Page 54 of Letting Go at 40

I repeat my earlier question. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought you might want company.” When I look back at him, he quickly glances away. “Or did you want to be alone?”

The honest answer is I’ve been alone long enough. But the truth is I wanted a few minutes with Ben in my head on this beach. We hold silent conversations in which I ask questions and he doesn’t answer, but strangely, I feel him respond. A trick of the mind that the breeze is his reply to my thoughts.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, acknowledging Mason’s desire to keep me company.

Mason looks over his shoulder at me and shrugs. “I wanted to be here for you.”

“You wanted to be here because of Ben,” I correct, tipping my head.

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Is it?” I counter, observing him once more as he turns his face from me. Softly, I laugh. “Sometimes I’m not certain who loved him more. Me or you?”

“We loved him differently,” Mason says, squinting out at the calming waters of the lake. “I loved him as a friend and brother. You loved him as a lover and partner.”

“He was my best friend,” I state, staring at Mason’s profile.

“I want to be your friend, too.” He turns to me as if I haven’t clarified Ben’s position in my life. Friend. Lover. Partner.

“You are my friend.” However, my voice lacks conviction.

Mason rolls his head and narrows his eyes at me. “Sometimes, I don’t feel like it.”

I stare back at him. “You know, when we were in college, I thought you resented me.”

“Resent you? How? Why?” He shifts in his seat. His long fingers clutch the armrest as his back presses into the opposite side of the chair.

I shrug. “I just thought you never wanted me around. You told me you didn’t want me around. I was cramping the four-guys vibe and your desire to pick up random women.”

Mason straightens his body and faces the water’s edge. He leans forward and places his elbows on his thighs. “Is that what you really thought of me?” His head turns in my direction again.

“Actually, I thought you were the type of guy who would break my heart. That’s why I would have never picked you, Mason.” The confession isn’t meant to hurt him, but he needs to know. I wouldn’t have ever chosen him because my heart couldn’t have handled someone like Mason.

“Tell me what you really thought.” Hurt laces the sarcasm in his voice. His hands clasp between his knees and his head bows again, eyes focusing on his toes digging into the sand.

“I didn’t know what to think about you back then.” Thinking about Mason in college would have only led to trouble and I was so enthralled by the attention Ben paid me I wouldn’t have needed to look for someone else. I wasn’t tempted by thoughts of another.

“And what do you think of me now?” He slowly faces me.

“I still don’t always know what to think, but I see that you are kind and loyal.” He’s fulfilling his promise to Ben. He feels obligated to me.

“What’s missing?” He watches my face.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you don’t always know what to think about me. What’s missing that you don’t know?”

“You never talk to me. You don’t tell me about you. You ask about me, or the kids, or mention a build for Four Points, but you don’t tell me about Mason. Or Lynlee. How things are with Samantha?”

Mason falls back in his seat and faces the sunset again. “There aren’t things with Samantha.”

This is exactly what I mean. Mason is vague with me. If we’re friends, we need to talk. Not pretend. Not ignore. We need to discuss.

I sit back as well and stare at the water lapping lightly against the shore. I can’t make Mason talk to me. I can’t force him to open up. Maybe it’s best that we just keep things on the surface. It’d be safer for me anyway.

“I made a mistake with Samantha,” Mason starts, breaking into the silence between us. “I was reckless. Even with protection. She was high. I’d been drinking. It should have never happened.”