by Erin Noelle
SCARLETT
I continued to see Mason regularly at the rehab facility after my initial visit. The second time was the following Thursday, just two days later, and I was introduced to Heather at that time. When I first met her, I was intimidated to be quite honest. She was absolutely gorgeous with long, curly black hair, the most exquisite green eyes, and a figure to die for. She carried herself with a confidence that I’d never had, and I could see the way that Mason looked at her in admiration. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a teensy bit jealous of her initially and was probably a bit standoffish, but once I started talking to her and got to know her personality, that envy quickly turned into respect and reverence. She was warm and personable, and it was obvious that she took her job very serious. She invited me to join Mason’s therapy session the following Tuesday which I eagerly agreed to do. I was not only curious about how such sessions were structured and what they were like in general, but I was overjoyed to be a part of Mase’s recovery and healing process. I still felt a huge amount of guilt and responsibility for his downward spiral and ultimately, what had happened to him on Christmas.
I was nervous the day that I arrived for the counseling, again just unsure of what to expect. Surprisingly, Heather’s office was set up very similar to the activities room, just on a smaller scale. There was a comfortable couch and an oversized chair set up opposite of her desk and credenza. The walls were painted a rich yellow, almost a golden color, and there were numerous plants and abstract pieces of art scattered about the area. Overall, it was very inviting and uplifting and I could see how her patients would feel comfortable in there.
A few minutes after I was shown in, Mason walked through the door wearing his now signature jeans and white t-shirt. As soon as he saw me sitting there waiting, a huge smile stretched across his face and his eyes lit up. I jumped up and went to hug him, relieved that he seemed happy that I was there. We both settled on the couch and I was telling him about my classes that semester when Heather walked in. After greeting us and getting herself settled in her chair, she addressed us both.
“Mason and Scarlett, this is going to be a little different than my normal therapy sessions here at this facility, but I think that it’s vital in both of you moving on with your lives and ensuring that those lives are prosperous and productive,” she stated in a calm but serious tone. “Mason, as you know and as we have discussed at length, you have an extremely addictive personality. When most people hear the word ‘addiction,’ they associate it with something negative; however, there is a fine line between addiction and commitment. Where you should never let any one thing or even a couple of things dictate your life, being devoted or dedicated to something is a fabulous quality to possess. For example, being devoted to your significant other or your family, or being dedicated to working out or eating good foods, these things can lead to an overall healthy mental and physical well-being.”
After a brief pause, she turned her attention to me, “Scarlett, I don’t know much about your background other than the brief amount that Mason has told me. I know that you grew up in a different environment than most children, and I also know that you’ve dealt with losing someone that was very close to you not too long ago. I suspect in addition to those things, you feel a great deal of responsibility for what happened to Mason on Christmas and the events leading up to that night. Am I right?” I nodded in agreement, but did not say anything. She continued, “Scarlett, everything that happened to Mason is Mason’s fault . . . his responsibility. He is an adult and has to be accountable for his decisions and actions. You can no longer carry around that guilt; you’ve got to let it go. Mason, tell her what you want her to know.”
Mason turned to face me and reached for my hands, gently placing them in his before he began talking. “Angel, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry that I didn’t handle things right in our relationship. From the very beginning, I always saw you as someone who was too good for me, someone I didn’t deserve, and because of that I held back from you. It was like I was just waiting for it to fall apart, so I kept things from you. I should’ve told you about Bentley from the beginning, I should’ve asked you to come to Austin with me when I first moved there like I wanted to, and I should’ve made more of an effort to connect with you on a personal level rather than just a physical level. When Heather asked me to tell her about you, I realized that I actually knew so little. I couldn’t even tell her what your favorite color is or if you had any brothers or sisters,” he scoffed. “But I know that you shave instead of wax and which panties are your favorites.”
I’m pretty sure my face turned fives shades of red before hitting deep crimson with that statement. I couldn’t even look at Heather to see her reaction; I was even more mortified that it probably wasn’t the first time that she had heard him say that.
He lightly brushed his thumb back and forth over the top of my hand. “I didn’t say that to embarrass you; my point is that our relationship was primarily physical . . . at least on my end it was. Heather has explained to me love usually occurs in stages, and the first stage is infatuation. I’m not sure I ever made it out of this stage with you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t allow our relationship to progress.”
“It’s okay, Mase,” I interrupted. “I know that you didn’t intentionally do that. And I know that I didn’t always handle things the way I should have.” I looked down at my lap as the memories of my night with Max flashed in my mind. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have believed Bentley; I knew that she was a manipulative and devious bitch. I should’ve talked to you before making assumptions and my own bad decisions.”
Raising one hand up, he placed his fingers under my chin, forcing me to refocus my vision into his eyes. “Nobody’s perfect, Scarlett. Not you . . . not me . . . no one. The decisions I made to lose myself in drugs, alcohol, and women after we broke up is not your fault. Yes, I was hurt, and yes, I was disappointed, but I made the choice to make a bad situation worse by getting involved in shit that I knew wasn’t gonna do anything but bring me more misery in the long run. Okay?”
Again, I just nodded. I wasn’t sure what to say really. I almost couldn’t believe that it was my Mason sitting in front of me saying those things. I knew what he said was true, just like it wasn’t Ash’s fault that I ran away after Evie’s death or Bentley’s fault that I slept with Max. I made the choices to react in the manners in which I did; I failed myself in critical moments of which my character was tested.
Heather’s voice pulled me from my wandering thoughts. “Scarlett, why did you come here to see Mason last week?”
I looked up at her, a bit befuddled. “Because I love him, because I care about him. I needed to see with my own eyes that he was here getting the help that he needed.”
“Not because you felt guilty or felt pity?” she asked.
“No,” I answered ardently. “I’m not saying that I don’t feel guilt because I do . . . or I have, but I would’ve come to see him no matter the reason or circumstances that he was here. And I’ve never felt pity toward him. I may not understand the things he does, but never pity.”
She looked at Mason, “I’m very proud of you today, Mason. I know saying a lot of that wasn’t easy, but it needed to be said for both yours and Scarlett’s sake. Now the last thing that needs to be discussed is where each of you see your relationship going in the future, if anywhere. If you both choose that today is the last time you see one another, I feel confident that you can both put the past behind you. You’ve both apologized to one another, and you both seem to understand that it’s time to take responsibility for yourself and your own decisions. Many people are dealt really shitty hands in life, but there comes a time that you have to forget the past and take control of your future. Remember, in the end, it’s not about where you start, it’s about where you finish.”
Heather leaned back in her chair, and crossed her hands in her lap. She looked at me, then at Mason, and then back at me. “So the future . . . Scarlett, look at Mason
and tell him how you see y’all’s relationship going forward.”
I slowly shifted my weight so that I was turned toward him. I took a moment before saying anything, as I gathered my feelings and thought about exactly what I wanted to say. “Mase, I can’t say what will happen or not happen in the future, but for now I want to be your friend. I want to get to know you, the inner you. I’m not sure what stage or what kind of love I have for you, but I know that I do love you. I care about you tremendously and I want you to be happy. I’m with Ash, and he makes me happy. He and I do have a connection on a cerebral level that you and I never reached. Mentally and emotionally, he’s there for me.” It took everything in me to not start crying while I said that, but somehow I made it through with dry eyes.
Not breaking our stare, he took his turn. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to try again with our relationship, to start over knowing what we know now, but I realize that isn’t what’s supposed to happen right now. I would love to be your friend. I would love to know what your favorite color is and if you have any siblings. I want you to be happy, and if Ash makes you happy, I’m okay with that. I know that I have a lot of work still to do on myself before I can even think about focusing my attention on someone else.”
We sat there for several minutes after he finished talking just smiling at each other. I honestly felt like we were going to be okay, both individually and together as friends. Heather offered one last piece of advice before excusing us both from her office.
“Many psychologists refer to euphoria as a state of intense happiness and self-confidence, a blissful self-clarity if you will, and most people throughout their lives search and strive for this feeling. Why many never achieve it is because they never learn how to love themselves. When you discover the true beauty of self-love, then and only then, will you experience pure euphoria. Today you both took a step in the right direction in your quest; don’t look back now.”
Mason and I walked out of her office hand in hand and headed toward the activities room. Neither of us mentioned what was talked about in the session for the rest of the afternoon, but I could feel the positive energy radiating from both of us. We attempted to play chess, but neither of us really knew all of the rules, so it ended with us both in a fit of laughter, and then spent the remainder of the time talking about our favorite books. Since he had quite a bit of free time in the center, he had been reading quite a bit over the prior few weeks, and I loved seeing the enthusiasm in his face as he talked about some of the journeys he had been on with the written word. It was no secret that I was a reading nut, so being able to share that exhilaration with him was awesome. We each agreed to read one of the other’s favorites over the next week even though our genres of choice were quite different. I downloaded Hopeless by Colleen Hoover on his e-reader for him and it appeared I was going to begin the Game of Thrones series. I didn’t care that I wasn’t a fan of supernatural type books, if he liked it so much, I was happy to give it a try.
Before I was ready, it was time for me to head to work, and I hugged him like I had the previous couple of times that I had visited, but this one felt different . . . genuine and without reservation. This time it was Mason that stood and watched me walk toward the door. Just before heading out into the parking lot, I turned around toward him and said, “It’s pink and I have one older brother, his name is Matt.”
He threw his head back in laughter as I disappeared into the sunlight.
FEBRUARY SEVEN—THE AVETT BROTHERS
STOMACH TIED IN KNOTS—SLEEPING WITH SIRENS
MASON
When Scarlett left the center that day, I felt better than I had in months. I knew that whatever she and I had shared in a romantic, couple-sense was over, but I still felt this overall sensation of calm and peace. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that just because she and I had talked, that all of my problems were going to be solved, but I knew it was a huge move in the right direction for both of us.
I went back to my room and grabbed my journal and guitar once again, and let the song that was screaming inside my head out. Up until that point, Scarlett had been the muse for many of the songs that I had written, but most of them were dark and depressing, lyrics about lost love and broken hearts. I had written enough tear-inducing ballads in my time at rehab to fill up two albums. Suddenly, I had a song begging to be written that celebrated the time we had shared together, and I began to furiously jot it down. After the last line, I set my pen down and knew that I had just written my first single for when I resumed my music career. It was perfect. Just perfect.
I had a little more than three weeks left in the center than another six at home for outpatient treatment. Heather had already begun talking to me about joining a support group once I was out. I was still a little hesitant about the idea, I wasn’t a huge fan of the group sessions at the clinic as it was, but I wasn’t completely ruling it out either. I also knew it would be hard to be a consistent attendee of a group once I went back on the road with Jobu’s Rum.
I could not wait to get back to making music with my friends. It was my driving force now. I had been a part of the band for so long, I had forgotten what it was like to not be . . . and I hated it. I often found myself wondering what the guys were doing, especially Sebastian. I knew that he needed help just like I did. I only hoped that what had happened to me was somewhat of an eye opener for him. I had been scared to ask Cruz about it, but the more I thought about it, the more it began to eat at me. I picked up my phone and typed out a text.
ME: Hey man just thought I’d check in on you and the boys.
CRUZ: Doing good. Hows you Rat boy?
ME: Better every day. I’m writing more music than Jobu’s Rum will know what to do with
CRUZ: Awesome. Can’t wait til ur home
ME: Hows Bastian doin? Plz tell me hes getting some help.
CRUZ: Yeah he got real freaked out after Miami. Hes not in a place or anything but hes seeing someone and he’s been clean as far as I know.
ME: That’s what I wanted to hear. Tell everyone I said what’s up. I’ll see y’all in a couple of months.
CRUZ: Will do. Can’t wait.
An overwhelming feeling of relief came over me after reading Cruz’ texts about Sebastian; everything seemed to be falling into place for me. I had made things right with Scarlett, my friends were getting their shit together and ready for me to return, and the drive to make music was stronger than it had ever been. I was actually starting to believe that I deserved to have things work out for me. Maybe I could learn to love myself after all.
SCARLETT
After I left the center, I couldn’t stop thinking about the things that Heather had said in the session Mason and I had with her, especially the part about learning to love myself. If you had asked me prior to that conversation if I loved myself, my answer would have been “sure I do,” but once I really started thinking about it, I began to question it. Did I love myself? Did I respect myself? Did I truly appreciate the person that I was?
Sighing aloud as those thoughts continued to assault my mind while I sat bored at work, I decided that I was in desperate need of a Chocolate Bar rendezvous with Max. Since we lived together now and talked to each other regularly at the apartment about what was going on in our lives, we had ditched our weekly dates at the dessert shop, but I was in desperate need of some chocolate, a latte, and some good advice. I texted him a message asking if he wanted to meet up there after I got off. He responded quickly, like he always did, that he would see me there.
As soon as I locked up the music store, I headed straight there, anxious to talk to Max about my visits with Mase. Walking through the glass doors, I grinned as I saw him waiting at our old table. Hurriedly, I walked over to him and threw my arms around his neck.
“Well, I’m glad to see you too, sweetheart,” he said with the emphasis on the nickname.
I jokingly gave him a mean face as I sat across the table from him. “Hey assface, so glad you could make it.
”
“Assface? Really Scarlett, are you twelve?” He started laughing hard at my comment which in turn made me get the giggles.”
“I have no idea where that came from, but I’m kinda liking it,” I teased. “It suits you.”
“No it doesn’t,” he protested, rubbing his hand over his face. “My face is quite gorgeous, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Nope, haven’t noticed,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
We continued to pick at each other back and forth for several minutes until he finally got serious and asked, “Okay Scarlett, really, why did you text me here? Something’s gotta be up. Talk to me.”
I drew quiet and looked down at my half-eaten chocolate covered twinkie, contemplating just how I went about saying what I needed to say.
Not coming up with any way to ease in the conversation, I looked up at him and blurted out, “I’ve been seeing Mase.”
His back straightened, his eyes got big and he pounded his fist on the table, startling me. “Damn it, what in the world is wrong with you? Why would you cheat on Ash, Scarlett?”
“It . . . it’s not what you think, Max,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean like seeing him . . . I’ve been visiting him in rehab.”
He relaxed a little in his chair, but I could tell he still wasn’t pleased. “I’m guessing you haven’t told Ash.” I shook my head no. “And I’m guessing that’s what you need help with . . .”
“I don’t know what to say to him to make him understand that we really are just friends, and that things aren’t like they used to be between us.”
