“Ash?” he asks.
Yep. He’s already forgotten about me.
“Never mind,” I tell him. “I think you just answered my question.”
“I’ve got a few,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“Questions,” he says. “You just took off that night and I haven’t been able to get ahold of you. I figured the fighting was just too much for you.”
“It was,” I tell him, “but I’ve come to understand that that’s not necessarily all there is to you…” I’m butchering this. I’m absolutely butchering this.
“Yeah…?” he responds.
Why is this so weird?
“I just thought, if you want, I could explain why I just left that night, or maybe you could explain why you’re so into the fighting,” I tell him. “Not that you owe me an explanation,” I add. “You know what? I shouldn’t have called. Sorry to bother you.”
“Hold on,” he says.
“What?” I ask, just wanting this to be over already.
“Just take a breath,” he says. “Relax. Go to your peaceful, quiet place a second.”
“My peaceful, quiet place?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Mason responds. “It’s a meditation thing. Just put your mind on the most relaxing and beautiful surroundings you can imagine. It helps calm the nerves.”
I’m not sure if I’m actually supposed to do that or not, so I just don’t say anything in response.
“Ash?” he asks. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“We can talk if you want,” he says. “But I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not a huge fan of the way you just took off and then ignored me. You can be a pretty cool person,” he says, “but I’m not really in the mood to be jerked around. So, if you’d like a few minutes to really consider whether or not you really want to talk, I think that might be a good plan.”
“Someone values their personal time,” I scoff, not sure what else to say.
“Personal time’s important,” he says. “If you’re interested in seeing where things can go with us, I’m all for that. We seem to get each other pretty easily, and I don’t know about you, but that’s pretty rare for me. At the same time, though, if what I do is too much for you or you just aren’t that interested, I think we both need to respect that and not drag this out. What do you think?”
What do I think?
“The man-whore thing,” I say, “is that true?”
“It’s an exaggeration,” he says, “but I have had a pretty active social life. I don’t think I’m a man-whore though, and honestly, I’d prefer if we could drop the term.”
“Okay,” I answer and then there’s protracted silence.
After a minute, the sound of Mason’s voice startles me. “Ash?” he asks.
“Yeah?” I return.
“I don’t know if you’re thinking things through or what,” he says, “but I do have some stuff to do right now, so if we could—”
“You want to get together this weekend?” I ask and immediately, I’m clenching my fists, mouthing the word “crap” over and over again.
We do connect, that much is true, but can I really deal with the fighting?