What Happens to the Children?
Maybe she was one of the trafficked children I read about. Blond, about ten years old, a pretty girl. I noticed something odd about the way she looked at me. We both got out of our vehicles at the same time. She stepped down from the cab of a semi, that little girl could barely make her way down to the step so she jumped out and landed with a crouch the way a cat jumps down from a high place. Their knees bend and their feet stay gripped to the ground a half second later then spring forward before going full speed. The cat flees whatever was chasing it before they jumped. That’s how the girl exited that semi.
We were both walking into the rest stop on some highway in Tennessee or Oklahoma or Texas, I forget where. It was a rest stop built by the state for the convenience of travelers. She kept pace with me almost walking by my side as we made our way up the walkway toward the restroom. She followed me into the Women’s Side and entered the stall next to mine. I think we opened our doors at the same time. A few minutes later, she followed me to the sink. I always took a look at myself in the mirror, I guess to see if I’m still there. As usual, I talked to whoever would be in the room with me.
She didn’t answer, didn’t raise her head up from staring in the sink as she washed her little hands. She seemed to be interested in the running water for some reason. I’m slow. I don’t do anything in a hurry if I can help it. The girl stared at me as we both reached for a paper towel at the same time. That time she stared at me more intently, meeting my eyes. If you’ve ever had anyone do that to you, then you know what I mean. Then she quickly turned her head away.
I noticed she followed me out of the restroom. I said how hot it was even though it was midnight. Not a word from her as she walked beside me back to where we were parked. A man waited for her by the door of the cab. I saw him before when I got out of my car. I got a weird feeling before. Now it was stronger. It seemed strange, how he didn’t seem like he was her father. Maybe he was. Why else would a man and a little girl be traveling in a semi in the middle of the night? They didn’t resemble each other. He was dark haired with dark skin. The girl was blond and very white. Usually there is a family resemblance between parent and child. I couldn’t see anything any trait that stood out so you could see they were related.
He seemed impatient with her and yelled at her to climb up, they had to leave. The man went around to the driver’s side and that’s when I looked over at her. She barely reached up to the window but I saw her meeting my gaze again. I smiled and waved just enough so the man wouldn’t see me move my hand. He must have yelled at her because she looked away and toward him. Then she hung her head down again. The semi backed up then turned to get back on the highway. I still felt odd. I thought how lucky I was to have a funny friendly Dad. She was with a rough ugly man who made her hurry so they could keep going wherever they had been heading.
Ten years later, I often think of that little girl. Ever day the news talks about child sex trafficking. It used to be hidden. Or was it going on now more than before? Thousands of children go missing every year. Some aren’t even reported. Where did they come from? They just disappeared.
I still see her face, her eyes. I remember her shoulders. They seemed to be too bony. Too thin. I hope she’s okay. Maybe the man dropped her off at her grandmother’s house or her mother’s. Maybe she ran away at the next rest stop or a burger place down the road. Maybe she escaped and ran through tall grass, jumped over a creek and climbed up a hill until she saw a house with lights on. A kind older couple took her in, gave her soup and a warm clean bed to sleep in. They kept her there for five years ten years and everyone thought she was their granddaughter. She went off to college and became a teacher in Canada. The man never looked for her. She got married, had three daughters, told them to run away from strange men but to look in the eyes of kind friendly people so they will remember you and pray for you to find a safe home.
The United States is the number one consumer of child pornography and sex slavery. Mexico is the number one exporter. I plan to write more about child trafficking and slavery in future posts.
Kay Castaneda
Kay Castaneda is retired from a career as a college English instructor in Indiana. She received a B.A. and M.A. from Indiana University. Her articles about education and sociology are included in Sage Publication’s Education and Society Reference Book. Her poetry and creative nonfiction have been published in literary journals. Kay is currently researching the history of Ireland and Scotland for a novel based on her ancestors, in addition to editing her poetry manuscript. Kay’s hobbies include reading biographies, memoirs, traveling and baking.
