The Chord to my Heart

25: Lost, Then Found

                                                                     25: Lost, Then Found

           When I walked into Art class, I saw that Mase wasn’t there. I noticed Tracy’s seat was empty, too. My gut told me they were together, but my heart hoped for otherwise. I spent my last few classes wondering why Mase ditched class and where he had gone to. Mostly with whom, though.

           When the final bell rang, dismissing us, I walked out to the parking lot to confirm my fears. Mase made his way through the lot towards his bike, with Tracy not too far behind. The sight of her getting on the back of his bike, her arms snaking around his waist, caused my stomach to lurch. I felt sick, not because Mase was slipping out of my hands and into hers, but because she was forcefully taking him. Her gaze caught mine just as he brought the bike to life with a roar. One simple word was written in the expression splayed across her face: victory.

           That’s when my hands balled into tight fists. I struggled to keep them from shaking. And I felt a familiar feeling coarse its way through my veins, burning my insides. I’d felt this anger rage through me when my father left us. And then again when my mother decided to off herself. So I walked over to my car and raced towards home, my hands wrapped too tightly around the steering wheel. It was time to talk to Mase. I may have let him go, but I needed to explain why.

           The house was too quiet. My father was at work and Ruth went to Gabe’s school for a parent-teacher conference. I waited for Mase at the bottom of the stairs, in the foyer, tapping my feet against the tiled floor. I checked the clock on my phone again and again, each second taking its sweet time to pass by. And then, just after I’d looked at my screen for the thousandth time, seeing that I’d been sitting there for sixteen long minutes, I heard the garage door open.

           I stayed sitting, suddenly more nervous than I’d ever been. I heard his footsteps making their way towards me, but my gaze was frozen in place, along with the rest of my body. His beat up Converse came into view, stopping just besides me. He hesitated, and I wished I had the courage to look up into his concrete eyes to know what he was thinking as he stood by.

           He began walking up the stairs then, and before I missed my chance, I called out to him.

           “Mase.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was laced with emotion.

           “What is it, Lyla?” he asked. There was an edge to his voice too, one that I didn’t recognize. One that I didn’t want to think could belong to Mase Dean.

           “Can I talk to you?” I asked, standing to turn and look up at him. His eyes fell into mine, but they were guarded. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his eyebrows furrowed. Finally, he let out a breath.

           “Yeah, sure. You can come up to my room,” he said.

           I nodded my head and we both made our way to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed and I followed, turning to face him. The guitar in the corner caught my eye and I felt an ache in my chest, knowing I didn’t get a chance to help him play again. When I looked back to Mase, I saw that he was watching me.

           “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing where to start or how to explain myself.

           He didn’t reply. He was still just staring at me. So I tried again.

           “I know it was wrong of me to push you away like that,” I said. It was another long moment before he spoke up.

           “So why did you push me away then? I broke down and I let you in, only to watch you turn your back on me,” he said, anger coloring his tone. “Just like everyone else has done to me in the past.”