Chapter 13 - Alan Asked Mason To Stop Defending Him
Alan eventually called his son.
They met off base.
No uniforms.
Mason later told me only part of it.
Alan had put the dented flask on the table between them.
Mason stared.
“You still have it.”
“Yes.”
“Why bring it?”
Alan pushed it aside.
“Habit.”
Then:
“I need you to stop defending me.”
Mason looked at him.
“I’m not.”
“You've been doing it since you were nineteen.”
“That’s because nobody else did.”
Alan’s face tightened.
“Your mother did.”
Mason looked away.
“She told you to stop making Evan Hayes the villain.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I didn't.”
“Why?”
Alan thought.
“Because then I had to admit how much of my anger was about me.”
Mason laughed quietly.
“That sounds like something Rachel said.”
“She's annoying.”
“Very.”
They almost smiled.
Then Mason became serious.
“You really think Evan didn't owe you more?”
Alan looked at him.
“No.”
Mason stared.
Alan continued.
“I think he owed me more.”
“Then—”
“And I think I owed him more.”
Mason stopped.
“I lied first.”
“You were protecting him.”
“I also decided what information everyone else was allowed to have.”
Alan leaned back.
“I wanted loyalty from Evan more than I wanted accuracy.”
Mason stared at the flask.
“And he wanted privacy more than he wanted your reputation protected.”
“Yes.”
“So why am I supposed to forgive him?”
Alan looked at his son.
“You aren't.”
Mason frowned.
“Then what are you asking?”
“Stop using my grievance as permission.”
Silence.
Mason looked away.
Alan continued.
“You humiliated Rachel because you wanted to make something even.”
“Yes.”
“You made it worse.”
“Yes.”
“That's yours.”
Mason nodded.
Then:
“You told me a story that made it easy.”
Alan accepted that.
“Yes.”
They sat there.
Not fixed.
Mason eventually asked:
“What do I do with you?”
Alan almost laughed.
“Maybe stop making every relationship a job.”
Mason looked irritated.
Alan smiled.
“Your mother said that too.”
“Then maybe stop stealing her lines.”
That one actually made them laugh.
When Mason later told me, he stopped before describing the rest.
“What happened after?”
He shrugged.
“Dinner.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
Good.
May you like
Not every damaged father-son relationship needs a confession scene long enough to explain childhood.
Sometimes they need to eat.
