Trafficked: a novel

by Sophia Rey

  By the 6th set of red lights Mom started lecturing Kai and Maurine. “I hope you kids have learned your lesson. When I say we’re leaving in 15 minutes I mean it. If you insist on watching TV when it’s time to go you won’t be able to watch TV for a while.” I knew she was holding back for the sake of Maurine. If it were just Kai she was talking to he’d have been grounded from TV already. She barely managed to keep her temper in check as she dropped the kids off, and then Carol and me. I wished once again that Dad was back.

  CHAPTER 26

  THROUGHOUT THE DAY I thought about Mom and all that was on her plate. Me and Kai. Dad in the hospital. The stress of having to decide whether or not to sign a DNR, as much as she tried to make it seem like no big deal. The added responsibility of Maurine and Carol. She must be losing it, I thought.

  But I was losing it, too.

  Over three weeks had passed since Dad had gone into the hospital. Almost three weeks had passed since Mason and I had planned on going to the concert. Almost four weeks since he’d texted me. Three whole days since I’d sent my last text to him. Here was another relationship ruined. Another person I would probably never see again.

  Mom was like me, a people person. She’d be crushed if Dad died or if were permanently disabled to the point of being severely brain damaged. I was crushed, too.

  I missed Mason so much. I had known him now for over a year. Mom’s sadness reminded me of my own.

  Each day that went by showed me how much more distant we’d become…made it that much more likely that he wouldn’t get back to me.

  At work, where I had to look like I had it together, and at home where I had charge of Kai and Maurine and Carol a lot of the time, I was okay. But when night time came and I was alone with my own thoughts, I fell apart.

  Why would he leave me? I just don’t understand! As I wallowed in my grief, I remembered something I’d heard on the radio about “failing forward.” Basically, it was the idea of letting your failure plunge you into doing something good. I was having a hard time failing forward. But I can try! I thought. I resolved to do something to take my mind off of everything. I would plan a party for Kai and Maurine. Kai’s birthday was November 30th and Maurine’s was December 15th, fairly close together. They’d probably love having a party. After all, we’d missed celebrating Kai’s birthday because of Dad, and Maurine didn’t get more than a small cake for her birthday a few days before. It was kind of silly, I knew, but it might give me a chance to “fail forward”.

  I knew Maurine didn’t have a lot of friends to invite but I hoped she’d be happy about the party. She was thrilled! I don’t think she’d ever had a party. She was very shy and didn’t know a lot of the kids at school, but she was happy to be involved in the party planning.

  Kai tried to look cool. He invited some boys in the apartment complex. I was doing all I could to stop him from taking over with the planning. “Can we go to the Wilbur Center and go rock climbing?” he asked.

  “No. It’s too much responsibility for me to watch all those kids at the gym. If one of them would get hurt I’d have to take over.”

  “Can’t Mom come?”

  “No. She’s too busy with going to the hospital and her job and all the stuff she has to do around here.”

  “I don’t know why she has to do so much,” he complained. “The apartment looks okay. You guys always want the place to look spotless.”

  “I’ve got to give Carol a ride to the store right now,” I told him, ignoring his complaints. “Make sure that vacuuming done by the time I get home.”

  “This sucks! I don’t know why I have to do all the work around here.”

  “You don’t and you know it. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.” I paused before reaching the door. “We all have to do a little cleaning every day or we’ll be living in a pig sty.”

  “I’d like living in a pig sty!” he shouted.

  “Well, the rest of us wouldn’t, so get going.”

  That’s what I didn’t like about kids Kai’s age. You had to explain everything to them.

  When I came back the floor was as filthy as it had been when I left.

  ************

  The days crawled by. Christmas was coming. Mason didn’t text. I still thought about him a lot. I couldn’t help it. Despite the fact that he dumped me, we still had so much in common. We both liked the same music. We had the same political views. We liked the same type of movies. We both liked Chinese, Mexican and Italian food. We liked going swimming and hiking or just hanging out. We could talk for hours about one thing or another. Often, when we were an item, I would think ahead to the conversations we might have, planning the topics for maximum enjoyment for both of us.

  He seemed to like me so much. He’d always had something good to say. “I can’t believe you’re not dating anybody,” he had told me when we first met. “Most chicks as hot as you are already taken.”

  All of these things went through my mind as I drove the kids to school or tried to keep my mind on my studies.

  Aunt Tarin had begun coming over on Tuesday and Thursday nights to help with dinner and “get things squared away,” as she called it. It was then that I could go to the library and concentrate on my studies or text my few remaining friends.

  The Tuesday before Christmas break, I went to the library to study for finals. After a couple hours of hard work, I decided to text my friend, Theresa, and ask her how she was doing with her job hunt. She was a couple years older than me and wanted to be a physician’s assistant. She was looking for jobs in some kind of medical office while she went to school. She said she was waiting to hear from several places. Then she asked about me.

  I felt like saying, “I feel like a ping pong ball being swatted around by the ping pong paddle of life.” I just couldn’t believe that these high school friends had dumped me and now Mason was dumping me like a hot rock. I felt I had something terribly wrong with me…like for some secret reason people didn’t want to be around me.

  I took a long time answering Theresa’s text. She had made it perfectly clear, the last time I spoke to her, that she didn’t have any time to get together. She was going to be traveling with her family to Georgia, and she had a number of interviews still set up. I wanted to tell her, “It’s too much to put in a text,” but I didn’t feel quite right about that. Like I was needy or something. So I just said I was fine and tried to concentrate on some geometry problems.

  CHAPTER 27

  CHRISTMAS BREAK BEGAN ONLY two days before Christmas. Until then, I hadn’t even thought about it, what with Dad in the hospital; trying to deal with Kai, and with Maurine and Carol; and my constant depression about Mason. But, I figured, if anything could keep my mind off of all my troubles, getting ready for Christmas could do it.

  I found a small three–foot artificial tree on clearance and brought it home. Once I got it set up, I enlisted the other kids to help decorate it as a surprise for Mom. Carol even helped Maurine and Kai make some gingerbread cookie decorations while I fiddled with the two boxes of lights and strung them on the tree. The afternoon was good. We all worked hard to make the tree look beautiful before Mom got home. Carol taught the kids how to make snowflakes and they plastered the walls with them, and I made a nice dinner, setting the table to make it look nice.

  We were just putting the finishing touches on everything when Mom walked in the door. “What is this?” she exclaimed, looking around. “It’s beautiful!”

  “Do you like it?” Carol sounded a little nervous.

  “Look at the snowflakes!” Kai and Maurine said in unison. Maurine pointed to a large pink snowflake. “I made this one just for you!”

  “It’s wonderful, Maurine.” She looked at all of us. “It’s all wonderful. Thank you, everybody.”

  “Mom,” I pulled her by the elbow and sat her down at the table. “I know it’s a little early, but Merry Christmas. Sit here, dinner’s almost ready. It might not be Prescott or anyplace fancy, but we can pretend.”

  T
here were tears in Mom’s eyes as she pulled us all in close and gave us a group hug. Then she pulled back. “Okay, everyone. Sit down and let’s eat!”

  We spent the evening eating, laughing, and forgetting for just a little while about all the problems. Carol smiled and Maurine laughed, Kai didn’t complain at all, and I didn’t even think once about Mason. It was a good night.

  ************

  The next day, Christmas Eve, I pulled all the kids together and told them we were making Christmas presents for each other. Mom had picked up a shift at the dollar store, and I knew that she wanted to go spend time with Dad after, so present making was the best solution to maintaining order that I could think of. I set out the rules and told them what they could use, making sure they knew that they had a four hour window to ask me to take them to the store for anything they were missing. Then I set them free. Our apartment was a hive of activity for hours while we all worked hard to try and make presents in secret.

  Carol spent the afternoon making goodies – cookies, candies, cupcakes. I went to the store and bought some frozen pizzas for dinner, along with a few stocking stuffers, knowing that Mom was so busy she probably forgot about the whole Santa thing. I didn’t know if Maurine or Kai were expecting Santa to come, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt. And we all could use a nice Christmas…as nice as one could be when your father/husband is in a coma, your boyfriend won’t talk to you, your best friend fell off the face of the earth, or your mother abandoned you for her boyfriend.

  After Mom got home, we ate pizza, watched “Miracle on 34th Street”, drank cocoa, and ate cookies. Then we sent Kai and Maurine to bed after they each put up a stocking Mom had brought home from work. Carol helped me wrap the little things I bought and we put them in their stockings. We were just about to go to bed when there was a knock at the door.

  Mom opened the door to find Santa standing there with a full bag. It was obviously Uncle Tim, but that didn’t take away the joy of seeing Santa at all. Aunt Tarin poked her head around the door and they both cried, “Merry Christmas!” “Santa” continued, “I heard there were some children in this house who have been very good this year!”

  Mom gave them each a big hug and pulled them inside. Uncle Tim placed wrapped presents under the tree and we all sat down to share some of Carol’s goodies. “These are excellent,” Uncle Tim declared. “Who’s the cook?”

  Carol gave a shy smile. “Are they really alright? I’ve just been tinkering with some recipes. Cooking’s pretty fun.” When Uncle Tim replied with a groan of satisfaction as he snarfed down another cookie, she looked as though someone had handed her the moon.

  Aunt Tarin looked at Mom. “You’re looking pretty good tonight, sis.” She gave her a hug. “I know you’ve been going through a lot the last couple of months. Tim and I just wanted to let you know you’re not alone.”

  Through the tears welling up in her eyes, Mom replied, “Thank you, Tarin. This means a lot to me. I haven’t been able to get very much for the kids at all. You’ve been so good to us. I just don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

  “There’s no need. That’s what family is for.”

  After another hour of listening to Uncle Tim tell some hilarious childhood Christmas stories and watching him eat his way through half of the treats Carol had made, they left and we headed to bed.

  ************

  “Santa came!” We were woken before six by two very excited eleven year–olds jumping on our beds. I groggily got out of bed and stumbled in the general direction of the Christmas tree. I was surprised to see a stocking for me and for Carol, each filled. I walked over to Mom and gave her a hug. She gave me a wink in return and told me to “go and see what Santa brought.”

  There wasn’t anything big in the stockings – mainly candy and a couple of inexpensive items geared toward our interests – like some cooking supplies for Carol and a couple of books for me. After opening stockings, we ate a breakfast of cold cereal brought by “Santa”. We were just sitting down to open the presents under the tree when Mom’s phone rang. She disappeared from the room for a moment while she answered. We all sat there, trying to hear, but not hearing anything. After a couple minutes, Mom came back into the room and smiled at us with tears in her eyes.

  “That was the hospital. Dad’s awake!”

  ************

  What followed was a flurry of excitement and activity as we all decided to open the rest of our presents at the hospital. When we finally got to Dad’s room, our excitement calmed down a little bit. Even though he was technically “awake”, he wasn’t able to communicate by more than blinking his eyes. Still, awake was awake. And awake meant alive. No more talk about DNRs or worry he’d never come home again. Awake gave us hope.

  We opened presents slowly, picking up each one so that Dad could see it before moving on to the next present. Opening presents took about two hours this way, with us stopping to tell Dad everything we could think of frequently. It was an amazing day. Finally, though, it had to come to an end. After the excitement of the day, Dad was super tired. I could tell he was trying to stay awake, but needed to sleep, so it didn’t surprise me when the doctor came in and requested that we go home for awhile and let him rest.

  On the way home, we celebrated by splurging on some take–out. Christmas might not have been as fancy as usual, but it would always remain the best Christmas in my life.

  CHAPTER 28

  MOM WAS RELIEVED THAT Dad had woken from his coma. I knew she needed someone to discuss things with. Dad still couldn’t talk, but he could understand what was being said and would blink his eyes — once for yes and twice for no. He could use a special keyboard, too, after a few days. It was slow, but it meant we could write to each other.

  I decided that since Dad was finally communicating, it was time to tell Mom about the suicide note I’d found. It still didn’t make sense to me that he’d written it. I wanted her to tell me she agreed with me.

  She didn’t surprise me. She read the letter and said, “This can’t be from your father. Look at this.“

  When I looked closer I could see that Dad’s name was spelled wrong. It was signed Gregg. Dad spells his name with one g at the end. “Who spells his own name wrong?” Mom queried. “But I’m concerned. Who would want us to find a suicide note?”

  I remembered a show on forensics where they lifted fingerprints from an envelope. “Maybe we should take this to the police,” I suggested.

  “I think you’re right.” She held the paper gingerly by the edges and grabbed a ziploc bag to put it in. “Someone’s trying to pull something and I don’t like it.”

  We took the letter to the Mesquite police department the next day. They said they’d check it for prints because someone might be trying to extort money, somehow, with this kind of letter. “It’s odd, though,” the officer told me. “People who write notes like this for extortion usually keep them hidden. Why would they put a suicide note in a glove box? Maybe there’s something else going on here.”

  ************

  Three days later we received a call asking us to come in so they could tell us about the results. We were ushered into an interview room and the detective closed the door. “Hi,” he said as he sat down. “My name is Detective Peters. We have a couple of questions. We ran the prints on the paper, and besides your prints and your daughter’s, there are two other sets of prints. Do you know anyone named Grant Sterling or Mason Morris?“ Detective Gonzales had piercing eyes.

  My mind was reeling. Mason! My Mason? Why would his prints be on a suicide note from Dad?

  Detective Peters saw the puzzled look that came over my face and asked gently, “Do you know one of these guys, Emily?”

  I nodded my head slowly, like I was in a kind of trance. “Mason. He’s my ex–boyfriend,” I told him. “I haven’t seen him in weeks, and I’ve barely seen him in months.”

  “Look, we don’t have much on Mason, but this Grant Sterling is a heavy hitter…car theft, racketeering,
money laundering. A few years ago he was tried for manslaughter, but the charges didn’t stick because there wasn’t enough evidence.”

  My head felt hot with all the questions running through it. Why would Mason be hanging around with someone like this Grant guy? He wasn’t a criminal. At least I didn’t think so. Mean? Yes, to leave me hanging like he did, but not violent.

  Detective Peters broke into my thoughts. “If we’re right, these two had everything to do with your father being hurt. Any information you can provide would help us save other people. Do you know where we can find them, or is there anything else you can tell us about them?”

  “Do you have a picture of this Grant guy?” I asked. Maybe I’d seen him with Mason while we were out or at Mason’s old place.

  “I do.” He slid a picture across the table.

  It was a picture of a man in his twenties, with long brown hair, a beard, and glasses. “No, I haven’t seen him,” was my immediate response. But something told me to try something else. “Wait. Do you have a picture of what he looks like without the beard and glasses?”

  Detective Peters left the room for ten minutes to run some facial recognition software they’d just installed. When he returned, he handed me another picture, this time of a man without a beard or glasses. “That’s one of Mason’s co–workers,” I told him.

  “Where does he work?”

  “Some car dealership on Highway 51.” I bit my lip as I went through my memories to see a sign. “Rick’s Luxury Cars, I think. His uncle owns the place.”

  “Thanks for the information, Miss Emily. We’ll be looking into this. And if you see Mason, please let us know.”

  If only I could, I thought. This is the perfect opportunity to contact Mason. I can sound so businesslike. I immediately thought up the text I’d send him. “Hi Mason. I just wanted to contact you about an important matter. Please call me. I’m concerned about your safety.” I congratulated myself on how businesslike it sounded before, waited a couple days, and then sent it.