How We Deal With Gravity(82)

“There’s a tunnel, in the playground. It’s Max’s safe place. He has to be there, Claire. He has to be,” I say, making a stern face at Ben when he starts to argue with me again.

“Okay, I’ll go look right now. I’ll call you back,” she says, hanging up. I stare at my phone and manage to bring enough sense to my head to save her number as a contact. I shove the phone in my pocket and sit back on the sofa to think.

“What the f*ck, man?” Ben says. I’m not even remotely close to being in the mood to deal with him, so I just point at him to stay put and walk out of the bus. It doesn’t work though, and he’s quick to follow me.

“Who was that? Fuckin’ Birdie? What, she want you to blow off the tour? Come back and be her bitch boy?” he can barely finish his last sentence before my fist lands at his jaw. As much crazy crap that I’ve done, I haven’t really been in a ton of fights, and the crunch of his bone against my knuckles stings; I have to shake my hand just to get feeling back in it. But Ben is so goddamned high, he’s right back in my face, shoving me until my feet lose their balance and I stumble into the side of the bus.

I shove him back, adrenaline fueling my entire body; I keep pushing at his chest until he trips onto the ground again. “You say one more word about her, and I swear I will end you,” I say, my knee weighing into his chest. He spits to the side, and it’s bloody.

“She’s just being selfish,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh at how absolutely wrong he is. I walk away from him, back to the bus, and climb inside, slamming the door behind me. Seconds later, it swings open, and I clench my fist, ready to go another round, but I soften when I realize its Matt.

“Josh is outside, cleaning him up,” he says, his opinion of Ben obvious in the face he’s making. Of the three of us, Matt is the one who has always had the least amount of tolerance for Ben. “What’d he do to earn that?”

“Just Ben being Ben,” I say, chewing at my tongue, forcing myself not to say anything more that I might regret. I sit back down and lower my head into my hands. I have to think—process everything. I’m trying to figure out my next move, when my phone rings and I answer quickly.

“Yeah,” I say, and I can already hear familiar voices in the background.

“It’s Claire. You were right, Mason. We found him. Oh my god,” she’s crying now, hard. “How did you know?”

“I just knew,” I say, my heart finally beating for the first time since I heard Claire’s news. “What…I mean, how…I…”

I don’t even know what to ask her next or how to move forward. All I know is that I’m no longer where I need to be, and I’m looking at Matt, square in the eyes, and I know he knows too.

“It was fast, Mason. With Ray? It was fast, in his sleep. He didn’t feel a thing,” she says, I know trying to sooth the burn of the guilt that is absolutely choking me now. “It was a heart attack. He ate like shit, and he drank a lot—probably more than he should.”

“It’s not fair,” is all I can say, and I’m crying again. I push the palm of my hand deep into my eyes, trying to force myself to get a grip; I take a deep breath and look at Matt. “He was a good man, and I wasn’t there. And it’s not f*cking fair, Claire!”

“I know it’s not, Mason. But there’s nothing you can do…nothing you could have done,” she says, and I don’t know that that’s the case, but I appreciate her saying it anyhow.

“When…I mean, is there…a service?” I ask, not even sure how these things work.

“It just happened—this morning. I don’t know any details yet. Avery’s…she’s working through it. Probably something this weekend. We’ll make sure you know, though—I’ll call you, or your mom will,” she says, and I can’t help but notice that it’s not Avery, which only makes my tears come faster.

“Thanks, Claire. Hey, call me if there’s anything…” I start, but I know there’s nothing I can do. I’m four hundred miles away, and my foundation is crumbling.

“I will,” she says, and then she’s gone. I just sit there and stare into Matt’s eyes, talking without really talking, for minutes.

“There will be other bands,” he says finally. I don’t know what to say back to him, so I just blink and breathe through my nose slowly, trying to make sense of everything. “You need to go. And I’m fine with that. And Josh will be fine with that. And Ben—whatever. There will be other bands. And there are other drummers. And this isn’t everything.”

My body is tingling everywhere, and I swear if anyone walked into this situation right now, they would think that I’m the one who’s high as a kite.

“If I leave, they’ll drop us—drop everything,” I say, my insides squeezing at the fork in my road. Both paths are hard—there’s nothing easy left, not that this was ever easy.

“Like I said, there will be other bands,” he repeats, and I look down, finally understanding what he’s trying to say. Matt always knew that we’d never be able to stick to this together for long. I think we all knew Ben would probably ruin us first—the label can only handle so much. We’d replace him, or they’d decide to take me solo—put me with a band they’re used to, that they use for lots of singers. And I know that’s probably closest to the truth. The songs are all mine—but I feel beholden to Josh and Matt…and for some reason to Ben.