After Mary unpacked the final box, she sat on her new, freshly made bed and gazed out the window to an unfamiliar view: glistening blue waves, seagulls circling the sky, and stringy green grasses. The sight felt both foreign and delightful. In her old home, the sounds of car horns and angry pedestrians served as her alarm clock. The anxiety-filled symphony would jolt her awake, pushing her to complete a gruesome daily routine— angrily smudging her eyes with charcoal and nudging her greatest regret awake.
For a moment, the sight of the sea washed away the painful fragments of her past, a wave of hope rolling over her weary soul. Mary had left nearly all of her burdens behind. Her new life stretched across the shore, her dreams seeming, for the first time, both in reach and infinite. Instead of working in a stuffy office, she could now focus on her writing (and, of course, raising Cameron). The ocean soothed her soul and offered her a fresh start. She closed her eyes and tried to savor the peace coursing through her veins. A vigorous tug on her pant leg brought her back down to Earth.
“Mommy, I’m hungry!” Cameron whined.
Mary looked down at this tiny creature below her, a child with brown eyes too big for his face and dirty fingernails. He had just turned six, and with every birthday of his, Mary silently celebrated being a year closer to being free of him. She brushed through his hair with her fingers and forced a smile.
“We’ll have to take a trip to the grocery store.”
Mary buckled up Cameron in his car seat and entered directions for the nearest supermarket. She loved car rides–she’d stick headphones on her son’s head, throw an iPad in his lap, and savor the silence–but, as she prepared to leave her driveway, she noticed a woman running over to her car, frantically waving and clutching a container of cookies. Mary sighed and reluctantly rolled down her window.
“Hello, I’m Lola! I live right next door,” the woman panted.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Mary.”
“Oh, I know. I couldn’t believe the news that someone my age was moving next door!” Lola laughed.
Mary awkwardly smiled and nodded. After moments of silence, Lola continued. “Silly me, you must be so busy moving in and everything. I’m sorry for holding you up. Here are some of my famous chocolate chip cookies! I’m sure Cam will love them!” She winked at him in the backseat.
“Thank you so much! I’m sure we will see you around.”
“Yes, come over whenever you guys want! It’s just me over there.”
Mary quickly exited and watched Lola wave them goodbye. Weird.
Shaking off the neighborly interaction, Mary’s mind drifted to her favorite topic of indulgence: how cruel the world had been to her. She reveled in pondering over how the universe seemed constantly pitted against her; what else could explain her constant bad luck? Shortly after her ex-husband gained full custody of Cameron, a car crash left his skull crushed and Mary’s dreams of solitude irreversibly shattered. It felt like the universe playing a cruel joke on her, with Mary casted as the helpless victim.
Mary could have thrown Cameron into a foster home, but she wasn’t completely heartless. Jumping around from foster home to foster home was no way to live, and Mary knew that better than anyone. If any family members were willing to take Cameron in, she’d drop him
on their porch in a heartbeat. However, to no one’s surprise, the universe didn’t extend that olive branch. So there she was, driving to buy boxes of macaroni and cheese and Kid Cuisine. Despite being held back by her son’s needs, she was determined to accomplish her dreams. She wanted to publish books, travel the world, speak at writing conferences, win awards, and receive unlimited praise. Would accomplishing all of these things be easier without Cameron? Of course. But Mary was determined not to let a mistake she made at 24 years old ruin the rest of her life.
As they walked into Shaw’s Supermarket, Mary was amazed by how empty it was. She worried if they were closed, but a cashier suddenly appeared and welcomed them in. One of Mary’s biggest dislikes was going to a new grocery store, the trip akin to being trapped in an unsolvable maze. After dragging Cameron around for some time, she grew increasingly frustrated. Where’s the fucking macaroni and cheese?
As if she could read minds, a customer with wiry white hair interrupted Mary’s search. “Mac and cheese in aisle five?”
Mary flinched and flung her hand to her chest. “Ah, how did you know? Thank you.”
“You two must be new to town. I have never seen you around.”
Mary couldn’t tell if the woman was genuinely curious or just nosy. Old women are always meddlesome.
“We just moved in. I’m Mary, and this is my son, Cameron.”
“How lovely. We don’t get a lot of newcomers. I hope you two are settling in alright. How are you liking the little blue house? On Canal Street, right? That’s such a charming place.
I’m sure Cameron will love making sand castles on the beach.” The woman patted the child’s head.
Mary was already exhausted by the small talk.
“Yes, the house is lovely; the views are to die for. It was lovely meeting you, but we really need to get going,”
“Of course, I’m sorry to hold you up.” The old woman suddenly turned solemn. Without an ounce of humor, the woman pleaded, “I just hope you keep a close eye on your boy. Watch him well. I’m sure you know this, but the great sea witch Cordelia lurks in nearby waters. That grimy, slimy thing would devour your son in a second. Children have been going missing for centuries because of the evil creature. Please, watch him closely.”
Mary suspiciously nodded, contorted her face into a slight smile, and rushed her frightened child to the checkout line.
“How are you guys doing?” the cashier asked.
“Does a sea witch really live here?” Cameron mumbled.
As Mary placed milk on the conveyor belt, she looked up to wild red hair behind the register.
“Oh, honey, no! I can’t believe you two aren’t even a day into living here, and you heard of that crazy tale. There is no sea witch named Cordelia who has piercing yellow eyes, talon-like fingernails, and an appetite for children… That’s just ridiculous! However, it never hurts to be cautious.”
She apologized for rambling and held out a bucket of Dum-Dums.
“Here, Cam, take one.”
Cameron sucked on the fruit punch lollipop and barely spoke for the rest of the evening. Mary didn’t try to console him. Instead, as she brushed her teeth that night, Mary replayed the strange interactions over and over. How odd were those women? Maybe she just wasn’t used to friendly people.
***
Mary dedicated all of her new found free time to her notebook. Well, not every second; she was often interrupted by Cameron asking ridiculous questions like, “When’s dinner?” and “Can we go down to the beach?” Every time he would do this, Mary would clench her teeth and try not to explode. However, her patience was growing thin, and she felt like she would soon lose control of her temper. Why couldn’t he realize he was interrupting a masterpiece?
In an attempt to alleviate her small-town boredom, Mary also spent a lot of time with Lola. Despite her initial hesitation, Mary discovered that Lola wasn’t so bad after all, and they spent many evenings laughing and sharing stories over glasses of wine on Lola’s porch. They bonded over their mutual love for writing and art, and Mary marveled at how quickly she had made a friend.
The universe graciously granted Mary a gift: a person who would listen to her rants and babysit Cameron. Lola thoroughly enjoyed hearing Mary’s stories, and Mary, for the first time in her life, found joy in talking. Occasionally, during their hangouts, Mary would realize that hours had passed, and she was the only one who had spoken. Glasses of red wine would loosen Mary up and make her reveal things she kept hidden.
“I’ve always wanted a son,” confessed Lola.
“You would be a great mother. You are so great with Cameron.”
For a few moments, the two were silent and looked out to the dark sea. There was a slight chill in the air, but it wasn’t too harsh. Mary took a large gulp of her wine and shivered. “I never wanted to be a mother. I still don’t.”
Lola simply looked at Mary and waited for her to continue. Lola’s mesmerizing eyes of honey glowed in the moonlight.
“It’s true. I’ve known my whole life that I wanted to be a writer, but not once did I want to wipe a kid’s ass.”
Mary paused and watched the wind dance over the desolate waters.
“I know if I didn’t have him, I would be better off. He would have been, too. God, I’ve never told anyone these things before. You must think I’m awful.”
Lola shook her head and placed her hand upon Mary’s.
***
The next morning started as usual; Mary drank two cups of black coffee and delved into her writing. She savored the silence until around ten, at which point she thoughtfully poured a bowl of cereal for Cam.
“Cameron, come get breakfast!” Mary called out, then returned to scribbling in her notebook.
Twenty minutes later, Mary broke eye contact from her paper and noticed soggy Cheerios sitting across from her.
“Dammit, Cameron! You are eating this mushy mess!”
Not a sound stirred from the creaky upstairs floorboards. Furious, she finally abandoned her notebook at the dining room table, trudged up the stairs, and flung open his bedroom door. “Seriously, Cameron! I’ve been calling for you for—”
His bed was empty, the only movement in the room coming from his white window curtain fluttering in the wind. Confusion paralyzed Mary until a once-dormant maternal instinct kicked in. She ran, screaming for him in every room, with no luck. Cameron was missing.
Apart from his tiny red Converses washing ashore on Casco Bay, there were no signs of what happened to him. The police believed Mary had nothing to do with his disappearance, but deep down, every investigator knew what had really happened and wanted to arrest Mary for parental negligence. How could she not protect her son from the monster?
Mary was dumbfounded by the police’s lack of effort in solving the case. The detective informed her that the case would most likely go unsolved, as such situations often did in their town. She had always wanted to be alone, but not like this.
***
Mary grasped for a logical explanation.
“Maybe he went to grab a toy outside and someone took him?”
“He could have gone for a walk on the beach and gotten lost?”
“What if a shark ate him?”
As Mary proposed theories, Lola just sympathetically nodded along. Mary never asked what Lola thought. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to know.
The rest of the community reacted to the horrible news with nothing but sadness for Cameron and pure anger for Mary. They collectively felt like they had witnessed a mother send her child off into the strong Florida sun with no sunscreen; the resulting pain was inevitable and entirely the mother’s fault. Nobody could believe how Mary could be so foolish and irresponsible. For Christ’s sake, she lived right where the wicked Cordelia lived! Mothers like Mary deserved no mercy.
Whether Mary was in grocery store aisles or her own bed, whispers of hatred and judgment mercilessly tormented her. Every night was either spent tossing and turning or being paralyzed by nightmares of a sea witch capturing her son. Though she found the tale absurd, the image of the witch persisted in her subconscious. Sometimes, she would close her eyes and see Cordelia’s sharp nails slicing innocent Cameron’s throat or the witch chewing on his brown eyes like gum.
Mary couldn’t take the shame and how everyone looked down on her. The town knew what Mary had always known: she was a horrible mother. What she only now realized, however, was that being a bad mother was only bearable when no one else knew.
***
After enduring months of isolation and a lack of answers, Mary decided to move out of town. As she packed her final box into her car, she looked out at the sea. The once-shiny shore was now tarnished with anguish and guilt. Her fresh beginning decomposed and reeked of regret.
She pictured her son running and leaping into her arms, the town rejoicing in his appearance, and the guilt releasing her throat. Oh, how lovely that would be. During Mary’s final gaze, two luminous, yellow specks emerged in the murky waters. She froze. Was her mind just being cruel? A staring contest ensued. Mary lost.
Writer To Writer Literary Journal 