in which there is a brief conversation with Mason

In Mason’s bedroom, Todd waited, sitting cross legged on the bunk, chin on fist, tapping his fingers on his knee. It was a fool’s task; he had tried to talk Mason out of it. It was bound to end badly. How badly was the question. Would Mason get his face slapped? Or merely his heart broken? Todd sighed. Broken hearts Todd knew from, but Mason was an enigma, one minute touting the virtues of remaining forever chaste, the next minute procuring a ring and proposing – to a girl obviously in love with another man. A girl, yet, whom Mason had kept dangling for years. A girl who was, furthermore, a girl. Todd was convinced he knew the real reason behind Mason’s ambivalence and chaos, and it did not surprise him that Mason and Holly had lived alone together in the wilderness and had never fucked.

Mason came slamming into the room and slapped the ring box onto his altar. “Hey, there, Man of Stone. How’d it go?” Todd said, not moving.

“How d’you think?” Mason groused.

“Ah, let’s see…. Sheee accused you of not really loving her.”

Mason whipped around.

“Sheee said some shit about love being this or that and not the other.”

“Were you listening?”

“Listening at the keyhole? Nah, stone man. But women. They are kind of predictable.”

“Not to me.” Mason threw himself into his desk chair.

“Mason. Stone man. You kinda missed your window of opportunity. It has clooosed like one of those automatic doors on Star Trek.”

Mason stared stonily.

“Come on, big guy. Let’s go get drunk. My treat.”

Mason leaned away and looked down his nose at Todd. “I don’t drink.”

“This is a special occasion. Your first proposal, and shot down like a Canadian goose on the wing. You’re obligated to get drunk. It’s like a requirement. If you don’t, the Universe will take terrible revenge.”

Mason snorted. “Canadian goose? Why Canadian?”

“It’s the only goose I know. Well, not the only. But the only one that flies in the air and gets shot at.”

Forehead wrinkled, Mason shook his head. “I’m not following you, Todd.”

“Would it help if I got into V formation? Voyons. I’m only trying to cheer you up. Come on,” he wheedled, “get drunk with me. Otherwise I’ll be getting drunk all alone, and do you want that on your conscience?”

“It wouldn’t be on my conscience. Each man is responsible for his own actions.”

“How right you are, right you are. Very Al-Anon of you.” Todd nodded vigorously.

“Speaking of Al-Anon, aren’t they against drinking?”

“Not at all, only against alcoholism. There is a vast difference. Addiction, it is not nice. Occasional drunkeness, however? Very nice. Or can be.” Mason looked miserable, in his haughty way, and Todd very much wanted to hug him. He wondered whether a manly, macho hug would be acceptable to Mason and maybe a little hair smoothing by way of comfort.