Pretend that I don't have feelings - CH. 9

"A deceitful tongue will always be good at twisting the truth." - Dennis Adonis

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It was the perfect birthday in every way. It was the beginning of March, flowers sprout out all over the huge garden in all different kinds and colors. The house was decorated with every birthday decoration you could probably get for an eight-year-old – pink paper streamers, balloons in every color of the rainbow, even a piñata was hung up in the living room. About twelve other eight to nine year olds were in the dining room, Derek, Veronica, Sofia and me were standing near the kitchen. At this age, birthdays were still relevant to me. Birthdays meant big celebrations. Presents. A kind of personal reflection. A "wish day", on which you could wish for everything that you wanted and it would happen. We used the term wish day instead of birthday; Birthday sounded boring. It sounded like a weird term to describe someone's day of being born. Wish day was more exciting; as if you'd have a helping hand on that day, helping you to succeed in the life ahead of you, just on that one special day in a year. Like the special fairy in Cinderella. Marvellous.

Mason was called into the kitchen from his mother. Derek, Veronica and Sofia wanted cake and went to the dining room with the younger kids, but I was way more interested in the conversation Taylor and his mum had. I hid myself behind the bar next to the polished glass kitchen door and watched Taylor and Caren through the small opened slit of it. He was standing there, like a golden boy with his grey shirt and the washed-out jeans, but his angelic mother swallowed and sadness was reflected in her eyes. I never saw Caren like this - she always seemed to see the good in situations, even if there were none. She seemed like an anchor, strong for anyone else but herself. But now her eyes were dull. She looked up.

"Your father is not going to come," she said, and tried to supress the anger in her voice. She did it well, but I was a sucker for details; the short nib on her lip, the rage in her voice for a split of a second, and the fact that I knew Jack – and the way he treated Caren.

Mason swallowed. He opened his mouth, but closed it right after. His eyes were displaying more sadness that Caren seemed to be able to bear, "but he promised to be here," he murmured.

"I know sweetheart," she knelt down, and put her hand on Masons shoulder. Even though Mason was just eleven, he was already much taller than me, so I did not quite understand why she had to kneel down. But it seemed to calm him down in a way, "but is it that surprising? He promised you last time too. But he never came."

"That was different," he shoved her off, "that was my birthday. But this, this is Cami's birthday," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair, "he's supposed to be there for her."

I was too young to realize how much he had to mature in such a young age. He had matured long before I even knew what growing up meant. The only thing I understood from that conversation was that Taylor was upset and I wanted to comfort him. I knew he didn't like to talk about his sorrow, but with me, he never had to. I always comforted him silently, holding him in my arms, and that was what he needed sometimes.

"I want to be the one to tell her."

His mum nodded. She knew just how stubborn he was when he wanted something. You were not able to do anything about it; if he was convinced that something was right, he almost never changed his mind.

"I'll go and get Camilla."

Caren went out through the other door that was connecting the dining room and kitchen with one another. I leaned forward, and the door suddenly squeaked. Mason turned around and saw me standing there. He looked tired, but his eyes looked happy to see me. We just stood there for a couple seconds. My impulses took over my body and I ran over to him. I just hugged him. I felt his arms closing behind my back and he took a deep breath. I knew he was in pain. At this age, I couldn't quite understand why he was this upset, but I wanted to reassure him as much as he needed it from me. We just stood there in the kitchen, arm in arm, our heads resting on each other's shoulders. The silence was comforting in ways words would never be. He stroked my out of my face and tucked it behind my ear, "thank you, Mel," he whispered in my ear, using the nickname only he used. He took another deep breath and released me from our hug. I smiled at him, slowly turned and walked out of the room. I still eavesdropped, I wanted to see Cami's reaction. I wanted to see if she needed reassurance too.

Seconds later, a light brown-haired girl followed Caren back to the kitchen. Mason's younger sister. She was his every flower in the woods - the yellow, almost golden dress she wore was nearly a distraction from her beautiful smile. Her hair fell over the shoulders, the brown eyes sparkled.

"Mason!", she ran too him and hugged him. He twirled her around, "happy birthday, my angel!", he said and she giggled. He kneeled down, so she could hug him.

"But you already congratulated me Mason," she said, still giggling.

"This one was from dad."

Her smile vanished.

"What? But he told me, he'd be here," she looked down, and her eyes were in tears, "I know, I know. But hey, I'm here," he said and ran through her hair. She buried her head in his shoulder and he just held her for a second.

"I won't ever leave you. You hear me? I'll always be there."

"Mason?", I whispered and turned around. He was still standing there, holding his car keys in his left hand, the door held open with the other one . It was him. It had been him the whole time. Taylor was Mason.

He looked up, looking directly at me, while slowly shaking his head for a yes, "weird, isn't it?"

"You're joking, right? So what's your real name then?", I hissed, crossing my arms in front of me. I saw the small smirk he usually had on his face fading. The amusement in his eyes vanished. He was always the kind of guy with smart comebacks. Even when I still called him Mason, he knew the kind of words he had to use in any kind of conversation – name it, and he changed his way of using words. But not this time. This time his mouth was empty and dry from the truth he had been hiding from me.

"Both, actually. Mason is my second name, Taylor is my first. My parents were never quite sure what to name me. My father hated to use the name Taylor around business associates. Wasn't formal enough I guess," and I recognized a look on his face that I had always associated with Mason, "but they separated long ago. They weren't happy anymore. They hadn't been for a long time. You know that, you've been there. But the past few years my father never brought us around his business associates anymore. My mother decided it would be best if everyone would just start to call me Taylor, no matter if they have to do with my father's work or not."

"So you lied to me? You lied to me the whole time," I assumed in sudden anger. That was out of character for me. There was never much anger inside of me, but these past few days I felt like a bomb; as if I would blow up sometime and take each and every one around me with me.

"And you didn't tell me?" I added as Taylor wasn't saying anything again. Or should I call him Mason? No, Mason it would be too easy for him then. Mason was a spark of joy in my memory, and he should remain that way. Taylor shouldn't make the name filthy, dirty through his lies.

"I didn't think it would matter," his fake smile appeared and took over his frustrated face. My anger build up steam, burning me from the inside and out. It was like an explosion of my mental framework, battling with the fire inside of me. The only way to stop this civil war was to let it all out.

"Oh no, you're not fooling me with this fake smile! Do you honestly think I'll buy that?", I roared and was astonished by the volume of my own voice, "so, it was all just a game?", I added when he still didn't respond. He was quiet for another moment and then looked up, his face numb, "isn't everything in life a game?"

I swallowed. The only sound that I heard for a couple of minutes was the soft wind going through the trees. It had stopped drizzling outside hours ago. But right now, I'd prefer him sitting all wet in his stupid new car.

"You're such a hypocrite! I trusted you, and let you into my life again, and you pretended to be in this...", I shouted, but didn't know how to finish the sentence, "in what?", Taylor asked then and my anger boiled up again, "in this weird intimate-romantic-but not relationship with me all this time!"

I heard him chuckle slightly. Chuckle. Though it was just a slight one, I was taken aback by a sudden wave of pain that hit my whole body.

"Romantic Relationship? You thought I saw you that way?" he said, and chuckled once more.

My chest pain intensified itself by a thousand. The feeling of humiliation was even worse. I had been vulnerable and once again, the world had proven me that I shouldn't be.

"You know I did."

To describe his facial expressions would be like describing a blank sheet of paper – the way he looked at me was as if he had been numbed for months and his face showed. But that was the way he looked at me now. Like I was nothing.

I turned around after taking another deep look into his eyes. Into their numbness. I opened the front door further. The pain ached in my chest.

"Where are you going?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know how. I didn't know words in that moment.

He fooled me.

"Mel?"

I wiped over my eyes to avoid crying, and looked back at him once more. My voice was only a whisper.

"Goodnight, Taylor."

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