Trafficked: a novel

by Sophia Rey

  “Apparently you don’t know anyone who’s bipolar. When you have a connection with someone like that you have to weigh your options. Aunt Shiela only paid about $50.00 of that rent, and it was worth it not to have Vanessa screaming at her for days and days. After about five years of fighting with Vanessa, Aunt Shiela asked her friend Shurene if she would adopt the kids. She told Vanessa that if she didn’t let Shurene adopt the kids she would have to put them in the foster care system. She just couldn’t take Vanessa’s constant abuse.”

  “Vanessa agreed. It was her only option. And Aunt Sheila benefited from the situation too. She still got to see her grand kids and she didn’t have to see so much of Vanesa. Unfortunately it doesn’t always work that way. There isn’t always a woman like Shurene around who’ll take someone’s kids.”

  I suppressed a yawn. Not that I was tired, but I’d been up the night before finishing my AP History paper. Detective Isaaks saw it and said. He asked me a few more questions about Mason and asked me to look through some pictures of other people I may have seen with him. Then it was time to go.

  CHAPTER 38

  OVER THE NEXT COUPLE of months our expanded family fell into a routine. Mom had talked with the school and they helped with providing sessions with the school counselor twice a week. She was still struggling, but the counseling was helping a lot. I had talked with her and told her that she could be like the little sister I never had. I could tell she liked that. “You can never have too many sisters, right?” She’d agreed. So, I made it a point to have “sister dates” once a week, and it was making a difference.

  Between that and everything else, my calendar was really filling up. Besides my classes at Mesquite, I had the two classes at CGCC. I still volunteered at the food pantry one day a week, and I had put two nights a week of work back into my schedule. Then I scheduled one night a week just for Kai, when he and I would go grab a burger or something and talk. And, of course, there was one night every week scheduled to visit Dad. They had transferred him back to the closer hospital, making it easier for all of us to spend some time with him. I tried to take Maurine or Kai with me to the hospital so they could get out of the house and visit Dad, too. It was their favorite time of the week. They asked me almost every day if it was time to visit Dad. And Dad loved having more visitors to practice talking with. He was slowly recovering, and understanding him was hard when he talked, so he still used the keyboard a lot, but he was getting very fast at the keyboard. It was encouraging to see his progress.

  By the beginning of April, Dad’s personality was coming back in full force. He had that old twinkle in his eye that he used to have before he lost his job and we’d moved to Mesquite. It was nice to be with him. When Good Friday rolled around, I had a day off from everything – school, work, volunteering, babysitting – so I decided to visit him on my own and have a conversation with him about my last year.

  His speech was very slow and slurred, but he was talking. And he was a great listener. I had missed having a listening ear. Being distracted by my full schedule helped to keep my mind off of everything, but it didn’t delete it from my mind. And I still missed Mason, even if I didn’t understand why. I had been waiting for weeks to have a day where I’d be able to finally confide in Dad just how hard life had been for me.

  As I sat by his bedside, I started talking. Once I started, the words came out like a flood. I could tell by his face that he understood what I had to say even though I couldn’t quite understand what he said. When I told him about Mason and what I’d learned from Detective Isaaks, he said, “He’s not a man.” It came out like, “Ee no a ma.” I knew what he was trying to say. And I could tell by the look on his face that if Mason had been there, he’d have found superhuman strength to throttle him.

  “What do you mean, Dad, he’s not a man?”

  Dad began typing on his keyboard. “A real man is someone who takes responsibility for his actions.” He emptied the text area and kept typing. “A real man knows when he is hurting someone and at least tries to be accountable for his actions.” He cleared the screen and typed some more. “Leaving in the middle of a date because something else comes up something a little kid would do – making plans in the middle of your plans…ridiculous!”

  Dad looked at me and the fire in his eyes switched to something else. Pity, maybe? He went back to his keyboard. “I know you are 17 years old and I can’t discipline you like I did when you were six, but if I could I “would tell you that you were not allowed to see him under any circumstances.” Erase. More typing. “Even if he turned out not to be a criminal and wanted to date you again, you ought to completely ignore him.”

  A tear spilled down Dad’s cheek.

  “What’s wrong, Dad? Are you in pain? Do you need a doctor?”

  He shook his head and went back to typing. “I just feel so bad that you had so much going on and I didn’t know anything about it.”

  I wondered if I had shared too much and looked down at my hands, a little sad at upsetting Dad. I felt Dad put his hand on my shoulder and heard, “Dohn wohwee.” I looked up and he began typing again. “Mom and I talked about what I can handle. Hearing this is not too much for me. I just feel bad for you. I haven’t been able to be a good dad the last year. I just wish I had been there for you.”

  “I don’t know what you could have done,” I said, trying to make him feel better. “Mason was going to be a jerk no matter what you said.”

  “Come here my little peanut,” Dad used one of his pet names for me. It didn’t come out as clearly as he wanted it to, but I was so happy to hear him try and say it. It was really good to have my old dad back.

  I leaned my head onto his chest and began crying. All the emotions of the last year came out through healing tears, while Dad stroked my hair. It felt good to cry, knowing my Dad was there and he cared about me. Being able to talk to someone again who knew my ins and outs like Dad did was amazing. Not that Mom wasn’t there. She was. Mom was the practical one. She kept things going, which was very important, especially right now, but with everything she was dealing with, adding my own burden of emotions to her pile wasn’t something I could do. Besides, Dad could see into my heart. He could practically feel what I felt…and I knew it.

  “I’ve missed you, Dad,” I blubbered into his hospital gown.

  “And I love you,” he said softly. “Oh how I’ve missed my little Em.” I looked at him, and he looked at me. “I mean my grown–up Em.” He smiled a lopsided smile.

  “I don’t want to be a grown–up,” I said.

  “Oh well,” he looked sincere. He typed on the keyboard again. “Things will change and get better, and then they may take a dip and then, usually, they’ll even out for a while. You know what almost always makes things better?”

  “What?”

  “Pizza.” He held up a menu with a picture of a big slice of pizza on it before turning again to his keyboard. “This place has pretty good food for a hospital. Why don’t you go and grab us a couple of slices from the hospital cafeteria?”

  We ate our pizza slices together while I chatted away, telling him everything else I thought he might have missed in the last few months. There was no way Dad could navigate talking AND eating pizza, but his added comments of “You’re right,” or “Really!” or “I can’t believe it!” were great. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him – the real him, not the silent, painkiller–filled Dad – until then.

  We made plans to have a “daddy–daughter date” every Thursday night. “We’ll have to meet here. They just won’t let me out,” he joked. But I knew he’d get out soon. I just knew it.

  CHAPTER 39

  ON MY WAY OUT of the hospital I got a call from Mom, asking me to pick up some ground beef for hamburgers. I drove into the parking lot of the Fry’s near the hospital. Mason and I had gone to that strip mall many times for ice cream and I instinctively looked for him, peeking into the ice cream parlor as I crawled toward a parking space. Of course Mason wasn’t in the
re.

  I went into the food store and picked up the ground beef, as well as some buns, tomatoes, and some coleslaw from the deli as a surprise for Mom.

  While heading back to the car I spotted a red Mustang convertible. Then I remembered. Mason wasn’t driving the Camry anymore; he’d been given a red Mustang convertible as a bonus from his uncle. I made a mental note to tell Detective Isaaks once I got home. When I looked closer, I saw a bumper sticker that read My dog ate your honor student. I was Mason’s car! I remembered Mason joking about how the guy had left the sticker on when he’d exchanged the car. My heart skipped a beat or two then did a double flip when it saw a man walk up to the car and open the door.

  He had hair down to his shoulders and a full beard, and was talking on the phone. It didn’t look like Mason at first, but then he laughed at something the person on the other end of the phone said, and I knew.

  My mind was racing almost as fast as my heart. The man I had spent the better part of a year pining over was so close! What should I do? If I had been less flustered, I would have called Detective Isaaks right then and there. But Mason never did put me in a right mind. I almost walked away, unsure of what would happen to me if I allowed myself to talk to him, but, in a way, I wanted him to know I was surviving without him.

  I pulled every ounce of courage inside of me to the surface and walked up to his car door, looking down on him as he sat, looking at himself in the mirror. II decided to play it cool. “Mason? Is that you? I didn’t recognize you at first, with your long hair.”

  A pair of startled eyes turned toward me. He fumbled over his words. “Emily! Hey!” I watched as he tried to quickly regain his composure. “It’s good to see you.” He smiled, as if I were some long lost acquaintance. “How’s your family?”

  “Fine.” I smiled back, determined to be mature and aloof.

  “So, how’s school? You doing” he paused, obviously trying to remember the words, “color guard this year?” He sounded like he was talking to a distant cousin that he hadn’t seen in years…not an ex–girlfriend with whom he’d had a serious relationship just a year ago.

  I shook my head. I parried with a question about his work. We went on like that, asking and answering lame questions, for a couple of minutes, until I blurted out, “I was just thinking of you when I passed Baskin Robbins earlier.” Instantly I regretted saying that, letting him know I still thought about him. My cheeks colored.

  It was frustrating. This what not what I imagined at all. I wanted him to ask me out. I wanted him to explain himself. I wanted him to at least look a little embarrassed for dropping me like a bomb. But he didn’t do any of those things. It felt like he was waiting for me to break down or beg him to get together or ask him where he’d been. Even if I did, I knew what he’d say. “I’ve been really busy lately…blah blah blah.” At least I had the sense not to ask him out, but in the end, the conversation left me feeling worse than I had in months.

  I got back to my car and wrote down his license number. I thought, Well, that’s it. I couldn’t even hope that he’d ever text me again. I’d given him a chance to say he missed me, but he didn’t take it. I realized that Mason really was the man that Detective Isaaks and Rosa said he was.

  That realization made me pick up my phone before turning on the car. I quickly dialed the police station and asked for Detective Isaaks. When they asked what it was regarding, I announced, “I have some pertinent information about an ongoing case.” I was impressed with my ability to sound professional.

  “He’s not here right now but you can leave him a message on his voice mail. Please wait while I transfer you,” returned the administrative assistant. I sat, tense, while I waited for the line to connect. It rang five times, then an old–time answering machine picked up. How old school, I thought. That’s adorable. It finally beeped and I began in the most mature way I could think of, “Hello, Detective Isaaks. I’m calling regarding Mason—”

  “Emily?” Detective Isaaks broke in.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t pick up right away. You wouldn’t believe how many forms we have to fill out and how many meetings we have.”

  His manner put me at ease, like it always did. “Hmmm. Thanks for letting me know that I’m more important than forms!” I joked. “I’m calling because I just saw Mason here in the parking lot at Fry’s. I’d completely forgotten that his uncle gave him a red Mustang convertible right before we stopped seeing each other. It has a bumper sticker on the back bumper that says My dog ate your honor student.” Then I gave him the license number.

  “Got it!” he said. “Listen. I’m glad you called. I’ve been wanting to talk with you.” My heart did a different kind of flip flop. “There’s something I’d like you to see down here. It’s some footage of Mason and his buddy on one of their Let’s Just Have deals. I want you to see if you recognize anyone in the video. We had one of our female detectives wired to see if we could get anything on these perverts. The girls in the video look like they’re high school students and I wondered if you might be able to identify some of them.”

  “Okay,” I responded calmly. Inwardly I was yelling, Yes!

  “Are you free tomorrow sometime?” he asked.

  I mentally ran through my Saturday schedule. “I have some free time in the afternoon, after work.” I tried to hide my excitement. Most people would probably not be excited to go down to the police station, but I was. I’ve always liked detective shows and the idea of being involved with an investigation excited me.

  I came home in an ambivalent mood. I couldn’t tell if I was more angry and sad about Mason, or excited and happy about Detective Isaaks. Mom was chopping up some potatoes for homemade French fries when I stepped in the kitchen with all the supplies.

  “Something the matter, Em?” she asked as she thanked me for the coleslaw.

  “Well, I had a good talk with Dad, but when I stopped at the store, I saw Mason in the parking lot. He acted like we were distant cousins or something. Just asked questions that Aunt Tarin would ask if I hadn’t seen her for a while.”

  “Oh.”

  “I just wanted him to ask me out or something, but he didn’t.”

  “Honey, I don’t think he’s going to ask you out again. Listen. I don’t know if I should say this. There really isn’t anything good to say, but one of the things I like about you is that you stick to a plan. It’s part of having Asperger’s, and it can be a good thing. Sometimes, though, it gets in the way. Mason is not a good person. He’s a person who manipulates and takes advantage, and it’s good that he didn’t ask you out.”

  “You don’t understand. I didn’t want to do anything with him. I just wanted him to ask me,” I defended myself. “I wanted to be able to turn him down.”

  “Well, still. I’m sorry, but you know he’s not a good man.”

  Oh no, I thought. It sounded like Mom was up to one of her projects.

  I was right. The next thing she said was, “Now take this GI Joe doll” she handed me one of Kai’s neglected GI Joe figures, “and go in the back yard and bury it. Then say, ‘I don’t care about this Mason anymore.’ Say it at least 20 times. I don’t like the way he has such a hold on you. He’s a loser. I want you to bury him and say what I told you 20 times. And when he’s in the ground, stomp on him!” She acted out the process, finishing with a great flourish of stomping around over an imaginary grave.

  “Oh, Mom,” I groaned. But I did it. I knew she was right. I needed to forget about him. Even if it turned out he wasn’t as awful as Detective Isaaks said, he still didn’t need to act the way he did. So I did what Mom told me to. It felt good to stomp on the GI Joe.

  After I had truly stomped the life out of the GI Joe, I turned around and breathed a deep breath, releasing all the emotions about Mason. Then my thoughts turned to Detective Isaaks and I went in to tell Mom the best part.

  CHAPTER 40

  THE END OF WORK finally came the next afternoon, and I went straight from work to the
police station.

  I asked for Detective Isaaks at the front desk. “Emily?” the Desk Sergeant asked. When I nodded my head, he tilted his in the direction of Detective Isaak’s desk. “He’s expecting you.”

  I started walking in that direction and Detective Isaaks met me half–way, with a big smile on his face. “Emily, I’m glad you could come. This Drinks web site is making a big wave among the teen population of Mesquite and the surrounding area.”

  I loved it when he talked all detective–like. Putting my crush aside, I attempted to sound like a concerned citizen. “I would be happy to assist you in mitigating this problem.”

  “Let’s get right to it then.” He smiled kindly at my attempt to make myself sound older, and pulled up an extra chair to his computer. “This video was shot a few weeks ago. The girls in the first clips look no older than you. Mason and Grant are in it, trying to hook up with them.”

  On went the video. “May we join you?” Grant asked the girls. They were sitting in one of those long booths that can easily hold six people.

  “Sure.” A pretty girl who looked about 16 almost giggled her response. She had blond hair all tied up in a messy bun, big blue eyes, flawless skin…she could have been a model. Her friend had wavy brown hair, light brown skin, and perfect features. They both wore skintight shirts, shorts, and sandals.

  A waitress stopped at the table. “What are you drinking?” Mason asked the girls.

  It was obvious they were high schoolers and trying to hide it. They replied in unison, “Strawberry margaritas!” and gave a little laugh.

  Mason and Grant exchanged a look, as if they were sizing up their next move. Mason turned to the girls. “My name is Terry and this is Jerome.”

  “Do you come here a lot?” Grant spoke for the first time.

  “Oh yes!” giggled the blond one. “The happy hour is to die for, and they have live music on the weekends.”

  “I love live music.” The brunette started talking. “My brother’s in the band.” Grant started looking around the place. The girl continued, after a pause, “He’s not playing tonight, though.”