My son was fifteen when I left home. We talked for months, I sent him a birthday card, and his father sent it back unopened. Inside the card was a picture of my son and me in one of those photo booths at the movies being goofy. Jason would call me and ask for stuff for school that he needed, underwear, sneakers, book covers. I’d take them to the neighbor’s house for him to pick up, or the bowling alley. His father caught on and he couldn’t go bowling anymore, but he was always happy to see me. Jason got older and things changed. He started lying, saying that I left them with no food in the house. There was only one problem with that; I had just filled the cupboards up. I went to BJ’s the day before I left, aside from that his father had a full time job and grandma would never have let that happen. I should say his father worked under the table for his own mother, for the last twenty years. He actually tried to get alimony from me.
The day of the child support hearing my ex’s car was still sitting at the local bar, he didn’t show up. I told the judge not to let him fool them. He’s been making thirteen dollars an hour, the same as me under the table for his mother. He went on the books for one year after that. Now he claims he is disabled. He does look pretty scary. Jason was spending weeks at a time at the neighbor’s house. They have a son that is one year older than him and they are best friends. I have talked to the neighbor on several occasions. She also does not know why Jason is not talking to me. Last year when my son would of graduated and didn’t, I offered to buy his cap and gown for him because he couldn’t afford one, and the guidance counselor told him this she said he acted surprised. The only thing I can come up with is the age between a child and an adult. They think they know it all. I’m going to wait it out eventually, he’ll come around. I only worry because his father is in such bad shape. Who will take care of him, if something happens to his father? Who will he have to turn to? I’m here and waiting.