I asked Mason what he meant by “he gets mad at night.”
He got quiet immediately after saying it like he realized he wasn’t supposed to. Then he whispered that his mom’s boyfriend Tyler sometimes slept on the couch after “drinking grown-up drinks” and yelled if anybody made noise after bedtime.
I asked if Tyler ever hurt him.
Mason said no too fast.
Then he changed the subject and started talking about the tomato plants in my backyard like he wanted the conversation over.
I barely slept that night honestly.
The next morning I drove to my daughter’s apartment without calling first. Tyler’s truck was there even though Mason told me he was supposedly “working out of town.” My daughter answered the door wearing sunglasses indoors and acting irritated immediately.
I asked where Mason was.
She said school.
Then I noticed the chain lock on the inside of his bedroom door.
That bothered me enough already.
But while she kept talking, I saw something else sitting beside the hallway trash can. A broken tablet with the screen smashed inward hard enough to crack the plastic frame.
Mason called me from that tablet almost every day.
I asked what happened to it.
My daughter said he dropped it.
Then Tyler suddenly walked out of the bathroom shirtless looking annoyed I was there. The second Mason’s name came up, he interrupted twice answering questions meant for my daughter.
That alone told me more than anything else.
I left pretending everything was fine and drove straight to Mason’s school. I signed him out early saying it was a family emergency and took him for pancakes because I didn’t want to scare him in the parking lot.
Halfway through eating, he asked quietly if his mom was mad at him for “telling about nighttime.”
I said no.
Then he finally admitted Tyler sometimes came into his room after drinking and made him stay awake talking for hours because Tyler thought my daughter was cheating on him. Mason said Tyler kept asking whether “other men” ever came over while he was at work.
Then Mason pulled something from his backpack and slid it across the diner table.
It was a folded note written in my daughter’s handwriting.
“If Grandma asks questions again, tell her you made everything up about Tyler.”