Eight Days in the Sun Read online

  “He’s holding out his hand,” I say to Mason.

  “I already knew that, Kiran.”

  I step back, unsure what my role should be. I want to tell this horrible woman to go away. All she’s doing is stressing out Mason.

  Mason sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “You need to get back into your car and leave. Do not come back here again. You are not welcome.”

  “This is my mama’s house,” Carla says.

  “You weren’t welcome here when Gram was alive, and you sure as hell aren’t now.”

  Gerald clears his throat. “Look, Mason, we’ve driven a long way. My car here is on its last legs. It pretty much broke down in your driveway. Carla and I are dog-tired. Can you just offer us a place to stay for the night?”

  As if God, or maybe the other guy, is weighing in on this decision, it starts pouring.

  “Great,” Mason mutters heading toward the door. He unlocks it. “Well, c’mon.”

  When they bring in two large bags, I question if they are only staying one night. The bulky luggage lands with a thump a few feet from the door right where Mason can trip on them.

  “I’ll put these upstairs in Dana’s room,” I say, going to reach for one.

  Mason grabs my arm. “I’ll do it.”

  Carla stares at the steps. “I don’t think Gerald can handle the stairs. He has a bad back.”

  “Oh, then why don’t you stay in my room?” I offer. “It’s down here.” All I want to do is get them settled so Mason and I can go to sleep. This is the worst ending to the best day.

  “That should work,” Carla says.

  Mason holds his hand out for one of the bags.

  “It’s heavy,” I say handing it to him.

  He lifts it, feeling the weight, before flinging if over his shoulder. “Jesus, what do you have in here, Carla? Bricks?”

  “Just our stuff. We’re moving to Georgia. Gerald found work there.”

  Rolling the other suitcase, I follow Mason. When I come out, the unwanted guests have taken off their shoes right in the middle of the foyer. I pick them up. “I’ll just put these in the closet.”

  “Thank you, dear. Can you make us something to eat? We’re starved.”

  Mason crosses his arms. “She’s not a maid.”

  “Isn’t she working for you?”

  “She is my friend, and you will treat her with respect.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say, hoping it’ll relieve the thick fog of tension that’s taken over the house. I scramble toward the kitchen before Mason can object anymore.

  He follows me inside. Yesterday, I attempted Gram’s fried chicken recipe. It didn’t turn out as expected, but it wasn’t horrible. I take out the Tupperware with our leftovers and some macaroni salad.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him.

  He rubs his temple. “I don’t want them here. But I don’t feel right throwing her out. Either way, I’m going to apologize to you right now for anything she has said or will say.”

  “Don’t, Mason.”

  “Where are you planning to sleep?”

  “I’ll be fine on the couch.”

  “No, you won’t. Sleep in Dana’s room tonight.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “Sleep in Dana’s room tonight,” he repeats, his voice taking on a cold commanding tone I’m not used to. It’s at odds with the way his fingers grip the countertop. I almost wonder if his prints will be on the stone when he lets go.

  “Sure, I’ll sleep in Dana’s room.”

  I’m thinking of what else to say in this crazy moment to help him. He takes my hand and pulls me toward him. The embrace lasts for a while, as if he needs this. The rhythm of his pumping heart echoes in my ear.

  “Why don’t you go change?” I suggest.

  He twists a strand of my damp hair. “Let me help you.”

  “I’m just reheating leftovers. It’s no big deal. Go ahead.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  I take the chicken from the microwave when Carla waltzes into the small kitchen.

  She takes a look at the plates I’m setting up. “Gerald can’t have fried foods. Do you have fixings for a few sandwiches?” She opens the fridge before I can answer. “Here we go.” She takes out some lunchmeat, tomatoes, and cheese. From the pantry, she takes a can of tomato soup. “I can fix our supper,” she says. “That will be all, Karen.”

  “It’s Kiran.” I dump the chicken into the garbage.

  Carla gives me an up and down stare as if she’s noting every physical flaw I have. I cross my arms and lean against the counter. That’s right, I’m not going anywhere. How did Mason grow up to be such a fine man when he was raised by a woman like her? Then again, Mason credits all his happy memories to his father, grandfather, and of course, Grams.

  She throws the soup into a pot, leaving the can opener and the serrated metal lid on the counter. I pick up the trash and throw it out. I wipe down the countertop so it won’t stain from the soup she’s spilled. Carla takes the sharpest knife from the tack board over the sink and begins to slice the tomato. “How do you know my son?”

  “We met when we were both vacationing in Florida.”

  She leaves the knife and cutting board on the counter. I wash them and put everything away. She starts on the sandwiches. I take the soup off the stove before it boils over.

  She throws a plate in the sink. I rinse it and place it in the dishwasher.

  She sighs, drumming her long red nails on the countertop. “What is with you? I said I can do this. You don’t have to clean up after me. Mason made it clear you are not a maid.”

  My parents always taught me never to disrespect elders, but there is only so much a person can take.

  “I’m not cleaning up after you. I’m trying to maintain a safe environment for Mason. His home should be safe.” She doesn’t seem to comprehend. “He feels with his hands. Leaving sharp objects lying around is dangerous.” Not to mention, extremely inconsiderate.

  “Mason has always been self-sufficient.”

  “Of course he is, but this is like hiding a bear trap in someone’s living room.”

  She nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Good, she understands. She turns to me once before taking the food to the living room. “Be a dear and clean that pot out. And grab us a few beers.”

  Gerald and Carla eat their dinner on the couch. Mason and I sit on the armchairs flanking them. All of us are drinking beers. I figured like me, Mason could use one.

  “Why did you come here?” Mason asks.

  “I wanted to see you, Son.” She looks around the house. “You know, you should think about selling this place. It’s free and clear, right?”

  “Why would I sell it?”

  “Houses are fetching a nice price in this area what with people moving father out from Charleston and all.”

  “And where do you suggest I reside?”

  “There are so many marvelous communities for people like you, Mason. They have the most qualified staff.” She glances at me with a disapproving stare.

  “I’m independent.”

  “Well these places can cater to that.”

  He sighs. “I’m not selling the house. Is that what you wanted? Because even if I did, you’re not entitled to a single cent.”

  “It was just a mere suggestion. That’s not why I’m here, Son.”

  Every time she calls him son, he gets a little more aggravated. I wish she would stop.

  Mason takes a long swig from his beer. “Why are you here, Carla?”

  “It’s mama. You call me mama.”

  “You were relieved of that title a long time ago. Now, what is it you want from me?”

  “I wanted to see you. To make sure you’re all right.”

  “Quit your crap, Carla.”

  “Listen, young man, don’t talk to your mother that way,” Gerald says, although his demeanor doesn’t match his
voice.

  “Sorry. Please quit your crap, Carla.” He tilts his head toward Gerald. “Is that better, Ger?”

  “You’re being very disrespectful,” Gerald says.

  Mason steeples his fingers. “You’re right, Ger. My grams and daddy taught me better than this. I guess I’m taking after my mother right now. What are you on, Carla? Is it Oxy? Or is hillbilly heroin too expensive now? Did you downgrade to meth?”

  “I’ve been clean for two years.”

  Mason claps his hands. One. Two, three solid claps. “Great job, Carla. Please forgive me, I’m fresh out of blue ribbons.”

  Gerald moves forward in his seat. She pats his leg. “It’s all right. Let’s just all calm down. Mason is angry right now. We have unresolved issues to work through.”

  Mason’s mouth tightens into a straight line. “Unresolved issues? The JFK assassination is an unresolved issue.” He gestures between them. “Us? There is no resolving this. Why are you here? Really? Do you need money?”

  “No.”

  “Then what? Because there’s no fucking way this is a social visit.”

  She takes her napkin and wipes the lipstick encrusted corners of her mouth. “I was hoping you’d let me have the Trans Am.”

  I gasp. Losing his stamina, Gerald melts into the couch. Carla wipes invisible crumbs off the table. It’s Mason’s reaction that is the oddest. He laughs. It’s a harsh, guttural sound and quite possibly the hollowest laugh I’ve ever heard.

  Mason shakes his head. “Aye, there’s the rub.”

  I move to sit on the arm of his chair to be closer to him. I squeeze his arm to let him know I’m there. I’m not sure if I should go. This is a family matter after all. But I can’t imagine leaving him alone with this vicious woman who is so ugly inside it’s almost impossible to reconcile Dana and Mason are her children. He puts his hand on my knee. That’s all the reassurance I need to stay right where I am.

  Now that she’s come out with her real reasons, she spits out each sentence in a fast frenzy. “I mean your father bought that car.”

  “He bought the chassis for us to work on. He always meant it to be my car.”

  “I’ll give you some money toward the repairs.”

  “How the hell did you know it was running anyway?”

  “I told you I still have friends here. I heard you’ve been tooling around with some girl driving it.” Her icy gaze turns my way.

  Mason drags a hand through his hair. “Now I remember why I hate this town. Too damn small in every way except for the huge fucking grapevine that cuts clear across state lines.”

  “Hear me out, Son.”

  “I heard you and, for God’s sake, stop referring to me as your son. But just for the record, let me make sure I got it straight. You believe you’re entitled to my vehicle because my daddy bought the chassis and a few parts?”

  “Yes and…”

  “And?”

  Carla is quiet, wringing her hands. “I need a smoke.”

  “Not in my house.”

  She shifts to stand. “We’ll just be outside then.”

  “Tell me first,” Mason says with more force.

  “Mason,” I say, trying, rubbing his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed. We’re all tired.”

  “No, Kiran. I want her to answer me.” The lines of his jaw harden. “I’m burning up with curiosity. I gotta know.”

  “Know what?” I ask him.

  “Why the woman who hasn’t seen me in over ten years, the one who gave up on her children when they needed her most, the one who doesn’t have the decency to attend her own mama’s funeral, comes here unannounced, delivered straight to my door by the devil himself. Why in the hell would a woman like this see fit to ask me for a favor?” He’s not yelling, but each sentence makes me flinch.

  I have no idea how she can respond to that. Maybe she realizes there is no excuse for her behavior either because she says the worst possible thing. “You’re not using it, are you?”

  I almost fall as I stand. “You—you—” Oh my God, I can’t even form words.

  Mason shoots out of the chair. I wonder for a second if I should block him or encourage him. I’m so angry. Instead of doing or saying anything to her, he swings his arm around my waist. “Calm down, Shenoy. You’re getting a crash course in Carla, but I’m used to this.”

  “She can’t talk to you this way, Mason. This isn’t right.”

  “A lot of things aren’t right in this world.” He pulls me against his chest.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she asks, her eyes narrowing at us.

  “Carla, maybe we should get to bed,” Gerald suggests, taking her arm.

  Carla jerks her arm away. “Not until Mason tells me no. Our car is on its last wheels, and we’ll never make it. If you say no, Mason, I’ll zip my mouth. I promise I’ll leave it alone.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?” he asks.

  My heart breaks for him.

  “Mason, I’m sorry about this. I’ve messed up more times than I can count.”

  “I don’t want your sorry-ass apologies. Take the fucking car. I’ll sign over the title. It’s yours as long as you promise to be out of here at the crack of dawn and never set foot in mine or Dana’s life again. Is it a deal?”

  “Mason—”

  “Is it a deal?”

  “But—”

  “Is it a deal?” He lets go of me. He holds his hand out like this is a real business transaction. “Shake on it or swear on a stack of bibles. Just tell me it’s a deal.”

  She bursts into tears. Gerald puts his arm around her.

  Sealing the deal, she shakes his hand.

  I shut my eyes tight, trying to dam up the tears before they fall.

  Chapter 31

  Mason

  I can’t sleep. I listen for the sounds of Carla or Gerald stirring. I won’t be able to sleep until daylight comes and they are long gone, at least past the county lines. Part of me wants to go to the shed. It’s really the only place I feel truly relaxed, but there is no way I can go anywhere and leave Kiran alone with my womb donor and her current man of the hour.

  Molly’s food bowl is probably empty. I decide to go fill it. On the way back, I stop at the top of the stairs at Dana’s room. The door’s open a crack. I lean against the hallway.

  “Mason?” she asks.

  Great, as if meeting the fucked-up side of my gene pool isn’t enough. Now I’m standing outside her door, a certified stalker, watching her sleep. Well, not exactly watching. Somehow, that makes it creepier.

  I take a step inside. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.” Her voice is lower than it should be, more distant.

  “Are you sleeping on the floor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  Then I realize why. Sometimes, I can be a dope. “Shit, you probably hate the waterbed. I totally forgot about it.”

  “Didn’t waterbeds go extinct in the nineties?”

  I laugh, wondering how it’s even possible to produce laughter right now. “Apparently, this is a holdover. Dana thought it would help her acclimate for deep sea diving. Don’t ask me. She’s just weird.”

  “I actually didn’t mind the waterbed except for the temperature. It’s freezing cold.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “Suppose I should have told you about the heat pump. I would have if I’d remembered.”

  “There’s a heat pump?”

  “Yeah, but it takes a good while to heat up.” I take a few more steps, cautious because I’m not sure where she is and the last thing I want is to step on her. “Get up.”

  “Up?”

  “You can sleep in my bed.”

  I hear her shift up. “You’re sleeping on the waterbed?”

  “Hell no. I’ll sleep on the floor, thank you kindly.”


  “You don’t have to give up your bed.”

  “Yes, I do. Get up.”

  She moves past me to my room. I follow behind. My door squeaks as she pushes it open. “There’s room on your bed for both of us.”

  “Kiran, it’s not a good idea.”

  She takes my hand and walks us to the bed. “Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Sounds like a threat.”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a question. Why am I up here, Mason?”

  “The couch is uncomfortable. Now get into bed. I know you’re tired.”

  “Not without you. We can sleep in the same bed. Just sleep.”

  Tonight, when I wrapped my arms around her, she was shaking, all furious with anger and ready to pounce in my defense. Somehow, that distracted me from my own anger. I am thankful she was there. Her presence calmed me.

  But this? Sleeping in the same bed together is going to be anything but calming. We haven’t been intimate since the intense kissing session. A part of me cannot resist her no matter how hard I fight the urges.

  I’m falling in love with her again.

  Fuck, who the hell am I kidding?

  I never fell out of love with her.

  “Stop being stubborn, girl.”

  “I’m stubborn? You’re the one who isn’t seeing reason. Besides, you’re lying to me.”

  “About what?”

  “The couch is super comfortable. I fell asleep on it the other night when we watched that movie, remember? You put the blanket over me. Why was it fine then and not now?”

  “That’s really good, CSI, but enough already.”

  “You’re right. The couch it is.”

  I pull her back as she’s walking away. “Wait.” I sigh. “We’ll sleep on the bed.”

  “Okay,” She gets in on the side closest to the door.

  “Slide over. I need to be by the door.”

  We both lie on the bed. The rain has come back. It hits all the angles of the house. I try to zone into the rhythm of it instead of the beautiful girl beside me.

  “I love the rain,” she says.

  “Me too.”

  She squirms on the bed, her hair brushing against my arm as she gets comfortable. Goddamn girl, sit still, I’m trying to keep it together over here.