I didn’t see his letter tucked inside mine, and when it
fell out from the envelope, he found it. Here’s the thing though—Max
doesn’t know how to
understand
that
letter. He’s black and white. And that letter? It’s gray. It’s all kinds of
gray! He asked me who Adam was, and then he argued with me, saying over and
over that his dad is dead. I didn’t know what to say, so I just tried to get
him to come back outside. But then it was getting late, and he didn’t see any
shooting stars, so he threw the telescope to the ground, screaming that I made
him miss the meteor shower.”

She sits down and holds her face in her hands, her body
shaking with each sob. I stand there and look at her—at this mess I made.
“Avery, I was only trying to help,” I say, pleading.

“He screamed for an hour and fifteen minutes, Mason. The
neighbors called the cops. I know the guy who showed up, and that’s the only
reason it didn’t get worse. He walked to the backyard and saw me, holding
him…fucking rocking back and forth and waiting for it to stop. You can’t just
do
things like that, Mason. You have to
live up to
Max’s expectations
. Forget
about mine,” she says, standing to her feet and brushing by me. “Can you just finish
cleaning this up? I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

She doesn’t turn back around to look at me again, and I’m
glad, because I think if I saw the disappointment on her face it would kill me.
I spend the next hour cleaning every last piece of glass from the patio and
fixing what I can on the telescope. By the time Ray gets home, I’ve completely
survived being drunk, and have gone straight to hungover.

I fill him in over an entire pot of coffee, and he does his
best to console me, but I can tell I’ve let him down, too. By the time I shower
and lay in my bed, it’s four in the morning. My eyes are fighting to stay
awake, but I’m losing the battle, and quickly. The only thing left running in
my mind is my biggest fear—that I might not be the kind of man who can do
this either. That maybe I’m just as weak as Adam Price.

And maybe Avery deserves something better.

Avery

I don’t want to go downstairs. Max is already at the table
with my dad. I can hear them going about business as usual. For Max, last night
isn’t even a memory. He’s already on his checklist of what today brings. It’s
Sunday, and usually we do something fun. I don’t even remember what we had
planned now. Maybe it was the zoo.

Mason’s door is open, so I know he’s left his room. I can’t
hear his voice downstairs though. And I don’t think I can handle seeing him.

When he didn’t show up at the house after his meeting, I was
nervous. When the night grew longer, and he didn’t respond to any of my texts,
I started to feel dread. And then nine thirty came and went, and Max noticed,
growing more and more agitated each minute. I didn’t know how to set up the
telescope. It’s old, and my dad has repaired it more times than I can count. I
didn’t have it mounted steadily, and I know that’s why it tipped over so easily
when Max pushed on it.

I know my dad won’t care. The broken lens isn’t a big deal.
The thing that keeps eating away at me though is that damn letter from Adam. I
know Mason meant well, but I don’t think he realized exactly how self-absorbed
Adam was. Maybe it’s my fault; I didn’t portray an accurate picture after my
dinner with him that night. My feelings—Max’s feelings—are of no
consequence to Adam, and Mason must have put the fear of God into him for him
to have even written the letters in the first place.

Adam actually blamed me for Max’s autism. He pointed to some
article he read that said the “mother’s genes are the main contributing
factor.” I know that’s bullshit, but that’s because I’ve done nothing but live,
eat, and breathe research about Max’s diagnosis since the day his first doctor
wrote it down on a file.

That’s Adam, though. When I look back at our relationship, I
can see those pivotal moments—warning signs that he was not a good person.
He wasn’t really a gentleman in high school, demanding we go
dutch
to prom, always calling the shots
in our relationship. He was more interested in making sure my father loved him
and approved of his plans for me, than involving me in the decisions and
planning our future together. Adam picked where we went to school. He dictated
whether I took morning classes or evening classes. And our pregnancy was
because he insisted on not using protection.

I’m not saying I was completely complacent, but our lives
definitely happened according to Adam’s will. His leaving forced me to be
strong, and in some small way, I’m thankful for that. I need to be
strong—Max needs me to be strong. And I have to be strong now.

Mason is sitting with his back to me at the table when I
finally walk down the stairs. I know he hears me come down, and I can visibly
see his shoulders tense.

“Out of bacon. Do you want some eggs?” my dad asks, his face
telling me he’s in on everything that happened.

“I’m not very hungry,” I say, and Max picks up on his
opening.

“I’m not hungry sometimes, but you make me eat,” he says,
taking a bite of his pastry. He’s hungry this morning, so I’m not even sure why
he’s being contrary.

“You’re right Max. But it’s because your body is still
growing, so we need to make sure we take care of it,” I say, sparing a small
glance at Mason. He hasn’t lifted his head from his plate once, and from the
look of his breakfast, he isn’t very hungry either.

“What’s on our schedule for today?” I say, going to the
small whiteboard on the fridge. It’s the zoo—sort of the last place I
want to be today, but I will go.

“Zoo, and you said this time I can feed the giraffe,” Max
says, standing and carrying the crumbs from his shirt over to the trash. Max
doesn’t really like to be messy, so he’s always meticulous about cleaning up
after a meal.

“I’d like to come,” Mason says, completely knocking the wind
out of me.

“We won’t be there all day. I have homework, so we’re only staying
through lunch, and it’s kind of expensive to get in without the pass,” I say,
trying to deter him.

“That’s fine. Five minutes—five hours, I’ll take what
I can get,” he says, and the pained look on his face makes me start to soften
my resolve. But then I remind myself that I can’t just swoon because my heart
and body wants Mason Street—I have to use my head.

“Here, you can use my pass. Just hold your thumb over the
part that says senior,” my dad says, flicking the card from his wallet onto the
counter. I grimace at my father when he does this, and he just pulls up one
side of his mouth and shrugs.

“Fine, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” I say, and Max
cleans the rest of his table space and heads up the stairs to change and get
ready.

“Well, I’ll be home early tonight. I’d like to hear about
that deal you made, Mason. Maybe you and I can chat about it later?” my dad
says, purposely asking in front of me. I was pretty sure Mason’s meeting was a
success. I vaguely recall him saying something about a
deal
last night, but I didn’t really have the mental space to ask
him about it. That…wasn’t really my focus. And that was the problem. I’d lost
my focus. It was time I got it back.

“That’d be great, Ray. I’ve got some questions about it,” he
says, his eyes on me the entire time.

I can’t look at him squarely, and whenever my eyes hit his,
my heart actually stings. My dad packs his small cooler and gathers up his
books before heading out the door, and the second it shuts behind him, it feels
like the room gets a million times smaller—the air completely gone.

“Ave, we
have
to
talk,” Mason says, his voice desperate.

“Well, I guess we have all day,” I say, banging about the
kitchen. I get more and more forceful with everything I touch, first slamming
the cabinet when I reach for a coffee mug, and then tossing dishes in the sink
rather than setting them down. I finally snap one of the plates in two, and it
forces me to come to my senses.

Mason doesn’t interrupt me, and he doesn’t chastise me for
acting out. He just sits there and watches, never once judging. He’s making
this so unbelievably hard.

Max is downstairs seconds later with his usual zoo-ready
backpack. He likes to use the binoculars, and he has a book on all of the
animals. He’ll read us the paragraph about each one, and he likes to see them
all, so I know that I’m in for at least two hours of walking.

The drive is silent—and I’m grateful Max is in the
car. It gives me time to prepare my thoughts, to play out every possible
alternative Mason might throw my way. Of course, when he’s sitting right next
to me, it’s hard to stick to my plan. His smell has permeated my car, and I’m
pretty sure I’ll never be able to get it out completely. He’s wearing a
long-sleeved black T-shirt and black jeans, and it’s probably my absolute
favorite look on him, so I keep my eyes plastered to the road.

We get to the entrance, and the man scanning passes at the
gate does a bit of a double take when he runs Mason’s card under the machine. I
can tell he’s thinking about questioning it, but then he looks at Max, already
wearing his binoculars and anxious to get to the first animal, and he waves
Mason through.

It only takes us minutes to get to the first
section—the lizards and snakes. Max will be busy here for several
minutes, so I stand back with Mason while Max moves from window box to window
box.

“Avery, what can I do?” he asks, and I wish like hell I had
an answer for this one. I planned for this question, so I give him the only
response I can.

“Nothing, Mason. Nothing,” I say, my stomach twisting at the
actuality of what’s about to play out.

“It can’t be
nothing
.
I’m so sorry—truly, deeply, unbearably sorry. For everything,” he says,
and I know he is. And I forgive him. But it still doesn’t change the fact that
he and I aren’t a good idea.

“I know you are, Mason,” I say, forcing myself to be brave
and look at him. When I do, the stabbing sensation is back, and talking becomes
even harder. “I’m not angry at you. Don’t get me wrong, I was. And I wish like
hell you let me handle Adam, but I know your heart was in the right
place—with everything. And I know you didn’t mean to miss our date with
Max. It was a mistake. A simple mistake—one that anyone in the world
could have made.”

“But…” he says, knowing there is one.

“But I can’t make mistakes with Max,” I say, my breath
shallow, and not reaching the depths of my lungs. “And as much as I want to be
with you, Mason, I’m not the only one with something at stake. And I have a
feeling your life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.”

He doesn’t respond, and I know it’s because I’m right. He
just stands there, his eyes burning a hole through mine, his hands linked
behind his neck while his arms flex. Finally, he tilts his head up and breathes
out hard, letting his arms collapse to his sides before walking over to look at
one of the reptiles. I give him a few minutes alone, and then I follow.

“He’s signing us to a Southwest tour,” he says, not looking
at me while he speaks. I knew it was coming, but my stomach still hurts hearing
it anyhow.

“That’s amazing, Mason,” I say.

“Is it?” he asks, turning to me, his hands shoved in his
pockets, and his lips shut tightly.

“Yes, it is. This is your dream, Mason. And you
have
to see,” I say, knowing he does.

“What if I don’t go?” he asks, and the way he’s biting at
the edge of his lip, I can tell he’s serious.

“You have to go. You’ll regret it,” I say, my insides
kicking myself. But I also know a thing or two about regrets. Not that I regret
a minute of my life with Max. But Adam—I regret him.

“But, would it make a difference?” he asks, this time
reaching forward and holding my chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger. My
lips tingle just wanting to kiss him, but I can’t.

“Probably not,” I lie. As soon as I speak, his hand drops from
my face and his eyes close.

“Because of Adam and the letters?” he asks, looking at Max
with his face pushed close to the glass of an exhibit.

“Because of a lot of things,” I say, promising myself I
won’t cry now in front of him.

We follow Max through the entire dark room back out into the
sun, and start the large loop that winds throughout the zoo. The desert animals
are next, and I know he will spend a lot of time on these, so we walk slowly
until Max is satisfied. Mason is quiet, and it starts to feel like we’re angry
with one another the longer the silence goes on. By the time we reach the
elephants, I’m frustrated with him, and I’m about to ask him why he even
bothered to come, when I feel his fingers push through mine.

The touch of his hand startles me, and I let out the
smallest cry, which only makes him squeeze me tighter. Neither of us looks at
one another, but we keep our hands locked for the small walk that is left. I
let Max sift through a few things in the gift shop, and he zeroes in on a resin
paperweight with a scorpion sealed inside. We take it to the register, and
before I can hand over my card, Mason gives a ten to the cashier.

“I used to have one of those when I was your age,” he says
to Max, who isn’t really listening to him, but just looking at his new
treasure, wondering how someone got the scorpion sealed inside.

Mason looks at me next, and smiles softly. I mouth “Thank
you,” for giving Max the gift.

The ride home feels heavier. Mason reaches for the radio at
one point, turning the music up a tick, looking at Max in the mirror to make
sure it isn’t too loud. Max is busy with his scorpion though, completely lost
in that world.

“My birthday is tomorrow. My mom is making dinner, and she
wanted
us
to come,” he says, his head
flat against the passenger window.

“I’d love to have dinner with you and your mom,” I say.

“Max, too,” he says.

“We’ll both be there,” I say, my words lingering with
everything else I want to ask. We’re only a few miles from home, so I force
myself to stay here, in this moment. “When do you leave?”

“Tuesday morning,” he says, and I can hear him swallow hard.
“Avery, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

I reach over and put my hand on his knee, and he covers it
with his hand, his eyes low, looking at our touch. I squeeze once to get his
attention, and he turns to me. “You’re doing it. You have this tremendous
opportunity. And we…we probably rushed into things a little.”

“I’d do it all again. Just the same,” he says, his face
serious as he looks at me. All I can do is suck in my bottom lip and force a
smile in return, because I know if I say anything else, I’m going to fall to
pieces and run us off the road.

When I pull into the driveway and park, Mason gets out and
walks right to his car. “I’ve gotta meet the guys. If your dad calls, tell him
I’ll stop by Dusty’s,” he says, his words barely ending before his car door
shuts and his engine is on. His eyes are intent on the gravel drive in front of
him—and nothing else—as he pulls away. I gasp for air, forcing
myself not to cry until I get Max inside, and I can hide in the bathroom.

Mason

The partying for the guys never really stopped. The three of
them were passed out still when I got to Ben’s. He never locks his door, and I
just walked into the house, greeted by a coffee table filled with half-eaten
take-out boxes and a few flies.

I managed to wake everyone up, but they weren’t really good
for much, and anything we talked about right now would only be remembered by
one of us. I think they soaked in enough to know we had to catch the bus in
Phoenix while the tour we were joining was passing through on the way to Vegas.
I told Ben I’d just spend the night at his house Monday so we could leave early
together in the morning. I didn’t want to have to leave Avery more than once.