Beautiful Together (9 page)

"No, I
love
it," I said. "And I love you."

"Happy birthday, Naomi," he said, kissing me just after my name left his mouth.

I was lost in Mason.

We made love three times and spent the whole night together for the first time. I lied to my mom and said I was celebrating my birthday at Arielle's and crashing there. I also said her mom would be around for supervision.

My mom bought it.

After an amazing night, Mason took me out to breakfast, and we gorged on French toast and pancakes, feeling like two completely free adults. Every time I went to the bathroom, I spent an extra ten minutes in front of the mirror, appreciating the sparkly earrings. I loved Mason.

I couldn't wait until I graduated and moved out, finally able to live my life just the way
I
wanted to.

It was an exciting thought.

9

I was still wearing the earrings when I got home around noon. My mom was waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Naomi, where'd you get those earrings?" she asked promptly, not even greeting me. The sun was almost obnoxiously bright, which meant that they were probably painfully glimmery.

"Mason bought them for me for my birthday. Aren't they beautiful?" My grin sprawled all the way from one ear to the other. Her words couldn't hurt me then, no way.

She gave me an uncomfortable look. "I thought you were with Arielle."

I was caught totally off-guard. This was her plan. But I did my best. "Mason took me out to breakfast this morning. He gave them to me then."

"He didn't come to your party last night?" Her eyes chewed right through me.

I was being interrogated. "He did, but he wanted to give them to me when we were alone. So he met me this morning since he went home last night."

Whew.
All of my bases covered.

She stared at me with unwavering disbelief, a visual showdown then seemed to go on for hours—and then she spoke, slowly and firmly. "I don't believe you, Naomi. You're lying to me."

"Mom, I'm not—"

"You spent the night with
him
somewhere, didn't you? Arielle's mom doesn't even live here. You think I don't know that? It was hot gossip when her parents got divorced years ago." She didn't even seem to blink. "I happen to believe that marriage is for
life
, thank you."

"Mom, I didn't do anything wrong," I pleaded, trying to stay vague. "I love him."

She shook her head, an expression of sadness on her face. "My own daughter is going to end up burning in
hell
because she's in love. You know what you're doing is sinful, right?"

"I'm not doing anything sinful!" I said. "I just wanted to sleep next to my boyfriend. It's not like the end of the world or something. I didn't do anything wrong. There were other people there." It was a lie, but it was better than admitting to staying alone in a hotel.

"So you
did
spend the night with him.
And
you lied to your own mother." 

I had talked myself into a corner.  A really bad corner. "I'm sorry, but it's not like—"

"I can't believe I'm losing you like this," my mom said, pleading. "I think you need to spend some more time at church. Get involved in a Bible study group. And I don't think you should keep seeing Mason. You need to be planning your future, not shacking up with some local football hero."

"I'm sorry for lying, but I'm
not
breaking up with him," I said firmly. "You can't make me."

"Is that how you're going to be then? Treating your own mother like she doesn't matter?" She looked so frail, yet still so angry and powerful.

"I'm eighteen, mom. I can see anyone I want!" The words came out automatically, and they steered the conversation in a direction I hadn't intended.

She slammed her hand down on the counter. "As long as you live under our roof, you live under our rules, Naomi." The way she said my name was so slimy I almost cringed.

I felt sick. My birthday happiness had turned sour. "I love Mason, mom. I'm not breaking up with him. Why can't you understand that?"

"Why can't
you
understand?" she hissed. "My own daughter is living a life of sin. My own flesh and blood! I raised you. I gave you so much!"

"It's not like that," I said.

She stared down at the counter and then looked back at me, her grey eyes full of quiet rage. "I can't wait for you two to go to college. Your relationship will never survive. Then you'll finally learn that I was right."

I felt furious.
How could she go there?
"I don't even know if I
want
to go to college! Maybe I won't go just to piss you off!"

I expected her to yell back, but she didn't. She coolly shook her head. "I think you need to ask the Lord for wisdom.
He
will guide you," she said. "I know your faith isn't very strong anymore, but God will forgive you if you ask. Only
He
knows the answer."

"Spare me the sermon, mom," I said coldly.

"Happy birthday,
Naomi
," she said. Then she turned and disappeared down the hall.

The silence of the kitchen turned into a roar. I felt shaky, like I hadn't eaten in days. My perfect birthday had been shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Every day my relationship with Mason grew stronger and stronger. And I loved his mom almost as much as I loved him.

He was the perfect man. What was college compared to that? My mom
had
to be wrong.

But the seeds of doubt had already been planted. First Arielle's remark, and now
this
. They had taken root and now a plant was sprouting.

Doubt. So much ugly doubt.

10

Not long after my birthday, Arielle graduated, but the world didn't end. She wasn't going anywhere, and it wasn't like much would change. Still, it sucked not to have someone to talk to at school. Especially about Mason.

After the fight with my mom, things continued as they were. We didn't talk about Mason, but I was sure she still knew I was dating him and just choosing not to do anything about it.

Over the summer, we had the college talk.

We were at the beach, and I almost started crying.

"I know the schools you want to go to, Naomi, but that doesn't change that my top choices are Texas A&M and University of Southern California." There was so much adoration on his face, but it didn't match his words.

I stared back, hurting. "How can we stay close if we're so far apart?"

"I think it'll be okay," he said, cradling me in his arms.

"But what if it's
not
? What if I can't handle it? What if
you
can't handle it? You'll be around so many girls that are so much prettier than me."

"Nonsense," he said. "You're already the prettiest girl in the world. Plus, we can Skype every day.
And
we can have Skype sex." A goofy smile quickly formed on his face.

"Oh, shut up, you creep," I whined. "I just hope you're right about this."

"It'll be okay," he said. "Everything will work out. I promise. We still have the summers and holiday breaks. And it's only four years. It'll be easy."

Four years.
The words echoed in my head like I was in the middle of a giant, empty auditorium. We had been together nearly every day for almost two years. Our responsibilities would change, our friends would change, our lives would change.

I figured out just how wrong he was a few weeks later. My parents and I went to stay at my grandparents' beach house up north for a week, an obligatory trip for me.

The water was beautiful, the food was delicious. My parents were in their best moods possible. I mean, my mom still had her occasional flare-ups, but in that setting, nothing could really bother you...

...except for the fact that Mason wasn't there. I couldn't touch him, and he couldn't touch me. I felt enervated, like my skeleton had melted overnight, leaving my body a floppy, unsupported flesh mess.

It was hard to sleep at night; I was always thinking about college and Mason. We secretly talked and texted on the phone, but it just wasn't the same. No matter how much he reassured me, it never penetrated the outer layers of sadness.

I could tell that my misery negatively affected him, but I couldn't stop it from tainting almost every word I spoke.

I physically needed him, and it was becoming clear to my skeptical young mind that I wouldn't be able to handle the distance. No way, not if it felt that way. And if I was at college, I'd have to be working on things, going to class, challenging myself. Right now, I was only supposed to be
enjoying myself
and it was still like being in hell.

Near the end of our vacation week, I found myself unable to get back to sleep after a huge thunderstorm passed over the cabin.

I lay there in bed, shaky with fear and confusion as thunder rumbled the whole house and lightning lit up the room every few seconds like a strobe light. The first crack of thunder woke me from a deep sleep, so my mind was jumbled. I was far more dazed than I would have been if the storm had come during full consciousness.

My mind immediately drew parallels between the storm and my life. My hands shook, and I wrapped myself even tighter in the blankets, effectively mummifying myself.

How pathetic was it to be this desperate and out of control, all over a week apart from my first boyfriend?

The college thing added a whole other dimension of complexity. I had found the perfect man on my first try, and I didn't want our relationship to end. And for some reason, I also thought about my lost friendship with Jesse, too, all those years of youth and companionship, gone just like that.

I felt so flawed and worthless.

Suddenly, my mom's words flooded into my head, remnants of a fuzzy memory. The levee broke and she rushed right into my brain.

Maybe you should ask the Lord for wisdom then.

I hadn't prayed in years, nor did I really even consider myself religious anymore. But in that moment of desperation, I needed
something
to calm my neurotic self. I needed solace, I needed answers. I needed to understand.

I closed my eyes tightly, allowing myself to drift into an intensified headspace.

God,
I thought,
it's been such a long time since I've prayed to you, and I don't know what to believe anymore. But this is so tough; I don't know what to do with myself. Maybe I'm crazy, or just a stupid teenage girl, but I don't know what else to do. I don't know who else to talk to.

Please, God, give me an answer I can understand. Give me an answer about Mason. Give me a sign, anything. I know we haven't been behaving how people say Christians should, but we love each other; we don't mean to hurt anyone.

Just tell me if it will get easier. Just tell me if we're not meant to be.

And I'm sorry if I hurt Jesse. I don't know what happened between us, but I never meant to hurt him and I hope that someday we can be friends again. I don't know what went wrong.

But most importantly, I need something to believe in. I need to understand. I need answers because I'm losing my mind.

Please, make it clear, God. Please show me the truth.

I fell asleep shortly after that, actually feeling somewhat relieved.

11

Senior year began shortly after I got back. Everything was great, even though we were likely to end up on opposite sides of the country after graduating. There was still a chance that Mason might not get into his preferred schools, but honestly, even though it hurt, I wanted the best for him.

Although I definitely remembered that desperate summer prayer, I still didn't have any answers. Nothing made any sense, but I chose to ignore my pain rather than suffer.

As the fall began, I finally started to realize that this would be my last year of school, and everything that took place would never happen again. Homecoming, the dances, lunch, my favorite teachers, strolling through the halls glued to Mason's side.

My graduating class would never come together in the same way. It was a crazy thought.

Jesse and Carla had apparently broken up over the summer, and now he was dating a girl from another school. But still, even with Carla out of the picture, nothing changed between us.

But something else
did
change. Mason seemed chronically fatigued, very unusual for him. We started having sex less frequently, and often, he couldn't perform at all.

He had a little bit of a cold, but it was nothing noticeably serious. He was still going to football practice though, so that was a good sign.

"I don't get it," I said one evening, naked in his bed with him after a failed attempt, feeling self conscious. "Are you...bored of me or something?"

He stared back with painful sincerity. "No, Naomi! You're gorgeous. It's not you. I'm just... just feeling weird. It's no big deal. It'll pass. I wanna have sex with you so bad, but it's... just not working right now."

His words helped my self-confidence, but not my feelings of worry. "Are you feeling sick or something?"

He shook his head. "No, not really. There's just so much pressure on me to do a good job this football season. And I'm stressed about college and this AP Calculus class is kicking my ass."

"Well, if this keeps up, you might need to—"

"Don't worry, Naomi," he said, smiling. "I'm sure by the weekend we'll be having sex ten times a day and you'll be begging
me
to slow down."

I cuddled up closer to him and did my best to let it go.

But it got worse.

Soon after, he was having trouble breathing sometimes, and the existing symptoms continued. He'd had a cold forever at that point, and despite our constant kissing, I wasn't catching anything.

Like he had hounded his mom about the dentist, I hounded him about seeing the doctor.

"Mason, this is ridiculous! You have to go!"

"I feel okay," he said. "Just a little tired."

His reassurance just upset me more. "What about the shortness of breath at practice? What about the fact that you've been sick for like a month straight? That we can't even have sex now?"

"I just... well, I don't want to be a problem. And the doctor will probably be expensive since we're basically uninsured."

"No excuses, Mason! What if something is seriously wrong?" I shook my head. "If not for you, you have to do this for
me
. I can't go on worrying about you like this. This is the same thing that happened with your mom."

I finally got through. He went to the urgent care clinic, deciding that paying the bill out of pocket would be better than not going. The doctor didn't test him for much, just told him to take OTC cold medicine and that he probably had a case of the flu that would get over soon. The doctor ordered a blood test, but Mason never went to the lab to have it done.

As usual, he didn't want to burden anyone, financially or otherwise. "It's probably no big deal anyway," he said. "In a week, we won't even remember it. It'll all be fine. Maybe I just have mono or something."

Things continued like that, however, and despite his consistent weakness, I tried not to think too hard about it. He was still doing everything he needed to do. But when he began consistently showing up late for school, I started worrying again.

"It's probably just anemia or stress," he said, his response the same every time.

One Saturday, we had the afternoon to ourselves and Mason seemed more aroused than I'd seen him in months.

"Oh, Mason," I moaned, his hand crawling down my belly until he was under the elastic of my panties. "What's gotten into you?" We had been making out for almost an hour and he was definitely harder than he'd been in a long time.

"You," he whispered.

I was so ready for him. It had been so long. Too long.

But then he took off his shirt. Although I had noticed that his face looked a little thinner, I assumed it was because he had been practicing so hard. But when I noticed he was so skinny I could see his ribs, I started crying.

The daylight illuminated his frailty in a way the night never could.

"Mason!" I whined. "You're so skinny. Something is wrong. You're not supposed to be this skinny."

Again, he was quick to respond. He frowned. "I just need to eat more. Coach has us running so much now. I'm burning so many calories every day it's insane."

"This is it," I said, my words firmer than they'd ever been before. "If things don't change soon, I'm gonna drag you to the emergency room myself. I can't... do this anymore.
You
can't do this anymore."

Mason listened. He changed his diet, eating more meat and pasta than ever, insisting that it would restore his strength and weight to normal levels. The first football game was coming up, and I knew he was worried. So I backed down for a bit.

The gluttony seemed to help initially, but soon after starting the new routine, he stopped improving. But the game was only a few days away, so I just let it happen.

He needed to be ready for his last season of high school football. College scouts were coming to watch him, and his fate was in their hands. His teammates were counting on him. The school needed him. It was all part of a greater plan.

"I'm not going to let some stupid little illness ruin my future," Mason told me two days before the game. "I'm stronger than that. This is my dream. I've worked my whole life for this."

He was determined. I knew that without a doubt.

But it wasn't enough.

During the first game, he collapsed mid-play, right as he was about to throw a pass. I was terrified. I wanted to run to him, screaming, but I couldn't get my limbs to work. I just bit my lip and stood there in the bleachers, unable to move.

With the aid of his fellow players, he rose to his feet and continued, undeterred. I let out a tremendous sigh of relief. Things were going to be okay. Just a fluke. Maybe his blood sugar was low. I was happy to see him drinking Gatorade on the sideline.

"Go, Mason!" I screamed, fully aware that he probably couldn't hear me. I felt like celebrating.

Mason seemed fine after that—until it happened
again
; he didn't get up the second time. He was lining up to throw a touchdown pass, the play executed perfectly. His body gave out and went limp as the ball dropped to the field.

He fell flat on his back. Silence swept across the stadium. The players and coaches quickly gathered around him, and the medic ran out to take a look.

I felt the same fear again, but I broke through the stiffness in my limbs and sprinted out onto the field, running to his side. "Mason!" I screamed.

He didn't hear me because he was passed out. The medic called to him again and again. "Kid, can you hear me? Can you hear me?"

Suddenly, Mason's eyes opened, and they were just as droopy as his lips. "What's going on?"

"You've had an accident," the medic said. "Does anything hurt?"

"I'm just
tired
," Mason said firmly, his eyes fluttering and closing between every word. It was as if someone had prematurely woken him from a nap.

I was in shock, everything unfolding in slow motion. It felt like I wasn't even in my own body, like I was someone else, watching my own horrified reaction.

I'm not sure if I said anything after my initial cry, but it didn't really matter since Mason was delirious. An ambulance arrived, and they carried him off the field in a stretcher, loading him up to drive him to the ER.

The game went on without him—and without me. I followed them to the hospital, leaving the game behind me. I gave my information to the woman at the desk and sat down in the waiting area.

"Does he have any family we can call, ma'am?" she asked. "We couldn't reach anyone at home."

"His mom, Donna Ross, works at Vince's Tavern," I said. "I think she's probably working until two."

She nodded and wrote something down in her book. I sat down to wait, the dull thud of my heartbeat almost painful. Every time I felt it, it reminded me that I was alive and okay while Mason
wasn't okay
.

I was by myself for an hour, lost in my head. I didn't know what to think, who to blame. Something told me that this was much bigger than I had assumed. It wasn't just the flu or mono or an extended cold.

It couldn't be.

***

Soon after the first hour passed by, Donna showed up. She was still in her dirty work clothes and reeked of cigarettes and beer, the byproduct of Friday night in the bar.

"Oh, Naomi," she said, "what happened to my Mason?"

I stood up and hugged her, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't know. He just fell. He was playing and then he wasn't."

Donna went to the counter to check in, and I watched her body language. She was visibly stressed, exactly as I would have expected. She pleaded for information.

"They're doing blood tests right now, Mrs. Ross. We won't know anything concrete until they're done."

I sat and watched in disbelief, hoping and praying that somehow she'd get the information we both needed to assuage our worst nightmares—but it never came.

I found my phone in my purse and called my mom. She sounded grumpy when she answered.

"Hello?"

"Mom!" I said. "Something happened to Mason. I'm staying here at the hospital with him. With his mom."

"During the game? He got hurt?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Kind of. We don't know what happened. He just collapsed." My dad was out of town this weekend; otherwise he would have been at the game to watch it all unfold. It was odd that
this
was the week he was away.

"I'll keep him in my prayers," she said.

I hung up on an okay note. Shortly after, the principal, Mr. Brown, showed up, clad in a windbreaker and jeans. It was odd to see him not in a suit and tie.

"Hi, Mr. Brown," I said politely, shocked to see him. I hadn't ever really interacted with him before—I guess that was good because it meant I hadn't gotten into trouble—but I still felt comforted by his unexpected appearance.

"Hi, Naomi," he said, approaching me. "How is Mason?"

I jumped up and hugged him. "Oh, I don't know Mr. Brown!" I said between choked sobs. I lost it and quickly drenched his windbreaker with a stream of tears.

He sat down with us, speaking privately with Donna for a few minutes. She was still just as distraught as I was, and that made my own grief feel a bit incongruent. I mean, here she was, totally uncertain about the fate of her own son, her own flesh and blood, the boy that she raised from birth.

Obviously, Mason and I had been close—but it was never as close as mother and son.

Mr. Brown stayed with us until his wife called around midnight. "Please, let me know when you hear something," he told Donna, handing her his card. "I'm sure everything will be all right."

He disappeared down the hallway, and once again, it was just Donna and me. "Has he been okay lately, Naomi?" she asked. "I haven't seen him much. I've... been at Carl's a lot when I'm not working."

I gulped hard, realizing that she obviously didn't know about his recent issues. As much as I didn't want to feel irresponsible, I needed to tell her the truth.

"He didn't say anything to you?"

She shook her head. "He looked a little tired the few times I saw him, but that was all."

"He's been sick, Donna. He went to the doctor. They told him he would get over it soon, but he's just been getting worse. And he was too stubborn to go back."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Just like me," she said softly. "He learned it from me. I wish I would have known about all of this." She started sobbing and I hugged her.

"Donna, it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." I felt my soul being crushed by a thousand tons of sadness. I wanted to reassure her, but I knew my words were worthless. Stupid, childish, obligatory. "I should have told you, but I thought he was gonna be fine."

"He was too scared of being a burden," she said. "He was too scared to help himself."

We sat huddled together, silent, waiting. Hospital employees passed by. People were probably dying in other parts of the building. I hadn't ever really been in a hospital. It was so numb, so sterile in so many ways.