Run (16 page)

I felt like a bird touching down from a glorious flight. When you’re above the world, everything below seems so insignificant. I was untouchable for the moment and somewhat detached from the world.

But that soon ended and we touched down in the small airport an hour away from Gusby. We were one of the thirteen colonies to declare our independence from the British Crown. The first state to vote to secede from the union—and I knew this because everyone in my family made it a point to say it at every arrest or big gathering just before a fight was about to break out. I think it gave them a feeling of importance.

We had the Atlantic Ocean. We had beautiful mountains that took your breath away. We had salt marshes and estuaries, swamp lands, and even farms. It could be a lovely place to live.

Oh, and we had heat.

“It’s as hot as the hinges of hell,” Mason said, hopping down from the steps of the jet. He nodded at the pilot and doorman as we headed toward the bus stop.

I ignored him, collecting my things and I gave the jet one final look before we were gone for good from this little taste of luxury.

“It’s as hot as Hades,” I said, finally giving in and playing along with Mason.

He brought a hand to his hip taking everything in. His hair blew lazily in the heat.

“It’s as hot as a two dollar whore on the fourth of July.” He shot back with a grin. It was the kind of grin that told me part of Mason felt good to be home.

I drew in my bottom lip trying to come up with something to top his. “It’s as hot as a billy goat in a pepper patch.” I laughed. We both took a seat on the lone bus bench. The cracked and peeling red paint crackled beneath my legs.

Mason handed me my sunglasses. We were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You never knew who you might run into. And everyone in Gusby knew everyone. We weren’t sure if that was the same for us—two kids that hadn’t been back in over a decade.

“It’s as hot as a summer revival,” Mason said, tapping my leg as a signal to try and outdo him. He leaned back, his arm slipping around me.

“Uh, let’s see,” I said. “It’s hot enough to melt the nuts off a brass monkey.”

We both laughed. The tension finally faded away as the bus came to a screeching halt in front of us.

The bus driver opened the door with one smooth move. He nodded his head at the two of us as we got on the bus. I gripped the seats one after the other, following Mason to the back.

I sat down first. We both stayed quiet as a guy in a seat closer to the front looked at us. I held my breath, hoping he didn’t know who we were. I feared we might be plastered in black and white all over Gusby. I imagined flyers covered with our images showing we were wanted for robbery and murder littering the streets. But the guy only nodded his head in our direction and went back to thumbing through the paper on his lap.

He threw his feet up on the seat in front of him, his dirty black boots cried out for a good spit shine or garbage can I thought to myself.

“It’s hotter than two gophers fucking in a wool sack,” Mason said, pulling at his collar. I rolled my eyes. I was done with the hotter game. I was sweating like mad and wished we hadn’t left the air-conditioned jet.

Suddenly a loud noise came from Mason. I jumped unsure what it was. He slipped a cell phone free from his pants pocket.

“Jay gave it to me, it’s legit,” he said pushing me as he answered it. “’Sup, my main man.”

I stared out the window while Mason yucked it up. I knew it was Jay calling to check up on us.

I was nervous, more nervous than I’d ever been. Aunt Wanda warned me to never come back to Gusby. But I did because Mason and I both realized the best place to go out was where we came from. I had no favorite spots. I didn’t have some favorite state somewhere. This was home.

I wanted to feel like I belonged before everything ended for me—because that was a real possibility. I wanted to see what happened to everyone. I even wanted to see my old house.

Mason nudged me, pushing the phone against my arm. I took it and brought it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous. How you feeling?” Jay’s warm voice sent an immediate pang of guilt and regret through me.

“Hey, handsome,” I said back.

“So is it all you thought it was going to be?” he asked, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t know yet. We’re still on the bus.” I looked at Mason. He smiled and pushed passed me to see out the window.

“I was thinking about you. I’m glad you made it safe. I hate to sound like a sap, but I miss you.” He laughed, sounding embarrassed to have admitted such a thing.

“Thanks for saying that,” I told him. My cheeks warmed.

“I’m serious. I think you’re an amazing girl. The little I learned about you was remarkable. There’s nobody like you and I am going to be kicking myself for the rest of my life for letting you get away.”

I smiled. It felt good to hear someone talk so highly of me.

“Hey, we’re close to our stop. I’ll call you tonight maybe.” I remembered the old stop sign by the old pharmacy in town.

“Huckabees,” Mason said, jumping out of his seat. The kid in the front looked at him like he was nuts.

I said goodbye to Jay and snagged Mason by the arm so he would calm down.

“I want to hump you at Huckabees,” Mason said as he kissed my cheek. I swatted him off of me annoyed with his overly aggressive lips, the stubble of his chin scratched my face.

“Gusby!” the bus driver announced, sending chills through me. It brought me right back to when I was a kid. I remembered my hair nice and neat, the yellow sweater over my red dress and even my shiny black shoes. I closed my eyes trying to make out who was with me. I was clean and happy, smiling, as I skipped to the back of the bus, a sucker in my grip.

“Kendall, let’s go.” Mason yelled from the front of the bus. I shook the memory away and hurried to catch up. My hair fell in my eyes as I climbed out. The bus driver gave another nod before he took off.

I jumped down to the asphalt of my old stomping ground.

We made our way through town. Everything was still old. Storefronts were nothing but huge windows draped with dark curtains. The names were painted on them by hand like the last time I’d laid eyes on them.

The road was still brick and in need of repairs.

“The old church with the annoying clock,” Mason pointed out. He was right; it chimed every hour on the hour, three dings. No matter if it was eight or three, just three dings.

“Remember the liquor store? And all the times you and I played outside while Payton or my Mom was in there drinking free booze?” I said to Mason, laughing as we passed by it.

“They both blew Bobby Nathan behind the counter for free rum. Well, my mom did anyways.” He laughed dryly. I was sure it wasn’t as funny as he was making it sound.

“Mom was more Vodka and Jack Daniels.” I sighed; he was right about the blow jobs—wrong about the drink of choice.

“I wonder if Bobby Nathan still runs this place,” Mason said. He stopped walking and spun back around on his heels heading right back to the old liquor store. I gripped his hand tightly—afraid, but intrigued. Mason didn’t hesitate, he marched right in. The bell chimed overhead, and sure enough, there was Bobby Nathan--a little grayer but I still recognized him.

“Mornin’ all,” Bobby said, his thick southern drawl catching me off guard. It had been a long time since I’d heard one like his. He was fatter than before. As he rounded the counter, his bulbous stomach jiggled with each step he took.

I wasn’t sure if he recognized us.

“Morning there, Bobby,” Mason said looking around the store. The wine lined our feet just like old times right by the old register. It was just as dusty and dark as the last time I stood inside it as a little girl. It even smelled the same—like dust and stale cigarette smoke.

Bobby studied us both long and hard. His eyes roaming over every inch of the two of us as he tried to solve the mystery. I could tell he remembered us but couldn’t place a finger on just who we were exactly.

“Now wait a minute, I feel like I know the two of you,” he said, waving a hand in the air as if to jar his memory.

Mason picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and set it down on the counter. Bobby grabbed a brown paper bag and bagged it up in a flash. He kept his eyes on me—stumped.

“You remind me of someone. Just can’t place a finger on it.” I smiled a little. It was either Leon Talbot Halstead III or my most wanted photo. I wasn’t anything like my mom as far as I knew.

“Well, I wouldn’t know who that would be. Not passing out clues, maybe it will come to ya.” Mason grabbed my wrist and moved me toward the door before I would spill the beans, which I knew I wouldn’t. Bobby shot me a friendly grin, confusion still paining his features.

We walked around the building and Mason undid the bottle cap and downed some of the Jack Daniels.

“Want some?” he asked, leaning against the brick of the store.

I took the bottle and inhaled the nasty liquor.

“I remember he used to call me a mutt,” he said, his expression grew serious.

“Mason,” I said. I touched his hand.

“I’m not bothered. It’s just all these years I forgot about that until this very moment. It’s funny how things come right back to you.” He grabbed the bottle back and took a long swig.

“I know what you mean,” I agreed, staring off.

“It meant a lot to hear you tell me you love me,” Mason said. It was sudden and caught me off guard that he would bring it up. I sighed, leaning against the brick beside him.

“It might have been the best thing I ever heard. And I wouldn’t want to hear it from anyone else but you, Kendall.” He moved in front of me and took my hands in his.

“You’re the only girl I want to marry. To have kids with. The only girl I want to do any of that crazy shit with. You know what I mean?” He concentrated on our hands.

“Yes, I know what you mean. The idea of it,” I said. I knew just what he meant.

“I don’t know what it is, but I have always felt okay with you. You know how to pull me out of the dark spots and back into the light. Even when life sucks.” He moved in, closing the gap between us and kissed me softly. I grabbed the back of his head pulling him closer, the taste of whiskey invading my senses.

We broke apart and I looked into his eyes. “Why Mason, I feel the same way about your crazy ass,” I said with a smile. We kissed again.

“I’d never forget you no matter where I was,” he said, closing his eyes. He pressed his forehead against mine. I tried to force him to look at me, but he wouldn’t budge.

Everything was silent suddenly.

“Mason?” I asked as his body started to shake. I was confused until his tears hit my hands. He wiped them away with his fingers holding my head hostage as he lost it. Sobbing noisily. I stayed still and tried to pretend I wasn’t disturbed Mason was breaking down right in front of me. He never cried.

“I wanted to be a good person. I wanted to be better than my dad and mom. I was a little fucking kid. I wanted to be a race car driver,” he cried. His voice faltered, his nose was a running mess and he sniffled every so often to deal with it.

“You
are
better, Mason. You know that. Please tell me that you know that,” I said from beneath all his tears. I was pinned in place trying to deal with Mason’s breakdown.

“Do you think I got a shot at heaven?” he asked. I wrapped my arms around him; he hugged me tightly, resting his chin on the top of my head.

“Since when are you worried about heaven? I don’t know anything about religion. I never went to church.”

“When we were in Jersey I sat in bed every night thinking about the death penalty. I don’t think I could do it. What if all those people’s family come and wish me to hell?” He didn’t wait for me to answer he just kept right on rambling.

“What if I die for all my mother’s wrongdoings? She’s probably sitting back laughing her ass off right now. I slept with people to get us to the next state. I shot people for her. I stabbed people. I set fires, lied, stole cars, beat up an old couple.” He cried harder confessing his darkest secrets.

I wiped his face, breaking free finally. He took a couple of breaths letting me clean him up.

“You are a good person. You are the only good thing that’s ever happened to me. And I want you to stop beating yourself up about any of this. There is nothing you can do. There was nothing you could do back then or now. No one hates you, Mason. And fuck them if they do,” I said suddenly angry that he was so sad.

He sat down, his back against the brick, clutching the Jack Daniels, his legs sprawled out in front of him. “I’d never know what to be anyway, right?” he asked, taking a sip as he looked up at me. I sat down next to him.

“Stop. I think we should get a motel and call it a day okay?”

“What do you think is better?” he asked ignoring me, downing the last of the bottle. He tossed it out in front of him where it shattered. “Jail or death?”

“Mason, please don’t do this,” I begged, bringing my hands to my ears. Now
I
was freaking out.