MASKED KINDNESS

I pulled down the cloth deathtrap around my mouth, whose sole purpose was to fog my wide-brimmed glasses, and said, "No."

I prayed he could sense the seriousness in my voice, but I had a sick feeling he could sense fear like an animal. I'd hoped our first flight in 2021 would redeem itself, after 2020 sucked for everyone, but it wasn't looking good.

The Chinese got it wrong this time—it wasn't the year of the Rat, it'd been the year of Satan. I weighed my options sensibly, determined not to make a move and scare him away. You'd think, as an adult, I could handle this situation, but under no circumstance is this for the faint of heart.

This being parenting.

The small hand that clutched the airplane ticket waivered as a snaggletooth smile rose across his red-tinted face. "Maverick, don't!" I warned, knowing I looked crazy to the people passing behind us in the airport bathroom.

However, I didn't care. He'd been through the I'm Not Sleepy phase lately, which meant Momma wasn't sleeping. The tiredness weighed heavily on my shoulders as I tried my hardest to keep my eyes opened and my mind alert.

"Give it to Mommy," I said sweetly.

Maverick laughed. "I'm gonna drop it!"

We made eye contact, both waiting on the other to move. I jumped forward but to no avail, the ticket fell into the toilet as I doused my hand into the depths.

"Oopsie," Maverick said.

I looked at him, my eye twitched and I felt my anger rise to the top of my head like in those 90s cartoons. I pictured steam escaping through my ears at any moment.

He's just a kid, Momma. You're kid.

Sighing, I got up and dried the ticket off the best I could, and checked the time. We had ten minutes to get to our gate for our flight out of Kansas City to Nevada for my Mom's birthday. Maverick held my hand as we walked toward our gate. The flight attendant announced we could load the plane, and with small steps to match his, we boarded.

I gave Maverick the window seat, and slid into the one next to him. He pulled down his Spiderman mask and stuck out his tongue. "Keep your mask on, you don't want to get germs."

His dark brows folded down over his slanted eyes. The first sign of rebellion. "I don't want to."

I ignored him, hoping the plane's engine would distract him from the potential fit I could sense conjuring beside me. Nay. Nay. No such luck.

"Momma!" he shouted, snatching the mask from his face. Panic coursed over me as the woman across the aisle gave me a death glare from over the top of her bedazzled mask.

I held up one finger and turned to face him. "Listen, we have to wear our mask or they'll kick us off. Please, for Mommy?"

"No!" he shouted.

I didn't want to be that woman, the one that argued with her three-year-old in front of an audience. The eyes of the woman behind me slithered down my spine as she tried to assess the situation. "Ma'am," I heard her. "Ma'am," she said again. "He needs to put on his mask, now."

"Momma! No!" Maverick shouted, tossing it over the seat in front of us. It landed in a young guy's lap, he turned and handed it back to me, his eyes shifted back to his phone. Thank God.

"Maverick—," I started.

"Ma'am," the woman said again.

Irritation curled its way up my stomach and burned into my chest. I struggled with Maverick, while ignoring the woman behind me. Sleep deprivation swarmed my body and I felt too tired to argue, too tired to think and too tired to keep the tears at bay.

Don't cry. You're the adult.

After two more minutes of her warnings, I blurted out, "Listen, Karen. This isn't the time to pick a fight with me. I'm trying."

She pressed her palm against her chest and rolled her neck in a 90s Oh No You Didn't kind of way.

I glared. Oh yes, I did.

We'd drawn attention by this time. "My name is not Karen—,"

"It's a saying," I blurted out. 

The guy in front of me glared at me from in-between the seats with a smirk on his face. He knew about Karen. Our flight attendant approached us with a kind smile, her eyes carefully examined the situation. 

"I'm sorry—,"

"No need," she said, turning to Karen. "I am dealing with this. Would you like to move seats?"

She snatched her oversized purse from the floor and stood, her chin tilted into the air. "Absolutely."

Our flight attendant took her toward the front of the plane and found an empty seat. When she returned, I was hopelessly trying to get Maverick to put his mask on. Wishful thinking.

Her curls bounced as she bent down beside me and smiled over at Maverick. She pulled out a sheet of paper with Spiderman wearing a mask and handed it to him. "Who is that?" she asked.

Maverick lit up like a Christmas tree. "Spiderman!"

"That's right. What's on his face?"

Maverick gave her the side-eye. "A mask."

"Exactly. Superheroes have to wear mask so they don't get sick. Are you a superhero?"

He nodded quickly, examining the mask bunched in my palm. "Give me, Momma," he said, grabbing it and letting me help him.

"See," he said.

She gasped. "You look just like Spiderman."

He nodded and pretended to shoot her with his web. "Yeah, because I am."

I glanced down at her nametag and up to her kind blue eyes. "Thank you, Emily."

She patted my shoulder. "It's hard being a superhero's Mom. Why don't you shut your eyes? I'll keep a close watch on Spiderman."

I almost cried when I shut my eyes—but before the plane took off, I'd fallen into a much-needed nap. Spiderman saving the world beside me.