How We Deal With Gravity(15)
When I see his body twitch, I know my words were right.
“Goodnight, Mason,” I say, punching him lightly on the arm, like we’re old pals. It feels stupid, but it’s the only way I can think of leaving. He doesn’t say anything back until I’m almost to my door.
“Hey, Avery?” he whispers, and I turn to find him looking at the floor, hands stuffed in his pockets. When he looks up, it’s almost as though I’m looking at that sixteen-year-old again, the one who used to matter.
“Yeah, Mason?” I say, my stomach an absolute mess with nerves.
“Thanks. Just…thanks,” he says, shrugging his shoulders up and smiling with tight lips.
“Sure, Mason. Anytime,” I say. I close the door and let my forehead fall flat on it, and I stay there, frozen, for a good two minutes. I think I may have just made an enormous error in judgment. I promised myself I would never fall for Mason’s charm again. But something seems so different. Maybe…maybe it’s me.
Max is bundled in his weighted blanket, fast asleep. He’s always been good at falling asleep, and I feel lucky. Many kids with autism struggle, and I don’t know how their parents survive. I need these few hours in the evening—alone. I need the me time to let my brain stop, though I often spend those hours finishing up homework or researching something for Max. But that’s my choice—and at least I can put my headphones on and just be.
Max and I sleep next to one another in a set of twin beds. The separate mattresses make it a little easier—this way he won’t be disturbed when I crawl in and out of bed. I grab my headphones and my laptop and nestle into my pile of blankets. I was planning on reading, but that course changed the second I heard Mason playing the guitar.
It only takes me a few minutes to find the file—I converted most of my old recordings to digital files last year. I never listened to the ones of Mason, though. I was too afraid of how it would make me feel, and I’m pretty emotionally spent as it is most days.
I double click the folder open and pause, not sure if I’m ready for this. It’s like my hand has other plans though, because in seconds, I see the “Wild Horses” file open up on my play screen and Mason’s guitar is filtering in my ears. It’s more beautiful than I remembered—his voice sounds so young, but his playing was perfection. And even though he was just a teenager, there was so much emotion to every word that left his lips.
His band website is still up, even though the label dropped them. The links are to personal email addresses, so I decide to take a chance and open one to him. I attach the file and then stare at it for about 20 minutes…starting, stopping, and deleting until I find the right thing to say.
You know me, always have to prove I’m right. Thought you might like to hear what I hear.
-A
Send. It’s done. The adrenaline pouring through my veins now is thick, and I swear I could run a marathon. I just opened a door that I’m pretty sure can’t be shut. I just hope it’s a safe door, and doesn’t come with regret. I push my laptop to the side and shut the screen before snuggling deeper into my covers. I’m going to be getting up early in the morning and doing my best to leave the house before anyone else—Mason—is awake.
Chapter 5: Calluses
Mason
Two hours, if I’m lucky. That’s how long I slept last night, AKA this morning. I sat there on the other side of my door thinking about Avery Abbot until the sun was almost up. I thought about Avery Abbot because she thought about me. And I liked that she thought about me.
I didn’t get her email until this morning. That’s probably good, because now my head is all kinds of f*cked up trying to figure out what to think about it. She has wanted to do nothing but stick a staple through my neck since I ran into her at Dusty’s my first day back in town. But last night…I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading into it, but I think somewhere, deep down, Avery Abbot cares about me. And I think maybe I care about Avery Abbot.
At first I was just fantasizing about having a little fun with her, maybe getting her drunk and fooling around. But now I kind of just want to kiss her—like a real kiss, not the kind I usually give out just to make some chick think I’m into her so she’ll sleep with me.
I’ve listened to the clip she sent me a dozen times. The first six, I rolled my eyes, not even letting it play all the way through. But something kept calling me back. My young hands didn’t even know what they were doing back then, picking around the strings trying to make something sound good—sound different, unique. But there was something there, underneath my inexperience.
Somewhere along the way, I lost my passion, and Avery was right. I hate that she’s right. Or maybe I love it. Fuck, I don’t know. But it had me watching out my window this morning, just waiting for her to get in her car with Max and leave the house so I could pull out my guitar without her thinking she had anything to do with it.
She had everything to do with it. But she doesn’t need to know that.
By the time noon rolled around, I had played through everything I’d ever written, and covered about twenty of my favorites just trying to find myself again somewhere in this mess I’ve made. And now I just need to convince Ray to let me go on tonight. I need to see how it feels—in front of an audience. See if my heart kicks again…like it used to.