The Chord to my Heart

13: Concrete Heartbeat

            He finally punched our names into the computer and the lane lit up, our names blinking on the screen above us. I walked out onto the shiny wooden floor, my heart beating faster than normal. My hands were slick with sweat as I went to grab for a ball. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been bowling so I’d have to wing it. I pushed away the nerves, shrugging. How hard could this be, anyway?

            I flung my arm back, about to bring it forward again to release the ball down the lane when I felt it slip from my fingertips, hurtling backwards. I heard the loud thud before I turned, my hands covering my mouth, my eyes wide with shock. Mase’s expression was shocked like mine, until he realized what had just happened. He doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.

            I felt the blush creep up my neck and paint my cheeks. I walked over to Mase and smacked his shoulder.

            “It’s not that funny,” I said, a smile forming on my lips too. So much for winging it.

            “No, you’re right. It was freaking hilarious,” Mase said, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. “Seriously though. When’s the last time you bowled?”

            I shrugged. “Probably when I was a kid. I don’t remember. And is this where you secretly spend all your free time, Mister Pro Bowler?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he said yes, with the way he was analyzing the bowling balls earlier.

            “Not much anymore. I used to come with Madelyn­…” He went silent the moment her name left his lips. But before the pain could settle into his features and erase the excitement from his eyes completely, I tugged at his arm.

            “Show me,” I said, giving him a small smile. “Come and show me the intricacies of bowling since you’re so good.”

            He nodded, returning my smile with a sad one, before standing and following me down to the lane. I picked up a ball, being sure to wipe my palms on my jeans before slipping my fingers into the holes. I was about to turn and ask Mase to walk me through the steps when I felt him come up right behind me.

            “Hold the ball up with your right hand, and support it with your left. Like this,” he said softly, his fingertips running down my left arm and gripping my hand. His touch left a trail of fire on my skin.  

            He placed my hand on the ball before whispering, “Got it?” I nodded my head, not trusting my voice to speak. I felt his every breath reach out and graze my neck.

            “Now, walk three steps, starting with your left foot,” he said, his hand gripping my waist.

            My heart was crashing against my ribs, needing to be heard. I was almost sure it was thudding so loud, Mase could hear it. His hand squeezed at my waist, urging me forward. I took three small steps, and leaned down like he asked, swinging my arm back like before. But this time, I followed through with the release and the ball lunged forward. The bright red ball hurtling towards the ten pins was the last thing on my mind though. The only thing I could concentrate on was his chest pressed against my back, and his grip loosening on my waist, only to feel his fingers rest against my hip.

            I heard the crash of the ball hitting pins as they scattered, bringing me back to the moment. My eyes fixated to the fallen pins at the end of the lane.

            “Strike!” Mase yelled, turning me around to face him. “That was badass. You, my friend, are a natural.”

            I let out a shaky laugh, my heart still rapid from his touch. “It wouldn’t have even made it down the lane without you,” I said, smiling.

            He took his turn then, and I stood aside. I watched as he released the ball effortlessly towards the pins, destroying the perfect pattern they once sat in. And he thought I was a natural?

            We played two games before I got tired of bowling, even if I was decent at it. Mase won both times, by a lot, but I challenged him to a rematch some other day. I thought about Gabe then, and knew how much he’d love to come too. I was definitely bringing him along.

            Mase and I were sharing a plate of fries when his expression suddenly turned serious.

            “Can I ask you something?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

            My stomach twisted and my appetite vanished. Would he ask about my mother? And why she decided to leave? I had the urge to shake my head and tell him no. That he couldn’t ask me about it. Because I couldn’t find a way to glue the words together in a way so they wouldn’t hurt. I nodded my head instead, waiting for his question.

            “Why were you so upset this morning?” he asked, his voice low. But there was no one else here. No one else listening.

            I thought back to this morning, back to Ruth and my father and why I was even sitting here with Mase today. If it wasn’t for my father’s affair, and my mother’s decision to turn off the pain instead of dealing with it, I wouldn’t have a fractured soul or shattered insides.

            His eyes were reaching for my truth, but mine were telling him I couldn’t explain it all. Not yet at least. So when I answered, I told him as much as I could, without letting it hurt.

            “I have a hard time being around my dad and Ruth. I’ve spent years avoiding them. And now, after my mom...” I stopped, cleared my throat. “I can’t be around them without remembering. And that’s the last thing that I want to do.”

            I expected to feel the familiar anger course its way through my veins as I thought about Ruth and my father. But saying the words, the ones I’d been shoving deeper and deeper into my flesh, made me feel lighter. Like I had less weight to carry now.

            Mase nodded, giving me a sad smile. “You’ll want to remember when the time is right for you. When you’re ready,” he said.

            I sighed, knowing I’d have to deal with it one day. But that day wasn’t today. I thought back to earlier then, when Mase mentioned her name. Madelyn.

            “Now can I ask you something too?” I asked. I watched his expression change as I said the words.

            “Fair enough,” he said, nodding.

            I bit the inside of my lip before scooting forward, closer to Mase.

           “Who’s Madelyn?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The way I cringed at the mention of my mother was so similar to his reaction of when I spoke her name. 

            I watched as he fought to grab a hold of the emotions, to regain some control. But his bottom lip trembled. He ran a hand through his hair. This boy was broken, and I wondered if I could ever scrape up enough glue to fix him.

            “My sister,” he said, his voice rough. “Madelyn was my baby sister.” 

Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter was kind of boring. :/ BUT, you'll be finding out more about Mase soon! Please VOTE if you enjoyed it and let me know what you thought in comments. Kay? Thanks! Bye:) -Shahira