Eight Days in the Sun Read online

  “I found a flight,” the girl says, breaking into my chaotic thoughts. “It’s boarding in an hour, though, so you’ll have to hurry.”

  “Great.” I rifle through my purse to give her my credit card. The receipt from the hotel falls out. I grab the crumpled paper. The answer to my dilemma stares back at me in crisp twelve-point Helvetica font.

  Mason’s address is on this form. His home address. It’s possible he doesn’t live there anymore. Even if he does, who just shows up unannounced after receiving a break-up letter? Who does that?

  The woman behind the counter clears her throat. She’s holding her hand out for my credit card.

  “I actually need the next flight to South Carolina, please.” I guess I do that.

  “You said Newark.”

  “I changed my mind. I need to go to Goodrich, South Carolina, or at least the closest airport to it, which I believe is Charleston.”

  She sighs, touching the neat bun on top of her head. “Are you sure this time?”

  “No.” I hand her my credit card. “But that’s where I need to go.”

  She looks at me like she’s trying to figure out where my straightjacket snaps up. Thankfully, she starts pecking buttons again.

  * * * *

  I waited at the airport for six hours for the next flight. I had a layover in Atlanta. The Charleston airport is quite a distance from the town of Goodrich so I opted to rent a car. But it was four in the morning so I waited another four hours for the rental place to open up.

  I finally get the car and start driving toward Goodrich. Then the map app on my phone loses connection a few times, but after two wrong turns, I straighten myself out. By the time I pull up to the craftsman style house on a quiet, pristine, tree-lined street, I’m not nervous. I’m too tired to be nervous. I’ve been traveling over twenty-four hours.

  The house is as sound and masculine as Mason. There’s an American flag flying high on one of the beams. An old-fashion white swing sways on the porch. Wind chimes jingle an ominous song that reminds me what I’m here for. I ring the doorbell and take a deep breath.

  The girl who answers is gorgeous, tall, and shapely from her pixie blond hair down to her pink tennis shoes.

  “Are you here for an interview?” she asks.

  “Interview?”

  She has freckles and dimples. They just notch up the cute factor. “For the companion position.”

  “I’m for that,” a lady says. I turn back. I’m so lost in my head I didn’t even notice a cab pulled up behind me.

  “I’m Dorothy Shue. Don’t tell me you scheduled two interviews at the same time.” Dorothy doesn’t seem old except for the way she carries herself, as if she’s walking on quicksand. She looks like she’s just sucked on a raw lemon or two.

  “No,” the girl answers. “Please come in.”

  “Does Mason Cutler still live here?” I ask.

  Dimple girl smiles. “He sure does.”

  And you’re his girlfriend.

  Before I can say anything else, Dorothy interrupts us. “Should I tell him to wait?” She points to the cab.

  “I thought you drove. That’s one of the requirements.”

  “I do. Just don’t have a running vehicle at the moment. We can discuss the details.” She yells at the driver to wait for her. She stops at the foot of the stairs and expels a heavy sigh. “These are a lot of stairs.”

  I go down the steps to where she is. The dimple girl does the same. This is awkward. Here I am with Mason’s new girlfriend helping this elderly woman up the stairs. In all the millions of ways I pictured this moment, this never came to mind.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Dorothy,” Mason’s girlfriend says, gesturing to the long beige couch in the living room. Dorothy drops her bag on the floor. I wince when it lands with a loud thud. What does she have in there? Bricks?

  “I can use a drink, sweetie,” Dorothy announces, followed by a loud huff.

  “Certainly,” the girl says through gritted teeth. “I’ll fetch you some water.”

  “I’d prefer ice tea.”

  “I can make some.”

  “Well, you should hurry.” She points toward the open doorway. “The meter’s running.”

  The girl mutters something inarticulate. Then she turns to me, her eyes narrowing. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “I’m here to see Mason,” I say. Why am I even going through this? The proof of his letter is standing right in front of me clad in a vintage Ramones T-shirt and cut-off jeans. When did I become that desperate girl I despise? I know all her forms—stalker, hussy, pathetic, home-wrecker wannabe.

  The girl’s blue eyes suddenly widen, and her jaw drops. “Kiran?”

  So Mason told her about me. They probably laughed over stories about the silly girl who gave him her whole heart after just eight days.

  I hold out my hand for a handshake. It’s just my way of saying I give up and you win.

  She throws her arms around me in an awkward hug. “I’m Dana.”

  My body shakes with relief as the tightly constrained muscles ache with the release of tension. I return her smile. Oh, this is Dana, Mason’s kid sister. I should have seen the family resemblance. Her hair’s lighter than his, but she has the same crystal cut blue eyes.

  “Dana, he told me all about you. I feel like I know you.”

  “Same here, Kiran.”

  “Is he here?”

  Her smile falters as if she’s trying really hard to keep it in place. “Um… Yes, he’s in the backyard by the shed with Molly.”

  Oh, Molly.

  Just when the cut in my heart eases, the knife turns into a machete.

  “Does Molly make him happy?”

  Why the hell did I ask that question? I must enjoy torture.

  “Sure. She’s amazing.”

  Dorothy taps her foot, reminding us both she’s still there. “Unless you plan to reimburse me for the cab, I’d appreciate if we can get on with this.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. Just hold up a minute, please.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I’m going to go now. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  She follows me out. “Did he tell you about Molly?”

  “Yes, he told me he found someone. I thought for a second that was you.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “That’s gross.”

  I make my way down the steps. “Good-bye, Dana. If you can do me a favor and not tell him I came here, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Wait, Kiran.” I turn in time to witness Dana jumping off the porch, over all six steps. I’m still in shock with that little maneuver when she moves in front of me. “Don’t you want to see Mason?”

  “No. I should get going.”

  “Don’t tell me you came all this way just to leave,” Dana says. “Go see him for yourself, but don’t leave here without at least saying hello.”

  Dorothy mutters something. I’m not sure what she says, but it’s loud enough to come through the open door and down the front path. Dana sighs and points to the house. “I have to take care of this. He’s around back.”

  Leaving it clear the decision is mine, she heads up the steps. I lean on the rental car for a minute contemplating. I’m drained, but how can I walk away? I’m here now. If I see him with her, then I’ll accept this and move on. It’ll be the last proverbial nail in the coffin that is our relationship.

  I walk around the house. I stop in my tracks when I see him on the paved patio. He’s sitting on a lawn chair, outside of a very large shed, drinking a beer. My heart leaps at the sight of him. Stupid heart. He looks the same. His light brown hair still has strands of honey and cinnamon, but it’s on the longer side. He has sunglasses on, but even in a sitting position, I can see he’s still long and lean. A golden retriever lifts its head as I walk toward him. I look around for Molly, but she’s nowhere to be found.

  “Is she here?” he asks, not even looking up. He sighs. “Let’s ge
t on with it.”

  “Hi, Mason.”

  His face clenches. The bottle in his hand shakes. “Kiran?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Didn’t you get my letter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I don’t understand why you’re here.”

  “Would I be a douche if I asked you to take off your sunglasses? I feel like I’m having a conversation with myself.” It’s something he said to me once.

  He takes them off, folds them, and places them in his shirt pocket. God, his face is still beautiful, all chiseled planes and two days past a shave.

  “How did you get my address?” He still isn’t looking at me.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Suppose not.” The dog must sense his frustration because it sidles closer to him. He pets her. “It’s okay, Molly.”

  I almost laugh. Molly is a dog.

  “Are you really with someone else?”

  “Kiran, we made a deal.” He looks at his beer as if it’s some interesting object he just can’t put down.

  “Fuck the deal.”

  “What do you want me to tell you? I don’t want to be with you. Isn’t that enough? You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Obviously, you still have all those self-esteem issues. You need a therapist, Shenoy, not a boyfriend.”

  My legs almost give out. But he wants me to run away. I refuse and stand my ground. “Don’t talk to me like that, Mason. We don’t talk to each other like that. Can you at least look at me?”

  He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he laughs. The sound of it is so bitter and cold it sends a shiver up my spine even though the air is heavy with humidity. “What did you think showing up here was going to accomplish? Wait, let me guess. You wanted to hear it from me, right? Because the letter wasn’t enough?” His questions are flung at me, tiny sharp accusations that pierce my skin.

  I nod, my finger nails biting into the flesh of my palms.

  “Answer me,” he says. He isn’t yelling, but somehow that makes it even worse.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Okay, listen up real close, girl. I’m only gonna say this once more. I do not want you. I never did. What kind of fucked-up person waits five years for someone else?”

  “I do.” I point to myself. “This fucked-up person does, but not anymore. Good-bye, Mason.”

  “So long, Shenoy. Don’t come back here.”

  I should run, but I don’t have the strength. Voices and random thoughts echo through my head. He barely looked at me. Molly is a dog. He called every year to confirm the reservation. Are you here for the companion position? The letter was typed. He thought I was Dana at first.

  Oh. My. God.

  I turn around. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He rubs his temples. I see the cracks in the façade. A few tiny, white scars crisscross the hard planes of his face. There are dark circles under his eyes and the golden tan of his skin is gone. He’s at least three shades paler. “Tell you what?”

  “You’re blind.” I run back to him and bend down. I touch his hair. He flinches. “Mason, did you think this changes anything for me?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it changes anything. I’m blind, but on this issue I am seeing clearly. I don’t want you because I don’t want you. There doesn’t have to be any other reason than that. So please, let me go and live my life.” The dog barks at me. “You’re upsetting my dog.”

  “I’m upsetting you. Just talk to me.”

  “I did talk. I wrote you a letter. I told you in person now too. I’ve talked an awful lot. Trouble is you’re not listening to me. Please just go. Leave me alone.”

  My legs almost give out when I stand. Walking away from him is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. When I round the corner, I hear something crash.

  “Hey,” Dana says as I open the door to the car. “You saw him.”

  “Yeah.” I curl my fingers around the door handle.

  “What now?”

  “I’m headed back to New Jersey.”

  “I’m sorry, Kiran. I thought he told you the truth in his letter.”

  “He didn’t. When did it happen?”

  “About ten months ago.”

  “A roadside bomb? IED?”

  “A human bomb. Mason didn’t have a chance. It detached his retinas. He was about two months away from coming home when it happened.”

  I close my eyes tight, trying to keep it together to voice my next question. “Is he in pain?”

  “No. Well, not physically at least. What did he say to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have come here. I should have respected his wishes.”

  She crosses her arms. “You don’t want to be with him because he’s blind. The way he talked about you I thought better of you.”

  The last thread of sanity snaps inside of me. “Shut up. You think this is why I’m leaving? I’ve spent almost twelve of the last twenty-four hours on a plane. I haven’t slept in three days. I’ve said a prayer for him every single night for the past five years. I had no idea if he was all right, but I kept the faith, performed my vigil, and did everything he asked of me. He’s been blind for ten months, and you can’t even give me ten minutes to get used to it before you fling accusations? Just so you know, this is not my choice. It’s his. What do you suppose I should do, huh? Force him to feel something he doesn’t?”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?”

  “Mason is a dick.”

  God help me, I actually laugh, which transforms into a sob. “I have to go.”

  How many times can a person be told to get out before they listen?

  Somewhere inside the house, Dorothy yells, “Can we please get on with this?”

  Dana sighs. “This woman is going to be the death of me. Let me get rid of her, and we’ll talk.”

  “I’ve said everything I need to.”

  “You have to be exhausted, Kiran. Don’t get on another plane. Stay the night. Not in town. The fleabag inn is the last place I’d recommend. But there’s a really nice Wilshire in Charleston. It’s close to the airport. I’m sure they have rooms this time of year. Just check in, and we can meet for drinks at the bar. Say around eight?”

  I consider arguing with her, but I am tired. Every bone in my body aches. I can’t handle another plane today. Also, I still have a few questions.

  “Wilshire at eight.”

  Chapter 21

  Kiran

  I order a glass of wine. Dana orders a beer. She’s wearing a T-shirt that says Pluto is not a planet. Get over it.

  We both stare at each other, waiting for the other to go first.

  “Is Mason alone right now?” I ask.

  Dana plays with the label of her bottle. “Yeah. He can be alone.”

  “So he’s had rehab?”

  “A lot of rehab. In fact, I think he overdoes it. He also had a two-week course with Molly. They matched them.”

  “They fit well together. Why did you want to meet, Dana? Mason told me he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “I guess I didn’t want you to leave like that. I’m really sorry it didn’t work out and for what I said to you. Mason told me about the pact y’all made. The idea sounded so stupid to me.”

  “I know, right?”

  She roars in laughter. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I did think it was romantic. Mostly illogical, though. Then again, I live on the cynical side of the equation.”

  “Cynical side?”

  “I’m a scientist.”

  “Is there a chance he’ll ever see again?”

  “If he eats a lot of carrots.”

  “Are you really making jokes?”

  “Sorry. It’s in poor taste, I know. It’s just been hard. We’ve both been trying to keep our sense of humor, even though it’s twisted. It’s highly unlikely he’ll see again. The retinas are detached. The
y cannot be repaired through surgery.”

  It’s not until Dana hands me a napkin that I realize I’m crying. I take a long sip of water and try to stifle my feelings so I can ask her the rest of my questions. She’s patient. After a few deep breaths, I manage to speak, although my voice comes out thick and hopeless. “If Mason is self-reliant, why does he need a companion?”

  “The companion deal was my idea. His stubborn ass still argues with me. It’s a companion, not a babysitter, I keep saying.”

  “Why does he need one, though?”

  “I might need to go away for a while.”

  “You’re a marine biologist, right?”

  She gives me a confused look. “Yes.”

  “Mason told me you were going to school for it.”

  “I graduated and found a great job in San Diego. When I got the call about Mason, I quit my job. Mason lived with me for a while in Cali until the renter’s lease was up. He wanted to move back to Goodrich. He said I should have stayed in San Diego, but there’s no way I’d leave him. I found work as a hydrologist in Charleston.”

  “I’m not sure what that is.”

  She waves her hand. “Most people don’t. I perform research experiments to find ways to eliminate water pollution.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “It would be if we could get more funding or lobbyists or anything. As of right now, I perform the research and write papers. Tons of papers that I’m sure make very lovely fish wrap.”

  I want to interrupt and ask what this has to do with the companion position, but I wait for her to continue. She takes a long drag of her beer. “That might all change, though.” Her blues eyes twinkle with excitement. “I’ve been invited to go on an expedition to Antarctica.”

  “Antarctica?”

  Her dimple deepens as she smiles wider. “Yeah, isn’t it amazing?”

  “Not to me, but I’m happy for you. Why Antarctica?”

  “It has most of the Earth’s fresh water, and the ozone is almost depleted. It’s a marine biologists dream and also a nightmare because the news is never good. Anyway, I’m able to study the effects on the indigenous fish and macro fauna there. It’ll provide some vital data about what we’re doing to our water. Or at least I hope it will. Without water, there isn’t an Earth. No blue means no green. So unless we want to live like the people of Mars, we need to get our act together.”