Kiran
My stepmother, Linda, called me last night. She knows about the pact between Mason and me. There are only two people who know about the true extent of my eight days with Mason Cutler. Linda and Sidney. Linda because she kept commenting how much I’d changed when I came back. Finally, I broke down and told her. As a hopeless romantic, she thought it was a beautiful idea.
When I told her the outcome of finally meeting him again, she wept. She tried to comfort me, but in the end I had to console her. I spoke to Papa too, and told him I was helping out a friend and would be out of town for the next few weeks. It was the truth, or the closest to the truth I could disclose. He would freak I am even living with a boy, let alone whatever is going on here. Not that I even have a clue on that account.
Confiding in Sidney eased my mind. We renewed our friendship over the years. Also, she is one of the few people who actually met Mason. I needed confirmation he did actually exist and our eight days wasn’t a figment of my over-active imagination. Sidney consoled me for two hours last night as we Skyped with matching bottles of wine.
Today, Dana shows me around the house. I spent the night at the Wilshire again to give Dana and Mason some privacy. She has decided to fly into the Falkland Islands early. Apparently, there are equipment issues and decisions she needs to be involved in. So today is the day I officially start.
There are many intricate details in the Craftsman house. Mason and Dana’s grandfather built the home himself. I try not to salivate as I take in the built-in bookcases, but it’s hard to pass up a shelf lined with leather-bound books without checking out the contents. Everything is immaculate and organized.
Dana clears her throat, drawing my attention away from the collection of Langston Hughes poetry. “You can borrow anything you want.”
“What about Mason’s appointments? Should we take a cab?”
“That’ll cost a fortune. Besides the carbon emissions on those vehicles…” Dana shudders as if I’ve suggested mining for coal in her backyard. “You can use my car for any trips or if you just need to go out. Make sure you plug it in every night, though.”
“It’s electric?”
“A hybrid. Mason’s car is in the garage too. But it’s a freaking gas-guzzling stick shift man-car.”
“Man-car?”
“He rebuilt a Trans Am from scratch.”
Okay, hybrid it is.
He must have finished the car, the one he talked about the day we drove to the little airfield to jump out of a plane. I’m so proud of him and sad for him, since he can no longer drive it, but I barely have time to process it all. Dana talks a mile a minute. She walks into a large room off the living room. “This will be your room. Does that work?”
It has double French doors leading inside. On the far wall there is another set of glass doors leading out to the patio. “It’s perfect. Is this a normal bedroom?”
“This is actually a study. When we first moved back in, Mason lived in here until he got used to the layout of the house. Then he moved back to his room upstairs.” She points to a treadmill. “Do you mind if this stays in here? Mason uses it every day. We can move it out if you want, but I’d rather leave everything the way it is. Mason has it all memorized.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Dana opens a dresser drawer and hands me a black binder. “This is for you.”
“What it is it?”
“A handbook of sorts. Its general instructions, a few interesting articles I’ve printed, the names and numbers of Mason’s doctors. Oh, and my top ten list of dos and don’ts. That’s very important.”
I take the thick book. I open it to the first page, which is her list. “Always announce when you enter or exit a room.”
Dana smiles. “These are things I figured out as we went along. Once I walked away to get myself a drink. I must have been quiet because he didn’t know. When I came back he was talking to himself. It turns out he thought I was still there.”
“It makes sense, but I never would have thought of it. I’ll memorize these.”
I follow Dana around the room as she shows me where she stows the extra sheets and towels. I pause at the few paintings on the far wall. They are garden scenes, the brush strokes broad, the colors intense. “Who painted these?”
“Grams. She used to paint, and she even had an exhibition once. I guess that’s where Mason gets it from. He got her talent, and I inherited her bad teeth. The DNA gene pool is a bitch. Go figure.”
“What do you mean he has her talent?”
Dana shakes her head. “I’m sure he’ll tell you in time.”
I blink my eyes at the black and white framed picture on the dresser. A gorgeous young woman with Dana’s smile peers at the camera, a baby on one hip and a shotgun on the other. “This is her?”
“Yep. She was no gatherer woman. She hunted with the boys and managed to take care of a baby too. Not at the same time, of course.”
“Of course.”
Through the window, I see Mason and Molly come out of the shed. He feels down the side of the shed until he gets to the lock. He closes it and heads back to the front of the house.
“I guess we should get this good-bye going,” Dana says.
“Sure.”
She takes a few steps toward me. “Kiran, please take care of my brother. I don’t say this to him as much as I should, but he’s always been there for me. Everything I am, I owe to him.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Ready to go?” Mason asks, his tall frame taking up most of the doorway.
“Yes.” Her voice chokes on the single word.
“Jesus, Dana, are you crying?”
“Just gonna miss your jerk face.”
“I’ll miss you too. Now pull yourself together. Those sub-zero sea creatures aren’t going to study themselves.”
She wipes away a tear with the back of her hand. A car honks on the street.
“The cab’s here. Where is your luggage?” Mason asks.
“Still in my room,” Dana says.
“I’ll fetch it.”
“Do you need help?” I ask.
“What I need are some good directions, please.”
Dana provides them. “On the right-hand side of the door, there are two bags. One is a duffle with a strap. The other one rolls.”
“Got it.”
She turns to me once he’s out of the room. “Rule number four is never leave anything on the floor. Not shoes or grocery bags or luggage. If you do have to leave something, let him know where it is. It’s all a tripping hazard. Rule number five is to give detailed directions. If Mason’s about to walk into something, words like ‘watch out,’ don’t really help. Tell him what is in front of him and where things are.”
“I’ll remember.”
She looks as if she wants to say more. She blinks her eyes.
I embrace her. “I’ll take care of him. Trust me.”
We round the stairs. Mason has no trouble with the luggage. He’s as built as he ever was. In fact, I think he’s even more muscular. No doubt this is due to the treadmill and weight set in the study. He takes her bags out to the waiting cab. He’s not wearing sunglasses today.
He gives Dana a hug. “Take care of yourself. You call and text as much as you can, you hear me?”
“I will.” She looks at me. “Thank you, Kiran.”
“Welcome.”
She tilts her head toward Mason. “Behave yourself.”
“Stop harassing me. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
“I’m holding you to that promise.”
Mason opens the cab door. “Godspeed, Dana.”
Dana gives us a dimply smile. “Y’all know the saying ‘I might be out of pocket because I’m on a sea cutter headed to Antarctica?’”
“No,” I say. ‘I’ve never heard that. Is that something people say?”
She smiles. “It’s something I get to say. Thanks to you.”