The Mason List (38 page)

A buzzing
pulled me from the warm cocoon.  Using every ounce of energy in my body, I
crawled from the twisted pile of limbs.  I picked up my phone, trying to shut
the screeching thing up before it woke Jess.

“Hmm.”

“Alex?”

“Umm. 
Hold on.”

Damn!  I
didn’t need Sadie’s dose of moral medication this morning.  Pulling on my
shirt, I slipped out the bedroom door, closing it quietly behind me.  I caught
one last glimpse of his sleeping face before it shut.  At the kitchen table, I
peered at the cell phone screen, trying to pull together something she wouldn’t
detect in my voice.  I put a big smile across my bruised lips.  He made me feel
things; physical things that would be impossible with someone else.  The smile
became embarrassing real. 
Shut it down, Alex.

“Sorry, I
was still asleep.”

“Don’t
you get up with the rooster or something down there in Arlis?”

“For the
last time, no roosters live at Sprayberry.  Why are you calling me so early
anyway?”

“Sweetie,
I can accomplish more before breakfast than most can in an entire day.”

“It’s six
am on Thanksgiving morning.”

“Now that
I am working on Senator Andrew’s campaign, I have to look awesome and be
awesome at the drop of a hat.  The day and time are irrelevant.”

“You are
insane.”

“Why are
you whispering?”

“I’m not
whispering.”

“Sweetie,
I know you.  And that’s denial whispering.”

“I’m jet
lagged.  I flew in from Paris yesterday.  Remember?”

“I’m not
buying it.  Where are you?”

“At my
dad’s house.”

“And
where is our favorite cowboy right now?”

“At
Sprayberry.”

“One and
the same.  Very evasive, sweetie.  So, what did the dysfunctional childhood
friends do last night?”

Sadie
could twist me a new one with the slightest wave of her hand, even from
hundreds of miles away.  I wondered how many other people’s moral conscience
wore pink lipstick and had wicked hazel eyes.  Even this early in the morning,
I pictured her beautiful blonde hair bouncing along with each high heeled,
perky step.  Good grief, I hated her sometimes. 

“Sadie, I
don’t want to hear it, ok?  It was his idea.  Not mine.”

“Does it
really matter who caved?  Again, I might add?”

“Yes, it
does.”

“Fine. 
Keep turning in these cataclysmic circles of destroying your friendship then
putting a Band-Aid over the real issue.  Two steps forward for Jess, only to
have you yank that silk rug right out from under his boots when you leave for
another year.  Speaking of which, that’s why I called.  Are you still coming to
Chicago on the way back?”

The air
exhaled from my lungs with a hiss between my teeth.  Regret.  I knew it would
come in the morning.  I hated that evil little creature chopping away at my
memories from last night, making the guilt churn in my stomach. 
Thank you,
Sadie.  Thank you very much!

“I’m
still coming.  I’ll email my flight schedule.”

“I am
truly sorry, sweetie.  I really hate putting a damper on your Thanksgiving
reunion by pointing out the obvious, but you are not doing Jess any favors. 
His idea or yours?  Still the same outcome.”

“You’re
right.  Ok.”

“As
always.”

I rubbed
my tired eyes, feeling them move around in their sockets.  A migraine loomed. 
“So what phony Thanksgiving dinner are you attending since you stayed in Chicago?”

“We have
three stops today, including a recorded segment at a soup kitchen.”

“Are you
having Andrew spoon feed a bag lady for the American people to watch?”

“Alex! 
Be nice.  It’s a very nice gesture.  Then tonight we have a formal gala with
the Governor at the annual lighting of the Christmas tree.  He’s endorsed
Senator Andrew, you know.  Game changer for us.”

“Hmmm. 
Congratulations.  Are you taking
the
Harrison Waldengrave the Fourth?”

“Why must
you always say it that way?”

“What
else do you call someone who sounds like an English Lord?”

“Don’t be
pretentious.  Harrison is a normal guy.  I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“I’m sure
he’s a regular prince charming.”  It was time to end this call before I snapped
at her well-intended interference.  “Look, I’m tired.   No coffee yet this
morning.  I’ll let you go.  See you in a few days.”

“Goodbye. 
Oh and eat a piece of turkey for me.  You know I gave up antibiotic filled
protein but I’m feeling a little remorse today.  First Thanksgiving without roasted
duck, but I guess your turkey will do.”

“And I
still take advice from you.  Seems a little wrong.”

“But you
know I’m always right.  People pay money for it now.  That’s an idea.  I should
send you an invoice.  Maybe, that would make that self-destructive head of
yours listen for a change.”

“Goodbye,
Sadie.”

“Bye,
sweetie.”

I clasped
the phone in my hand, feeling the weight of the coming conversation with Jess;
less than twenty-four hours on American soil and we had already created an
uncomfortable situation. 

Through
the kitchen window, only slivers of orange radiated out of the darkness. 
Morning had yet to make an appearance at Sprayberry.  I could leave.  I could
sneak out before his dark lashes even opened.  It’s what I did last time, and
it saved our friendship.  I could do it again; pull on some pants and leave
before he woke, followed by an awkward few days of Thanksgiving then a plane
ride back to Paris.

Turning
the knob, I prayed the door didn’t squeak.  Jess sat fully dressed on the edge
of my bed with a piece of paper in his hand, reading by the bedside lamp.  He
looked up at me and frowned. 

I
froze.
  I froze
as my heart stopped and skipped a beat.  The words on that paper were more
personal than any diary entry ever could be; it contained the stuffing inside
my blackened soul.  The pain resumed just behind my rib cage and my arms went
numb.

“Where…where…”
Panic made its way out in rambles.  “Where…find…you’re not supposed to see
that!”

“Took
some searchin’ but I found it and I’ve seen it.”

“Searching? 
You were trying to find it?  Why?  Why did you go through my stuff?  You had no
right, Jess.  No right!”

“Sadie
said you were obsessed with some list you made when we were kids.  I thought…”

“Obsessed!”
I shouted, cutting him off.  I paced, feeling more panicked as control left
every cell of my body.  “Well that makes me sound completely sane, doesn’t it? 
Glad the two of you had a little talk.  When did she call?  Just now?  That
bitch hung up after ripping me shit this morning before I was even awake.  She
knew I would sit there and be pissed at myself while she had the nerve to call
you and make more problems, siding against me.”

“I didn’t
talk to Sadie today.  Don’t blame her.  And nobody’s gangin’ up on you.  Last
night I saw you with somethin’ through the window.  I put it together and I
wanted to know.”

“It’s not
what it seems.  Just give it to me.”

“I want
you to talk because it obviously means a hell of a lot to you.”

“But it
has nothing to do with you.”

“It
doesn’t?  Are you kiddin’?  It’s about my family.  Shit, Alex.  You have me on
here.”

“Give it
to me, Jess.”  I growled the words.  I needed control; to feel that paper in my
shaking, sweaty palms.

“Not
‘till you talk ‘bout what this means to you.”

“What’s
there to say?  I hate your family.  I hate Sprayberry.  It’s all on there in
one big fat list.  It says it right across the top. 
Reasons I Hate the
Masons.
  That should explain everything.  Isn’t that what you want to
hear?”

I
expected to see some stunned expression, followed by screaming words.  I knew
the anger that could come from his blue eyes.  Today, in the dark light of
morning, he stared at me with something else I couldn’t quite place.  He let
out a deep breath and scratched the side of his head.  “Al, sit down and stop pacin’
around like you’re itchin’ to break somethin’.”

“What did
you say?”

“Come on,
Al.  I know you better than anyone.  I
know
.”

“I don’t
break things.”

“We both
know you do when you get upset.  So sit.”  He pulled me down on the mattress
beside him and handed the paper to me.  I quickly folded the page to cover the
words.   “When’d you start it?”

“I don’t
want to talk about it.”

“Alex,
you don’t really hate us.   When did you start writin’ it?  Talk to me.”

“Fine.” 
I let my eyes zone out on a spot across the room.  “I was ten.  It was the
night of the carnival when I threw up on your boots.”

“When’d
it stop?”

“It
hasn’t, Jess.  Don’t you get it?  I can’t let go.  It eats away at me.  I’m
twenty-five years old but every time I open that paper, it’s like I’m eight
again.  It makes me feel…angry and…mad…and I want to smash things.”  I trailed
off.  Jess didn’t respond.  He was in deep thought.  I had given him just a
small sliver of the dark pieces I felt inside my soul.  He wanted to know. 
Damn
it!
 

“Jess?”

“Why
didn’t you talk to me ‘bout it?  I know you’ve had a hard time with this stuff
but…”

“Why?”
The anger surged.  I jumped up and resumed to pacing.  “
Why?
  I hated
everything about why I came to live here.  I hated being at Sprayberry.  From
the moment I arrived, all I ever wanted to do was leave.  I sat at night
thinking about it.  Wishing for it.  I missed my home.  My
real
home.  I
missed my life, but we couldn’t leave.  It was all gone.  We had nothing.  We
had nothing except your
damn
family and their
damn
money.”

I paced
and paced slinging my arms.  I looked crazy.  I felt crazy.  I tasted the venom
in each biting word; a deep, toxic bile that came from the suppression of these
feelings.

“We lost
everything.  I’m not sure my dad even ate most of the time.  We got kicked out
of El Charro.  The nasty
El Charro
, Jess.  The black mold-infested
El
Charro
and the meth head who kept me up at night as he beat the shit out of
his girlfriend.  You know he used to watch me and my dad?  Every time we walked
up the stairs, he sat on the hood of his car smoking a cigarette.  The guy had
this tattoo that looked like a demon down the side of his neck in black ink
with these red, swirly possessed eyes.  I’d try to sleep at night, but all I’d
hear was his screaming.  I’d dream about those blood red dots chasing me.”

I laughed
a little, shaking my head.  “At least we had an actual room then.  That was
before we got kicked out of
El Charro
.  That’s right.  We couldn’t even
pay to live there.  So we slept in our car.  Bugs crawled on me at night,
Jess.  Did you know that? 
Literal bugs
.  I felt them sticking to my
skin as I tried to sleep.  Every time I closed my eyes, I was terrified they
would bite hunks out of my arms.”

“Alex.”

“No,
Jess.  You asked why.  I’m telling you
why
.  I’m telling you all of it. 
Did you know it was in July?  Almost the whole month of July we lived in
there.  The heat cooked our nasty sweat into the cloth seats and made them
reek.  It was this disgusting smell like rancid meat and dirty ass.  It stuck
in my nose and it took hours to shake it when I got up in the morning.  It made
me feel dirty.  I never felt clean.  When you met me? That’s where I lived. 
That’s what I smelled like.  You brought more shit to the hospital every day in
that damn duffle bag than I even owned.”

Jess got
off the mattress and tried to touch my shoulders.  I slung his hands away and
stared into his face.  “I can’t separate it, Jess.  The bad stuff made me
trapped in this messed up, co-dependency with your family.  Every time I turned
around, something else was thrown in my face.  I couldn’t leave.  I couldn’t
stop it.  I couldn’t forget about it.  I couldn’t accept it.  No matter how
many times my dad tried to cram it down my throat.  So I made the list.  I
wrote it down.  Every damn piece of it.  In some twisted way, it made me feel
better.  I planned to make it right one day.  Maybe it would lift this
smothering weight from my chest.  Maybe I could breathe again.  Maybe I could
finally let go.  I could look you in the face with a clear conscious and not
feel like some piece of gutter trash who…”