Sophia's Choice

She had the same routine as most mothers she knew. She woke up each day and did what was expected of her, in the same order as the day before. Dropping the kids off on the way to work, she looked like every other mom in the drop off lane.

This was just a normal Wednesday to everyone else, and she did her best to treat it like a normal Wednesday. But in the back of her mind she had kept count. She had kept a mental record of a collection of numbers that she was certain only meant anything to her. This Wednesday was the seventeenth day of the fifth time her fourteen-year-old daughter had run away in the last three months. She knew where two out three of her kids were. She set the table for four and felt the weight of that one empty chair. She took one shower a day where she cried for ten minutes. This evening she took the thirty-five steps to the mailbox slower than usual so she could have one extra minute to mourn her daughter, just as she did the last four times she had disappeared.

She pulled the large manila envelope out of the mailbox and noticed it was wrapped tightly around the contents and secured with a black elastic hair tie, just like the hundreds of hair ties she’d bought and lost over the years. The envelop appeared to have been prepared and dropped off in a hurry and the smell that escaped the envelop was a combination of cigarette smoke, vanilla body spray, and cash. She had prepared herself for one day receiving a threat or ransom demand from the people her daughter would run with, but she never expected to receive a large envelop with what appeared to be about $20,000. She instantly felt the pit in her stomach return. The one that was always there, waiting to punch her in the gut again if she looked up from the routine that helped her maintain this remanence of a normal life.

What was this money for? Was this hush money? Some sort of sick joke or self-imposed restitution for using her baby girl as a drug mule? It was too dark to read the note that was placed with the bills, but she could tell it was once drenched in her daughter’s body spray. What did this mean? Was this a warning of some kind?

“My family has been through enough”, she thought. So many sleepless nights, and countless visits from police to make reports, collect personal items and update the runaway database with the most recent description of her appearance. She couldn’t possibly show her husband and kids the money before she knew what it was for and what the note said. She quickly composed herself and once inside, she made a quick trot past her family to the bathroom pretending as if she she couldn’t hold it any longer. Once in the bathroom, she took the dirty manila envelope she had hidden under her shirt and placed it under the sink. She quickly took the note from her pocket and with 5 words, she was broken: “I’m sorry for everything. Sophia.”. Maybe it was some sort of conscience cleanse her foolish daughter thought would make everything right again. This kind of money could be life changing for them. The cost of her addiction had taken a financial toll and she instantly felt guilty for the millisecond she thought, “it’s the least she could do”; before the smell of Vanilla took her back to their last hug, 18 days ago.

Suddenly the walls in the bathroom felt like they were closing in on her, she had to find a way to be close to Sophia. After dinner she found herself curled up on Sophia’s bed like she often did, but this time she couldn’t bring herself to get back up and she cried herself to sleep.

Thursday morning came too fast. She woke up feeling disoriented and she searched Sophia’s bed for her phone to see what time it was. She ran her hand under the pillow and pulled out a little black notebook. She had not seen this book before now and usually Sophia would keep her journal under the pillow. She opened the black book and started skimming through it. The first couple pages had some names and phone numbers on them and the rest of the pages had lists of what appeared to be code names for street drugs; at least that’s what turned up on Google, once she found her phone. Next to each name was a quantity and a price. The last page had three locations written on it. She had to go to these places. Now.

She dropped the kids off at school and sent a text to her boss: “Kids are worried about their sister. I need to be with them today”. She never took time off. She hoarded her paid time off because she knew the company-offered bereavement of five days for the loss of a child was never going to be enough. The irony of stockpiling vacation hours to have time to grieve the loss of a daughter who blamed her drug addiction on needing more time with her mom, was not lost on her. But time off meant jeopardizing the promotion she worked hard for. The student loans that piled up and the hours spent doing homework over the years had to have a pay out, she had to be a good example, she couldn’t stand the thought of those sacrifices being made for nothing. But today she would go to the places her daughter had been and try to give her some of that time back.

The first location was only a block away from the junior high where she just dropped her oldest daughter off. The area they live in is filled mostly with religious, middle-aged couples with large families and trust funds. They chose this neighborhood carefully, to feel as if they had some control over the people who influenced Sophia’s behavior. The irony of how that payed out was not lost on them either.

The address took her to a church. She parked in the empty parking lot and began to walk the well landscaped grounds. On the other end of the parking lot, there was a tree next to a large green electrical box. She thought to herself that if Sophia had been there, she would have sat on that box, under that tree. As she got closer to the tree, she noticed there was something on the ground just behind the box. The closer she got, the more familiar the item became. It was Sophia’s jacket. The exact jacket Sophia is wearing in the photo that’s circulating on social media. How long had it been there? Why would she just leave her jacket? She clenched the jacket to her chest and hurried back to her car to see what the next location was.

The second address took her to a park in the next city. The park was across from an elementary school and it had only a swing set, bathrooms, and a small picnic table. She pictured Sophia as a little girl, swinging on the swings and laughing as her daddy pushed her higher and higher. She walked over to the swings and took the one in the middle. She leaned back, closed her eyes, stretched her legs out in front of her and began to swing until she was swinging as high as she could. She let the adrenalin carry her away as she imagined how that rush had to feel for little Sophia. Sophia always pushed the limits. She was daring and brave and tougher than all the boys. However, in this moment, she would have accepted any tangible version of her daughter.

She dragged her feet on the ground with each pass of the swing until it slowed her to a stop. The sand was soft under her feet and with each drag of her shoe, she uncovered darker, more moist sand. As she dug a little deeper, she felt the sole of her shoe hit something hard in the sand. She bent over to pick it up. Sophia’s cell phone. She knew she had ditched the phone at some point because she could no longer track her. She had a habit of sneaking out while everyone was sleeping, giving her a head start.

She hurried back to the car to put the phone on the charger. While waiting for the phone to power up, she felt like she might be getting one step closer to finding her this time. Maybe this time, she could find her before she is dumped somewhere again. Too many early morning knocks on the door from the police. “We found Sophia. Possible overdose. Status unknown. She’s being taken to the emergency room.” Waiting for that phone to come on felt as torturous as the drives to the hospital.

The phone powered back up and she was surprised to find Sophia hadn’t changed her passcode. The most recent text just had an address, it was the third location that was written on the last page of the little black book. She punched the number into the GPS. Thirteen miles away. In her own city. Less than five miles from her own home. “There was no way,” she thought, “no way she could have been this close this whole time. I should have felt her near me. I’m her mother, at least I’m supposed to be”. The thirteen-mile drive was filled with thoughts like these. She wondered if adopting her was the right thing to do. People told her she wouldn’t love her like she would a birth child, but she knew she had the capacity to love her the same; after all, she was her niece by birth. “Maybe my sister would have cleaned up if I didn’t adopt her daughter. Maybe I took her reason to get sober? Maybe her birth mother would have understood her better and could have stopped her from this addiction. I couldn’t save my sister, so how could I be so foolish to think I could save her child?”

The house was old. The paint was peeling from the wood porch. The porch smelled of wet cigarettes and alcohol. Strong enough to think she might have just missed the party. She pounded on the door and the door popped open. There were people curled up under jackets in every corner. No one moved as she tip-toed around the passed-out bodies to find her daughter. She rounded the corner into the bathroom and there she was, in the tub.

She put up little fight as her mother lifted her up and attempted to carry her out of the house. She was lighter than the last time she had held her. That seemed to be the case with each reunion. She put Sophia in the car. Sophia was barely coherent and as she settled in the seat her eyes opened just enough for her to see it was just her mother. She kissed Sophia’s forehead, buckled her in, and closed the door.

She knew she needed to take her to the hospital but desperately needed some answers. “Why did you drop off that money? What did you think it was going to do? Is that the amount you think you’re worth to us? I’m scared to know what you did to get it.”

Sophia started to sob. She muttered the words “That was the ransom.”

She was confused and her stomach dropped. “What ransom?”

Sophia continued, “They found out she was my mom. They wanted $20,000 to get her back, but when I got there with the money she was already gone.”

Sophia cried, “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save your sister, Mom”.