The Guard To My Sanctuary

Chapter 7

Elm

"Hello?" My father's deep voice rang through the phone's speaker. I immediately remembered him coaching the little league team I had been on for a very short time. He would yell over the field for me to pay attention as I gazed up at the sky.

"Daddy," I said tentatively. Just hearing his voice, I could feel the floodgates of emotions cracking.

"Who the hell is this? I'm sick of you freaks playing jokes on my phone. When I find out who this is, I will have you arrested for harassment," he said. I flinched back, not remembering when his voice contained that much venom growing up. I knew that was because of all the loss he faced.

"Daddy, it's me, Elm, I swear," I said. I knew I sounded desperate, and that was because I was. Once I reached San Jose, his old police station, I planned to walk into a station and hope someone could contact him. Now, on the phone, I had to do the leg work a thousand miles away to get his belief.

"I've played this game before, and it's not funny. What you are doing to a family just looking for a sliver of hope is disgusting. I'm done with this," my Dad said, getting angrier.

"Wait. I can prove that it's me," I said. Marco's hand came up to my shoulder for reassurance.

"I'm hanging up," my father stated matter-of-factly.

"No, remember when Mommy sang Chanda Mama Door Ke to me at night? Uncle Kunaal would wear his coral dastar for good luck when the East Bengal club played. Pine paces and hums the macarena when he's nervous. Alder can't stand Uncle Kunaal's breakfast burgers, so he slats them in mustard and mayo. You keep a picture of Mommy in your wallet before she got sick. Also, she named us after trees because those were her favorite trees when she was studying plants during a class while she was a student at UC Santa Cruz," I practically vomited out.

There was a long pause, and then I heard the phone drop before shuffling. Then I listened to the words that had my heart racing: "Oh my go, it's you," my Dad shouted into the phone.

I felt myself shaking from an emotion I didn't have the vocabulary to describe. Marco squeezed my shoulders harder, and I noticed I didn't need to flinch away from him. He was genuinely trying to help me and was a good person. I had met many "good" people, but they mostly were like Jack—only in it for themselves.

"I can't believe this is happening," he exclaimed," where are you? Where have you been? We have missed you so much and have been searching since the moment we realized you had been kidnapped. Everyone blamed one another for losing you. I can't believe I'm hearing your voice. You still sound like you used to," he said into the phone, obviously crying on the other end.

"Daddy, I've missed you so much, I can't explain how much. I'm returning to San Jose if you still live there. Also, it's not your fault someone stalked me that day, taking the smallest opening and snatching me. I was in Trenton, but now we're somewhere outside of Chicago. I will be there in two days," I said, smiling harder than ever.

"Trenton? You've been in New Jersey this whole time? What happened to you," he asked, getting severe. I took a deep, nervous breath, knowing what I would say would be hard for him.

This would be the first time I had explained the horrors to someone who knew me before it all happened. Since we were in public and I could see a few people eavesdropping, I told my Dad what had happened to me over the years to my escape and how Marco saved me and found my number. When I stopped, he sounded heartbroken when I told him about the trafficking, but I managed to get him to focus on my coming back home in two days.

"We all will be there! Me, your brothers, and your uncle," he said into the phone. I felt my heart pump harder at the image of my brothers and uncles waiting for me.