How did your dad lose his custody rights?

The Thanksgiving Emergency

My dad’s first holiday with full custody almost became my last. I was reaching for the mashed potatoes when the pain hit like someone was twisting a knife in my lower right side.

“Dad,” I whispered, gripping the table. “My stomach really hurts.”

“Not now, Mason,” he said, not even looking at me. “We’re about to do the family toast.”

This was our first Thanksgiving at Grandma Fiona’s house in 3 years. It was the first one since Dad won partial custody, and the first one without mom. Grandma Fiona began raising her wine glass to having our family back together away from certain negative influences. Everyone knew she meant mom.

The pain was getting worse. I pressed my hand against my side and felt heat radiating through my shirt.

“Dad.” “I tried again.” “I think something’s wrong.”

“Mason’s trying to ruin dinner,” My cousin son announced, just like last time.

Last time, I was eight and threw up at Easter because mom had just told me about the divorce. They still hadn’t forgiven me for making a scene.

“I’m not trying to.”

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I doubled over. Aunt Linda sighed, “Oh, here we go.” “Fiona, didn’t I tell you?” “The mother probably coached him to do this.”

“My mom’s not even here,” I protested.

I immediately regretted raising my voice as another stab of pain shot through me. “Watch your tone,” Dad warned. “Your mother’s not here because she lost that privilege.” “And you’re not going to manipulate your way out of family time.”

I stood up, planning to go to the bathroom, but the room tilted. I grabbed the chair to steady myself.

“Sit down,” Grandma Fiona’s voice was ice. “We do not leave the table during the family toast.” “It’s disrespectful.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Of course you are,” Uncle Robert laughed. “Just like your mother.” “Always so dramatic.” “Always the victim.”

My 10-year-old sister Alice looked at me with worried eyes from across the table. She’d been silent since we arrived, intimidated by dad’s family.

“Please,” I whispered. “I need to lie down.”

“You need to show respect,” Dad said firmly. “This is the first holiday we’ve had without your mother’s interference.” “You’re not ruining it.”

The pain was spreading now, like fire across my abdomen. I could feel sweat dripping down my back.

“Maybe he really is sick,” My cousin Bethany said quietly.

“Don’t you start,” her mother snapped. “He’s fine.” “Just wants attention because mommy’s not here to baby him.”

I tried to sit back down, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as I missed it and stumbled.

“Mason James,” Dad stood up.

“That’s enough, Dad.” “Please.”

Tears were streaming down my face now. “It hurts so bad.” “You know what hurts?” Grandma Fiona stood too. “Having to watch my son deal with your behavior.” “Having to see what that woman turned you into.”

Alice suddenly pushed back her chair. “He’s not faking.” She screamed. “Look at him.” “He’s white.”

“Alice, sit down,” Dad ordered.

“No,” She was sobbing now. “Mom said if we ever needed help to call 911.” “She said you wouldn’t listen.”

“She said your mother said a lot of things,” Aunt Linda interrupted. “Most of them lies.”

The room started spinning. I dropped to my knees, clutching my side. It felt like my insides were on fire.

“He’s being ridiculous,” Uncle Robert said. “In my day, kids didn’t pull these stunts.”

“It’s not a stunt, Alice was hysterical.” “Please, someone help him.”

“I’m calling his mother,” Aunt Linda announced.

Through my tears, I saw Alice crawling under the table toward the kitchen. There was a landline in there; smart girl.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Grandma Fiona grabbed Alice’s ankle.

“Let go of her,” I tried to yell, but it came out as a whisper.

That’s when I threw up all over Grandma Fiona’s Persian rug. “My rug?” She shrieked. “Do you see?” “Do you see what these children are?”

Someone muttered, “Just like their mother.” The pain was unbearable now. I curled into a ball on the floor, shaking.

“Get up,” Dad said coldly. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I can’t.”

Everything was going dark around the edges. Alice bit Grandma Fiona’s hand and ran for the kitchen.

“That wild animal bit me,” Someone stop her, Dad shouted.

But Alice was already dialing. I could hear her screaming our address into the phone.

“Hang up that phone,” Dad roared.

“No,” Alice sobbed. “You’re letting him die just like mom said you would.”

“What did that woman tell you?” Grandma Fiona demanded.

But that’s when I started convulsing. Real violent shaking that I couldn’t control. “Oh my gosh, someone whispered.” “He’s having a seizure.” “That’s not fake.”

Bethany said, her voice shaking. “Finally,” I heard Dad’s voice crack. “Call 911 now.”

The last thing I remember was Alice’s small hand in mine and her whispering, “I’m sorry, Mason.” “I’m so sorry.” “Mom said to be brave.” “She said she loves us.” Then everything went black.

I woke up after emergency surgery. My appendix had burst. The doctor said if we’d waited another hour, I might not have made it. The infection had already started spreading.

Dad couldn’t look at me. He just kept saying, “I didn’t know,” over and over. But Alice knew. Mom knew.