The Mason List (6 page)

Chapter 11

When
I was ten…

After we
dropped my mother in the ground, life had continued on without her.  The
Tanners traveled on a path across Sprayberry paved with Mason dollars.  The
closer we got, the more indebted we became to the family.  My father took
everything they offered without batting an eyelash.

On the
other hand, I let myself be pulled in by Jess.  The broken, leftover shell of a
girl felt bright and shiny whenever he stepped in a room.  One look into those
blue eyes and I did whatever his scheming mind conjured up for us.  We did
everything together and couldn’t be closer if our legs were bound tight with an
actual rope. 

Just like
tonight when Mrs. Mason took us to the annual Arlis Fair.  We laughed and ate
our way through the whole place. I looked down at the photo strip clasped in my
hand.  One of the clubs had an old-timey photo booth.  As we walked past, I saw
the costumes hanging from the rack.  Jess refused until he saw the sword
dangling from a hook.  He couldn’t say no to being a pirate. 

Out of
the corner of my eye, I saw Jess staring at his feet.  He was still mad about
the Tilt-a-Whirl. 

“I can’t
believe you puked on my boots,” he muttered. “They’re my favorites.”   

“I told
you not to make me eat your corndog after I had mine and a funnel cake.  I
couldn’t help it,” I glared at him.  He would not blame this on me.

“I’m not
seein’ corndogs on ‘em.  They’re stained blue from all your cotton candy.  You
ate three bags!”  Jess crossed his arms and wrinkled up his eyebrows.

“You made
me go on the Tilt-a-Whirl.  I told you I felt sick.  But
nooo!”
My voice
grew louder. 
“
You just had to ride it. 
Again!
” 

“Well you
made us take those
stupid
pictures and…” 

“Enough,
you two.”  Mrs. Mason cut Jess off as she intervened from the front of the
Escalade.  “Jessup, you have new boots at the house.  I told you to stop
wearing those anyway.”

“Ahh,
Mother.  The new ones ain’t broken in.  I just got these the way I like ‘em,”

“I said
enough!  No more talking the rest of the way home.  It’s been a very,
very
long
evening.” 

“Yes,
ma’am,” we answered in unison.

I saw
Mrs. Mason’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.  She gave that look; the one that
terrified me.  Mrs. Mason got agitated every so often with us.  The previous
week, Jess and I had a burping contest in the living room.  She walked in as we
bickered over who could get the furthest in the alphabet.  Mrs. Mason gave me
the cold stare of unladylike death at the mere thought of me belching.  Good
thing she didn’t see one of our spitting contests.  Goopy hacked up lougies. 
Jess was still better.  He could hit a tree at six feet.  My best was still
only three.

I turned
my gaze out the window at the flashing red, blue, and yellow bulbs.  It had
been a magical night with carnival rides and games amidst all the smells. 
Cotton
candy.
 My stomach lurched at the thought of it.   The strong odor of
sticky sweet vomit still lingered against the expensive leather of the
Escalade.

Arlis
held a large town fair every fall.  Local business and clubs lined the streets
around the town square with concession booths and games.  For us kids, we
waited all year for the carnival rides to arrive from Dallas.  Mrs. Mason
worked the Arlis Women’s Auxiliary booth most of the evening.  My father had
stopped by briefly to check on me before heading home from the hardware store. 
It had been two years since he took the job. 

Mr.
Buckley stayed true to his promise and retired.  After six months, he put my
father in charge of the complete management side of the business.  He was
excited to be getting things back in order for our lives.  Money was still
tight because of all the hospital bills and credit card debt we owed. 
Collection companies called frequently.

We
settled into a routine of me going to school and then home to Sprayberry.  I
stayed clear of most students.  I’m not sure how they knew about my life with
the Masons, but word twisted through the ears and mouths of the town residents
and on to their children.  In a place such as this, my presence was pegged as
just a little different than everyone else.  I was seen as poor but spent all
my time with Jess Mason.  In Arlis, that bit of information was very intriguing
amongst those who liked to gossip.

My hair
grew back rather fast, and I learned to create two long braids down my
shoulders all by myself.   Mrs. Mason attempted to convert my style to resemble
a girl and less like a tomboy.  She visibly cringed every time I arrived at the
house with Jess after school.  I usually had on overalls or stained up jeans. 
Sometimes I wore a baseball cap on top of my head. 

The
outfits she bought were just not practical for what Jess had planned during the
afternoons on the ranch.  Most evenings, I returned to the farmhouse covered in
dirt from riding four-wheelers and fishing.  I’d avoided horseback riding.  I
knew it was only a matter of time before Jess would stop taking no for an
answer.

Our
parents limited us to only one sleepover a week or else that boy would stay
every night.  Sometimes we camped outside in a little red tent that my father
set up in the front yard.  Lying side by side, we stuck our head out the front
flap to see the stars.  Jess taught me all the pictures in the sky.

When I
spent the night at his house, Jess and I stayed in the Mason's’ theater room in
sleeping bags.  I’d never imagined an entire room just for watching movies.  He
kept a secret stash of every kind of candy imaginable.  I watched him eat Gummy
Bears together with Snickers, knowing he did it just to hear me squeal.  Jess
let me pick the movies because I insisted on watching the gory, horror kind
that most girls hated.

Spending
time with Jess made the days pass with bursts of happiness.  Those days kept me
from falling completely into a black hole.  The years of anger and sadness
crept into my pale skin like a stain that refused to go away.  I think that is
why the idea of Jess felt so appealing.  He was like sunlight to my dreary
cloud.

The
Escalade came to a stop in front of the old farm house.  I unlocked the door
and stepped out in the driveway.  “Thank you Mrs. Mason, for taking me to the
carnival.” 

It was
tough hearing those words come from my lips.  It was a reoccurring statement
just with an interchangeable last word.  Tonight’s food, games, and ride
tickets had all been courtesy of the Masons.

“You’re
welcome, Alexandra.  Tell your father hello,” she smiled from the front seat,
her strong drawl holding each word.

“Yes,
ma’am.”

I looked
over at Jess before shutting the door.  I saw the sticky, blue goo all over the
front of his boots and up the legs of his Wranglers.  His blue eyes watched me
from his seat. 
Dang it!
 I would be angry, too, if he puked all over
me.  I still wasn’t sure how it ended up all on his feet and none on my gray
shoes.

“I’m
sorry about your boots, Jess,” I smiled a weak grin.

“Ahh,
it’s ok.  I got some other ones.”  He shrugged.  “See ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I
nodded back and shut the door.  Right before it slammed, I saw Jess pull a red
package from his pocket. 
You had to be kidding me!
  How could he still
eat with that sickening, sweet smell of cotton candy in the car?  I just shook
my head and walked to the front door. 

“Hey
Pumpkin, you have fun at the carnival?”  I heard my father from the kitchen as
I shut the door.

“Yeah, it
was good.  Here’s a picture.”  I handed him the photo strip and looked around
at the tiny white packages on the counter.  “What’s all of that?”

“Looks
like you two had fun,” he smiled and handed it back.  “Well, this is a steer. 
I’m trying to get all of it to fit into the freezer.”

“A
steer?  Like hamburger and steak and stuff?  Where did it come from?”  I didn’t
know why I asked.  I surveyed the beggar’s loot sparkling like pirate booty
with the Sprayberry logo stamped in red.  I knew exactly who sent the little
packages on the counter.  We didn’t have the money for that large amount of
meat.

“Well,
the ranch was butchering some for the year and they included us on the list. 
We
do
live on a cattle ranch, you know.” My father smiled down at me and
nodded his head.  “Should last us a long time, I would think.” 

“How much
did
that
cost us?”

“Well, we
are tenants on the ranch.  They just included us too.”  I knew he didn’t
understand what I was implying.

“You mean
they
gave
it to us.  Just like everything else.”  The words came out
more sarcastic than he deserved, but I was tired of pretending all the time. 
We depended completely on this family.

“Alex,
it’s not like that.”  He wasn’t angry yet but I knew I was pushing it.

“Then how
is it, Dad?  Why do the Masons keep helping us and why do you just let them?” 
I saw my father contemplating what to say.  I thought it would make him angry. 
Maybe I wanted it to make him angry.  Let him see how I felt for a change.

The
Masons did everything.  Something new or useful every time we turned around. 
Hundred dollar bills handed out like tissues to wipe away the grime. 

They gave
us the perfect tree every Christmas, stocked with a pile of big presents and
small presents covered in expensive, thick paper.  I got a new bike last month
just because I mentioned one day I used to ride around our old neighborhood in
Dallas.  In the spring, Mrs. Mason dolled me up in a special Easter dress.  A
grotesque pile of pink ruffles mailed all the way from some fancy shop in New
York City.  

The old
Bronco stalled out in month seven at the ranch.  The Masons replaced it with a
brand new Ford double cab in a color called Oxford White.  It was so clear it
sparkled like it was painted in diamonds.  The charity list went on and on,
making my head dizzy.  

“It’s not
that easy to explain, Alex.”  He set the white package down on the counter and
looked up into the anger growing on my face.  I couldn’t hide it.

“Then
try.  I want to understand,” I said with an even tone.  I had him cornered, and
I felt some triumph knowing I may finally have an answer to the
million-Mason-dollar question. 

“Wow!” 
His hand went up to rub his forehead.  It was something he did out of stress. 
“Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a sixteen-year-old instead of my little
Pumpkin.”

Whose
fault is that,
I
wanted to yell in his face, but stayed calm instead.  “I will be eleven in a
few weeks, Dad.” 

“Ok, well
I guess I can try.  The way I see, sometimes bad things happen in life.  You
want the bad part to be taken away.  You plead or sometimes pray for a
miracle.  I don’t know, Pumpkin.  I asked so very hard, but it didn’t happen
for us.  I didn’t understand.”  His eyes got a little sad.

“But you
know, not all miracles come in the form you ask or even in the way you think
they should.  It was hard at first for me to understand it, but once I did,” he
smiled again.  “Things just made sense.”

“I don’t
understand, Dad.”

“Well,
your mother.  It was not good with her.  Then everything just seemed to get
worse.  So I prayed for a miracle.  I wanted it so bad.  It wasn’t just about
losing your mother.  I needed her to be healed because I thought everything
would be fixed if she was healed.  I didn’t know how to do life by myself
without her.  But no matter how much I asked, it just didn’t seem to happen,”
he paused, shaking his head for a second. 

“Things
got worse.  We lost everything.  I felt like a failure toward my family.  I was
angry some, just like you are.  I kept asking and my words just seemed to
evaporate into thin air.  It was day after day of defeat.”

“It took
moving to the ranch house to see what I’d been missing.   One morning I woke up
to the sun shining through the window and I knew.  Life is a much bigger
picture than just what concerns me.  I know we got that miracle I asked for. 
We got the Masons at the very lowest point in our lives.  They stepped in out
of the blue and got us back on track.  I have an eternal level of gratitude
toward that family.  You should too.”

Stunned!
  The letters of the word
repeated over and over through the crevices of my brain.  My father gave an
answer far beyond what I ever could fathom regarding the Masons.  Not only did
he willingly accept this fate; he embraced it. 

“So this
miracle to have my mother healed was replaced by the Masons?  The miracle was
them?” I wasn’t buying this miracle nonsense.  The Tanners just gave up and let
the Masons take over their lives. 
It was so frustrating!
 

I wanted
clarity or something that would make me understand why we became reliant on
charity.  Instead, my father babbled some garbage about miracles that opened up
the second line of questions.  I didn’t grasp the Masons’ role in our lives.