The Mason List (20 page)

“Thank
you, ma’am.”

My eyes
flickered over to Dr. Mason, who nodded in agreement.  He was always the quiet
sort; very warm and patient.  His kind blue eyes always reminded me of Jess. 
They were outlined in dark lashes, identical to his son’s.

Jess and
I walked the group to the car for their drive back to Arlis.  After many
goodbyes, I got in the truck with Jess.  I plopped down in the tan leather
passenger seat, putting Sadie’s jewel-encrusted pumps on the dash.  As we left
the parking lot, I rolled down the window, feeling the cool breeze hit me in
the face.

“Wanna go
somewhere?  It’s not that late.”  His deep voice caught my attention, as he
leaned back behind the wheel, driving with his right wrist.

Jess
looked good tonight.  Watching him, I felt that pull again, but it was more
than just the physical attraction.  Jess was part of tonight in a way that was
years in the making.  The intensity of our history allowed a sea of emotions to
surface.  I needed to go back to the dorms for some distance and perspective on
the evening.  Instead, I opened a can of worms.

“What did
you have in mind?”

“We could
try the new coffee place on sixth? Or…we could just go drivin' around for a
while.  Get out of here.  It wouldn’t take long to ditch all of this if you
want?”  In the background, I heard Kenny Chesney’s voice in the truck.  I knew
Jess was itching for his favorite combination of dirt and twang, followed by
parking and sitting on the tailgate of his truck. 

“Maybe
the coffee house.”

“Ok, it’s
your night.  Coffee it is.”

It was a
public place and incapable of the hidden dangers involved around a dark,
starlit night and my guard down.  I watched the flash of street lights reflect
off the window glass and felt Jess glance in my direction a few times.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you
disappointed?”

“I don’t
know.”

“You
shouldn't be.  Alex, you're good.  It's just the first one.” 

“I could
draw a scribbly tornado and you would still say that.”

“That's
not true and you know it.”  He shot me a broody frown to emphasize his point.

“Don't
give me that irritating look.”

“All my
looks irritate you, so I don't think there’s any other option.”

I rolled
my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat.  I tried to hide the small grin
on my lips. “You exasperate me sometimes, Jessup Mason.”

“Damn!
Big words and both names.”

“Shut
up.”

“So
what’d that professor want?”  Jess asked, never missing a beat. 

“Professor
Lynch was interesting.”

“And?”

“I don’t
know.”  I let out a deep breath, looking back over at Jess.  “He could see
things in the drawings, like he understood them, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I
got his card.  He wants me to come by his office next week to talk about
getting into classes and being my mentor and shit.”

“I told
you, Al.  You’re good and you need to start realizing it.  You should talk to
him.”

“I can't
just do art.  Where is that going to get me in life?  And I can’t do both.  It
would mean more classes and I would probably take more than four years.  It's
just going to be longer and cost more to do both.”

His eyes
met mine on the last words.  Explaining to him the turmoil I felt was like
teaching ants to march backwards.  The thoughts circulating through his shaggy
head only had Mason dollars tied to them.

“It's ok,
Al.  Really.  We can make it work.” 

We
as in his family.  The damn
Masons.  Jess parked the truck at the coffee house and looked at me.  I pulled
the door handle and jumped out, preventing another aggravating discussion over
my bank account that got weekly
Mason
deposits.

I marched
up the steps on the wooden patio attached to the front of the store.  I caught
one of Sadie's stupid heels in a crack, causing my foot to stay and my body to
go flying.  The impact left me face down across the crackly boards.

“Damn
it!”

“Let me
help you.”  Jess unleashed my foot.  Standing up, I pulled off the damn pumps
and chunked them in the patio trash can resulting in a satisfying thud.

“This is
why I don't wear those ridiculous things.  I've got a splinter in my hand
too.”  I held up my palm as the blood oozed down to my wrist.  Jess laughed
right in my face.  “Stop that!”

“You’re a
girl who hates girl things, but you freak out over a splinter.”

“That's a
small dagger, you jerk.”

“Ok. 
Ok.  Small dagger.  Let’s go inside.  I'm sure they have a first-aid kit with
tweezers for small hand daggers.”

“I hate
you right now.”

“I know. 
Your cheeks are showin’ that temper of yours even in the dark.”

“Stop
harassing me.”

“Me
harrassin’?  Oh, that’s nothin’ compared to what you’re gonna get from Sadie. 
She’ll be pissed at you for destroyin’ her makeover project.”

“Why does
everyone think I need some style intervention?  I have a style.”

“You
do?”  I saw the crinkles around the corners of his eyes as he baited me with
the question. 

“I do. 
It’s called Alex.”

“That’s
the truth.  It’s one of a kind, complete with a voice-recorded talk box of
insults.”

“That
magically
only comes out at you.”

“Go sit
in the table while I order so they don’t notice your nasty feet.” Jess held the
glass door open.

“I have
nice feet.”

“For a
sasquatch.”

I flipped
him off then walked in the door.  About a dozen students occupied the French
inspired café tonight.  I plopped down at an empty table and wrapped my hand in
a napkin. 

Jess
returned with two foamy mugs the size of soup bowls.  He slid in the booth
across from me then fished something out from his pocket.  “Here's the tweezers
and I got you a cappuccino with those extra shots of espresso you like.”

“Thanks. 
You know that's my study drink.  Are you trying to keep me out all night with
you?”

“Maybe,”
his pancake syrup voice drug out the word.

I took a
sip, feeling the warm liquid slide down my throat.  “That tastes perfect.  I
might have a new favorite place.”

“You have
a little right there.”  Jess pointed to my mouth.  My tongue absently licked it
off the corner of my lips.  The color flashed on my cheeks when I realized Jess
was watching me.  I reached for the tweezers to work on my cut.  The splinter
was large and deeply imbedded under layers of skin.

“This
isn't working.”

“Let me
try.”

I slid my
hand across the table.  His fingers tightened around my wrist.  The expression
on his face changed to complete concentration.  The pain of the wound faded to
another part of my mind as I watched him.  A piece of hair fell across his
eye.  He lifted my fingers up closer to his face to get a better look.

“I'm
going to have to pry it open a little.  You ok with that?” 

“Yeah…I
once let you cut my hand with a dirty knife.  I think you're pretty safe with
the tweezers.”

“I guess
that’s true,” Jess smirked.  His fingers gripped my hand.  They felt warm in
every place he touched me.  I watched blood trickle from the opening.  I bit
down on my lip, trying to calm down. 

“You sure
you're ok?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I
got it.  That was one hell of a splinter.  I mean small dagger,” he winked.

Grabbing
a napkin from the table, Jess dabbed the blood then pressed my hand closed to
keep it in place, but he didn’t let go.  He touched my wrist, looking through
my handmade bracelets.  Jess slipped a finger under the brown band woven from
the hair of BB's mane.

BB had
died about a year ago.  She was grazing in a small pen outside the horse barn
when a sudden spring thunderstorm crept up on the ranch.  She got spooked and
took off across the meadow.  Frank found her a few hours later, halfway down a
raven.  He put a bullet through her brown skull to end her suffering.  Jess
used a tractor to extract BB from the jagged rocks and took her to the burned
up stump. 

Before we
buried her, I snipped a few pieces of her beautiful mane.  I made two braided
bands; the one Jess looked at on my wrist and the other matching one he wore
just under the cuff of his dress shirt. 

Jess let
go of my wrist and picked up his mug.  I saw him exhale deeply in contemplation
as he looked back at me.  “I can't change your mind ‘bout this summer?” 

“I need
to do this.”

“I know
and I understand.  It’s just hard to think you’re not comin’ home this summer.”

Sadie
helped me apply for ‘a summer in paradise
’
, according to the brochure
for Camp Rochellas.  She said
working with kids at a camp was as a community
relations gold star on my resume
. 

“It’s
just a couple of months, Jess.”

“I know. 
But even here, I could find you in about five minutes if I needed you.  I can’t
do that if you’re in some swamp in Louisiana.”

“We can
still talk.  That's what these little black boxes are for,
Frank
.” 

“Funny,
Al.  But Arlis is gonna be total shit without you.”

“I know,
but you’ll still have Frank,” I winked at him.

“Yes, I’m
already plannin’ to take him to hang out with the has-beens at Nickel Bridge.”

“You'll
be ok.” I absently patted his arm.

“I
guess.”  He picked up my hand, holding it tight in his palm.  Jess intertwined
our fingers, brushing my skin with his thumb.  I watched him across booth.  I
watched the blue eyes get dark on the corners as I let him hold my hand.  

“I heard
your parents earlier, talking about Sprayberry.”  

My
question came out and hovered in the air.  I watched him across the table, his
jaw clenched slightly in response.  His fingers gripped my hand.  “They want an
answer by the end of summer.”

“That
soon?”

“I guess
Frank’s doin’ ok for now, but who knows how long he can run the whole damn
place.  Some of the guys have been with him awhile but he’s gotten little
confused lately.  Mother said she needs to work on a Plan B if I am not gonna
run Sprayberry.”

“What do
you want to do?”

“I don't
know.  It’s a lot of pressure.  Shit, I thought Frank would outlive Moses just
for spite.  It's too early for this decision.  I don’t want to even think ‘bout
it.  If somethin’ happens to Frank, I’d have to leave school.  I’m nineteen.  I
don’t know if I want to run a cattle ranch the rest of my life.”

“I know
it seems like that now, but you love Sprayberry,”  I said quietly.  “I know you
do more than anything else.  I think you would be happy there.” 

“I don't
know.  Maybe…if the circumstances were right, I could stay there forever.” 

I felt a
little fidgety and suddenly hot.  His eyes shifted to me with the deep meaning
of those words.  I knew what he really wanted; something I couldn’t give him. 
I bit down on my lip. 

His
fingers rubbed over the top of my hand.  “And this is why I didn’t want to talk
‘bout it.  I just want to have fun with you tonight.”

“I’m
having fun.”  I smiled, sadly at him.  “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s
fine.  I can’t change the inevitable.  But it doesn’t have to all be decided
tonight.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  They were heavy with the weight of his
destiny.  We both knew he would go back to Sprayberry; it was just a matter of
when
. 
Jess traced over each of my fingers then squeezed my hand tighter.  I let him
hold on to me just a little longer. 

We said
nothing for a while.  He held my hand.  I drank my coffee.  He watched me with
his blue eyes.  From an outsider’s view, I’m sure they read this different than
it really was for us.  I finished the last sip of the giant espresso and pushed
the cup over in the corner. 

“You
ready to go?”

Jess
nodded and then pulled me up from the bench, keeping a tight grip on my
fingers.   He tugged me through the café to the exit.  
I should let go now
. 
My brain chanted the words as I walked barefoot behind Jess, but I couldn’t
bring myself to release this connection to him.  We reached his truck and Jess
opened the door for me.  Only then, did he let go of my hand so I could climb
inside.

We pulled
out of the parking lot without saying anything.  I reached over and turned the
radio to a station playing The Snow Pistols.  Using the steering wheel
controls, he flipped it back to Jason Boland.

I changed
it back with the console dial.  At the stoplight, we stared at each other until
he winked and flipped it again.  I grabbed the knob and clicked it back,
getting the last few notes of the Pistol’s song,
Ten Foot Hole
.