The Uncertain

By Maryjo Romero

 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

Where am I? I slowly opened my eyes.

“What am I doing here?” I asked.

“We found you here outside the store. My coworkers told me you spent the whole night on the benches, and since it’s raining, we thought it was strange that you didn't leave or come inside,” he replied.

I realized that I was lying outside the Mc Donald’s that was two blocks from my house. I felt disoriented.

My phone rang. It was Mr. Garret Robertson, the father of Maya, the girl I’ve been taking care for two months. I realized I had to be there at three.

“Damn, it’s three already!” I said.

“Mr. Garret, I’m running late. I’ll be there soon,” I said.

“No need to worry anymore,” he said. “My wife and I will no longer need your services.”

“Did something happen, Mr. Garret?” I asked. “If it’s because I’m running late, I promise, it won’t happen again. You guys were very happy with me taking care of Maya.”

“It’s all good, Margaret. We’ve made our choice. Thank you for your time and work. Take care,” he said.

My mind went blank. Frankly, I didn't understand why Mr. Garret and his wife made that overnight decision, without prior notice, when until yesterday everything was going great.

Why did I wake up in McDonald's? My mind was foggy.

I just remembered going to work the day before, nothing else.

I had no appetite. I had no strength in my hands, and I was very nauseous. I called Mandy, my best friend, and told her what was happening. She came to my apartment right away, found me very pale. I wanted to throw up so badly. The last thing I remembered was seeing all the towels, the sink and the toilet moving around.

When I woke up, I saw myself connected to a bunch of wires, and hospital needles. I was screaming, cold and shaking. Mandy was sitting up, and when she saw me open my eyes, she approached me.

“Margaret, calm down, everything's fine, we are in the hospital, you fainted in the bathroom,” said Mandy. “They are going to keep you in the hospital for a few days. They’re waiting for your blood tests and MRI results. I told the doctors everything you told me about not remembering anything and they suspect you may have been drugged.”

“Drugged, but how so, by whom? If the last thing I remember that day was working at the Robertson's house as usual,” I said.

“I don't know, Margaret. That family always seemed so strange to me, especially the father. Remember what you told me about him squinting at you?”

I recalled past conversations I had with them. Nothing seemed abnormal, until that Wednesday came to my mind... During my first week they were having a conversation in their room about Leslie, Maya's previous nanny. They mentioned their admiration for her smooth black hair, her velvety porcelain skin, and her slender calves.

Why would they refer to her in that way?

Like dominos falling one after another, more memories materialized. The day I was contacted by them, they were very caring and friendly, to the point of making very explicit comments about how good my yellow shirt blended with my skin tone, and how sweet and sultry my voice sounded to them.

I thought they were just being nice, plus the position offered 25 bucks per hour, and Maya was an adorable little baby. I probably didn’t notice anything wrong because of the excitement of the new job.

Then I thought more about the way Mr. Garret used to say goodbye to me with those tight hugs and subtle light touches on my back. I remembered what I told Mandy about the day Mr. Garret stared at me while he was biting his lips and smiling with that creepy energy around him.

“Mandy, get my computer please!” I said.

“What’s going on?”

I investigated the Robertson’s, and after a long and exhaustive search, I found records of a list of women between nineteen and twenty-five years old who had worked for them. All the girls looked alike, with long, straight, raven or brunet hair, pale white skin, and slim and contoured bodies. They only lasted three months before they fired them.

We drove to Maya’s house and parked the car a few blocks away. It was almost six o'clock, while we spied on them through Mandy’s binoculars. We saw, a girl at least twenty years old with long straight black hair, white pallid skin, and a slender figure.

They brushed and gently stroked her hair and shoulders, and didn’t stop laughing. The girl looked a little uncomfortable. She nervous smile and turned her head down looking to the ground. I took pictures.

The hospital called regarding my blood work. They found high amounts of scopolamine in my blood, a drug used to erase short-term memory. Suddenly, I remembered when I finished putting Maya to sleep around six o'clock, my time to leave. They arrived from dropping off the other kids at a friend’s house, which seemed strange because the kids had school the next day.

Mrs. Jill started talking to me in the kitchen, while Mr. Garret was bringing takeout sushi in from the car. They invited me to stay for dinner, and the last thing I remembered is me drinking the bubble tea that Mr. Garret gave me.

I constantly blamed myself for accepting dinner that night. I felt sorry for Maya and the boys.

The police got involved due to some inquiries from the other girls, but back then they were unable to put the pieces together. I voluntarily helped the police through the investigation. Most of the victims told us the same story.

One day as I was getting out of the shower, a call came in.

“Hello, who is it?” I said.

“Margaret Miller, right? I saw your video…” a male voice creepily whispered.

 

Maryjo Romero from US is a creative mind, a free spirit and a storyteller. Writing is her passion. Art is her signature. Music is her life. Her goal through her fictional work is to be a voice for people who have gone through many of the experiences she exposes in her stories. Maryjo wants them to know that they are not the only ones who have lived through these types of situations in life. She wants them to know that through her work they have a voice.