How We Deal With Gravity(25)
“It was a Saturday, and I like when I get to sit up later. It was good,” he says, before picking up his fork to finish his last few bites. Sometimes I think Max isn’t so different from other five-year-olds, he just doesn’t have the filter that blocks out the honesty. Sure, Max thought last night was great—he got to sit up past his bedtime. The fact that I happened to be playing music in the background is meaningless to the fact that he got a couple extra hours of iPad game time. And I don’t blame him a bit.
“Yeah, last night was pretty awesome,” I say, smiling to myself, and stuffing the rest of my tasteless pancake into my mouth.
I pick up my plate and ask Max if I can take his. I figure he doesn’t mind when he pushes it to the side toward me then goes right back to the iPad. I sort of wish his mom was just as direct. Might make figuring out where I stand a whole hell of a lot easier.
Avery’s washing up the plates in the kitchen. I pass Ray when I take mine over, and I could swear he gives me a signal with his glance, urging me to talk to his daughter. There’s also a good chance I’m imagining Ray’s approval—truthfully, disappointing him—again!—scares the hell out of me. And I can’t think of anything that would disappoint him more than me chasing after Avery.
I start to help with the plates, but she just grabs mine from my hand and smiles curtly. It almost felt…hostile.
“Okay…uh, thanks,” I say, taking a few steps back to the door. I stop, though, mid-stride and close my eyes. Come on, don’t be a *. I come back and lean on the edge of the nearby counter, close enough to make her noticeably shift her weight. “So…what did you really think? I heard what you said. You thought it was good. And thank you. I appreciate that. But…now that we’re not at the bar…with your family…”
She finishes the last plate and turns the faucet off, but she keeps her gaze focused on the damn soapy water, her hands wringing the sponge dry. She looks so uncomfortable that it has me just wanting to retreat—but I’m in too far. And I’d regret turning back.
“I want to know the things you can’t say…in front of them,” I lean in closer while I ask this, and her breath halts. I swear her fingers are trembling, and it’s making me want to reach out and touch her, just to let her know it’s safe.
It feels like forever until she finally exhales. And just when I don’t think she’s going to acknowledge it—directly—she does.
“Don’t do this, Mason,” her eyelids flit, almost as if it’s with exhaustion. I’m so taken off guard with her response, I react immediately.
“Don’t…do what? Say ‘I’m sorry?’” I spit back, probably a lot harsher than I mean to.
“Yeah,” she says, tossing the sponge in the sink and wiping her hands dry on the front of her jeans while she walks past me. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”
Shit!
I follow her back though the kitchen door. Max is still sitting in his place, playing on his iPad, and Ray has moved on to business already, loading in some crates from the back. I look over and think about helping him just so I have an excuse to leave this conversation. But it’s really my fault I’m having it in the first place, so instead, I decide to be a prick about it and slide up on one of the stools next to Max.
“What are you guys doing today?” I ask, knowing Max will probably answer before Avery. I can actually feel her dig her heels in behind the bar while her eyes roll.
“Mom says I am to get a haircut,” Max says, his voice almost robotic, and his eyes not leaving the screen of his tablet.
“Haircut, huh? Okay, that sounds good,” I fold my hands and smile smugly at Avery. I’m totally tagging along for the haircut. And hell, I might just follow along for groceries, and watch her do her damn homework just to piss her off at this point.
“I don’t like having people touch my hair,” Max’s eyes flair when he says this, and his tone seems more irritated, so I don’t tease anymore. I don’t want him to think that I’m teasing him.
She leans forward now and forces Max to acknowledge her gaze. “But you are starting school next week, and part of that means getting a haircut. We’ve been over this, right Max?” She seems tense again, so I decide to back off. I’m about to let her off the hook completely when Max becomes my unexpected wingman.
“Can Mason come?” when Max asks, Avery’s eyes almost leave her head. I can actually hear her swallow in response, and she quickly turns her attention to me, her lips barely open, but her face saying everything. She doesn’t want me to come—I don’t even have to ask. But she needs me to come—because Max asked. I haven’t known him long, but I know enough to know this is a big deal.
My eyes lock with Avery’s, and I do my best to smile, genuinely. “I’d love to, Max. I’d love to,” I say, and Avery’s shoulders instantly relax.
I understand why getting a haircut was such a big deal the moment we pull into the parking lot in front of the barber. Max seemed fine for most of the car ride, his mind occupied with his game for most of the way. Once we pulled in, and Avery took the iPad from him to store in her purse, everything about Max began to change.
It’s not a normal tantrum like I’m used to seeing. My mom used to babysit kids Max’s age, and when they didn’t get ice cream or to watch their favorite cartoon, it was hard to convince the neighbors that my mom wasn’t beating them.