Page 127 of Sapphire Spring

Lost interest. Two simple words that brought the enormityof what his dad had suffered down onto Mason. They implied years of abuse,years of a young PeteWortherfeeling trapped and helplessand like he had no choices. Not hard to see how that torment produced theangry, defiant bully who’d raised Mason. And where had his grandmother been?Had she known about it and denied it? Or had Pete kept her in the dark too?There were so many questions he didn’t have answers to. So many scars runningthrough his father he’d never been aware of.

“Look, I don’t want pity. That’s not why I’m saying it. Ijust…wanted you to know when those words came out of my mouth, it wasn’t alwaysabout you. It was about him.’Causewhen you’re thatyoung, you don’t know it’s wrong. And you don’t know that you can say no. Andsosome days you think you wanted it…even though it doesn’tfeel like who you are.”

“You couldn’t say no,” Mason answered. “It wasn’t on you tosay no. You were a child.”

Silence except for the music.

“Dad?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

“Just you. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell all thosepeople.”

“I understand.”

There was a long pause, and Mason figured his father wassluggishly reaching for his drink and bringing it to his mouth. “I didn’t evercry to some therapist about it, but I tried to read some books, you know. Aboutgetting past it. Everyone said the samedamnthing.The abused grow up to abuse. They made me think I couldn’t even hold my own sonwithout being, you know, like him. Like I was somesickowerewolf or something. Don’t you get it? I was trying to protect you. I wastrying not to…”

Love me,Mason thought.You were afraid to loveyour own child because your father had polluted the concept.The totalityof it washed over Mason for the first time.

“Dad, come back to Pine Rise. We can talk about this here.”

Silence.

“Dad, please.”

“I can’t face those people after what I…”

“Everybody’s leaving in an hour. It’ll just be the residentsand the counselors, and we can—”

“Nah, son. I just…I wanted you to know I don’t think you’redisgusting. When you used to play on the field and I could watch you from thestands… Damn, you were good, son. Moments like that I could just sit there andbe in awe of you. Because it felt safe to love you that way. You know, from adistance. I didn’t… I mean, did I ever…”

“Ever what?”

His dad’s voice was thick, the threat of tears evidentthrough his drunken slur. “Did I ever…do somethingto you and forget?”

“No. Never. Not like that.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of courseI’m sure. Dad, that’snot how it works. I’m not bisexual because somebody abused me.”

“But I’m a rotten son of a bitch because somebody abused me,right?”

“Somebody should have been there for you. Somebody should havehelped you. Let me help you now. Come back, Dad. Come back to Pine Rise.”

“I don’t…” And then there was silence. No country music orbar sounds.

His father had hung up.

Mason shot to his feet as if it would somehow restore theconnection. Tony was starting for him, and Mason was blinking madly to stop histears. Mason slammed the phone down.

“Get him. Please. Go get him.”

“Mason, he’s been drinking. We really can’t—”

“No.No!You wanted us to dothisand we did, and this is what it looks like, okay? And now he’s out there, andhe’s alone and we can’t leave him like that. I’ve wasted most of my life hatingthat man instead of talking to him, and if I’d known any of this then I would…Just go get him, Tony. Please. We can’t leave him out there all by himself inthe dark on thisgoddamnmountain.”

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