The Mason List

by S. D. Hendrickson

  “I’ll let that one slide tonight.”

  “Sorry.” I let out a deep breath, feeling the waves of air floating out in the dark night. The tension of a lingering headache pierced through my temples. “What am I going to do about Jess? I mean really. This is serious.”

  “We covered that part. You’re not telling him.”

  “We can’t go back to the way things were even if he doesn’t know about Dutch. We have to talk about how he feels toward me and how I don’t…” I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to choke out the words. The damn thing would fall off before the end of the night. “Why can’t I just say it out loud?”

  “Because it’s not true. Because you do love him. Because you have deep psychological issues involving anger and resentment. I am honestly not sure who you resent more; the Masons, your father, your mother, or yourself. Until you fix some of this emotional debilitating hostility, you will not be able to accept the way you really feel about Jess. Friendship or otherwise.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway at this point. I pretty much slammed the door in his face tonight. No, I slapped him, and then he left. Jess doesn’t just leave. I think I lost everything with him. Our friendship is over.”

  “Well, you might need to give him some time. Let him calm down.”

  “I don’t remember a time when I did life without him. Not even here. Jess still existed even when I tried to pretend he didn’t. It’s like he’s the other half of me. I don’t know how to live without him.”

  “I guess you will have to live without him. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  “I know. This is really hard.” I rubbed my forehead, smelling the vomit soaked into my clothes.

  “Just power step one foot in front of the other. You can do it. Keep your chin up. Show all of them you’re not defeated.”

  “Thank you, Sadie. You’re a good friend.”

  “I know. Can’t live without me. Good night, sweetie.”

  Sitting on the little rock, I wondered how it would feel to just cry. Let all the ugliness out for the world to see. I remembered the last time I felt the drops run down my cheeks. In a fit of rage, I had smashed my tea set against my bedroom wall. My feet had stomped the larger pieces into shards against the carpet. I remembered the snot dripping off the tip of my nose and the haunted look on my father’s face. In that moment, I vowed never to let anyone see me crack again.

  The next day, a cloud covered my heart, just like a scene from Steel Magnolias. The small television broadcasted the only VHS tape I could find on short notice. Rochellas had electronic equipment straight out of 1985. I secretly despised that movie as much as Ouiser if she was tied to a chair and forced to watch it on repeat. I needed blood and guts. A nice Saw movie would serve a better purpose, but that might scare the little brats into coming over to my seat.

  Covering my face with a large set of sunglasses I stole from Darcy, I blocked out the chaos in front of me, and prayed for this damn headache to go away, but I knew it would stay lodged right where it belonged after what I did last night.

  Unless I chose to die of starvation, the mess hall lunch qualified as a necessity. I picked the back corner out of view and tried to choke down lasagna. Dutch and Darcy walked through the side door, causing my esophagus to constrict on the large chunk of meat. They each grabbed a tray and bickered all the way over to my table.

  Dutch sat down next to me and leaned into whisper, “I've been thinking about you all morning.”

  I froze, in silent repulsion, feeling his warm breath float across my cheek. Darcy dropped her tray on the other side of the table with a loud thud; a harsh reminder of how she would react to her dress balled up in a plastic bag under my bunk.

  “So… I hear you have some hot friend visiting and decided not to tell me.”

  “He left.”

  “You teasing bitch!” She laughed. “I was getting all, you know, excited. I would have loovvved something new around here. Everything seems just a little used up these days.”

  I struggled not to drop my cup and placed it slowly on the tray. Any bit of appetite vanished with thought of Darcy's disease-infested hands touching Jess. Out of the corner of my eye, Dutch glared a nonverbal shut-the-hell-up in her direction, making it clear Darcy's comment hit the mark. She flipped him off. I guess everyone at Rochellas knew that Dutch finally got me to the Hatchet House.

  That was the last meal I shared with either of my former summer friends. Rising thirty minutes before the rest of the staff, I raced to the mess hall each morning for a quick breakfast and packed a sandwich for lunch and dinner. I ate the rest of my meals alone by the lake.

  Chapter 31

  When I was nineteen…

  On the fourth day at school, I walked in a mindless fog back to our apartment located a few blocks off campus. Five weeks had passed since my night of self-loathing destruction. Five weeks since I’d heard from Jess. I’d went home to Sprayberry following the last day of camp, but we missed each other by a few hours. His move back to Austin on that particular day, at that particular time, was intentional. My best friend had no desire to see me. For the first time since I was eight, Jess Mason was completely absent from my life.

  My phone vibrated in the side pocket of my backpack. Stopping on the sidewalk, I pulled out the small black box. My heart sank, seeing another message not from Jess. Yet, I was surprised by the sender.

  Lex get ur skinny ass online. Sent u 5 emails.

  I cringed, seeing my summer name. I didn’t want texts, emails or any other contact with those people, but I went ahead and replied to Darcy.

  Ok

  Sadie barely noticed when I entered our apartment. Our college home was nicer than the impoverished slums most coeds inhabited to save money for more beer. All my contributions were items bought by the Masons, which reminded me of all my problems.

  In the new world of apartment living, Sadie’s eccentric tendencies made Martha Stewart look like a contestant on that hoarders show. Not that she ever saw an episode. Sadie despised reality television; said the public displays of ignorance was the downfall of America. Her over-zealous, annoying habits crept into my daily life, causing nothing but added strife to my current predicament. Despite her peculiar flaws, she was a good friend; a loyal friend, even in spite of my stupid actions.

  I sat down next to Sadie, who was engrossed in news article on her laptop. Dressed in a yellow sundress and curls, she looked beautiful as always, even on the days she got up early for class.

  “Hey sweetie, how was calculus?”

  “Ehh,” I shrugged.

  “Alex, you can’t flunk. Your scholarship will be revoked.”

  I stared into the vacant TV screen. The sarcastic laugh stayed hidden. It wasn’t much of a scholarship. The Masons paid for almost everything when I looked at the grand total of going to school here.

  “Alex!”

  “I’m going to my classes,” I muttered.

  “You have to do more than just attend class and pretend to be interested. I know you’re unhappy but you can’t let it destroy your future. You need to find something to motivate you. There’s a lecture…”

  I zoned out on the cryptic word lecture as she continued to speak in animated fashion. Jess should be leaving class in fifteen minutes. I knew his schedule since we planned a few spaced out slots in the day for coffee. I should be with him right now; instead I was getting another self-motivation talk from Sadie.

  The burning pain of disappointment stung my chest. I missed him. I missed talking to him. I missed seeing him. I missed his irritating, stupid grin. I wanted to call Jess so damn bad, it was killing me. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but I just didn’t know how to say it in a way that would make him understand.

  “Can I see your computer?”

  “Why?” Her hazel eyes squinted at me.

  “Because I’m gonna withdraw from all my classes by sending a giant FU message to my professors.”

  “Alex!”

  “Fine. I need to check my
email.” I groaned. “I don’t want to get up for my laptop.”

  Sadie rotated the computer on the coffee table in my direction. Signing into my account, I read several subject lines from Darcy and a few others from Rochellas. Each of the titles seemed to grow more urgent. Most of them referenced some website. Clicking the link, a page came into view, filling the whole screen with various female names in boxy letters. I selected the one labeled Lexie and a video sprang to life.

  I gasped and then I choked.

  Sadie pulled the computer around as I stumbled to the kitchen, trying to keep my stomach contained. Bits of roast beef sandwich exploded down the side of the cabinet before I could reach the sink. It stunk. It stunk like the rotten person that lived inside of me.

  I clicked play again; the fifteenth time in three hours. I studied the girl in the video. She looked like a stranger with wild, red hair in someone else’s dress. She had a vague, lost stare in her eyes, absent of life. The video ended, and I clicked play again for number sixteen.

  I thought only celebrity bitches, trying to get famous, ended up with a sex tape on the internet. Yet there I sat, like a stoned bobble-head, letting Dutch’s nasty hands and lips maul my skin. He’d recorded it with his phone while I thought it just played music that night. Damn cell phones! Maybe Uncle Frank was right to hate them.

  I clicked play again for number seventeen. The video feed sprang to life and I braced for the sound of sex noises. I had an overwhelming need to watch it over and over again as some form of sick, sadistic punishment; every loop through the video was like a lash to the skin.

  At least I wasn’t the only pathetic moron who made the cut. On the other hand, it made my experience feel even less significant to him. The page contained twelve different videos of seven different girls. I only had one. However, the purpose was to vote for best and worst of his spectacular summer at Rochellas.

  I watched the two that featured Darcy. One video was filmed on the docks and the other in New Orleans wearing those hot pink panties. I recognized a couple of the other girls in Hatchet House clips; Katelyn, who taught boating, and Sara from the mess hall staff. The slut. No wonder Dutch received double servings of tater tots.

  I jumped as my bedroom door flew open, crashing into the wall. Jess stood in the doorway. He was angry. He knew. I turned the laptop away from his intimidating stare.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Let me see it.”

  “No.”

  “Stop it, Alex. You’re gonna show it to me.” The tone of his words scared the literal breath from my lungs. When I didn’t respond, he stormed over to the desk. He reached around my shoulder to activate to worst seven minutes of my life.

  He saw me naked. He saw the things that Dutch was doing to me. I covered my face with my hands and pretended it wasn’t happening. I felt his anger as he stood behind my chair. It radiated out from his body with every breath. He brushed my shoulder as he reached in front of me and clicked play again.

  My stomach lurched, hearing those sounds from the video. I got dizzy and my legs broke out in clammy goose bumps. I was going to throw up again.

  “I’ll take care of it.” I heard the icy tone behind my head. He walked out of the room before I could respond. My legs felt weak as I tried to catch up in the living room.

  “No,” I whispered. His back stilled in the apartment doorway and then turned around to face me.

  “What options do you have?” Jess’s jaw clenched. “Why couldn't you’ve just listened to me? Did it really matter why I was tellin’ you to stay away from him?”

  “Jess, please, I…”

  “Stop! I don’t wanna hear your excuses. I’ll just take care of it. I told you I’d always have your back. I meant it, even when you do somethin’ as stupid as this.”

  “I’m…sorry.” My voice shook. “Please…I…I'm sorry.” I staggered as I tried to covey something with substance and not just words that trivialized his feelings. We needed to talk. He needed to hear me. I felt panicked as the situation slipped out of control. “Please don't…please don’t leave yet.”

  “Damn it, Alex! I gotta leave. I can't stand to look at you right now. All I see is that dress and that asshole with his hands all over you while you just sit there like some…some…shit!” His hand absently clamped his forehead, pushing the hair back tight on his scalp. “I don't know if I can ever look at you the same again!”

  He hated me. He didn’t have to say it. I saw it in his eyes. I had to make him listen. He couldn’t leave like this again. “Just wait. Let me.”

  “Explain? There's nothin’ you can say that will make me understand. You knew how I felt and just threw it back in my face. You don’t care ‘bout us. So just let me go. I'll fix your mess and then I don’t want to see you.”

  His eyes watched me, cold and lifeless. I finally knew the frostbite that came from a Jess Mason freeze out. It wasn’t a superficial whisk to the skin, but a pain so deep, the flesh turned black from the inside out. The joints in my knees caved, and I slumped to the floor.

  I felt something on my cheeks. The tears poured down my face followed by the first sob. I was crying. Loosing Jess finally broke me. On my hands and knees, clutching the carpet, I stared back at him.

  Jess didn’t move. He stayed in the doorway watching me fall apart. I sucked in a jagged breath that transcended into an ugly cry. He looked at me one last time and then slammed the door shut.

  “I'm sss…sorry Jess. I…I’m ssoo sorry.” Snot dripped down my lips as I waited, knowing he wouldn’t come back. Sadie put her arms around my shoulders.

  “Alex, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know what else to do. Someone has to make Dutch take down that horrible video.”

  “He ha…hates me.”

  “You have a bond with Jess that is different than most people. It’s strong. I know it hurts but you have to give him some time, sweetie. He's just in shock right now.”

  “I g…g…gave him t…time.” I could barely talk, causing the words to be half syllable gibberish. “It m…made it w…worse. All…my fault.”

  “Don't talk. Just let it out, ok. You need this. You need to feel your emotions for a change. Grieve, Alex. You have to at some point. Stop bottling it up until you explode. All you’ll get is a catastrophic mess and more problems.”

  Sadie pulled me up from the floor and I stumbled over to the couch. She covered my shaking body with a blanket. I used the stupid, red, flowered quilt, a gift from Mrs. Mason, to wipe the crud running from my nose. Somewhere during the evening, the darkness brought mercy, and I drifted off to sleep.

  I stayed in bed the next day. Around two o'clock, I got a text. My feet kicked the covers up and I scrambled to my desk. The screen displayed a simple, terse statement lacking anything familiar.

  It's done.

  I tear rolled down my cheek. Flicking on my laptop, I hit the page Dutch so artfully constructed as his anthology to those he literally screwed over. The white screen glowed, Page Not Found. I quickly texted a reply.

  Thank you. I'm really sorry. Please call me. We need to talk.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I waited for Jess. The screen stayed blank. I waited. I waited until I got anxious. Five minutes turned into ten, which slowly faded into an hour. I curled into a ball under the comforter, clutching my phone. It was a cave from the rest of the world, filled with the rotten cloud of my unbrushed teeth. Three hours later, I climbed out knowing the truth.

  I chunked my phone against the wall, sending parts in every direction. I got chills hearing the sound. Grabbing the laptop off my bed, I hurled it through the air too. The HP made direct contact with the mirror above my dresser. Shards of glass exploded all over the room. The computer landed with a thud, still intact. I picked up the laptop and flung it again, this time watching the screen break into pieces as it hit the closet door.

  I sank to the floor, feeling the sobs shake my body. Nothing was making it better. I noticed the tattoo on my wrist. Scr
atching at the design with my nails, I wished it would go away. I wished I could just scrap it off my skin. It reminded me of everything horrible. It reminded me that he was gone. If I wouldn't die in a puddle of crimson blood, I would just cut the damn thing off with a kitchen knife.

  The truth hurt. I deserved every piece of this grief for what I did to my dear friend. All these months, I knew where he stood and I chose to ignore and pretend his feelings were not real. He should hate me. Yet, he saved me once again. Jess fulfilled his last promise before exiting from my life.

  Yanking open my desk drawer, I pulled out my list and studied all the varying degrees of charity from the Mason family. The latest entry always seemed inevitable. Clenching the pen between my fingers, I wrote Jess Mason in big letters taking up three spaces. Tears fell on the page. I shoved the old piece of notebook paper back in its hiding place.

  Pulling out my iPod, I flipped through the country playlists created by Jess. I found the one in question that contained just the right amount of twangy sap. Keith Urban knew just how bad I felt tonight. His soft voice brought me no closer to the person who gave me the disc; it just made the pain worse.

  I turned up the volume, knowing I deserved to hurt. Stretching out on my back across the floor, I let the shards of glass poke and cut my skin.

  Chapter 32

  When I was twenty…

  Today was my birthday. I waited and waited and waited. Jess didn’t call or even text, let alone bring me a giant bag of sugar-coated, orange slices. He had started the tradition on my tenth birthday when Mrs. Mason took him to this candy store in Dallas. The next year, they brought me to the actual place. It was a two-story building that was every kid’s fantasy. Jess got me a bag of orange slices every year from that store; every year until today.

  Sitting on the floor of my bedroom, I took another drink of tequila. It was only four o’clock, but I was already drunk. Pulling open my dresser drawer, I exchanged the tequila bottle for vodka. I had learned that vodka didn’t make me quit as nauseous, but I’d grown to like the taste of tequila, so I usually switched midpoint.