A Mother's Dilemma

Maya sat on the hard floor with a box full of polaroid pictures in her lap.  What was she going to do with this information?  It was too much for her to swallow.  She was only looking for the Easter decorations she bought for Anthony last year and instead she found this.

She picked up a polaroid and examined it.  It was hard to look at but she could not look away.  How could Anthony do this to her?  She did nothing but give him the best life.  She loved him unconditionally.  She sent him to the best schools.  And she took him to Disneyland and Hawaii and New York.  It was just the two of them his whole life and from the moment he was born; he was her whole life.  And this is how he repaid his mother? 

Maya put down the picture and picked up another one, inspecting it.  The image Maya looked at was set in, what she recognised as, her son’s basement.  In the image a woman was tied to a chair.  Although the polaroid was not the highest of quality, Maya could see the fear in the woman’s face.  Despite that Maya never knew the woman personally, the face was very familiar.  Someone had posted her picture all over town with block lettering across the top:  MISSING.  Each of the images in the box gave a similar story.     

Maya heard the front door slam shut and heavy footsteps walking in her direction.  She stashed the box where she found it, under the queen sized bed in Anthony’s bedroom and stood up straight as Anthony entered.  His gigantic frame filled the entire doorway.  He was dressed in blue scrubs and had a backpack slung on one shoulder, like he did every Sunday.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” He asked, glancing around the room.

“I was just going to change your sheets for you,” Maya said, kicking herself internally for coming up with the stupid excuse.  She had never changed Anthony’s sheets before, why would she start now?  Why wouldn’t she just tell him what she was doing in here, looking for the damn decorations.

“You don’t have to.  I changed them a few days ago.”  Anthony leaned around his mother and tossed the backpack onto the bed.

“Forget it then.  I guess I will just start on dinner.” 

Maya pushed past him, not able to look him in the eyes and made her way to the kitchen.  

Ever since Anthony moved back to Jacksonville from medical school, Maya and Anthony had started a tradition every Sunday night, Maya would come to Anthony’s house and cook dinner.  It started as a way for Anthony to acclimate to working on the weekends, but now that he was in his thirties, it had become a bonding exercise for the two of them.  Since Anthony’s father left the picture when Anthony was little, it had always been the two of them when Anthony was growing up.  And Maya prided herself on raising such a great young man on her own.  That was until he saw those polaroid pictures.

Maya took an onion out of the brown paper grocery bag she had put on the counter minutes before and placed it on the cutting board.  She focused on chopping, trying to distract her from what she really wanted to think about: was her son the one taking these disappearing women?

“The ER was crazy today,” Anthony sat on the stool across from his mother and rolled his neck.

“Oh yeah?” Maya glanced up but couldn’t make eye contact with her son for long.  He was her perfect angel.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“Yeah, there was a horrible accident on the highway and at least six people came in from that.  And one of them died.  Thank goodness the man was not in my care.  Regardless of how long I have been doing this, it is still difficult to watch people die.”

“I bet,” Maya said.  Usually she would have added her own thoughts about how tough his job was and he was doing a service to humanity and people dying is an unfortunate casualty of his work  or whatever, but all she could think about is how he saved lives in his day job, but murdered them at night.  Then she wondered if he had a higher mortality rate than other ER doctors.  She pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on slicing the mushrooms.

Silence hung in the room before Anthony offered to put on some light background music.  

“What’s for dinner?” He asked.

“Your favorite, I’m making spaghetti.”  

“Oh yum.  That is my favorite.  You always know what to do to cheer me up.  No one makes me as happy as you do, mom.  Do you want me to make the garlic bread?”

Maya gave a tight smile.  

Maya had little to say during dinner and Anthony did most of the talking.  For the first time since she gave birth to Anthony, she wished it was not just her and her son.  She wished there was a sibling or a significant other that could help fill the silence.

“What is the matter, mom?  You are a bit off tonight.” 

“Oh nothing, I’m just tired.  I think I need to go home.  Do you think you can handle the dishes by yourself tonight?”  Maya was not lying to her son.  She was tired.  She was tired of her mind wandering about who her son really was.  She was tired of making dinner and eating with her son all the while trying to decide if she should call the police on him or continue supporting her only son like a good mother should do.

“Sure.  No problem.” 

Maya stood up and Anthony watched her with a kind eye as she collected her purse and made her way out the front door.  She made her way to her car and sat in the front seat staring straight ahead.  She had a lot to think about.  

If she kept her son’s secret, life would continue as it always had.  She would still have her loving son that she talked to everyday.  If she told the police about him, she could save lives.  She was unsure of how many polaroids were in the box but if she had to guess there were at least twenty.  And there could be another twenty if she kept this secret to herself.  But she was sure to lose her son.  Prison would not be kind to him and visiting hours would be limited.

She took her phone out of her purse and then glanced up at the house.  The living room light flipped off.

Maya looked down at her phone and watched a teardrop fall onto the screen.  For the first time in her life, she had to do something that went against her son.  It went against all the pride she had in him.

She raised the phone to her ear and said to the person on the other line, “Hi.  I want to give an anonymous tip regarding the multiple women who have gone missing in Jacksonville.”