Page 58 of Summer Lessons
“You can’t do that!” Dane said, sitting up in bed but keeping the covers over his ears. He looked like a nun. “You’ve got a sprained ankle! You can hardly walk!”
“Well it won’t be a picnic for either of us!” Mason snarled, but inside, he was relieved. If Dane was worried about him, it meant Mason might be able to get him out of bed—and get him to take his meds. The next couple of days were going to be rough, though. The whole thing was about keeping the levels of medication in Dane’s bloodstream even. Daneknewthat, but school had been taking most of his attention, and sometimes, dammit, someone forgot.
Or got proud and didn’t want to accept help anymore. Even from the medicine that sustained his reality.
“Fine,” Dane snapped back, throwing the covers back. He was fully clothed from the night before, which wasnota good sign.
“Fine!” Mason yelled, scrubbing his face with his hand. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to check on you, and Carpenter will be on his way to the game!”
“He will not, because he hates me,” Dane groused, but there didn’t seem to be any passion behind it, so Mason one-crutched his way to his bedroom for his phone.
He sat down for a blessed second while he hit the number and was not surprised when Carpenter sounded as out of it as Dane had.
“Mason?” he grumbled. “Why?”
“Look, can your niece and nephew come and watch you play soccer?” Mason asked abruptly. “Please? Dane forgot his fucking meds and you’re my carrot on the stick.”
“What?” But he sounded awake now. “Why would he—”
“You’ll have to ask him. But he needs to get up and take his meds and try not to overdose on the self-loathing today. And he needs to see you because he loves you.” Oh shit.
“Loves me how?” Carpenter asked, but not like he was suspicious or the earth moved or he was afraid.
“Does it matter?” Mason asked, suddenly defeated. “Does it matter how he loves you? No. What matters is that you’re the one person in the world he will get out of bed for today.”
Of course Mason saw the flaw in this logic. Dane needed to get out of bed for himself—that was the ultimate in goals. But that wasn’t going to happen until he got his levels back.
“No, it doesn’t matter,” Carpenter said, not sounding muzzy. “Course I’ll be there if he needs it. That’s what you do.”
Oh God. He didn’t say “that’s what friends do,” but he didn’t say “that’s what you do when you love someone” either. Goddammit, Carpenter, specificity was more than gravity!
“Okay,” Mason replied, giving up. “Good. And while we’re on what you do for someone, you need to not bitch about fat, okay?”
“What?”
Mason hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Don’t say things about how ugly you are running around fat. It depresses him, Carpenter. You’re the best friend he’s had since grade school. I don’t know why—you two were love at first sight, I was there. But when you bitch about your weight, it fucking weighs him down. So bring your niece and nephew, and I’ll watch them from the gimpy corner, and you go run your heart out.”
“Wow,” Carpenter said wonderingly. “It’s like hearing my mom, but I don’t resent you nearly as much.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mason said with a grunt. “See you on the field.”
He pushed himself up from the bed and decided to let his hot water depletion wake them both up. The less he had to hop, the better.
THEY GOTto the field an hour later, showered, dressed warmly, caffeinated, fed, and, thank the gods, drugged. Mason had taken his pain pill, Dane had taken his medication, and they were able to greet the team with high fives and smiles when they came to the sidelines after warming up. Terry grinned shyly at Mason as they all huddled in a circle, and Mason winked back.
Terry was wearing Mason’s hooded sweatshirt today, his hands hidden in the overlong sleeves. The stocking cap from their day golfing was tucked snugly around his ears, and Mason’s heart gave a poignant throb. Mason could take care of Terry. He seemed to have fucked up with Dane, but Terry, at least, was warm and happy with the world today.
The guys shed their sweatshirts, and Terry came over to hand his to Mason. “You’re sitting down, right?” he asked, glancing over to where Dane was setting up two camp chairs next to two tow-headed children on tiny Disney pop-up stools. Carpenter had run over there after the break and was apparently introducing everybody.
“Yeah.” Mason nodded. “Kids. I’m not great at them, but they’re Dane’s favorite people.”
Terry grinned at him, and Mason pulled a grin out of his toes to give back.
Terry’s face fell. “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled, voice dropping.
Oh. Oh no. Mason wasn’t prepared for that. “This morning was… rough,” he said quietly. “Dane forgot his meds for a couple of days. The next week is going to be a bumpy ride.”
Terry nodded thoughtfully. “Can I still… do you still want me to come over?” he asked, his eyes shadowed.
