Still staring, Sydney said, “Mom, I still can’t believe how good you look!”
Ruby laughed.
“God is good,” she stated, checking the ham in the oven.
“And this house is amazing!”
“Oh Lord, I forgot this is your first time seeing the house,” she said. “Come on, let me show you the rest of it,” she offered jokingly.
“I’ll wait, you two go ahead,” Mason suggested.
They went off. He admired the loving relationship he could clearly see they had, on top of the pure excitement and joy of seeing each other after so long. He ran his hand across the counter top nodding in agreement of good taste from what he’d seen so far. The inside was just as inviting as the outside if not more. He walked through the living room, which was decorated with various cultural artifacts and family photos along the walls and bookshelves: Sydney and her sister when they were young, plus a lot of their grandchildren. They all look so happy, he said to himself. The more he walked around, the more there was something eerily familiar with the setup, the pictures, the books that filled the bookshelves, and oddly even the furniture. He didn’t give much attention to it and made his way back into the kitchen. He could hear Sydney and Ruby moving from room to room, and all he could do was laugh at the rapid footsteps of one and the slower footsteps of the other. Soon, though, they both made their way back downstairs, seemingly far more enthused than they had been going up.
Laughing, Ruby said to Mason “Well, that had to be interesting,”
“What was?” He asked.
“Sydney shared with me a few of your exciting adventures together on that motorcycle of yours. I’m surprised she even got on one of those things, you know. She’s scared to death of them.”
“She was scared,” he replied. “Not so much anymore, though,” he laughed.
“Have you guys eaten yet?” Ruby asked.
They didn’t get a chance to answer, hearing the front door opening. The house quickly became silent as the anticipation of surprise grew stronger. No one moved for fear that they would ruin it. Sydney’s father was just getting home from the office; they could hear him taking off his coat and placing his brief case on the floor. It would only be moments before he walked through the archway into the kitchen - a moment that, for Sydney, couldn’t come quickly enough. He removed his shoes, paying no attention to the pair that belonged to Mason, and walked into the kitchen, stopping immediately in his tracks when his eyes graced the face of his daughter. His smile was immediate.
“Sydney! What are you ––”
“Hi Daddy,” she smiled excitedly.
He tripped on words that never quite made it out of his mouth from utter surprise and excitement. He hadn’t seen Sydney since she moved north. Remembering he’d spoken to her on the phone at least twice earlier during the week, she never once mentioned she was coming home for Christmas. He wasn’t the easiest man to surprise, but this time,
“You got me,” he said, wrapping his arms around Sydney.
Everyone was so happy and full of smiles: her mother, who had leaned down to check the ham still in the oven. Sydney, who couldn’t stop smiling; and her father, who was overwhelmed and thrilled by her visit. Everyone was exceedingly happy… everyone except Mason. He’d never seen her father before, nor had he spoken much, if anything at all, about what he did for a living. From one glance, though, Mason had him all figured out. And he didn’t like him.
With every step her father took into the kitchen, Mason’s smile faded from discomfort with an underlying hatred. As if things couldn’t get any worse, he said to himself.
Sydney, noticeably overexcited to introduce Mason to her father, didn’t see the uneasiness in his face when she walked up to him.
“Daddy,” she introduced, “this is Mason. Mason, this is my daddy, Thurgood McCail. Bishop, Reverend, Dr. Thurgood McCail,” she joked, assuming Mason would recognize his name, if not his face.
And he did; he recognized both his name and his face from many years ago. Most of the time on the television as his stepfather watched his sermons early on Sunday mornings through the reflection of the mirror as he adjusted his tie before leaving for church. He remembered his stepfather preaching almost the same exact sermon, as if he’d memorized every word, and making Mason recall everything he’d preached about every Sunday night. More than that, he remembered what would happen if he even missed just one thing. Staring at her father, he couldn’t help but remember the man his mother married to replace his, and with that came a genuine disdain for everything from the crisp white clergy collar that framed his neck to the silver cross that hung from it. It wasn’t fair, but to see certain familiarities in his mannerisms and characteristics made it hard not to feel the way he did.
Apart from what he did know about her father, which wasn’t much, he had no desire to know any more.
“Mason, is it?” Mr. McCail shook his hand. “One who builds with stones and bricks. That’s a very strong name. God must have had a powerful plan for your life.”
He chuckled in discomfort, “Nice to meet you Mr. McCail.”
“Oh no, please, call me Thurgood, son. You haven’t quite made it to the ‘Dad’ phase yet,” he joked.
His voice was heavy and raspy. Mason cringed the moment he referred to him as son. They are all just alike, he thought. He laughed along with them to save face, but nothing about the conversation was funny.
For the next hour they exchanged a few words in between conversations with Sydney, but nothing that required Mason to talk too much. Sydney noticed he was a bit standoffish, especially with her father, but she thought nothing of it beyond him possibly being nervous. Nerves had very little to do with it. He listened and joined in where he felt it was necessary but the more he did, and the more her father’s dialect reminded him of his stepfather, it became increasingly hard for him to pretend he was comfortable in a situation where he absolutely wasn’t.
“Excuse me,” Mason cut into their conversation, “is there a restroom I could use?”
Thurgood pointed him to the bathroom just around the corner from the kitchen. Watching him walk away, he hadn’t noticed Mason’s discomfort in the least, but rather looked at Sydney, proud as could be. “He seems like a really nice young man,” he said.
The bathroom light was already on when Mason walked in. He closed the door behind him and tried to pull himself together, questioning whether or not he was overreacting. He turned on the faucet listlessly, watching the water run down the porcelain sink, breathing almost as fast as the water fell. He closed and opened his eyes repeatedly, pinching them together and trying not to allow the familiarity of his surroundings to dig into memories that he had long suppressed. It was too late. Even the water that filled the bottom of the sink found a way of attaching itself to a memory.
“Turn off the water!” Mason’s mother yelled from her room down the hall.
He was supposed to be brushing his teeth, but instead he had let the water run until it almost overflowed. He was never really sure what fascinated him about that, but seeing the little hole in the sink stop the overflow always amazed him. He’d heard her yell out again but he paid no attention and let the water run even more. Something changed that night. The bathroom door slowly opened behind him and he could almost feel the blood leaving his hand from gripping the toothbrush so tight. Fear blanketed over him like a rain cloud over a small city and the voice that followed crept up on him like distant thunder. He had never felt more afraid and defenseless, a feeling and a fear that he never forgot, along with the words, Son, it’s time for bed.
He quickly turned the water off, the screech from the faucet pulling him from his thoughts. I have to get out of here, he said to himself. At the very least out of this house, if not the hotel. He dried his hands on the towel hanging above the sink, stalling for a few minutes in the bathroom before he came out and walked right into Sydney and her parents putting on their coats.
“Are we going somewhere?” he as
ked, slightly confused.
“My mom actually made reservations for us tonight at some new restaurant downtown,” Sydney answered, handing him his coat.
Ruby was at the door waiting for Thurgood, who was upstairs changing his clothes. He started to make his way down the stairs as Mason began to put on his shoes and his coat.
“Mason, what is this about you two checking into a hotel?” he asked, walking down the steps.
Mason hoped the conversation wasn’t about to go where he thought it would. Before he could get a word out to answer, Thurgood cut in.
“We have plenty of room here,” he added. “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. Tomorrow the house is going to be full of women with my other daughter and my granddaughters. I could use another man around here to talk to,” he laughed.
Chapter 23
There wasn’t a single place to park on either side of the street as they pulled up towards the restaurant. Mason couldn’t make out the name fully but he did see the words Steak House glowing red just above the entrance. He sat in the back seat, less than thrilled about being in the same car with everyone, but also, not wanting to ruin the trip for Sydney.
“I’m surprised this place is so busy tonight,” Sydney expressed, leaning over the passenger seat.
“It’s always like this, ever since they opened,” Ruby added.
There were people everywhere both leaving and waiting to get in. Apparently this restaurant was very popular, and it appeared to be even more so on Christmas Eve. They circled the block a few times before they decided to spend the money for valet parking and finally made their way into the restaurant. Thurgood went ahead to check on their reservation, leaving them standing in the foyer along with a few other guests waiting to be seated. They waited for all of five minutes before they were led to a table.
The restaurant was beautiful. The walls were lined with a sophisticated cherry wood and the lighting in the dining room was warm and intimate, subtly accenting the drop lights above the bar. The tables had been draped with white linens, and champagne glasses became the center focus of the table as the waitress placed silverware tightly wrapped in white napkins beside them. The pulse of the jazz music made it very easy to drown out neighboring conversations as they began to focus on their own.
“This menu looks amazing!” Sydney mentioned, combing through the entrées.
It was expected with a restaurant as classy and intimate as this one was that the food service would be equally pricey, but this was nothing Mason wasn’t used to. Thurgood, however, gave the impression that he was the only one who had ever sat in a five star restaurant, laying his napkin across his legs and declining to look at the menu.
Between light conversations everyone gave their order to the waitress, who had taken the menus and already delivered complimentary glasses of water. Thurgood thought this would have been a better time than any to get to know Mason more than he had at home, noticing that the ladies had branched into a conversation of their own.
“So, Mason, do you have many restaurants like this up there in Delaware?”
He was genuinely interested, but his question came across very condescending. Mason’s eyebrows pinched to the middle of his forehead as he sipped his water.
Mason chuckled, “We have a few.”
Thurgood sat back a little from the table and crossed his legs. “Delaware…” he looked to be in thought. “I’ve only been there once and that was passing through many years ago. It’s a fairly small state, isn’t it?” He asked.
“Compared to most,” Mason answered.
“So what do you do there? Are you in school?”
“School? I’m almost thirty years old,” Mason expressed, offended.
“Well, it’s never too late.”
Is he serious? Mason thought to himself.
“Daddy, believe it or not Mason is actually––”
“…in banking. I’m in investment banking,” he cut in.
Sydney was a little taken aback, both by him cutting her off and his answer. Mason isn’t in banking, she thought, noticing his tone had changed completely.
“You must have taken a pretty hard hit with the way the economy has gone recently,” Thurgood insisted.
“No more than most,” Mason confidently replied. “But what about you, what is it that you do exactly?” he asked as if he didn’t already know.
“Well, I’m actually the Pastor of a church here in Charleston. We have about twenty-two hundred members now.”
“And how’d the economy treat you?”
“We were blessed,” he answered, sensing Mason’s sarcasm.
Mason laughed under his breath, thinking back on Thurgood’s immaculate house and the luxury car one of three they had driven to the restaurant in.
He took a light sip of his water and sat it back down on the table. “It’s pretty obvious you were… blessed, as you put it, but what about the rest of your congregation?” Mason inquired, even more sarcastic than before.
Sydney’s eyes widened in attentive embarrassment. “MASON!” She yelled, causing a few people around them to become interested in their conversation.
Thurgood adjusted himself in his chair, tilting his head as if preparing for a debate. “I don’t think I’m quite sure what you mean by that. Please, elaborate.” He spoke with a sense of cynicism.
“I mean isn’t that how it works? The church members the ones who already have little to nothing give and give hoping that at some point…” He stopped searching for the right words. “This God that they are praying to will one day show up and reward them, when in the end their prayers fall on deaf ears and their offerings fall directly into your pocket.”
“Mason!” Sydney yelled again, shocked.
Staring directly at Thurgood, waiting for him to respond, he smiled arrogantly and excused himself from the table.
“He’s quite the character,” Thurgood expressed as Mason walked towards the bar.
“Daddy I am so sorry, I don’t –”
“No no, it’s not your fault, and it’s nothing you have to apologize for,” he chuckled. “I’ll be right back. The food should be here in a minute; you two go ahead and eat.”
“I’ll have a scotch,” Thurgood’s voice trailed over Mason’s shoulder, who had taken a seat at the bar.
“So, you drink, too?” Mason asked.
“Too? You do realize you don’t know anything about me, and yet you’ve come all the way here and passed judgment on me and my church less than one hour after meeting me.”
“Your church?” Mason challenged.
“Yes, my church.”
Mason laughed, “And you wonder why we never find God when we look for him.”
“Has it occurred to you that you’re dating my daughter?” Thurgood asked, not hiding his frustration. “Do you really think it’s wise for you to come all the way down here and think you know something when you don’t?”
“Trust me, I know plenty about how you mega church closet preachers work––”
“Look, son, d” he angrily cut him off.
Before he could finish, Mason cut in, even more aggressively.
“See that right there… that was your first mistake. I’m not your son, I’m not your boy, and I’m not your friend. I can respect that you are Sydney’s father, but that’s as far as it goes with me. Don’t think for one second your collar or your cross carry any weight or warrant any respect from me.”
Mason drank what little was left in his glass and slammed it down on the bar top. He thought back to Thurgood’s comment in reference to his name, back at the house. “One who builds with stones and bricks. That’s a very strong name. God must have had a powerful plan for your life.”
“By the way,” he added, “I make my own plans for my life. God failed the first time.”
Chapter 24
There was very little said between Mason and Sydney’s father, the rest of the dinner outside of unspoken soliloquies and indirect sarcasm. Occasional glances of disc
ord and cordial conversation became their entertainment for the majority of the evening. It was obvious by that point that neither one of them cared to be around the other. Sydney’s head was barely raised enough to make eye contact with her parents sitting across from the two of them. Even when she spoke, her voice hardly brought a word above a whisper. She was embarrassed, and getting more and more upset as the night progressed. Mason sat beside her, almost emotionless. He sliced through his medium rare filet mignon with a hint of arrogance, but held his tongue fast from speaking another word. The longer the night went on, the more distant, cold, and estranged he became. Sydney had never seen him act that way and her mother, who had praised him earlier, couldn’t comprehend the sudden change any more than she could. They both watched in silence, neither one feeling comfortable enough to say a word to him; they just wanted the night to be over.
“I’ll take that,” Thurgood said to the waitress who had finally come with the check.
Shortly afterward, Sydney and Mason excused themselves from the table and walked outside ahead of her parents. Sydney’s expression was obvious, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to notice. They reached the foyer outside of the restaurant, where most of the people were waiting for their vehicles or hailing a taxi. Sydney paced back and forth in front of Mason as he stood a little ways behind her with both of his hands nestled comfortably in his pockets. She didn’t want to make a scene, but she couldn’t keep quiet, not after the way the night had gone so far.
“Mason, I am trying for the life of me to understand what is going on with you.”
Uncalled for but not unexpectedly, he responded as nonchalantly as he had been acting for most of the night. He brushed her off completely without saying a word and walked towards the valet, who had just pulled her father’s car up. Her eyes widened in disbelief and her jaw fell as if she had a word hanging on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t believe he had walked away from her in front of all of those people like it was second nature to him. The curious and impartial stares of people standing outside of the restaurant burned into her like a propelled flame. It was humiliating. She timidly called out after him, trying not to draw any more unnecessary attention towards her. By then everyone had clearly formed their own opinions, which she could hear in the many side conversations that didn’t care to be softly spoken. Mason didn’t make the situation any better. He squinted in the direction of her voice as she called out after him, but he never acknowledged her.
Where We Left Off Page 12
