Chapter 5 - A Cry from the Playground
Despite our legal maneuvers, the silence from Mason was unbearable. Every Wednesday afternoon, my house felt hollow. I stared at the living room carpet where his wooden train tracks used to snake between the sofa and the bookshelf.
On Thursday afternoon, unable to bear the quiet any longer, I drove down toward the public park two blocks from Mason’s preschool. I had no intention of violating any boundary or causing a scene; I simply wanted to sit on a bench half a block away and catch a glimpse of his bright yellow jacket.
As I pulled up to the curb, I saw Samantha’s car parked crookedly near the playground entrance. But Samantha wasn't by the swings.
Standing near the jungle gym was Brandon. He was gripping Mason’s tiny wrist, his face red with frustration, shaking the boy’s arm as Mason sobbed hysterically.
""Stop crying, you little brat!"" Brandon’s voice carried across the park grass. ""Your mother isn't coming to pick you up because she’s working late trying to fix the wedding caterer! You sit on that bench and shut up until I say we go!""
Mason was crying so hard his small shoulders were shuddering, clutching a battered plastic triceratops to his chest. ""I want Nana Pat! I don't want to go with you! I want Nana Pat!""
Brandon raised his hand threateningly. ""Don't you ever say that name in front of me again! Do you hear me? She doesn't love you! She threw you away!""
Every maternal instinct in my body erupted into pure, unadulterated fire. I didn't think about restraining orders. I didn't think about legal optics. I threw open my car door, slammed it behind me, and marched straight onto the grass.
""Take your filthy hands off my grandson, Brandon!"" my voice rang out like thunder.
Brandon spun around, startled, letting go of Mason’s wrist. Mason saw me, broke into a sprint, and collided directly into my legs, wrapping his little arms around my knees and burying his tear-streaked face in my coat.
""Nana! Nana, don't leave me!"" he wailed.
Brandon recovered quickly, stepping forward with his fists clenched, his veins bulging in his neck. ""You crazy old hag! You're violating a legal notice! I will have the police drag you out of this park in handcuffs!""
""Call them!"" I screamed right back, picking Mason up and holding him tight against my chest. Mason buried his face in my neck, his little hands clutching the fabric of my sweater like a lifeline. ""Call the San Diego Police Department right now, Brandon! Let them come down here and explain to the officers why you're terrorizing a five-year-old child in public! Let them run your driver's license while they're here and discover the three active bench warrants for unpaid civil fraud judgments in Orange County!""
Brandon stopped dead in his tracks. The color drained from his face until he looked like wet plaster.
""You... you don't know anything,"" he stammered.
May you like
""I know everything,"" I whispered, holding Mason tighter. ""I know about the Belize accounts. I know about the bounced check to the Del Coronado. And I know you have until five o'clock tomorrow before the Franchise Tax Board freezes every single asset registered to Pacific Crest.""
Just then, the screech of tires echoed from the street. Samantha’s SUV pulled up violently against the curb. She hopped out, slamming the door, running toward us in high heels, looking disheveled and frantic.
