"Mr. Mason?" I whispered, flicking the lamp on. "Hey there Kit-Kat. I knew you weren't asleep." Everyone I know calls me by my full name, Katherine, or my usual nickname, Kathy, but Mr. Mason had always called me by my favorite candy's name. He had called me it since I was a little girl. My dad and him had always been such great friends, that is, until my dad died. They used to joke about my obsession with Kit-Kats and how I would one day shed my skin and grow a creamy chocolate layer instead. That was one of the only memories I had that could bring both tears and smiles to my face. My dad was killed by the worst thing out there: cancer. His death was the most tragic event of my life. Shortly after, my mom lost touch with me and the rest of the world, and she still sits, motionless, watching the television with that same blank expression on her face and her simple, repetitive sentences. Her face reminded me of solemn statue. It made me so damn furious to see the ghost of my mother sitting on my couch everyday, watching the same shows with glazed eyes. But every time I saw Mr. Mason with his faded smile and his wrinkles, it reminded me of my father. I loved talking to him. "Ahh, you know me too well James." I smiled, fake punching his shoulder. He chuckled softly, his eyes lighted up by the warm glow of the lamp. No matter how much light shone on his eyes, there was a deep sadness in his eyes that could never be lifted, and I knew why it was there. Mrs. Mason had walked out on him and the boys when Darius and Thomas were seven. James hadn't fallen apart like my mother, but there always was that depth of sadness in his eyes I had seen for a very long time. "Maybe I do Kiddo, maybe I do." He chuckled. "Now," I began, "I know you're not here to discuss how well you know me." I winked. "Aha, right you are." He grinned at me, "You've the got the wits of your father." I smiled at that; my dad was the smartest guy around. But as I smiled, James became stern, the wrinkles creased in his forehead. I began to worry, my muscles tightening, as I prepared myself for whatever was coming. I was always scared when he told me he had news because he had been the one who informed me of my father's death the day my dad died. He took a deep breath in, "Listen, Kit-Kat, I love you like you are my own daughter, and I know you are one of the finest girls I have ever met, but that doesn't give you a free pass for wanting to be with both of my boys." I gasped, and was barely able to stutter a faint, "What?" He quirked an eyebrow at me and smiled a funny, lopsided grin. "You think I've already gone blind? I see the way you look at Darius, the way he looks at you? Seems as though history's repeating itself and you got my other boy caught in the middle. I trust you to make the right decision and stop hurting yourself, me, Darius, and Thomas. I know you would never do that intentionally, but don't do it accidentally like this either! Now do what you know is right and choose which of my fine sons you want." He winked at me. "I know it's hard, they are both handsome, as they take after me," he continued, but I wasn't listening. I know he was trying to make me laugh after hitting me so hard with that hammer of truth, but I couldn't focus on that. I was thinking too hard about which Mason boy I wanted. I know that must sound selfish, but it's true. I was filled with confusion; my brain was in panic mode, but I snapped out of it when I heard Mr. Mason mention my father in his lecture. "...Now I promised Mr. Alexander Phillips that I would always watch over you and make sure my boys wouldn't go too insane over you little missy, but I guess I lost in that category.." For a moment the twinkle in his eyes dimmed, and I wondered what memory was running through his head. But then he abruptly continued, as if he was trying to talk the sadness away. "I still have that promise to look after you though, and there is no way I'm going to let go of that." At this, so many tears filled my eyes that Mr. Mason looked like a blur. He gave me a quick hug and patted my shoulder. As he closed the door behind him he added, "These things happen when you are an intelligent, beautiful young woman like yourself." He looked at me with such compassion and care that I couldn't help but smile back at him. Even as the tears dripped off of my face, I sat there with a small smile on my face, feeling as if my father had just spoken to me. It was enlightening feeling, but it was slowly swallowed by the larger feeling of disappointment that swept over me. I swallowed, knowing the decision had to be made...and it had to be made now.
I think I sat there for at least an hour, racking my brain over and over again, getting frustrated and throwing pillows across the room at some points, and at other times, simply crying my puffy eyes out until finally every tear dried, all pillows were properly placed, and I had finally gave in. My brain was telling me over and over again to choose the smart choice, but my heart won over logic, because after all, what kind of logic is there in love? I rose from the bed, crept slowly down the hallway to the room I remembered so well. But right then, my heart was pounding so loud in my head that I couldn't hear the memories; they sounded as though they were only a far away whisper. Right now the only thing I was focused on was building up the courage to turn that door knob in front of me. My eyes stared at it so hard that I thought my gaze alone would turn it. I wiped my sweaty palms on the pant legs of my jeans and rose my shaky hand towards the knob. I stopped just as my hand hovered over it, when my brain kicked in and I realized what I was doing. He didn't want you in seventh grade, why would he want you now? How upset would Ollie be with you if he found out you were still in love with Darius? You know how Darius is just a flirt, maybe he doesn't really like you, he was flirting like he does with everyone! My heart began to ache. I was being ridiculous. If I were to open that door he would just laugh in my face and tell Thomas. I felt like crying all over again, how could I be so stupid? I quickly started back for the spare room when suddenly my feet stopped, whirled around and brought me back towards Darius' room. Before I even knew what I was doing I was turning the doorknob and throwing open the door.
I saw him on his bed, laptop resting open on his thighs, staring at me with wide, confused eyes; and I realized I was looking back at him with the same expression. He rose from the bed, taking steps toward me. Nervously, I began to back out of the door, "Oops," I mumbled, "This isn't the bathroom." With that, I turned to take off, tears already gathering in my eyes, when I was stopped by a strong hold on my wrist. "Kathy," he whispered, "I know that you know damn well where the bathroom is." I turned around and looked up into his eyes, his warm, chocolate eyes. He wiped a tear from my face, cupped his hand under my chin and raised it upwards. My heart almost stopped as his white smile opened like a gift, inviting and wanting. I didn't care about anything else. It was just me and him, that was all I ever needed after all. I remembered this moment so clearly from that bus ride back in seventh grade, but I didn't care that it came flooding back, because I was reliving it. He leaned closer to me as I rose on my tip-toes, and this time, when our lips met, I didn't pull away.
