The Struggle •Unedited•

Chapter 4

I was awoken by the sound of crashing metal coming from the kitchen. What in the world? Throwing the blanket off my body, I swung my legs off and picked myself up to stand. My laundry hamper was full like no other, which reminded me, I have to do chores today. My eyes scattered the floor looking for some piece of clothing to pick up, but nothing. In front of you, to the left. My mind spoke up and as I obeyed it's orders, I spotted a white t-shirt that seemed clean enough to wear. Walking over to it, I snatched it off the ground and slipped it on while I walked out of my bedroom. The door flew open and my feet pattered on the cool, carpet floor. When I got closer to the kitchen, again, the boom of what I assumed to be pots and pans erupted again, but this time only louder. Once my vision was in full view, to no surprise at all, I saw Mason on all fours looking through the cabinets.

"Mason Tomlinson, what are you doing?", I blabbed out.

His tiny body jumped in a startle and his head zipped around to spot me leaning against the entrance door frame. Those identical blue eyes grew as he's been caught in a crime.

"N-", a pot came crashing to the floor, interrupting his sentence, "Nothing, dad."

A smug smirk came across my face as a soft chuckle released from my lips. What was this kid up to? My body lifted itself from the leaning position and made it's way over to my pride and joy on the floor.

"Get up, kiddo."

My hands reached down for a helping hand and his small fingers gripped on tightly. Lifting him up to his two feet, he looked at me with the most innocent look.

I laughed slightly at the look on his face. "Now, can you please tell me what exactly you were doing?"

I heard him swallow the saliva in his mouth before looking down at his feet while he lifted himself up and down on his heels. "I wanted to make you breakfast.", he explained with a shameful tone.

My amused expression washed off and was replaced by a genuine grin. I couldn't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. Ahh, my son. My pride and joy. Knows nothing about what to do in the kitchen, yet he still wants to make me breakfast. Kneeling down to his height, I gently placed my hands on both his shoulders. "Look at me, Mas.", I demanded tenderly.

His head lifted up slightly and his eyes meet mine. Mason looked just like me. Same chocolate brown hair, light blue eyes, pink lips, fair skin, and that cute button nose I had as a kid.

"You didn't have to do that. I'm your dad, son. It's my job to take care of you, not for you to take care of me. Anyways, you're still way too young to be in the kitchen by yourself."

Those puny lips pursed and his gaze looked back down to his feet. "Okay."

"Now how about I make you some pancakes, yeah?", I suggested trying to make his beautiful smile appear.

It worked. His blue eyes flickered with delight and his head nodded rapidly in excitement. I couldn't help but smile wide at his own beaming grin. Soon enough, I sent him to go watch television and I gathered everything I needed to cook for his meal.

While I cooked the last bit of pancake mix that was left in the box, my thoughts returned to how Mason looked nothing like his mother and I was glad. Why? I know it sounds horrible, but I didn't want him picking up the genetics after him mom. I didn't need to be reminded of the girl I once loved that abandoned me and her own child and left with every ounce of our money. She put up a pretty good show, I actually believed she loved me, especially after we had a child together. As much as Mason doesn't want me holding a grudge against her, I can't help it. He just doesn't understand. If my son looked anything like her, I don't think I would be able to handle the constant remembrance of her selfishness. Yet again, Mason is still half of me and I can't stand the thought of giving him away, so I don't think I'd have the balls to actually do it...even if he did look like my ex-wife.