The Journeys of Mason Night

Do you ever consider why things happen? If not, you will once you hear my story. But first, a little bit about me. My name is Mason Night. I’m eleven years old. My hair, a deep dark brown, hangs over my ears and is long in the back and short in the front. My eyes are dark brown too. I’m five one and still growing. It is summer, and I’m tan from mowing yards and riding my bike to a rental property three blocks from my house. It sits on Twenty-Fourth Street in Flushing, New York, which is part of Queens. My grandpa owns the property. It’s an apartment building that has a pool. He lets my friends Jim and Nick use it too if we all go there together. We play in the memorial park that’s a street over from our house. It has a football field, baseball field, and tennis courts too. My school is called Public School 21; it is right on the other side of the park. I go to Scout camps and just hang around a ten-block area with my friends.
When I was three years old, my father took off and left my mother and me, never to be seen or heard from again. I’ve been told he was a cruel man. He never wanted to visit me or send a gift, not even a card on my birthday. Awhile back, my grandpa Ivan Moss was watching me while Mom was out of town for work, and I overheard him talking on the phone with one of his friends. He was talking about my dad, Jeff. He said my father had left us to follow his dream of being an artist. I wanted to learn more, so I tried to be quiet so I could hear more of what he had to say. It didn’t work.
As I tried to move slowly into the room, Grandpa heard me and shut his mouth tightly, just as a clam would do if startled. He changed the phone conversation quickly. I learned more reasons for my father’s abandonment when I became older. Once again, it was because I overheard a phone call. Eavesdropping can become a very bad habit and a source of information that you may wish you had never heard. I’ll explain more about that later.
I need to tell you something about Grandpa. He is the greatest. He was born in a farmhouse near Red Bud, Illinois.
He said he wanted to see more of the world than central Illinois, so he joined the navy and was then stationed in California. He claimed that his stint as a SEAL and the discipline it demanded made a man out of him. Grandpa served several tours of duty before returning home to Red Bud. He decided to travel a little more, so he bought a ticket and flew to New York. On a whim, he took a ferry to Ellis Island to have a look at the Statue of Liberty, and his life was changed forever. Sitting on a bench at the statue, he saw a young woman with orange-brown hair and beautiful dark brown eyes with flecks of green. She was wearing a stylish black dress with a white sweater. But what caught his attention was her quiet crying. He walked up and asked her what was wrong and if he could help. She looked up at him, and he gazed down at her. Their eyes met, and that’s all it took. It was love at first sight, as he told me later.
That's how he met my grandmother and fell in love. He must have been a very attractive man, because even today, he still has older ladies bringing baked goodies to him and wanting him to go places with them. He’s trim and six feet tall, with salt and pepper hair and a country accent. He wears silver wire-framed glasses to read and a cap and T-shirt with jeans unless he’s going somewhere nice. Then he wears a suit and tie or his dress uniform that still fits after all this time. He’s sixty-eight but looks and acts like he’s fifty. He made many smart investments in stocks, bonds, and rental properties. He had a great job at a top-notch corporation, and he still works there part-time.
My grandpa bought the house Mom and I live in. Originally, it belonged to his friend who moved to Paris, France, to help his daughter, who has a shop there. Grandpa wanted to give the house to Mother, but she insisted on paying rent until it was paid off. She doesn’t know that he takes her money and deposits it in an account for my college fund. He told me to “zip my lip” and keep it to myself.
Did I mention that he lives just four blocks over from Mom and me?
It’s just the two of us in our house. My mom’s name is Susan. She’s a very smart, happy, upbeat lady with a job she enjoys. She’s about five foot six, petite, and very pretty and tan. She lies out on a raft in the wading pool in the backyard when she has time. Her hair is long and tumbling. I don’t know the true color; it’s whatever she feels like, but right now it’s a dirty blonde. No matter—she looks good whatever color it is. Her eyes are brown with flecks of green in them, hazel maybe, but she wears different-colored contacts sometimes because she wants to, I guess. She always smells nice and usually wears jewelry. She’s particularly fond of a gold cross necklace that her mother gave her when she was young. Mom always says that it brings her luck, and the luckiest thing she ever got was me! So like I said, it was just Mom and me, and that’s just the way I like it. We were getting along just fine until Mr. Neil Moon came into our lives.
Mr. Neil Moon has dark brown hair with hazel eyes. He’s six foot one, tall, and slim. His nose is long and large, but it looks okay on him. His hands and feet are big too. Neil is one of those big-shot stage and screen actors. Sometimes he directs a play or movie, and he’s been known to act and direct in a production at the same time. He’s British, but he often works in the States. He has many fans around the world. I’ve seen his fans, and some of them are scary. The girls chase him, scream at him, and plead with him to let them have his baby. Neil has an English accent that makes his voice sound throaty and even more appealing. He always smiles, cracks a joke, or teases people when he first meets them, but then he studies a person in silence once the ice is broken. It’s almost like he’s trying to decide if he can trust a person to keep a secret or become a loyal friend, but I think it’s an act. He’s really someplace else in his mind and not thinking of the person he met at all. He’s usually wearing a suit, but sometimes it is a pair of jeans, a sport coat, a dress shirt, and tie, with only the top button fastened on his jacket. I wonder why he doesn’t fasten the other button.
I guess you’ve got the picture by now. I don’t know why he picked my mom. My mom is a makeup artist; one of those people who is paid to make sure the actor’s makeup is on right. They met on a movie set, but he could have had any girl who was working on the movie.
Neil chose my mom. It happened out of the blue, and my life started sliding downhill after that. Mom and I were no longer alone. Mom had been bitten by the love bug. I felt like a stranger in my own home. Neil entered the picture and started acting like a father figure or something of the sorts. He may impress my mom but not me. I’m sort of like him in some ways; I have to know you before I trust you!
I just had my eleventh birthday party. It was great! Best of all, Neil was out of town, so it was my special day all day long. But I will say this about him—he does give great gifts. He also called to wish me happy birthday; he sang it in French over the phone with a bunch of people who know my mom and him. He was in some theater production with them in France. I told them, “It is way cool to do this for me!” I thanked Neil for the fifty inch flat screen tv and the two man tent. Great gifts, but I was glad he was gone. It was just Mom, Grandpa, and some dear friends I love with me for the rest of my special day. My happiness didn’t last long. Neil was back at our place in less than three weeks, and he’s still sleeping in my toy room, the spare bedroom. Time is flying by so quickly!