“What is going on with you?” She tugged his arm, turning him around.
Before he could respond he saw her mother and father walking out of the restaurant, staring at the two of them arguing.
“We are not going to do this here, not right now.” His voice was low so only she could hear.
“No!” She replied. “We’re not going to do this at all…”
The anger in her voice carried a wave of sadness close to tears. He knew she was angry, and he knew she was upset. Politeness and chivalry were long gone, though, and a part of him had shut down completely.
Thurgood stood in between the open driver side door, emasculated by the look on his daughters face. “Sweetheart, get in the car.”
She could hear disappointment riding the wave of his words. Unfortunately, Mason’s arrogance in the situation only made things worse and fueled the fire that consumed her.
Painfully, insensitively mimicking her father, he repeated, “Sweetheart, get in the car.”
She stood still in a moment that made no clear sense to her, and he remained as cold as the chill that calmed the night. She brushed him aside and got into the car, furiously pulling the door closed behind her. Thurgood looked upon Mason in sheer disgust.
“And this was your Christmas present to her,” he said, shaking his head. “Get in the car.”
They drove back silently, hearing only the sounds of other passing cars through the open windows. The tension was heavy but no one spoke a word to entice it. Sydney wanted so badly for Mason to look over at her or to say something, if only a word to soothe her disposition, but his mouth hadn’t moved apart from the clenching of his jaw. Even as she glanced at him, hoping he’d catch the turn of her head, he instead rested his elbow on the armrest that divided them and stared out of the window, lost in the streetlights that hovered above.
They pulled into the driveway, inching into the garage as the door slowly opened above them. Both Thurgood and Ruby walked in the house ahead of them and left the door leading in from the garage slightly opened for them to follow. Mason had no desire to do that, though. He walked out of the garage to the rental car and stubbornly leaned against the side of it. Sydney, who was only a few steps behind her parents, waited until the doorway was clear of them and stormed out of the garage directly towards him.
“What is your problem?” she asked.
He couldn’t even look at her. Every direction he turned his head, trying to avoid eye contact, she moved to, giving him no choice but to look her square in the eyes.
He chuckled under his breath. “You should have told me who your father was.”
“I don’t see how that even matters!” she exclaimed.
Of all things, she hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth, let alone be the reason for his behavior.
“It matters more than you think.”
She shook her head as if to hide what she felt was a stupid reason for him to be acting that way. “Okay, first of all, I don’t see how it matters but since it apparently does, I still don’t get it. You haven’t given him a chance to know you, or yourself to know him for that matter, and even when he tried, you lied to him. You –”
“I never lied to him,” he abruptly cut her off.
“Really! Mr., ‘I’m in investment banking.’ What was that? Please correct me if I’m wrong, but owning a company that manages millions in land development isn’t exactly investment banking.”
“So I guess I was expected to give him how much I make, too…”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” she shouted, irate. “He was just curious, as any father would be to know who his daughter was dating!”
Mason was all over the place; his thoughts were scattered and things he said weren’t making much sense to Sydney at all. He was hesitant to say what he really felt, knowing how it would sound, but at that point he just didn’t care.
“I. Don’t. Trust. Him,” he boldly stated, making clear to articulate every word, looking her directly in the face.
“What?” She was completely taken aback by his response. “You don’t trust my father, because he’s a Pastor of a church?” She started to walk away. “Unbelievable!”
“I don’t trust him because he is a blood sucking leech,” he aggressively responded.
Before he could say another word, he felt the hard sting of her right hand cross the side of his face. “How dare you? That’s my father you’re talking about, not some con-artist.” she yelled. “You have no idea of how many lives he’s touch –”
“He’s a pastor, I’m sure I do,” he insinuated, rubbing the side of his face.
Sydney slowly backed away from him as if he were a stranger she had never known. He didn’t stop there, though.
“I know how these ‘Men-of-God’ work. They build mega churches on the backs of people who give their last dime, having faith that God will help them pay their own rent in return. They use their ‘Godly’ authority as a way to HURT, and take advantage of people of children and they live on the scripture, touch not mine anointed, do my prophet no harm; as if their sins are exempt.”
“Mason… you are really going too far.”
“Am I?” he asked, “Do you really know what goes on when the pastor’s door closes?” He paused. “I do… and I remember…clearly.”
He looked up towards the bay window just above the three-car garage. “Do you really think this immaculate house came without him dirtying his hands?”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” she yelled.
Her voice was unnerving. Her jaws were tight and her eyes pierced through him like a straight blade. She resented every word, every thought, every implication of her father that came out of his mouth. It was obvious for whatever reason that he was uneasy, but the way he spoke was outright disrespectful. She made sure he knew it. Every word that fell from her lips was clearly articulated, one after the other. The neighborhood echoed of her high-pitched voice and his thunderous tone. Neither one of them noticed Thurgood, who had been standing in the doorway for the past ten minutes. He had heard most of the conversation and made no attempts to cut in, but it had finally reached a point where he had to. As much as he had grown to dislike Mason in the past hour, he still understood that both he and Sydney were adults. Regardless of his opinion whatever decision was to be made would be between them.
“Sydney,” he mildly called out, “why don’t the two of you go ahead over to the hotel? It’s getting pretty late.”
“Daddy, please…” she interrupted him, not fully hearing what he had said.
Mason, on the other hand, had heard him loud and clear. “No,” he cut in, “he’s right. I’m going to check into the hotel.”
“Fine!” Sydney said, highly irritated as she opened the passenger door.
Mason saw that she was about to get into the car and gently pushed the door closed, pulling the handle out of her hand.
“I’m going to check into the hotel,” he reiterated. “I think you should stay here.”
She stepped back from the car with her arms folded. “Tell me you’re not serious?” she asked, feeling her heart beat like a hollow drum.
But he was. He didn’t say a word, and his eyes avoided connecting to hers at all costs. He started the car, backed it down the driveway, and before she could blink he was gone.
Chapter 25
She stood alone in the middle of the driveway and watched him until he was no longer in sight. Her ears echoed the sound of crickets chirping into the empty night air blending in with the sounds of a light wind rustling through the trees. There was no more arguing, there was no more trying to make sense of a senseless night; there was nothing. A sadness that scared her more than anything weighed on her shoulders like storm clouds over rough seas. They had never been in an argument before, and she had never seen that look in his eyes. In the midst of all the reasons she was angry with him, she felt horrible about him deciding to leave her there and go to the hotel without her. She walked into the house through th
e garage door that led into the kitchen. Neither her mother nor her father was in the room. Just as she closed the door, her father walked into the kitchen.
“Are you okay?”
Tears lined the tips of her fingers as she wiped them away. Her father took a deep breath, poured a glass of sweet tea from the refrigerator, and placed it on the counter towards her in front of an empty stool. He leaned back against the edge of the island and waited for her to sit down. By then her tears were falling faster than she could wipe them away. Although he had a lot to say, he put his thoughts and feelings aside and didn’t go into any of what he heard or any of what took place between he and Mason at the restaurant. From the expression on Sydney’s face, that couldn’t have been the Mason she knew; he could see that. She took a sip from the sweat tea, waiting for her father to pass his disapproval, but to her surprise he didn’t.
“You love him, don’t you?” he asked.
Trembling with tears she answered him, “Yes daddy, I really do.”
They stayed up for a large portion of the night talking. Even after her mother had gone to bed, they remained. They moved from the kitchen to the family room and sat in almost complete darkness, had it not been for the glowing lights from the Christmas tree and the glaring fire from the fireplace. Knowing very little, he asked her more about Mason and she told him everything.
She bundled herself in an old blanket on the sofa with her legs resting tightly beneath her. Thurgood, as he did most days, sat back in his seasoned recliner and listened as the tears that once fell down her face disappeared behind moments of smiles and good memories. He knew the more she talked the better she would feel. Every so often, in between one story and the next, he would catch her glancing at the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. Neither one of them realized how late it was. The time was not why she was looking, though. Between the clock and her discreetly glancing at her cell phone, the two were a disheartening reminder that Mason hadn’t once called.
Thurgood stood up from the chair preparing to head upstairs for bed, pushing the footrest in so it wouldn’t pop out later, and kissed her on the top of her head. “Get some rest sweetheart. He’ll call,” he said with a subtle tone of assurance.
“Good night, daddy,” she sighed.
His footsteps faded into the background, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. Sydney could hear the floorboards above her squeak as he got into bed. She went into the kitchen and warmed up a cup of hot chocolate and rested comfortably on the sofa, even though her mother had prepared a room for her upstairs. She put her phone on the coffee table in front of her and stared at it as if it were going to ring any minute. The longer she stared, the more she felt like an idiot. Why am I waiting for him to call me? she asked herself. She quickly sat her cup of hot chocolate down and dialed his number. She leaned back, biting her fingernails waiting, with each ring in anticipation of hearing him say hello. By the fourth ring, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. His voicemail answered. Maybe he was asleep, or at the very least just away from his phone, she hoped. The one thing she didn’t want to think was that he was staring at her number as the phone rang and intentionally didn’t answer.
“Sir, can I help you?” a voice called out trying to get Mason’s attention
Mason stood in line staring at the missed call from Sydney. He slid the phone back into his pocket without thinking twice.
“I’m sorry,” he responded. “I’m checking in.”
“And where are you flying to?” she asked.
“Home,” he tiredly responded.
He never checked into the hotel; from the looks of it, he never intended to. When he left Sydney in the midst of their heated argument, he decided instantly that he wasn’t going back and he wasn’t staying in Charleston. He took the first exit he saw to the airport and drove straight there. He checked in his luggage and had them hold hers in baggage claim for her flight in few days. A part of him felt guilty, but in that moment nothing mattered to him except getting away and getting home. It was like he had turned off his ability to feel anything at all.
He was one of only a few people in the terminal waiting for the flight to Philadelphia, or anywhere for that matter. The wait was long, which meant he had a lot more time to think - more than he’d hoped for. After a while he began to wonder if leaving the way he intended to, tonight, was the best decision. As far as Sydney knew he was at the hotel, asleep, and she would see him in the morning. As he stepped foot on that plane he knew that when morning came she would know, and she would never forgive him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention; flight 1765 to Philadelphia is now boarding at Gate C13; flight 1765 to Philadelphia now boarding at Gate C13.”
He boarded the airplane and was greeted by the attendants smiling and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. He hadn’t realized the hour had already crossed into morning. He took a seat in first class and was instantly greeted by another attendant, who took his drink order. It was almost twenty minutes after that before he heard the doors to the cabin close and felt the movement of the plane beneath him getting into position to take off. The flight attendant had already gone over the safety procedures and was on the loud speaker instructing all of those who had electronic devices to turn them off. He thought by then his battery had already died, but as he checked it to be sure he noticed his voicemail icon blinking and remembered the missed call from Sydney. He moved his finger over the icon and then back away indecisively. It’s just a message, he thought, and he listened.
“I know it’s late and you are probably asleep.” She paused, “I’m really sorry about tonight, I really am. I don’t know all of what happened with you and my dad and I really don’t care. I just wish you were here. Anyway, tomorrow is Christmas and the only gift that I want is what I already have and that’s the best gift in the world… You! So I’m going to tell you at least one of your gifts, although I’m sure you’ve already known for some time. I love you.” She chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sir, please turn off your phone, we are preparing to take off,” the flight attendant interrupted.
It was the first time she had ever told him she loved him, and definitely the last thing he needed to hear. He pulled the phone from his ear and pressed the power button with more mixed emotions than he had when he first arrived at the airport but he was already in motion, though, and technically already gone. He watched through the window as the airplane left the ground over Charleston, and his expectation of tomorrow over Sydney. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he had overreacted; it was obvious he had, but there was nothing he could do about it.
By the time the flight touched down it was early morning. He had watched the sun rise above the reaching towers as the plane made its way into the city. Everything was different. The weather caused a chilling breeze to blow against him, bringing the harsh reality that Charleston was no more. Now, like every year before, apart from spending the holiday with his brother, he was alone on Christmas. He took the shuttle to his car, threw his luggage into the trunk, and sat in the driver’s seat without turning on the engine, the heat, or the radio; he didn’t move.
“What did I just do?” he asked himself aloud.
His head fell back against the headrest and he took a breath so deep it was almost hard for him to catch. He finally started the car and pulled out of the parking garage. It took him almost an hour to get home. He turned into his neighborhood, noticing that more cars were parked in his neighbors’ driveways and along the street than there had been when he left. The holidays usually brought everyone out, and not one of the driveways on his street was bare except for his. That wasn’t new he usually spent Christmas at Jackson’s but it seemed to be the first time that it actually bothered him.
He parked his car without pulling into the garage and walked into the house. It was empty and cold. He could see the Christmas tree in the house next door through his window; Mason watched their little boy opening gifts and his parents sitt
ing back cuddled next to each other, smiling contently. He looked around his own house. He took a good look from where he stood, and for the first time he saw nothing. There was no Christmas tree, no decorations, no fire burning in the fireplace or gifts being opened along the floor accompanied by excitement and smiles - just his overpriced furniture, his flat screen television, and everything he once prided himself on having as an eligible bachelor.
He dropped his luggage at the door, took off his shoes, and slowly walked up the stairs and got into the shower. The water hadn’t quite warmed up yet but he let it run down him, hoping with every drop it would somehow wash away the guilt and regret that hung over him. The silence that echoed once the water stopped running made it clear, though, those feelings weren’t going anywhere. Sydney has to be awake now, he thought. He considered calling her, but if he did, what would he say, I’m sorry? The exchange of words with her father at the restaurant and the argument he had with her in front of their house – the things he said to her. He shook his head in resentment. He knew if he called her there wouldn’t be a single word he could say to make anything better and there would definitely be no explanation when she asked, “Where are you?”
Chapter 26
“What do you mean you left her in Charlotte!?”
Jackson and his wife Kerri were up preparing a Christmas breakfast for her family, who was coming into town later that morning, when Mason got there. Jackson nearly dropped the eggs when Mason told him what he had done.
Where We Left Off Page 13
