And he did; he recognized both his name and his face from many years ago. Most of the time on the television as his stepfather watched his sermons early on Sunday mornings through the reflection of the mirror as he adjusted his tie before leaving for church. He remembered his stepfather preaching almost the same exact sermon, as if he’d memorized every word, and making Mason recall everything he’d preached about every Sunday night. More than that, he remembered what would happen if he even missed just one thing. Staring at her father, he couldn’t help but remember the man his mother married to replace
his
, and with that came a genuine disdain for everything from the crisp white clergy collar that framed his neck to the silver cross that hung from it. It wasn’t fair, but to see certain familiarities in his mannerisms and characteristics made it hard not to feel the way he did.
Apart from what he did know about her father, which wasn’t much, he had no desire to know any more.
“Mason, is it?” Mr. McCail shook his hand. “One who builds with stones and bricks. That’s a very strong name. God must have had a powerful plan for your life.”
He chuckled in discomfort, “Nice to meet you Mr. McCail.”
“Oh no, please, call me Thurgood, son. You haven’t quite made it to the ‘Dad’ phase yet,” he joked.
His voice was heavy and raspy. Mason cringed the moment he referred to him as
son
.
They are all just alike,
he thought. He laughed along with them to save face, but nothing about the conversation was funny.
For the next hour they exchanged a few words in between conversations with Sydney, but nothing that required Mason to talk too much. Sydney noticed he was a bit standoffish, especially with her father, but she thought nothing of it beyond him possibly being nervous. Nerves had very little to do with it. He listened and joined in where he felt it was necessary but the more he did, and the more her father’s dialect reminded him of his stepfather, it became increasingly hard for him to pretend he was comfortable in a situation where he absolutely wasn’t.
“Excuse me,” Mason cut into their conversation, “is there a restroom I could use?”
Thurgood pointed him to the bathroom just around the corner from the kitchen. Watching him walk away, he hadn’t noticed Mason’s discomfort in the least, but rather looked at Sydney, proud as could be. “He seems like a really nice young man,” he said.
The bathroom light was already on when Mason walked in. He closed the door behind him and tried to pull himself together, questioning whether or not he was overreacting. He turned on the faucet listlessly, watching the water run down the porcelain sink, breathing almost as fast as the water fell. He closed and opened his eyes repeatedly, pinching them together and trying not to allow the familiarity of his surroundings to dig into memories that he had long suppressed. It was too late. Even the water that filled the bottom of the sink found a way of attaching itself to a memory.
“Turn off the water!” Mason’s mother yelled from her room down the hall.
He was supposed to be brushing his teeth, but instead he had let the water run until it almost overflowed. He was never really sure what fascinated him about that, but seeing the little hole in the sink stop the overflow always amazed him. He’d heard her yell out again but he paid no attention and let the water run even more. Something changed that night. The bathroom door slowly opened behind him and he could almost feel the blood leaving his hand from gripping the toothbrush so tight. Fear blanketed over him like a rain cloud over a small city and the voice that followed crept up on him like distant thunder. He had never felt more afraid and defenseless, a feeling and a fear that he never forgot, along with the words, Son, it’s time for bed.
He quickly turned the water off, the screech from the faucet pulling him from his thoughts.
I have to get out of here,
he said to himself. At the very least out of this house, if not the hotel. He dried his hands on the towel hanging above the sink, stalling for a few minutes in the bathroom before he came out and walked right into Sydney and her parents putting on their coats.
“Are we going somewhere?” he asked, slightly confused.
“My mom actually made reservations for us tonight at some new restaurant downtown,” Sydney answered, handing him his coat.
Ruby was at the door waiting for Thurgood, who was upstairs changing his clothes. He started to make his way down the stairs as Mason began to put on his shoes and his coat.
“Mason, what is this about you two checking into a hotel?” he asked, walking down the steps.
Mason hoped the conversation wasn’t about to go where he thought it would. Before he could get a word out to answer, Thurgood cut in.
“We have plenty of room here,” he added. “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. Tomorrow the house is going to be full of women with my other daughter and my granddaughters. I could use another man around here to talk to,” he laughed.
Chapter 23
There wasn’t a single place to park on either side of the street as they pulled up towards the restaurant. Mason couldn’t make out the name fully but he did see the words Steak House glowing red just above the entrance. He sat in the back seat, less than thrilled about being in the same car with everyone, but also, not wanting to ruin the trip for Sydney.
“I’m surprised this place is so busy tonight,” Sydney expressed, leaning over the passenger seat.
“It’s always like this, ever since they opened,” Ruby added.
There were people everywhere both leaving and waiting to get in. Apparently this restaurant was very popular, and it appeared to be even more so on Christmas Eve. They circled the block a few times before they decided to spend the money for valet parking and finally made their way into the restaurant. Thurgood went ahead to check on their reservation, leaving them standing in the foyer along with a few other guests waiting to be seated. They waited for all of five minutes before they were led to a table.
The restaurant was beautiful. The walls were lined with a sophisticated cherry wood and the lighting in the dining room was warm and intimate, subtly accenting the drop lights above the bar. The tables had been draped with white linens, and champagne glasses became the center focus of the table as the waitress placed silverware tightly wrapped in white napkins beside them. The pulse of the jazz music made it very easy to drown out neighboring conversations as they began to focus on their own.
“This menu looks amazing!” Sydney mentioned, combing through the entrées.
It was expected with a restaurant as classy and intimate as this one was that the food service would be equally pricey, but this was nothing Mason wasn’t used to. Thurgood, however, gave the impression that he was the only one who had ever sat in a five star restaurant, laying his napkin across his legs and declining to look at the menu.
Between light conversations everyone gave their order to the waitress, who had taken the menus and already delivered complimentary glasses of water. Thurgood thought this would have been a better time than any to get to know Mason more than he had at home, noticing that the ladies had branched into a conversation of their own.
“So, Mason, do you have many restaurants like this up there in Delaware?”
He was genuinely interested, but his question came across very condescending. Mason’s eyebrows pinched to the middle of his forehead as he sipped his water.
Mason chuckled, “We have a few.”
Thurgood sat back a little from the table and crossed his legs. “Delaware…” he looked to be in thought. “I’ve only been there once and that was passing through many years ago. It’s a fairly small state, isn’t it?” He asked.
“Compared to most,” Mason answered.
“So what do you do there? Are you in school?”
“School? I’m almost thirty years old,” Mason expressed, offended.
“Well, it’s never too late.”
Is he serious?
Mason thought to himself.
“Daddy, believe it or not Mason is actually––”
“…in banking. I’m in investment banking,” he cut in.
Sydney was a little taken aback, both by him cutting her off and his answer.
Mason isn’t in banking,
she thought, noticing his tone had changed completely.
“You must have taken a pretty hard hit with the way the economy has gone recently,” Thurgood insisted.
“No more than most,” Mason confidently replied. “But what about you, what is it that you do exactly?” he asked as if he didn’t already know.
“Well, I’m actually the Pastor of a church here in Charleston. We have about twenty-two hundred members now.”
“And how’d the economy treat you?”
“We were
blessed,
” he answered, sensing Mason’s sarcasm.
Mason laughed under his breath, thinking back on Thurgood’s immaculate house and the luxury car one of three they had driven to the restaurant in.
He took a light sip of his water and sat it back down on the table. “It’s pretty obvious
you
were… blessed, as you put it, but what about the rest of your congregation?” Mason inquired, even more sarcastic than before.
Sydney’s eyes widened in attentive embarrassment. “MASON!” She yelled, causing a few people around them to become interested in their conversation.
Thurgood adjusted himself in his chair, tilting his head as if preparing for a debate. “I don’t think I’m quite sure what you mean by that. Please, elaborate.” He spoke with a sense of cynicism.
“I mean isn’t that how it works? The church members the ones who already have little to nothing give and give hoping that at some point…” He stopped searching for the right words. “This God that they are praying to will one day show up and reward them, when in the end their prayers fall on deaf ears and their offerings fall directly into your pocket.”
“Mason!” Sydney yelled again, shocked.
Staring directly at Thurgood, waiting for him to respond, he smiled arrogantly and excused himself from the table.
“He’s quite the character,” Thurgood expressed as Mason walked towards the bar.
“Daddy I am so sorry, I don’t –”
“No no, it’s not your fault, and it’s nothing you have to apologize for,” he chuckled. “I’ll be right back. The food should be here in a minute; you two go ahead and eat.”
“I’ll have a scotch,” Thurgood’s voice trailed over Mason’s shoulder, who had taken a seat at the bar.
“So, you drink, too?” Mason asked.
“
Too?
You do realize you don’t know anything about me, and yet you’ve come all the way here and passed judgment on me and my church less than one hour after meeting me.”
“
Your
church?” Mason challenged.
“Yes,
my
church.”
Mason laughed, “And you wonder why we never find God when we look for him.”
“Has it occurred to you that you’re dating
my
daughter?” Thurgood asked, not hiding his frustration. “Do you really think it’s wise for you to come all the way down here and think you know something when you don’t?”
“Trust me, I know plenty about how you mega church closet preachers work––”
“Look, son, d” he angrily cut him off.
Before he could finish, Mason cut in, even more aggressively.
“See that right there… that was your first mistake. I’m not your son, I’m not your boy, and I’m not your friend. I can respect that you are Sydney’s father, but that’s as far as it goes with me. Don’t think for one second your collar or your cross carry any weight or warrant any respect from me.”
Mason drank what little was left in his glass and slammed it down on the bar top. He thought back to Thurgood’s comment in reference to his name, back at the house. “
One who builds with stones and bricks. That’s a very strong name. God must have had a powerful plan for your life.”
“By the way,” he added, “I make my own plans for
my
life. God failed the first time.”
Chapter 24
There was very little said between Mason and Sydney’s father, the rest of the dinner outside of unspoken soliloquies and indirect sarcasm. Occasional glances of discord and cordial conversation became their entertainment for the majority of the evening. It was obvious by that point that neither one of them cared to be around the other. Sydney’s head was barely raised enough to make eye contact with her parents sitting across from the two of them. Even when she spoke, her voice hardly brought a word above a whisper. She was embarrassed, and getting more and more upset as the night progressed. Mason sat beside her, almost emotionless. He sliced through his medium rare filet mignon with a hint of arrogance, but held his tongue fast from speaking another word. The longer the night went on, the more distant, cold, and estranged he became. Sydney had never seen him act that way and her mother, who had praised him earlier, couldn’t comprehend the sudden change any more than she could. They both watched in silence, neither one feeling comfortable enough to say a word to him; they just wanted the night to be over.
“I’ll take that,” Thurgood said to the waitress who had finally come with the check.
Shortly afterward, Sydney and Mason excused themselves from the table and walked outside ahead of her parents. Sydney’s expression was obvious, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to notice. They reached the foyer outside of the restaurant, where most of the people were waiting for their vehicles or hailing a taxi. Sydney paced back and forth in front of Mason as he stood a little ways behind her with both of his hands nestled comfortably in his pockets. She didn’t want to make a scene, but she couldn’t keep quiet, not after the way the night had gone so far.
“Mason, I am trying for the life of me to understand what is going on with you.”
Uncalled for but not unexpectedly, he responded as nonchalantly as he had been acting for most of the night. He brushed her off completely without saying a word and walked towards the valet, who had just pulled her father’s car up. Her eyes widened in disbelief and her jaw fell as if she had a word hanging on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t believe he had walked away from her in front of all of those people like it was second nature to him. The curious and impartial stares of people standing outside of the restaurant burned into her like a propelled flame. It was humiliating. She timidly called out after him, trying not to draw any more unnecessary attention towards her. By then everyone had clearly formed their own opinions, which she could hear in the many side conversations that didn’t care to be softly spoken. Mason didn’t make the situation any better. He squinted in the direction of her voice as she called out after him, but he never acknowledged her.
“What is going on with you?” She tugged his arm, turning him around.
Before he could respond he saw her mother and father walking out of the restaurant, staring at the two of them arguing.
“We are not going to do this
here
, not right now.” His voice was low so only she could hear.
“No!” She replied. “We’re not going to do
this
at all…”
The anger in her voice carried a wave of sadness close to tears. He knew she was angry, and he knew she was upset. Politeness and chivalry were long gone, though, and a part of him had shut down completely.
Thurgood stood in between the open driver side door, emasculated by the look on his daughters face. “Sweetheart, get in the car.”
She could hear disappointment riding the wave of his words. Unfortunately, Mason’s arrogance in the situation only made things worse and fueled the fire that consumed her.
Painfully, insensitively mimicking her father, he repeated, “
Sweetheart
, get in the car.”
She stood still in a moment that made no clear sense to her, and he remained as cold as the chill that calmed the night. She brushed him aside and got into the car, furiously pulling the door closed behind her. Thurgood looked upon Mason in sheer disgust.
“And
this
was your Christmas present to her,” he said, shaking his head.
“Get in the car.”
They drove back silently, hearing only the sounds of other passing cars through the open windows. The tension was heavy but no one spoke a word to entice it. Sydney wanted so badly for Mason to look over at her or to say something, if only a word to soothe her disposition, but his mouth hadn’t moved apart from the clenching of his jaw. Even as she glanced at him, hoping he’d catch the turn of her head, he instead rested his elbow on the armrest that divided them and stared out of the window, lost in the streetlights that hovered above.
They pulled into the driveway, inching into the garage as the door slowly opened above them. Both Thurgood and Ruby walked in the house ahead of them and left the door leading in from the garage slightly opened for them to follow. Mason had no desire to do that, though. He walked out of the garage to the rental car and stubbornly leaned against the side of it. Sydney, who was only a few steps behind her parents, waited until the doorway was clear of them and stormed out of the garage directly towards him.
“What is your problem?” she asked.
He couldn’t even look at her. Every direction he turned his head, trying to avoid eye contact, she moved to, giving him no choice but to look her square in the eyes.
He chuckled under his breath. “You should have told me who your father was.”
“I don’t see how that even matters!” she exclaimed.
Of all things, she hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth, let alone be the reason for his behavior.
“It matters more than you think.”
She shook her head as if to hide what she felt was a stupid reason for him to be acting that way. “Okay, first of all, I don’t see how it matters but since it apparently does, I still don’t get it. You haven’t given him a chance to know you, or yourself to know him for that matter, and even when he tried, you lied to him. You –”
“I never lied to him,” he abruptly cut her off.
“Really! Mr., ‘I’m in investment banking.’ What was that? Please correct me if I’m wrong, but owning a company that manages millions in land development isn’t exactly
investment banking.
”
“So I guess I was expected to give him how much I make, too…”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” she shouted, irate. “He was just curious, as any father would be to know who his daughter was dating!”
Mason was all over the place; his thoughts were scattered and things he said weren’t making much sense to Sydney at all. He was hesitant to say what he really felt, knowing how it would sound, but at that point he just didn’t care.
“I. Don’t. Trust. Him,” he boldly stated, making clear to articulate every word, looking her directly in the face.
“What?” She was completely taken aback by his response. “You don’t trust my
father
, because he’s a Pastor of a church?” She started to walk away. “Unbelievable!”
“I don’t trust him because he is a blood sucking leech,” he aggressively responded.
Before he could say another word, he felt the hard sting of her right hand cross the side of his face. “How dare you? That’s my father you’re talking about, not some con-artist.” she yelled. “You have no idea of how many lives he’s touch –”
“
He’s a pastor
, I’m sure I do,” he insinuated, rubbing the side of his face.
Sydney slowly backed away from him as if he were a stranger she had never known. He didn’t stop there, though.
“I know how these ‘Men-of-God’ work. They build mega churches on the backs of people who give their last dime, having faith that God will help them pay their own rent in return. They use their ‘Godly’ authority as a way to HURT, and take advantage of people of
children
and they live on the scripture, touch not mine anointed, do my prophet no harm; as if their sins are exempt.”
“Mason… you are really going too far.”
“Am I?” he asked, “Do you really know what goes on when the pastor’s door closes?” He paused. “I do… and I remember…clearly.”
He looked up towards the bay window just above the three-car garage. “Do you really think this immaculate house came without him dirtying his hands?”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” she yelled.
Her voice was unnerving. Her jaws were tight and her eyes pierced through him like a straight blade. She resented every word, every thought, every implication of her father that came out of his mouth. It was obvious for whatever reason that he was uneasy, but the way he spoke was outright disrespectful. She made sure he knew it. Every word that fell from her lips was clearly articulated, one after the other. The neighborhood echoed of her high-pitched voice and his thunderous tone. Neither one of them noticed Thurgood, who had been standing in the doorway for the past ten minutes. He had heard most of the conversation and made no attempts to cut in, but it had finally reached a point where he had to. As much as he had grown to dislike Mason in the past hour, he still understood that both he and Sydney were adults. Regardless of his opinion whatever decision was to be made would be between them.
“Sydney,” he mildly called out, “why don’t the two of you go ahead over to the hotel? It’s getting pretty late.”
“Daddy, please…” she interrupted him, not fully hearing what he had said.
Mason, on the other hand, had heard him loud and clear. “No,” he cut in, “he’s right. I’m going to check into the hotel.”
“Fine!” Sydney said, highly irritated as she opened the passenger door.
Mason saw that she was about to get into the car and gently pushed the door closed, pulling the handle out of her hand.
“
I’m
going to check into the hotel,” he reiterated. “I think you should stay here.”
She stepped back from the car with her arms folded. “Tell me you’re not serious?” she asked, feeling her heart beat like a hollow drum.
But he was. He didn’t say a word, and his eyes avoided connecting to hers at all costs. He started the car, backed it down the driveway, and before she could blink he was gone.