Chapter 11 - Mason Had Been Waiting For Caleb To Choose Him Too
Mason showed up at the diner parking lot while I was still inside.
He did not come in.
Caleb saw him through the window.
His face changed.
I followed his eyes.
Mason leaned against his car.
Arms crossed.
Waiting.
“Did you tell him we were here?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Caleb sighed.
“He knows my car.”
Of course.
“Want me to leave?”
He asked.
I looked at him.
“You're asking.”
“Yes.”
“I'll handle it.”
Caleb nodded.
No intervention.
I walked outside.
Mason straightened.
“You met him.”
“Yes.”
“How'd it go?”
“None of your business.”
His face tightened.
Then:
“Fair.”
He looked through the diner window.
Caleb stayed seated.
“Did he tell you I was crazy?”
“No.”
“Controlling?”
“No.”
“Jealous?”
“He didn't need to.”
Mason almost smiled.
Then stopped.
“I hate that he's sitting there with you.”
There.
No disguise.
“Okay.”
“You don't have anything?”
“What do you want?”
“I don't know.”
He looked angry at himself.
“I spent twelve years being the person he showed up for.”
“I know.”
“And now I'm apparently the reason he needed distance.”
“I don't think he said that.”
“He will.”
“Then talk to him.”
Mason laughed.
“I did. Thirty-one times.”
“No. You asked him to decide things.”
That hit.
He looked away.
“Different conversation.”
“Yes.”
Mason stared at the parking lot.
“What did he tell you about Gordon?”
“Not much.”
“My dad loved that range.”
“I heard.”
“He also hated Caleb sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because Caleb could leave.”
Walter had said the same.
Mason continued:
“Gordon stayed after the old business almost failed. Caleb left for consulting jobs. Came back when things were stable. Left when Claire needed him. Came back when Gordon died.”
He laughed quietly.
“He was always arriving at the moment someone needed him enough to forgive the last departure.”
That was sharp.
“Did you forgive him?”
“Constantly.”
“Why?”
Mason looked at me.
“Because he came.”
That landed.
I had the opposite wound.
I hated Caleb because he did not.
Mason loved him because he eventually did.
Both made the arrival too important.
“What happens with the range review?”
I asked.
Mason's face tightened.
“I admitted the fake sessions.”
“Good.”
“They're probably demoting me.”
“Okay.”
“You don't care.”
“No.”
He laughed once.
“Fair.”
“What about the assault?”
“Separate conduct meeting.”
“Good.”
No sympathy requested.
Then Mason said:
“I didn't know Claire told you Caleb was dead.”
“I believe you.”
“If I had known…”
“What?”
He stopped.
Good.
Because there was no version of that sentence that fixed the punch.
He tried again.
“I think I would have hated you differently.”
I almost laughed.
“Progress.”
“Apparently.”
The diner door opened.
Caleb stepped out.
Mason’s body tightened.
Caleb stopped twenty feet away.
No dramatic approach.
“Mason.”
“Caleb.”
I moved aside.
Not mediator.
Not bridge.
Caleb asked:
“Can we talk?”
Mason's face hardened.
“Now?”
“If you want.”
Mason looked at me.
Caught himself.
Then back at Caleb.
“Not here.”
Caleb nodded.
“Okay.”
“When?”
“You tell me.”
Mason stared.
That was probably difficult for both of them.
Finally:
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
No hug.
No resolution.
Mason got into his car.
Caleb remained on the sidewalk.
I said:
“You didn't chase him.”
“No.”
“Hard?”
“Yes.”
Good.
Then Caleb looked at me.
“Do you want me to drive you back?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
No persuasion.
I walked to my own car.
May you like
Two Reed men stayed behind me.
For once neither decided where I was going.
