How We Deal With Gravity (25 page)

“So, Mason’s leaving tomorrow,” I say, starting our most
difficult talk yet.

“He is,” my dad says, chewing, but keeping his eyes on me,
waiting to dissect my reaction. I don’t have one though—I almost feel
emotionless. “You okay with this?”

“I am,” I say, my stomach fluttering with my own doubt.
“It’s better this way. I have to focus on school and Max.”

“Hmmm,” my dad says, sitting back and wiping at the corners
of his mouth with his napkin. He folds his arms and sucks in his top
lip—that’s his tell, and I know he doesn’t believe me. “You know, it’s
okay to mess up baby girl.”

I’m not sure what he means, and my natural instinct is to be
defensive. I hold my breath and bunch my brow. I’m unsure what to say, so I
just shake my head, and my dad chuckles softly.

“I’m not talking about Mason. I’m talking about you. You
have yourself locked into this pattern—and if everything doesn’t fall
into place every second of every day exactly how you have your blueprint
set—you take it out on yourself,” he says, pausing to let me catch up. I
nod to let him know I’m listening.

“I have to,” I say, my eyes tearing up from the pressure
building in my chest. I don’t do failure well, and even talking about missteps
fills me with anxiety.

“Bullshit,” my dad says, slapping his hand on the table,
causing me to jump. “Life is full of things that don’t go according to plan,
Avery. And Max needs to learn how to make adjustments for those things. I’m
sorry, but you not letting the spontaneous things in life happen isn’t good for
Max. And baby girl, it’s going to kill you!”

“But what if he hurts himself? What if someone hurts him
when he’s angry or frustrated? What if I can’t be there to calm him down?” I’m
crying hard tears now, my body shaking; my dad reaches across the table,
clutching my hands in his, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“That’s life, Avery. And you
can’t
always be there. That’s why he needs to learn about life’s
peaks and valleys now, while you’re here to guide him,” my dad says, shaking my
hands against the table, literally trying to shake reason into my body. “You
love Mason, and Avery, he’s a good man. He’s real, and he’s going to drop the
ball sometimes, and he might make you have to make some hard choices, make some
changes in your life. But don’t give up on your own happiness just because
you’re afraid it’s too damn hard to have. Because Ave, you only get to have
right now
once in your life—there
are no re-dos, there is no going back and doing
right now
again. You get this once, and you can take a chance on
it, or live regretting you didn’t. I can tell you what, though…the Avery that
takes a chance on her own happiness is going to be a hell of a lot stronger for
Max than the one that gives up.”

I’m too terrified to cry, but my insides are holding on,
just waiting for the sobs to come pouring out. “I don’t know if I can do this,”
I say, my voice cracking with my own fear.

“Go,” my dad says, his lips tight, and his face daring me.
My legs are wobbly as I try to stand, and my hands shake as I reach for my
purse and pull out my keys. “Girl, I can’t drive you, so you’re going to have
to pull yourself together. Just breathe—and go tell that boy you love him,
and you’ll see him soon.”

I nod
yes
and race
through the door, dropping my purse open on the porch, spilling the contents
everywhere. I shove everything back inside, and toss it in the passenger seat
of my car, firing up my engine and actually peeling out of the driveway when I
leave. My heart is thumping in my chest, and it races faster and faster the
harder I press my foot on the pedal. The streets are quiet, and the main drag
is dead on a weekday night, so I don’t even bother to stop at the four-way stop
between my neighborhood and Barb’s. I circle through her apartment complex, but
I don’t see Mason’s car, and panic fills me.

“Ben’s!” I think, slamming the car in reverse, and pulling
back out on the main road through town. Ben is closer to the city, in a rougher
part of town, so I slow down as I get closer, careful to watch for any other
drivers. I recognize Ben’s car out front, so I know which small house belongs
to him, but I don’t see Mason’s car anywhere. I keep the engine off and I wait,
like I’m stalking him in the dark. Minutes pass, and not a single car drives
down Ben’s road—nothing to even give me hope. I’m about to give up when a
light flicks on at the side of the house, and the side gate swings open. I get
out of the car without even thinking, just hoping it’s him.

“Mason?” I say, my voice a loud whisper.

“Oh shit! Damn, Birdie. You scared me,” Ben says, and my
heart literally explodes with disappointment.

“Is Mason here?” I ask, my mouth watering with the need to
be sick.

“Nah, he took off an hour or two ago with Matt and Josh.
They had some things to take care of, and I think they were going out for a
while, meeting Kevin and one of the bands we’re leaving with tomorrow. You need
something?” he asks, and I don’t know what to say. I
need
Mason. I just stare at my phone, considering calling him, but
I can’t help but note the shakiness of my fingers as I slide them back and
forth over the phone screen. My whole body is shaking, so badly that I have to
hold myself up against Ben’s car.

“Are you…all right?” Ben asks, his face bunched at the sight
of me. I feel really ill, and my body is covered with beads of sweat.

“Yeah, I uh…I suddenly don’t feel very well. God, I’m
sorry,” I say, shuffling my feet backward closer to my car, suddenly questioning
everything I’m doing.

“You want me to just tell him you stopped by?” Ben asks. I
stop and look at his feet, scratching at the side of my face, and tugging at my
lip while I think about his question. I could call Mason right now. I could sit
here at Ben’s house, or in his driveway, and just wait. Or I could have Ben
tell him to call me. But the end is always the same—I’m always…waiting.
I’ll be waiting for Mason, just to tell him I’ll keep waiting. And that’s the
change I would have to make in my life—to decide to wait on Mason for the
rest of my life. Because in my heart, I know that the second he gets on that
bus in the morning, his career is going to take off—he’s
that good.
And I have to decide if I
want to wait for those moments he can fit me in between everything else. And I
don’t know if my heart can take all of the doubt and worry that comes along
with Mason’s success.

“You know what, it’s nothing,” I say, and my pulse slows
down as soon as I give in. “I’ll just…I’ll just call him later this week.
Really, it’s not important.”

Ben just nods and shrugs his shoulders. “A’right then. Well,
see ya when I see ya! Hey, maybe the next time we play Dusty’s we’ll be fucking
millionaires!” he says, tossing the small bag of trash in the can outside and
heading back through his gate. All I can do is smile and hold up my hand, a
total farce to the self-loathing now kicking off inside. I get back in my car,
and I drive home. My dad has gone to bed, and I’m thankful—I don’t think
I can handle having him talk me into risk ever again. I’m starting to think
regret is just easier, and I resolve myself to learning how to swallow it.

Mason

The shows are good. That’s what’s getting me through. That
and the way the crowd reacts every time we play some of our new songs. People
seem to love “Perfect.” It’s probably because out of everything, that’s the one
song I play with everything I can. We did a cool thing during the last
show—I talked the guys into letting me play it solo on the piano. My
piano playing isn’t the best, but the melody is simple enough. I had chicks in
tears by the time I was done.

I think about her every time I play it. We’ve been on the
road for a month now. Kevin started us out with this folk rock band called the
Tenenbaum Revival. They have a lot of radio hits right now, and I really dig
their sound. They’re from Denver, and the lead singer is married to the bass
player. I envy their lives, the way they get to be together. It’s easy when
your paths are the same, I guess.

I called Avery the night before our first show. She didn’t
answer, but I figured she was busy with her shift. But she never called back. I
sent a few texts, and at first she’d respond—simple things like smiley
faces and “happy for you” notes. But I quit sending things a couple weeks ago.
Maybe this time apart has made her start to think that everything was a huge
mistake. If she wants to forget me, maybe I should let her.

I miss Max. I found a book at this little trading post in
Utah. It was all about rocks from other planets. He’d love it—probably
memorize it. I bought it with the intention of sending it to him, but every
night I just flip through the pages and think about him and Avery, wondering if
she’s working or getting to tuck him in. I wonder if that girl in the
playground ever became Max’s friend.

“Mace, we need to do sound check in thirty. You know where
Ben is?” Matt asks, popping his head in the green room.

“Probably giving his paycheck to a hooker,” I say, causing Matt
to chuckle. “I’ll go look for him in a few.”

We’re in Reno tonight. Probably the smallest show we’ve
played. Kevin wasn’t lying, this tour is different, and I really believe there
is a recording deal waiting for us at the end of this. We have a couple weeks
left before Kevin decides if he wants to tack us on to some more shows.

Ben has behaved, for the most part. Only once or twice did I
have to drag his ass to the bus out of some nightclub or bar. He’s had a few
flings, probably five or six different girls, but so far he’s kept them out of
the bus. I think if we weren’t bunking with the other band, it would be a
different story.

I walk out to the lot, and notice a few groupies hanging out
over on the other side of a fence where the busses are all lined up. During our
first few shows, the women were always hanging around to see Ryan, the lead
singer in the Tenenbaums. But they’ve started screaming for me when I walk out,
too. It feels pretty surreal, and there have been some pretty tempting offers,
not gonna lie. But I keep waiting for that hint of reddish blonde hair in the
crowd. I keep waiting to
feel
something—a
pull, I don’t know,
something
.

The girls scream as I climb into the bus, and I wave once
just to show them I appreciate them—and I do. I hope they want more of
our songs, want to buy our albums, and come see our shows over and over. But I
don’t want to sleep with them. I guess maybe after a while I’ll get over that,
and then maybe I’ll want that, too.

“Ben, get your ass up! We tune in twenty!” I say, kicking at
the bathroom door, hearing him sniffle and move around inside.

“Hang on,” he says, and I hear the sink for a few seconds
before the door finally pops open. Ben’s eyes are wild, and he keeps rubbing
his arm along his nose; I know the second I see him he’s fucked up. He’s been
like this before. It’s been a while, and he’s never completely fallen into
full-on addict, but he’s dabbled—usually when some stripper hooks him up,
or he shacks up with the wrong girl. I’m sure that’s the case tonight.

“Fuuuuuck, dude? What did you do!” I say going into the
bathroom to search for what I know is there. There’s a small bit of powder left
on the sink counter, so I grab a handful of toilet paper, wet it and wipe
everything clean.

“I’m fine man, really. Just a little hit,” he says, his arms
twitchy and his whole fucking body keeps jumping around. He sits on one of the
benches in the living room area and looks at me, his whole foot bouncing up and
down. “I might have overdone it, maybe a little.”

“You think so?” I yell, leaning back against the other bench
seat, pulling my hands to my temples and rubbing. “You think you can play
through this?”

“Yeah, I’ll be good,” he says, edgy as shit. I shake my
head, and pull the blind back to look out the window; just making sure we’re
really alone. The last thing I need is someone walking in on this. My phone
buzzes once, and I know it’s Matt or Josh wondering where the hell we are.

“Look, I’ll just tell them you’re not ready yet for tune. We
can do that without you. But fucking get it together,” I say, watching him
stand and look around the bus, like he’s searching for something.

“I just need my wallet. Shit, I think that bitch took my
wallet,” he says, heading to the back of the bus to check the bed area. My
phone buzzes again, so I pull it out to let Matt and Josh know what’s up. When
I see an unknown number, I shove it back into my pocket, but the second I do,
it buzzes again.

I swipe the string of messages open, half expecting to see
spam or crazy fan messages from some chick who probably found my number.

It’s Claire. Mason,
you need to call me. Now!

Mason, R U there?

Mason, 911 –
it’s an emergency!!!

Claire—the only reason Claire would have my number is Avery,
and now I’m just as twitchy as Ben. My fingers can hardly dial, but I manage to
hit the return call button. I’m pacing as I wait through the rings, and Ben is
storming around me, tossing cushions over and opening and shutting drawers. I
shove my finger in my ear so I can listen to the other end of the line.

“Mason, oh thank god!” she says, and I feel my heart sink to
my feet, knowing that whatever she’s going to say, it’s going to be the worst
news of my life.

“What’s wrong, Claire. Is it Avery? Is she all right?” I
say, forgetting where I am, and stepping off the bus. The screaming starts the
second I come outside, but I can’t handle Ben’s jumpiness in the bus, so I walk
around to the other side to muffle the sound as best as I can.

“It’s not Avery. It’s Ray. He…Ray passed away, Mason,” she
says, and just like that, everything around me turns bright white and my body
loses all feeling. I sit down on the pavement, and push my head between my
knees, my hand cupping the back of my head, and I’m rocking—like I’m
trying to rock away everything she just said.

“Mason, are you there?” her voice sounds like she’s talking
through a tin can, so far away.

“I…” I can’t catch my breath, and I start to sob hard, my
chest convulsing and my mouth gasping, just trying to take in air. Claire
senses my break down, and she talks softly.

“Mason, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I had to call you and
tell you, and that it had to be me, and it had to be now. I know you’re
probably in the middle of stuff. But it’s Max,” she says, and I don’t know that
I can handle it—handle more. My eyes are wide and staring at the pattern
of parking lines that stretch hundreds of feet in front of me, drifting in and
out of focus until the white and black bleed together into a giant block of gray.

“Max is missing. He overheard Avery talking to one of her
aunts, and she hadn’t had a chance to explain things to him yet. When she went
up to his room, he was gone. She’s looking everywhere, Mason. Your mom is
looking, too. We shut Dusty’s down for the day. Your mom said I should call
you,” she says, and then I listen for several seconds to the silence that
follows. Somehow, I get back to my feet, push down the vomit that is
threatening to come, and start pacing again.

“Where have you looked?” I ask, closing my eyes and flashing
through a million visions—Ray’s face, the first time he put me on stage,
the way he looked when he gave me the guitar, Max, Avery. In the last two
months I’ve built this file of memories, and it’s all wrapped up in the Abbot
family—they’re
my
family.

“We’ve looked everywhere, Mason. We went to his booth at
Dusty’s, tore apart the kitchen, searched every nook of the damned house,” she
says, and something triggers me.

“School. You have to go to his school, Claire!” I yell, walking
back into the bus now. Ben seems to have found his wallet, and he’s sitting on
the edge of a sofa watching some show play loudly on the TV. I walk up to it
and flip the switch to turn it off. He starts to protest, and I shove him back
into his seat.

“There’s a tunnel, in the playground. It’s Max’s safe place.
He has to be there, Claire. He has to be,” I say, making a stern face at Ben
when he starts to argue with me again.

“Okay, I’ll go look right now. I’ll call you back,” she
says, hanging up. I stare at my phone and manage to bring enough sense to my
head to save her number as a contact. I shove the phone in my pocket and sit
back on the sofa to think.

“What the fuck, man?” Ben says. I’m not even remotely close
to being in the mood to deal with him, so I just point at him to stay put and
walk out of the bus. It doesn’t work though, and he’s quick to follow me.

“Who was that? Fuckin’ Birdie? What, she want you to blow
off the tour? Come back and be her bitch boy?” he can barely finish his last
sentence before my fist lands at his jaw. As much crazy crap that I’ve done, I
haven’t really been in a ton of fights, and the crunch of his bone against my
knuckles stings; I have to shake my hand just to get feeling back in it. But
Ben is so goddamned high, he’s right back in my face, shoving me until my feet
lose their balance and I stumble into the side of the bus.

I shove him back, adrenaline fueling my entire body; I keep
pushing at his chest until he trips onto the ground again. “You say one more
word about her, and I swear I will end you,” I say, my knee weighing into his
chest. He spits to the side, and it’s bloody.

“She’s just being selfish,” he says, and I can’t help but
laugh at how absolutely wrong he is. I walk away from him, back to the bus, and
climb inside, slamming the door behind me. Seconds later, it swings open, and I
clench my fist, ready to go another round, but I soften when I realize its
Matt.

“Josh is outside, cleaning him up,” he says, his opinion of
Ben obvious in the face he’s making. Of the three of us, Matt is the one who
has always had the least amount of tolerance for Ben. “What’d he do to earn
that?”

“Just Ben being Ben,” I say, chewing at my tongue, forcing
myself not to say anything more that I might regret. I sit back down and lower
my head into my hands. I have to think—process everything. I’m trying to
figure out my next move, when my phone rings and I answer quickly.

“Yeah,” I say, and I can already hear familiar voices in the
background.

“It’s Claire. You were right, Mason. We found him. Oh my
god,” she’s crying now, hard. “How did you know?”

“I just knew,” I say, my heart finally beating for the first
time since I heard Claire’s news. “What…I mean, how…I…”

I don’t even know what to ask her next or how to move forward.
All I know is that I’m no longer where I need to be, and I’m looking at Matt,
square in the eyes, and I know he knows too.

“It was fast, Mason. With Ray? It was fast, in his sleep. He
didn’t feel a thing,” she says, I know trying to sooth the burn of the guilt
that is absolutely choking me now. “It was a heart attack. He ate like shit,
and he drank a lot—probably more than he should.”

“It’s not fair,” is all I can say, and I’m crying again. I
push the palm of my hand deep into my eyes, trying to force myself to get a
grip; I take a deep breath and look at Matt. “He was a good man, and I wasn’t
there. And it’s not fucking fair, Claire!”

“I know it’s not, Mason. But there’s nothing you can
do…nothing you could have done,” she says, and I don’t know that that’s the
case, but I appreciate her saying it anyhow.

“When…I mean, is there…a service?” I ask, not even sure how
these things work.

“It just happened—this morning. I don’t know any
details yet. Avery’s…she’s working through it. Probably something this weekend.
We’ll make sure you know, though—I’ll call you, or your mom will,” she
says, and I can’t help but notice that it’s not Avery, which only makes my
tears come faster.

“Thanks, Claire. Hey, call me if there’s anything…” I start,
but I know there’s nothing I can do. I’m four hundred miles away, and my
foundation is crumbling.

“I will,” she says, and then she’s gone. I just sit there
and stare into Matt’s eyes, talking without really talking, for minutes.

“There will be other bands,” he says finally. I don’t know
what to say back to him, so I just blink and breathe through my nose slowly,
trying to make sense of everything. “You need to go. And I’m fine with that.
And Josh will be fine with that. And Ben—whatever. There will be other
bands. And there are other drummers. And
this
isn’t
everything
.”

My body is tingling everywhere, and I swear if anyone walked
into this situation right now, they would think that I’m the one who’s high as
a kite.

“If I leave, they’ll drop us—drop everything,” I say, my
insides squeezing at the fork in my road. Both paths are hard—there’s
nothing easy left, not that
this
was
ever easy.

“Like I said, there will be other bands,” he repeats, and I
look down, finally understanding what he’s trying to say. Matt always knew that
we’d never be able to stick to this together for long. I think we all knew Ben
would probably ruin us first—the label can only handle so much. We’d
replace him, or they’d decide to take me solo—put me with a band they’re
used to, that they use for lots of singers. And I know that’s probably closest
to the truth. The songs are all mine—but I feel beholden to Josh and
Matt…and for some reason to Ben.