THE LOST TREASURE

Her gown is soft chiffon, pale mauve in color. It is strapless and shows perhaps a bit too much decolletage. The folds of her dress fall delicately, just touch her sandaled feet. Her toenails are manicured, painted in the same lovely shade as the hemline. The lady is perfectly still, doesn’t glance at her surroundings. She can’t. She has no head.

Andrew doesn’t care. He wants, needs to be with his mother. His ten year old mind has conjured up his own mother’s head on the mannequin. His loneliness since she disappeared tortures him. Two weeks ago she tickled him until he yelled ‘Uncle’, kissed him, said good nite and then was gone in the morning.

Their small apartment has been living in almost silence. His grandmother came in the morning as soon as Andrew told her his Mommy was not home and has stayed with him since. She’s kind, talks to the police every day and tells Andrew she’ll be back soon. No news comes. No mother returns.

When school lets out each day he walks to the neighborhood mall, finds a phantom and sits cross legged on the floor staring and staring at the lady. He only picks hairless, headless figures because he is afraid inside of him that one will come to life and chase him away..

Grandmother believes he helps his teacher with books and erasing blackboards every day and is glad he is keeping busy. As soon as she hears the door knob turn about 4:30, she greets Andrew with warm open arms. His appetite is not good but her cooking is and he comes close to emptying his plate each evening. He never fails to thank her, but she is not his Mom. Where is she? Why doesn’t she call me? Why doesn’t she send me a post card? The police don’t come any more. They call sometime but never have news. ‘Grandma, do we have to move to your place? Can’t we stay and wait for Mom? I want to be here when she comes back. Please.’ ‘Sorry, Andrew, I can’t keep paying rent on this place and take care of my house too. It is going to rot away. We’ll take your bedroom set, put it in my empty sewing room, and you will be comfortable. You won’t even have to change schools or lose any of your friends. We have to do it. I have no choice.’

All night silent tears wet Andrew’s pillow case. In the morning he writes a long letter to his mom, asks her to come back, come back. ‘I am at Grandma’s. Come get me.’ As the movers finish their minuscule job and Grandma is about to close and lock the door, Andrew tapes his message to the wall where his mother will have to see it the moment she comes in.

He kisses the wooden door, carries a bag of groceries in his left hand and holds onto Grandma with his right.

They walk away together. They are still waiting.