Sold Into Freedom - 18. Chapter 18

Gwen was dressed and in full makeup, ready to leave for her job as a dealer in one of the big hotel casinos in Atlantic City. She was sitting in the bright kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee that Matthew had made. A smoking cigarette rested in a plain glass ashtray.

Her son had been home with her for several months. She smiled. He looks so handsome in his uniform. Her initial reluctance had slowly passed as Matthew made good on his promises not to depend on her to take care of him. Being home is what he needed. I'm glad for the company; he does a good job looking after the house and laundry. Gwen sipped her coffee again. It’s kinda fun to make dinner together and swap stories too.

Matthew worked for a similar large hotel, not in the casino. He'd started as a Heavy Porter overnight and would work up to Bell Person once he had more experience. So, he'd also been right about not needing her for money. He'd repaid the little bit he had borrowed before getting his job promptly.

The young man sat with his mother at the pine veneer table and poured milk over the cereal before him. "Starting tomorrow, Ma, I’ll be out every Thursday evening. I’ll get home around nine-thirty, I guess. I signed up for that art course I told you about a few weeks ago. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember." Gwen nodded and then smiled at him. "That’ll be good for you. You’ll get to meet some more people and draw, of course."

"Hope so. I want to do something more than just watch TV." Matthew spooned cereal onto the spoon. "I'll lose some sleep, but I’d like to do something at least, ya know?" He chewed the round oaty cereal.

"I know, Mattie." Gwen stared at the lipstick stain on her coffee cup. She thought for a moment and then said, "Did you ever phone that Mr. Parker back? He left you a message again on the machine yesterday."

"If I had called, then there wouldn’t be another message, would there, Ma?"

"You need to watch your tone!" The cigarette smoke curled into her eye and made Gwen blink. She ground the tobacco out in the ashtray. She pointed at Matt. "You need to call him. I don’t want trouble with the police or whatever he is."

Matthew avoided her eyes and scraped the remaining cereal onto his spoon. "I don’t want to talk to him. I want to forget what happened, not relive it for them. And he’s Federal, like the FBI or something. I just don’t need this crap, Ma. I haven’t done anything wrong."

"Then why does he want to talk to you?"

Matthew turned to gaze out the patio doors. The sun was up and shining. Leaves on the trees revealed the zephyr-like wind that blew. He was tired and began to let his thoughts slip. The winds were rarely gentle on Windy Island. I miss those old bent trees and—

"Matthew! Stop daydreaming and listen to me."

With an internal shake of the head, Matt returned to the present. "Sorry, Ma. I’m listening, but I don’t want to talk to them. I’ve told them what I know, and I don’t want to keep going over it a million times. It was awful, and it hurts."

Gwen squinted and lit another cigarette. The paper stuck to her lipstick as she drew the smoke into her lungs. Her eyes glinted as she said, "I really don’t understand it. Like what they’d want with you."

"Leave it alone, Ma." His tone bordered on harsh. The familiar tightening of his chest began, and the old ball of fear in his gut made itself known.

"Seriously. Why would they kidnap you? You’re not rich."

"No. I’m not."

"Then why?"

Matthew’s frustration grew. "You just want me to say it, don’t you? Do you like hurting me? Does it give you a little thrill?" Matt got up and took his bowl to the sink. "Or would it give you and your pals something to gossip over?"

Sensing she'd pushed too far, Gwen scrambled to correct things. "No, but you've never said exactly. I just wonder if it’s something I can help with?"

Matthew dried the bowl and spoon and put them away. Then he turned and leaned between himself and his mother on the kitchen island. "You know a lot about the sex slave trade and male rape, do ya, Mom? You work in a casino. Haven’t you ever noticed the young boys accompanied by men that don’t act like their father?"

Angrily, she stabbed her cigarette out in the receptacle. "You make me sick! I thought you’d changed, but you haven’t." Gwen was on her feet. "That’s all you think about–men and sex. You call that Mr. Parker and get him off our backs." She picked up her purse and stomped to the front door. "Get him off our backs, and then you can find somewhere to live. I don’t want you here anymore, Matthew."

Matthew stared and blinked when the door slammed shut. "Great. That’s just fucking great."

He'd cleaned the kitchen while cursing the lipstick smears on his mother's cup and put everything away. Matthew had considered leaving her things for her to clean but decided against it. "That's just petulant and would just feed the fire. Maybe she'll cool off …" Matt sat by the phone in the living room. "Or maybe I should just find somewhere else."

The final sentence stopped him, and he sat deep in thought for several minutes. He could feel the tension rising to a new level and thought back to the time on the boat. Purple Gloves; Davis. He frowned and settled on the sofa, breathing deeply. Then, he closed his eyes and began measuring breaths in and out. Once he'd released the tension, calmness fell over him like a soft blanket. Matthew opened his eyes.

"Okay. Let’s get this done." Turning to the phone and notepad beside it, he called the number and asked to speak with Agent Elliot Parker.

⸛

An hour later, the Uber pulled up in front of the Federal offices, and a tired and grumpy Matthew got out.

"Thanks a lot," he said to the driver as he closed the door. Pulling out his phone, he completed the transaction, adding a tip. Matthew then walked into the building and stopped at the security desk.

The uniformed man looked up. "Morning, sir. Can I help you?"

"Morning. I’m here to see Agent Elliot Parker."

"Thank you. I’ll try him for you." The security officer picked up a handset and dialed several digits.

Matthew smiled and stepped back to wait.

Once he'd hung up, the man said, "Sir, Agent Parker will be right down. Please have a seat on the gray chairs."

Matthew followed the security officer's pointed forefinger. He smiled. "Great. Thank you." Walking over, he selected the first gray seat and dropped onto it. I want to close my eyes. Last night was busy, and I'm tired.

Several minutes later, a smartly dressed man walked from the bank of elevators to the security desk. He spoke to the guard, who pointed to the gray seating again.

"Thanks, Dan." The well-dressed man approached Matthew. "Mr. Foster?"

Matthew stood up and shook the proffered hand. "Yeah. I guess you’re Agent Parker?"

"I am. Thanks for coming in this morning." Parker turned slightly and lifted his right hand. "Let’s go to my office to talk. This way. We need to go through the metal detector first."

"Sure." Matthew's smile was brief and followed by a sigh.

Once they'd passed the scanners, the pair walked to the elevators. Parker pressed the up button, and they spoke when the lift doors opened.

"Please, after you." Agent Parker smiled and waited while Matthew stepped inside. He selected the button labeled fifteen and pressed it. "I'll try not to keep you too long."

"I've told you everything I know, like I did over in London, too." Matthew's heart pounded as he considered what was to come. "Why am I here again? Are you trying to find something to blame me for?"

"Blame? No. No Matthew … Mr. Foster. Not at all. We’re just trying to find enough so we can stop these guys from doing this again."

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened.

Agent Parker stepped out and, noticing Matthew's discomfort, said, "Please, Mr. Foster, I only want to ask you some questions."

Matthew followed the agent. "You could have just asked me over the phone."

"I know this is intruding into your life. I’m asking for your help again because of recent reports." Parker stopped and opened a door. "Please come in and have a seat."

Matthew entered and sat in a burgundy armchair. Agent Parker sat opposite at his desk.

"You said reports. Reports of what?"Matthew asked.

"Four young men, like yourself, were found dead. They were left in cages in a derelict warehouse. We’re guessing this was a temporary home for an online sale, similar to where Andrew MacCabe found you."

Unexpected waves of nausea washed over Matthew. The air seemed to vanish, and he gasped for breath. The walls threatened to close in on him. He couldn't breathe, was panicking, and he held the arms of the chair with a death grip.

Parker saw the change in his witness and rose to his feet. "Matthew? Are you all right?" He hurried around the desk and squatted down. He gripped the young man’s bicep and applied pressure. "Matthew, you’re having a panic attack. Think about your breathing. You can control it. That's it, breathe in and out slowly."

Slowly, Matthew regained control. "I'm, I'm sorry."

"No need to be. Are you all right now?" Parker released Matthew’s arm. "I’ll get you some water."

"Thanks. That news. I wasn’t prepared."

"No. This is my fault. I should have warned you."

Matthew rubbed the arms of his chair. "That could have been me. If Andrew hadn’t … that could have been me," he whispered.

Parker returned from the back of the office with a bottle of water. "It wasn't you. But you're right, and you were lucky. This is why I asked you here. Maybe you can think of something you may think wouldn't mean much but could. I don't want gory details–like you say, you've done that. But, tell me about the places you were in and people you met; those details may help."

Parker held out the water bottle.

"Thank you." Matthew unscrewed the top and took a sip. Okay, I’ll tell it to you again—all the places I can remember."

Over the next hour, Matthew relayed the places he'd been and what he could recall. Parker's questions often peppered his recounting to push for more detail.

Agent Parker sat back. "Thank you. Thanks, Matthew, for doing this again. I know it was hard, but you may help to save some lives."

"I hope so. The ones who do this … we’re just meat and money. I’m still struggling with it."

"Are you seeing anyone about it? Getting help?"

"Not right now. I guess I should." Matthew's shoulder sagged in weariness. I am so goddamned tired. I need to sleep. I need to make dinner, and I need to go back to work tonight.

"We offer victims like you support. Just a sec, let me find her card." Parker dug around in his desk. "Here we are. I've heard from others this doctor is super helpful. Give her a call." The Agent held out the card.

Reaching for it, Matthew read: Maria Flores, Psychologist. "Thanks. Maybe I will." Matthew got to his feet and held out his hand. "I hope all of this helps."

Parker also stood. "It will. You get some rest and some help, Matthew. You still have a life to live. I’ll walk you out."

"Thanks."

The Uber arrived quickly as Matthew waited on the street. Once settled inside the car, he stared out the window as the city flashed by.

Memories of Ralf and Tomas, Kanaan, Ahmet, and Davis had settled into his head, and he couldn't push them away.

He twisted until he could rest his head against the cool window glass. "Please," he whispered, "Please just leave me alone."

"You okay, buddy?" The driver watched his passenger through the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just need to get home."

"Okay. We’re close." The driver’s eyes dropped back to the road.

Matthew sat back. Just breathe—six in and six out. The past is past.

Matthew felt more in control when the Uber pulled up to the curb in front of his mother's house.

After thanking the driver, Matthew climbed out of the car. He dragged himself up the stairs, dug into his front pocket, and hauled out the house key. After stepping inside, he closed the door and confirmed it was locked. He leaned heavily against it.

I’m so tired. And I’m supposed to make dinner. Matthew pulled out some loose bills. I’ll leave Mom a note and some money. I’ll suggest she order Chinese for dinner, and I can sleep a bit longer before work.

Making his way to the kitchen, Matthew found a notepad and pen in the junk drawer. He wrote for a few minutes, adding an apology and a heart with kisses to the note. Matt left the note propped up on the fruit bowl. Under it, he put fifty dollars.

Hope that’s enough. Anyway, I gotta get some sleep. Matthew left his shoes by the front door and walked to his bedroom. He stripped down his boxer shorts, closed the drapes, and crawled into bed.

I’ll set the alarm for eight. That’ll leave me some time to deal with Mom, eat, and get to work.

Matthew turned onto his left side, pulled up the quilt, and closed his eyes.

Six hours later, his alarm went off. Matthew groped for his phone and shut it off. He lay in the warmth while the vestiges of a dream floated in his mind.

Before him were the wind-swept trees of Windy Island, and a figure was only a shadow in the distance. As he walked toward it, the ghostly shape turned and opened its arms in welcome. As he drew closer to it, the dark form faded more and more, and when Matthew reached the place where it had stood, it was only smoke. Disappointment rocked him.

The knock at his bedroom door pulled Matthew from his musings.

"Mattie! It’s just after eight. You need to get up, hon."

Matthew rolled onto his back. "Yep. Thanks, Ma. I’ll be right out." He could still feel the disappointment he’d experienced in the dream.

Stupid. Get up and eat.

Pulling on sweatpants and a T-shirt, Matthew padded out to the kitchen. "Thanks for the knock, Ma. I was going to drift back off to sleep, I think."

Gwen looked up at him from where she sat at the table. "No problem. Thanks for leaving the money. I ordered lots of things and a couple of your favorites."

Matthew grinned. "Yeah, sorry. It was my turn to make dinner, but I got back late and was so tired."

"I understand, hon." His mother smiled. "How did it go with the Federal guy?"

"It was okay. He mainly wanted details of the places I'd been and things I saw. They are trying to figure out how to catch those bastards. They only wanted those kinds of details this time." Matthew grabbed a plate and added food from several cartons and containers. "I don't think we'll hear much more from them." He stopped and considered that statement. "Saying that, I probably will. They'll probably want me to confirm things. I don't know. All I know is that I'm not in trouble."

"Well, that’s good." Gwen gazed at her son as he put his plate on the table opposite her and sat down. She smiled at him and said softly, "I’m sorry about this morning, Mattie."

Matthew shook his head a little and smiled. "Ma, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m to blame. I mean–I come home bringing all my baggage."

"Well, you’re supposed to be able to come home when you need me." Gwen sipped her drink and undid the wrapper of a fortune cookie. She snapped the sweet biscuit in half and withdrew the fortune. She read it silently, then let it drop to the plate. "You’re supposed to, and well, I’m just an awful mom." The ice cubes in the fruity drink clunked together musically as she swirled the glass.

"You’re not, Ma. We all have limits, you know? And my baggage, well, I have trouble dealing with it. Why should you be able to?" Matthew bit into an egg roll and chewed with relish. "Agent Parker gave me the card for a therapist who can maybe help me."

Gwen looked up in surprise. "Oh, really? You’re going to go, I hope. I mean, it could help you."

"Yeah, I’ll call in the morning, once I'm home from work, to ask for an appointment. I think I need to. I’m doing okay, but I think I could be better." Matthew stared at the food his body wanted, but he didn't think he could swallow. "Mostly, I can get through the days and work, but sometimes it all comes back, and I just want to curl up and die."

His mother stopped, reached across the table, and took her son's limp hand. "That … that's not good, baby. We'll call in the morning. I'll come with you to the appointment if you want. I know you're a grown man, but I will, Mattie. Sometimes, we need some support." She smiled at him. "Even from the world's worst mother."

"Ma, you do your best." Matthew squeezed her hand. "You’ve done a lot, and I’m grateful to be here with you right now. It’s huge for me. And yeah, I think if you’ve got time, I’d love the company when I go."

Gwen nodded. "I’ll be there." She pointed at the food before her son. "Try to eat a little more."

"Yeah, okay." Matthew spooned some rice onto his plate. He gazed fondly at his mom. "So, Ma, any crazies at work today?"

Gwen smiled and said, "Oh my God. There was one woman …."

⸛

Matthew took a sick day from work, and he and Gwen arrived at the medical office building for an appointment a week later. Together, they entered the elevator after checking the directory for the correct floor.

"You’re quiet, Mattie. Don’t be nervous." Gwen rubbed her son’s back. "It’ll be all right."

Matthew sighed and blew out a breath slowly. "Yeah. I just feel a bit freaked out I guess."

The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor. They stepped out, and Gwen looked at the directory for the correct office number and direction.

"This way. You just think about how positive a step this is. Talk to her; be honest. That’s all there is to it."

"That’s it? I have to relive all those memories."

Gwen tugged Matthew to a stop. "I know you do. It’ll be hard, hon. Really hard. But maybe setting those thoughts and feelings loose into the world will free you of their hold on you a bit."

Matthew stared at his mother. Did she say that?

Gwen stopped by a door. "Here we are. Do you want me to come in? If you don’t, I can go back down to that coffee shop in the lobby."

"No, please come with me. Unless you rather—"

"Mattie, I’m doing what you'd rather I do. So, I will sit here and look at some magazines while you talk to the doctor." Gwen turned the door knob. "Afterwards, I think we should go for lunch. Then get home so you can rest before your art class."

Matthew smiled and nodded. She's trying, so it's the least that I can do, too. "That sounds brilliant, Ma. Thanks. I love you."

Gwen pushed the door open and stepped inside. Matthew was directly behind her. He went over to the receptionist while Gwen found a seat.

Several moments later, Matthew sat down beside his mother. He smiled at her. "Doc’s about ten minutes behind schedule. So, it won’t be long."

Nodding, Gwen leaned forward and picked up the latest People magazine. She flipped it open and looked at several pages. "I’m sure things will be fine."

She stopped and watched her son for a few moments. He’s so strong. She touched his forearm. "I love you too."

****

Thanks for reading, everyone. In the comments, please let me know your thoughts about Matt and Gwen. I would love to hear your ideas and conclusions!   
Thanks to @kbois and @Reader1810 for their time and effort with this story.