I think I made him feel better, if only for that moment.
JULY 21
ST
I COULD NAME about fifty horrible moments in my life. The time when we were held at gunpoint at a truck stop and Aunt Wanda drove away without me. I was only thirteen.
The level of fear that coursed through me as I stood there helpless against two men was terrifying. That was the first time I’d had to fight for my life, and I mean literally fight.
Those men were sorry they ever messed with me after I got done with them. I kicked one so hard in the nuts I was sure he never had kids after meeting cute little Kendall at that truck stop.
Aunt Wanda eventually circled back around. She smelled of booze and the car let out a cloud of cigarette smoke as she flung the passenger door open to let me back in.
“How long would you say it’s been since you were home?” Mason asked as we packed our things. We were getting ready to leave Jay’s and head back to our little hometown of Gusby, South Carolina.
“I don’t even know—I can’t really remember. Maybe ten years,” I said. I hated talking about it.
Mason zipped up the backpack and sat down on the bed. “The last time I saw you on those busted porch steps was when you were seven and I was nine,” he said. He looked at me to confirm, but there was nothing to confirm. I didn’t remember.
I hurried over to my backpack and started unpacking and refolding the shirts. My nerves were getting the best of me and I needed to keep busy before I lost it.
“That’s a long time,” I said, looking away.
“A really long time,” Mason agreed.
Nobody would have ever guessed Mason was a guy that came from South Carolina. He no longer had the traits of a stereotypical southerner. He’d grown out of it after so many years away.
He’d learned to be fast. He’d learned how to think on his feet to get himself out of any situation. He adjusted to every place he called home, no matter how brief.
I thought back when Mason was eighteen. Payton got involved with a pimp in New Mexico. Mason despised his mother so much at the time, but he wouldn’t leave. Instead, he did everything he could do to annoy this man until he beat Mason senseless. I had never seen someone so bruised, but he smiled all the way to the hospital. Mason knew as long as he hadn’t died his mother would get rid of her man after what he’d done to her son. And he was right—the pimp had left before the cops showed up after the neighbors called them.
We’d been through a lot of crap, plain and simple. We had stories that people would never believe. We lived through things most people only ever saw in the movies.
And in the end, we were going back to where we’d come from. It was the place where we’d first laid eyes on each other. I remembered it like it was yesterday. We had formed a bond from the beginning. I knew Mason would always be my protector. He would always be the guy that I could count on.
“Well, at least we get to fly out of here in a private jet,” Mason said, taking my backpack from me.
Jay was letting us use the family jet to get back home.
We were thrilled because the last thing we wanted was another road trip.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was the last place I ever expected to be going to. But now that so much had changed, it seemed like the right choice.
I took one final look in the mirror. My eyes stared back at me as if pleading for a way out. I tried on a smile to mask the fear, but it looked nothing but fake.
I turned and looked back at the room I’d stayed in one last time. I would miss the feeling of security this place had given me. I was even going to miss Jay and his grandparents and the staff. I really hoped I wouldn’t regret not taking the easy way out by staying here with Jay.
Someone tapped on the door. It wasn’t Mason as I’d expected, but Jay, looking very somber to see I was packed up and ready to leave.
“About that time?” he asked, pointing at the backpacks.
I nodded, allowing him to wrap his arms around me. I patted his back, trying to offer him some comfort. I knew there was something between us, just maybe not the same thing he thought.
“You know how to get in touch with me. I want you to be safe. Call me if you ever need anything?” He held my face between his hands, his eyes showing the regret that pained him for not being able to convince me to stay.
“I will,” I promised him. “You really are amazing, Jay.”
“Not enough or you would be staying here with me…not leaving with Mason.” He reluctantly smiled.
“Jay, don’t take it personal. Anyone would be lucky to be with someone like you. It’s just not in the cards for me. I have to finish this mess. Mason and I both do,” I insisted.
I knew I couldn’t start a new life without ending my old one.
“I don’t want to scare you, but what exactly do you think is waiting back home for you?” He searched my eyes.
I sighed, not even sure myself. “Meaning.” I kissed his cheek and picked up my things from the floor.
“That doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“I want to know what the point was to all of this. I want to know if I was better off living the life I have rather than the one I left behind,” I told him.
“And what does that help?” Jay scratched his head, confused. It was okay if he didn’t understand.
“It makes everything worth it. It helps me move on and deal with what is to come, whatever it may be. I had no choice. Maybe I am everything I was sure I’d never be.” I looked back at Jay and smiled.
“Bye, Kendall.”
I waved. “Bye, Jay.”
I started down the stairs ready to go to that little place Mason and I called home.
JULY 22
ND
I FELT LIKE A BIRD touching down from a glorious flight. When you’re above the world, everything below seems so insignificant. I was untouchable for the moment and somewhat detached from the world.
But that soon ended and we touched down in the small airport an hour away from Gusby. We were one of the thirteen colonies to declare our independence from the British Crown. The first state to vote to secede from the union—and I knew this because everyone in my family made it a point to say it at every arrest or big gathering just before a fight was about to break out. I think it gave them a feeling of importance.
We had the Atlantic Ocean. We had beautiful mountains that took your breath away. We had salt marshes and estuaries, swamp lands, and even farms. It could be a lovely place to live.
Oh, and we had heat.
“It’s as hot as the hinges of hell,” Mason said, hopping down from the steps of the jet. He nodded at the pilot and doorman as we headed toward the bus stop.
I ignored him, collecting my things, and I gave the jet one final look before we were gone for good from this little taste of luxury.
“It’s as hot as Hades,” I said, finally giving in and playing along with Mason.
He brought a hand to his hip taking everything in. His hair blew lazily in the heat.
“It’s as hot as a two dollar whore on the Fourth of July,” he shot back with a grin. It was the kind of grin that told me part of Mason felt good to be home.
I drew in my bottom lip trying to come up with something to top his. “It’s as hot as a billy goat in a pepper patch.” I laughed. We both took a seat on the lone bus bench. The cracked and peeling red paint crackled beneath my legs.