Blackbird (a Sometimes Never novella) (4 page)

      “Merry Christmas! I’m so excited to watch you open your gifts,” she says, this huge grin on her face.

      Her enthusiasm is contagious. I lower myself to the oversized recliner and pull her into my lap. “Merry Christmas.” I kiss her cheek and then, because she smells so good, I run my nose over her throat and kiss the underneath of her chin.

      She presses closer to me. “Mason,” she whispers.

      “Hm?”

      “You’re going to make me skip to gift three.”

      I pull back and look at her. “Gift three?”

      “Mm-hm.”

      “Does it involve you naked?”

      She nods, her lashes dropping as she runs her tongue over her lips.

      “Yeah, I want it now.” I swing her onto the couch and follow her over, pulling her shirt off and sinking into her.

 8 Hope

      Gift one was the complete collection of the
Nightmare on Elm Street
movies. He loved them and immediately put one in. That’s why Johnny Depp is being pulled into a mattress on our TV on Christmas day.

      Mason got me a really pretty necklace that I know he can’t afford. He got hired in at Newton’s Pizza with me, but he hasn’t received a paycheck yet. Not that we make that much anyway. But the necklace is so pretty. A small blackbird made of onyx on a simple chain. The eye is a teeny little diamond.

      I almost cried when he latched it around my neck and touched the bird with one finger. After a deep breath, I gave him gift two. The song I wrote for him, typed and framed. Up in the corner, I added a picture he took of us the first night I moved in. Our faces are pressed together and you can see his arm holding the camera, but we’re both laughing, happy. It’s my favorite picture.

      He ran his fingers over the glass and then kissed me deeply before he gave me my second present. A box filled with individual packs of Skittles. Like a lifetime supply.

      Then I gave him gift three again.

      Johnny bites it in a bloody way and I stretch. “I should go take a shower so we can get to the house. Jenny wants us there as early as possible.”

      “All right,” Mason says, dragging the words out. He opens his arms, releasing me. I kiss his chin and stand up.

      “Want to come with me?”

      He grins, his green eyes locking on mine. “As if you even need to ask that question.” He pops up quickly and takes my hand, pulling me down the hallway.

~*~*~*~

      Watching Mason with my family and knowing he’s missing Christmas with his breaks my heart. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t complain or even tell me he misses them, but I know. I can see it so clearly in the way his eyes focus on the tree and he checks out of the conversation.

      If everything goes right, he’ll never miss another Christmas with them again. I’ve been busting ass to pull my grades up. If I can manage to get into my first choice college, we’ll be in Chicago in about eight months. 

      Studying is actually pretty fun when I do it with Mason. He rewards me for right answers with kisses and candy, which are great motivators. As well as the main prize—Mason going home.

      When we get home, he passes out on the couch. I did get him up pretty early. Seeing my chance, I slip his phone out of his pocket and shut myself in our bedroom.

      With shaking hands, I place the call to his mom. It rings four times and I don’t think she’s going to answer and then the phone clicks.

      “Mason?” Kellin says breathlessly. His voice is so excited and my heart flutters.

      “No, Little Man,” I whisper. “It’s Hope.”

      “Oh.” I can literally hear his enthusiasm deflate. “Hi.”

      “Hi. Merry Christmas. I just need to talk to your mom for a minute and then I’ll put Mason on. Okay?”

      “She’s not going to talk to you,” he says not trying to sugar coat her dislike for me—which I appreciate.

      “Just hand her the phone. You don’t have to say who’s on it.”

      He doesn’t respond, but I hear the shuffling of the phone and then she’s there. “Hello?”

      “Hi Gabbie. It’s Hope.”

      “What happened?”

      “No. Nothing. He’s fine.” I sigh. “Well, he’s not fine. He misses you guys. He wants to see Kellin.”

      “Mm,” she huffs.

      “Listen, I know how you feel about me. And you have every right to hate me.”

      “I don’t hate you, Hope. Not at all. I feel so sorry for you. I’m just scared of what you’ll put my son through. What you’ve already put him through. And Kellin. What he saw.”

      “I know,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.” I’ll be sorry for that for the rest of my life.

      “That doesn’t change anything.”

      “I’m in therapy. I go every week. I’ve only missed one session.”

      “Well that’s good, Hope. I’m glad.”

      I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “But it doesn’t matter to you. Does it? I’ll just always be the crazy girl that stole your son.”

      She laughs dryly and the sound resembles Mason’s laugh. My stomach twists. “You can’t understand—you’re not a mother. We have a fierce protectiveness for our children.” 

      “Not all moms,” I say quietly. I feel the tears sting my eyes and I blink them away. “I respect you for that, Gabbie. Can’t you respect me for trying to get better?”

      She’s quiet for a long time and I check to make sure I didn’t lose the call. “I’m sorry about your mom, Hope.”

      I don’t respond. I don’t know how.

      “The thing is, you’re a messed up kid and I don’t trust you with my children.”

      I don’t know where it comes from, it’s like it just spills from my mouth. “You’re messed up too. At least I’m trying to fix what’s wrong with me. You just keep getting worse.”

     
Cheese and rice
. No.
I did not just say that
. I’m supposed to be fixing this. Not making it worse.
Shit
.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

      “Yes you did. And you’re right.”

     
Okay
…

      “Why do you love him?” she asks suddenly.

      “He’s my reason for breathing,” I tell her. “He sees inside me even when I try so hard to hide. And I don’t know why, but he likes what he sees. All that’s bad and ugly about me, he likes it as much as the good stuff.” My vision blurs and a tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away and go on. “Your son is smart, and funny, and he always does what he thinks is right, no matter what. He looks out for people and when he touches me, it’s like I’ve found a missing piece of myself.

      I could seriously go on all night, Gabbie. He’s amazing. I love him more than anything. And I need him to be happy. He needs to see Kellin. I’ll leave when he’s here. I’ll move out if that’s what it takes. Just let him see his brother.
Please
.”

      She makes a strange noise and sighs. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

      I nod even though she can’t see it. “Okay. Veronica—that’s my therapist—she suggested we try out a family session. Maybe if you came to one…maybe you would feel better.”

      “Have you done anything? Since Kellin saw you? Have you hurt yourself?”

      I swallow down the huge lump in my throat and clench my hand into a fist. “Yes. I’m not going to lie. I have. Once since then. After my first counseling session. But I haven’t since.”

      “Does he know?”

      “Yes.”

      “He didn’t tell me… I just don’t know.”

      “It’s always going to be a struggle for me, but I’m battling it. I fight against it every single day. And I’m getting better. It’s getting easier. Some days are harder than others, but it’s like there was this noose around my neck, choking me. It’s looser now. Some days I can even slip it over my head.”

      She’s quiet again and I wait her out, knowing she’s thinking. I’m just glad we’ve made it this far in the conversation. I thought for sure she’d hang up on me immediately.

      “I know what that feels like,” she says finally. “To feel like your choking.”

      I don’t say anything. I know she’s referring to Mason and Kellin’s dad dying.

      “Set up one of those sessions—the family thing. Give me two weeks notice and I’ll be there. Just me. Not Kellin yet. We’ll take it from there.”

      Oh dear Buddha.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you
. “Okay,” I breathe. “Thanks Gabbie.”

      “Don’t thank me yet. This could blow up in all our faces.”

      “I know, but I’m trying to be optimistic.”

      “I didn’t think you were the type.”

      I laugh lightly. “I wasn’t.”

      “Mason,” she and I say at the same time.

      “Yeah.”

      “Yeah,” she sighs.

      “Okay, I’m going to go wake him up so he can talk to you. He misses you both so much.” I open the door to Mason sitting up on the couch, his hands clasped together between his knees. He smiles at me and I hold out the phone.

      “Your mom.”

      He takes it, holding it to his chest, and grips my wrist with his other hand. “Thank you.”

      “No problem,” I say.

      “No, Hope,” he utters. His eyes lock on mine and he shakes his head. “
Thank you
.” 

9 Mason

      “Have you been using the exercises we talked about?” Wes, my therapist asks me. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He watches me closely, waiting for my answer.

      “It’s been a rough week,” I say. “Hope’s back on the moving out kick. She has it in her head it’ll make everything better. With Mom, I mean.”

      Wes sits back and scratches his full beard. “What do you think?”

      “It doesn’t solve shit. It’s a band aid. And I don’t want her to go.”

      “So how have you handled it?”

      I sigh. I knew when I sidestepped his question he wasn’t going to let it go. “I lost my temper at work.”

      “What happened?” His eyes lock on mine and I smirk at him.

      “I got fired.”

      He smiles and combs through his beard again. “All right smartass. Back up a few steps. What happened that caused you to lose your temper?”

      I look over his shoulder, fixing my gaze on the framed painting of a windmill. I wonder why, out of all the paintings in the world, he chose this one to display in his office. Windmills are useful, rolling with the wind to help provide some service. Lifting water, breaking grain, generating electricity… Maybe that’s why he has it.

      To remind us we have a reason—a purpose. 

      “What’s up with the windmill picture?” I ask, putting off his question. Again.

      He pivots in his seat and looks over his shoulder. When he turns back to me, he shrugs. “I like windmills.”

      “Why?”

      Another shrug. “My dad collected them. I guess it rubbed off on me.” He drops his hands onto his lap, locking his fingers. “Did your dad collect anything?”

      I narrow my eyes.
Nice fucking try Wes, but I’m not biting
. I mirror his posture and mimic his shrug. “This dude was hitting on her.”

      “Hope?”

      I chuckle. “Yeah.” My foot starts bouncing, sending my knee up and down, and I look down at the floor. “I fucking lost it. It’s not like I thought she was interested, but she keeps saying she should leave. I got this picture in my head… Her moving out and then he was there—that guy, Shane from work—and I couldn’t make it go away.” I laugh. “The panic—not the image.”

      “So you panicked. Then what?”

      “He’s been talking shit all night, right? And I’ve kept my mouth shut `cause Hope was blowing him off, but then…” I rub my face with both hands, feeling like such an asshole as I look back at it. “She was pulling a pizza out of the ovens and when she bent over, he was staring at her ass.”

      “What’d you do?”

      “Nothing. I didn’t do shit. I didn’t do a
God damn thing
about another guy checking out my girlfriend’s ass, Wes. You’d have been proud.” I exhale a harsh laugh. “But then he looked at me and said, ‘Soon as you fuck that up, Macey, I’m all over her.’”

      Wes brings his chin up and nods once. “What happened?”

      I lock my fingers on top of my head and take a long, deep breath. “I jumped the counter and punched him in the face. Broke his fucking nose.”

      “That it? Did you stop?”

      There’s no judgment in his voice and it makes it easier to go on. I shake my head. “I had my arm back ready to hit him again and Hope—she stepped in between us. I almost…” I shake my head. I can’t even say it aloud.
I almost hit her
. I don’t know how I registered her face through the rage, but I did—at the last second, I did.

      Wes is quiet and I look at him, waiting. “Why did you hit him?”

      “He talked shit.”

      “Mason. Why did you hit him? Identify it.”

      “He said he was going after Hope.”

      Wes blinks. Waits.

      I stand up and pace the small room, my hands on my head. “He said I was going to fuck up. But I already have.” I stop and face him. “Losing her is my biggest fear and she wants to leave. I can’t fix it and I can’t stand the idea of any other guy with her.”

      “Do you think maybe she wants to move out to make a way for your brother to visit? No other reason?”

      “I know that’s the reason, but you don’t know Hope. She is always trying to run away when shit gets hard. If she moves out, I know that’ll be it for us.
I know it
.”

      “You don’t know that. That is your insecurities controlling you.”

      I sit down in my chair and smirk at my well meaning, but undoubtedly dumbass therapist. “No, Wes. That’s fact. I don’t give a shit what your training told you. Hope can’t move backwards. She moves out—she’ll pull away from me. She’ll quit therapy. She’ll hurt herself.” I shake my head slowly. “And what she doesn’t get is if she moves out and I lose her, nothing will ever get better with Mom and Kel. I’ll hate my mom for taking away the person I love most.”