Page 36 of Mason Wilder
The funeral was hard on Mason. The finality of it sunk in. Aunt Mary was gone. Tears had flowed freely down his cheeks at the gravesite. He’d clung to Tessa. To his mom. To his dad. They had all cried for Aunt Mary.
He’d been in a stupor on the way home, not saying much while his gaze remained focused on the back of the limo driver’s head. As he sat on his living room couch, still in his suit jacket and staring at the blank television screen, he wished this day was over. A part of him wanted time to speed up, so the pain of his loss would diminish. The other part of him wanted time to stand still, so all the memories of Aunt Mary would remain fresh.
“Are you OK, Mase?” Tessa sat next to him and rubbed his knee. She’d changed out of the black dress she wore to the burial and put on a pair of jeans and a tank top.
He nodded. “I’ll be OK. It’s just so hard to get used to. It’s the first time anyone close to me has died.”
Tessa loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons of his shirt. “Do you want me to do anything? Make you something to eat?”
“No. I’m not hungry.” He pulled the tie over his head and balled it in his fist. He needed to clear his head. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”
Concern filled Tessa’s eyes, and her face wrinkled with worry. “Do you want me to come with you?”
He tried to force a smile for the first time in his life, but his mouth wouldn’t comply. “Nah. I’ll be all right.” He ditched the suit, threw on an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and headed outside. He stepped out of his apartment building and only made it to the curb before he stopped, worried about recognition. Everyone knew him in the neighborhood and usually no one bothered him, but with the publicity from Immortal Angel attending the funeral, stalkers or paparazzi might be congregating nearby in hopes of spotting his dad. A quick sweep of the vicinity didn’t expose anyone that appeared to be a threat. Most were Upper West Side types going about their business without regard for anything around them, as most New Yorkers did.
He nearly made it to the corner before someone called his name. Automatically, he turned his head, never expecting the stunning woman in black. She wore a short trench coat over a pencil skirt that fell mid-calf. White gloves covered her hands. A large brimmed hat, also black, rested on her head, while a sleek ponytail held her sandy blond hair at the back of her neck.
“I’ve been walking in front of your flat for an hour trying to work up the nerve to have the doorman ring you,” she explained. “I couldn’t go back to London without seeing you. I just couldn’t.”
He had no idea who this woman could be. She obviously wasn’t a fan or the paparazzi. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
She removed her dark glasses to reveal water glistening in her eyes, as her mouth pulled back in a small pained smile. “It’s me, Mason. I’m your mother.”
He wasn’t in the mood to deal with a psycho fan and shook his head at her with annoyance. “Look, this isn’t funny. My aunt just died—” There was something familiar about her eyes. Something that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He looked closer at her, his mouth still hanging open, and recognition hit him like a sledgehammer. It washer.
She was nothing like he remembered. Although he could never fully visualize Kendall’s face, he always had a mental image of her messy hair and disheveled clothing. Her appearance couldn’t have been more different from the female role models that had surrounded him as a kid. His mom, Aunt Kira, Jessi and Alyssa were the women figures in his life back then, and Kendell didn’t compare to their style and polish. The woman who stood in front of him right now was both regal and elegant. And she had a British accent, which was even more confusing.
“I know you probably don’t remember me,” she pleaded with him. “It was such a long time ago. I’m so sorry I’ve never kept in touch. I just thought that you had a life here, and I had a life in England. I thought it best that I leave it at that.” She looked him up and down. “I can see I was right. Jimmy did a fine job raising you.”
Mason’s head was swirling with an array of emotions, confusion at the forefront. “Why are you here? Now? What do you want?”
“I came for Aunt Mary’s funeral, of course. I wasn’t going to. I hadn’t seen her in so many years. I thought there was no reason to come back to the States. There’s nothing for me here.” She lowered her eyes. “Nothing except bad memories. At the last minute I decided I should do right by her and pay my respects. After all, she was the only one who stepped in and helped me when you were a baby.”
Two girls slowed as they walked by, one whispering under her hand to the other. Both eyed Mason with excitement, but the sight of Kendall, dressed in black from head to toe, must have reminded them that he just lost someone close to him, because they didn’t approach.
At the last minute, one of the girls stepped toward him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nodded at her. “Thank you.” And she moved on.
Kendall’s head swiveled and she watched the two girls continue down the street, who kept glancing back at Mason. “You’re famous.” She said it as if she didn’t know that he’d been a celebrated drummer most of his life, living in the spotlight.
“I’ve been famous since I was 10, when I first appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show.”
Her mouth hung open in a surprised smile. “You met Oprah?”
He gaped at this woman, who didn’t know him at all and obviously never bothered to find out what had been going on in his life for the past two decades. And did she really just say that she had nothing left here to come back to? How about her fucking son?
Another small group of people passed and their heads turned in his direction, but they kept walking. Soon, a crowd would form, and he couldn’t deal with that right now. “I gotta go.”
She placed her hand on his arm, the first physical contact he’d had from her since he was probably three years old. “Please don’t leave,” she begged. “Let’s have some tea. Or coffee. Ten minutes is all I ask. Let’s sit down and talk for a bit. I don’t know if we’ll ever have this chance again.”
Her pleading tone got to him, and curiosity nagged at him. He wanted to hear what she had to say, so he agreed. The coffee house was the best choice and the closest. He had no intention of bringing her up to his apartment. Once they ordered and sat at a small table, he pulled out his phone.
“Are you texting your father?” Kendall asked, a wave of concern in her voice. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“No. I’m texting my girlfriend. She’s at my apartment and I don’t want her to worry about where I am.”
“You have a girlfriend? I thought you’d be married by now.”
