Caving In

“Mason Charles, get in here please!” I shouted down the hallway of our little apartment.

“I’m coming Mommy,” I heard the small 5 year old yell back. I chuckled quietly as I finished washing a dish in the hot water of the sink. His small feet slapping against the hardwood floor of the hallway echoed throughout the kitchen as he raced around. “Mommy, where are my shoes?” he asked quickly running into the kitchen.

“Did you check by the door?” I asked, drying my hands off on a towel before bending over to swipe him up in my arms and place kisses all over his cheeks.

He cackled loudly and wiggled wildly in my arms as he tried to escape. I laughed with him quietly, loving the feeling of having my arms wrapped tightly around him, protecting him from the world outside our cozy apartment. When Mason managed to push my lips away from his cheek just long enough, he looked up at me, his hazel eyes shining brightly, “I checked by the door but they weren’t there Momma.”

I set him down gently and watched as he struggled to readjust his favorite Spider Man shirt. “Then they are probably in my room next to my shoes. Why don’t you go look because I think Aunt Lindsay is coming over and we are gonna go get groceries,” I suggested to him as I knelt down to his level.

“Aunt Lindsay!” Mason sang loudly while he skipped off to my room. I smiled as I watched his retreating form and for a second, I saw his father. Mason looked almost identical to any baby photo you could find of Matt. His hazel eyes were a good balance of both Matt and I’s and he also had my ears but the rest was all Matt. Mason’s spikey dirty blonde hair, facial structure and attitude were all mirror images of his father.

I sighed, pushing a tired hand through my own dark hair as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Mason may look a lot like Matt but he has never met him. Matt sends him a birthday card in the mail every year and even child support money, along with a little extra in attempt to “get his son a better place to live.” He spends all this money but never once has he asked to see Mason. Matt has never made an appearance at Christmas, or Thanksgiving. He wasn’t there when Mason was born, when he took his first steps, said his first words and I can bet you he won’t be there to help take Mason to his first day of kindergarten this fall either. Matt is entirely too busy being a rockstar to stop and realize he has a son. Mason has seen more of his grandparents on Matt’s side of the family then he has ever seen of Matt himself.

“Albany! Honey, I’m home!” a voice called out as the door to the apartment opened and closed again. Lindsay poked her head around the door frame of the kitchen and smiled at me. “What’s up love?”

“Just thinking. Mason, are you ready to go? Lindsay is here,” I called down the hall again.
Mason squealed from inside my bedroom and I laughed as a blur of my son ran by, on his way to bum rush one of his favorite aunts.

“Well hello, Mr. Mason. How are you today?” Lindsay asked, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close.

“Great! Mommy made eggs this mornin’ and spaghetti for dinner,” he recalled excitedly.

“She did, huh?” Lindsay laughed.

Mason nodded wildly before his bright hazel eyes widened, “Aunt Lindsay, can I show you my birthday present from Daddy?”

Lindsay sent me a surprised look from across the room, leaving me to only shrug for a response. This year, instead of sending the usual card, Matt sent him a Spider Man action figure; there was no doubt in my mind that his mother was behind this change. She had been the most understanding person throughout all these years. My own mother kicked me out of the house when she found out about Mason, calling me every disgusting name in the book and luckily for me, Kimberlyann was there. She took me into the Sanders household, even though her son did not want me there. She made sure I had everything I could possibly need for bringing a baby into the world at only 17; she’d even helped me score this perfect apartment. Mason and I owed her so much but the only thing she would ever say she wanted was for her son to be in Mason’s life. Too bad I wasn’t the one she needed to talk to about that.

“Al?” Lindsay waved her hand in front of my face, a worried look on her own.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” she questioned, standing next to me at the counter.

“Peachy, are you ready to head out? Where’s Mason?” I asked, pushing off the counter and walking into the living room. SpongeBob was blaring loudly from the TV set but my rascal was nowhere in sight. “Mace?” I called, wandering down the darkening hallway and poking my head into his bedroom.

Mason lay on his stomach, swaddled firmly in his music note comforter. His little shoulders shook from underneath the covers and soft sounds of sniffling hit my heart like a speeding train. Quickly I jogged over to his bed, sitting down next to him and pulling the blankets off his head so I could rub the back of his neck gently. Mason lay still, his Spider Man tucked tightly underneath his arm as hot tears ran down his red cheeks. “Mason baby…,”

“Momma?” he opened his eyes a little bit, showing the amount of redness that had already started to appear. “Where’s my Daddy?”

My heart broke at his tiny, simple words. ‘Where’s my Daddy?’ Most kids get the simple answer of ‘He’s at work dear,’ but Mason wasn’t just a normal kid. What was I supposed to tell him? Mason knew that Matt was his father, and that his job kept him away a lot but ever since he started seeing other boys his age at the park, at pre-school , everywhere, with their own fathers, he had wanted his to be there for that stuff too. Mason had started to notice that the man I’d shown him in pictures as ‘Daddy’ is never around. Not at any of the holidays and not even at his birthdays. “Why doesn’t my Daddy want to see me? Does he not love me anymore?” Mason cried, rolling over onto his back.

Tears started to make their way to my own eyes as I watched my pride and joy feel so much pain. I wrapped my arms around his tiny body and pulled him onto my lap, rocking the both of us back and forth. “Mason, listen to me,” I started, rubbing circles on his back as he cried heavily on my shoulder. “Your daddy loves you very much, that’s why he is not around. He is earning money so he can send you more Spider Man things,” I’ve officially hit rock bottom, lying to the only person that means the world to me.

“Mommy, I don’t want Spider Man, I want my Daddy,” he cried even harder, starting to shake the both of us with his loud sobs. I sighed, feeling completely helpless as I thought of a way to stop him from hurting.

“Mason, baby lay down and I’ll bring you something, anything you want. Will that make you feel a little bit better?” I questioned, praying that it would stop the tears from falling.
Mason lifted his head off my tear stained shoulder and nodded. “Cookies, please,” he murmured quietly as he rubbed roughly at his tired and irritated eyes, shuffling off my lap and back over to his pillows where he buried himself under the heavy covers. Slowly, I lifted myself off the bed, starting to make my way towards the door.

“Mommy?” Mason whispered.

“Yeah baby?” I asked, turning to face him cuddled up in his blankets again.

“I love you,” he sighed quietly, his tired eyes fluttering shut slowly.

“I love you too, Sweetie. Good night,” I said softly, turning off the light and shutting the door behind myself.

I quickly made my way to the kitchen, feeling suddenly full of rage. Lindsay sat perched on the couch. “Everything okay?” she asked concerned.

“No its not. Everything is not okay, Lex,” I hissed, almost stomping my way over to the cordless phone on the counter. I dialed the familiar number and waited as it rung once, twice, thr-

“Hello?”

“…Matt, we need to talk. Now.”