I get up, walk to Mason’s room and knock on the door. “I’m Rowan. May I come in?”
“Do what you like.”
The beginning is not good.
“Hey,” I stick my head in. “You OK?”
Mason is sitting on the bed, his back to the wall, the rugby ball in his hands.
“Can I join you?”
He shrugs, which I take as an agreement, and I go in. I walk over to the bed, but don’t feel like sitting down, so I pull the chair over to the desk and make myself comfortable. The room is really small, Seth had told me. I had never been in it before.
“You’ve made yourself at home here.” I look around. On the walls is an autographed national team jersey, some pictures of the players, a calendar that had stopped six months ago, and a family photo of Mason and his siblings with their parents. “Seth told me this was the sewing room.”
Mason spins the ball in the air without answering.
The sewing machine is now in the living room. I could tell it had been used in my absence because I found sequins on the floor, obviously left over from one of Seth’s jobs.
“He made all the clothes for our plays,” he says suddenly. “He also made clothes for other children at school. Mum wasn’t very good with a needle and thread, and Dad…” I hear him take a deep breath. “They were good at other things.”
“I’m sure of that.”
“I miss them. Uncle Seth is great, but they…”
“But they were your parents, Mason. No one is asking you to replace them or forget them.”
“I had them longer. I remember everything. I… I want them back here with me.”
“I know you do.”
“But I can’t say that and I can’t be sad, or Logan and Emily will realise that everything isn’t as good as I keep telling them it is.”
“You’re allowed to feel sad. You’ve lost someone too.”
“You don’t understand.” He picks up his nose, then wipes it with his arm.
“I had siblings too.”
Mason turns to look at me. “Had?”
I smile sadly.
“How many were there?”
“Five. I was the oldest. I used to protect them, just like you did with Logan and Emily.”
“And then what?”
“And then I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“What happened?”
I’m not sure if I should tell this kid my story, but he needs to vent and let go of all the pressure he feels for his siblings. It’s overwhelming for him.
“Our mother… She had problems.”
“What problems?”
