The Perfect Solution-A Suspense of Choices Read online

  Putting a toy truck on the floor, Mona remembered how happy she’d been when she was a child playing with her toys. She played with dolls, giving them the care and names that she would one day give to children of her own. Those dolls had been the only things she’d loved in the world. She’d put so much time into those dolls, making their clothes with ragged little girl stitches, combing their hair and spending so many of her days hourly fantasizing, her father began to call her a crazy lunatic, and any other insult which came to his mind.

  On her eighth birthday, he gathered all of her dolls and burned them. He made her stand and watch as he took each carefully made piece of clothing, laid them out on the barbecue pit, poured lighter fluid on them and set them on fire.

  Remembering how hurt and angry she had been with her father, Mona paced the room holding her chest. Walking always seemed to help her get control of the situation. Whenever she was angry, the heat which was smothered inside of her made her want to burst and destroy everything around her. She could almost feel the same pent up rage she’d experienced the day her father forced her to stand and watch her things burning. She had felt the rage trying to boil over her self-constraint as she had fought him that day. Much in the same way she was sure Brhin had felt as he fought her, to not be put in her car, that afternoon. The only difference between her and the animal that had reared her was the fact she had not beaten Brhin to a bloody mass.

  Over the years she learned to deal with her anger. Anger made her a stronger person. It helped her to survive the physical, mental and sexual abuse she endured while living with her father. She grew to hate the man with a deadly passion and for five years she had prayed constantly for him to die.

  Three months after her fifteenth birthday, he did. And she practically jumped for joy, at least in her mind she had. It hadn’t mattered to her that it had been one of the most harrowing deaths she could imagine. She was just glad the life as she had known it was over.

  It had been her choice to have sex in a car with a guy from school and she had felt that her so say father had no right to think he could tell her what to do when he cared nothing about her. How he found out where she and her choice of lover were parked, she had no idea. She only knew she was made to feel degraded beyond words when the person she thought of as her father, called her all kinds of names in front of the boy before yanking her from the backseat and practically throwing her into the passenger side of his car. Nothing he had ever done to her had eaten at her self-worth so totally until he had demeaned her in front of another person.

  At that moment, she finally realized she meant nothing in the world to anyone and she no longer cared whether she lived or died. She hadn’t cared that she ended up in the hospital for two months after the car incident. She felt no remorse or sorrow at the knowledge, the man she damned for being her father had burned to death trapped in his own car and she damn sure hadn't cared his accident might have been seen as partly her fault. It hadn't even bothered her to spend the remainder of her teen years in the foster care system. She just knew that she was free of him. Served him right for trying to argue and fight with her in the car.

  At first her father had just driven and berated her with cutting, belittling, and soul eating words as he compared her to her mother. When she made no replies and sat like a statue, he began, administering numerous quick back handed slaps which burst her lips and broke her nose. After about the third or fourth blow she had lost control of her emotions and reached for the steering wheel and he swung at her again. Avoiding another swing directed at her face, she realized she would forever be in a fight for her survival and she lost it. In her mind, nothing mattered, she no longer cared whether she lived or died. She just knew that this would be the last day he would slap her around.

  Grabbing him by the hair and ears, she had done her best to pull him towards the passenger side of the car, which resulted in the car slamming into the guardrail of the highway and flipping over into the raven beneath. It was a miracle she survived. He on the other hand deserved everything he’d gotten. The fool lived as if he had come straight from Hades and his going by fire seemed to be justifiable.

  Once she was released from the hospital she lived out the rest of her teen years being shuffled from one foster home to another until she’d run off with a truck driver who promised her the world. She decided that if she couldn't have her dolls to lavish her love on, she would have a baby of her own. But no baby had come.

  After many men friends, three horrible unsuccessful marriages, and turning forty years old, the conclusion that none would be forth coming had finally penetrated. She would never have children of her own. That was until four months previously, when Brhin entered the picture and ever since then; Beaumont had become her way of life.

  Brhin became everything to her. She had watched him on Saturdays like a hawk. Listening and remember every little thing about him. He loved nuggets, sausage biscuits, the mechanical merry-go-round, a little girl named Melody that attended the same childcare center and the stuffed brown dog he carried around. It had taken her a while to find one that matched exactly. She found out he attended The Perfect Solution Daycare Center. She’d seen the name of the center on a T-shirt he’d worn a few times. After seeing the shirt, she visited the center herself, on the pretext of wanting to place a child there. During her tour of The Center, she had mentally given the 'little red head' her kudos. The place was beautiful. The reception area was a decorator's dream.

  A roll top desk, holding small plants, and tiny framed pictures was set aside for would be clients to use when filling applications. The longest wall in the room was decorated with a large flower shaped mirror centered and surrounded by framed pictures of children attending the P. S. Center and enjoying various activities. Peeping around the three thick leaved potted plants, the eyes and sometime ears of small ceramic models of baby animals strategically placed to entice an inquisitive child to come and play.

  The navy blue sofa and loveseat that sat in the middle of the room, practically begged all who entered the center to sit on their plush cushions and enjoy the magazines or children's books placed on the low coffee table, while the two thick cushioned rocking chairs invited parents into their arms to share a last minute hug or a forgotten conversation. All of this, she had taken in with avid hunger. The place was cozy and inviting. She had wanted to be a part of everything Brhin saw or touched. The clincher, which had probably drawn the 'little redhead' and other potential clients, were the six flat-screened television monitors, set into the short wall of the reception area. With their ever changing view, they showed the activities of every room in the building and the outside play area.

  Barely breathing and not daring to blink, Mona had desperately scanned each monitor for a view of Brhin. And he had been there on that day, playing trucks on the floor with his little girlfriend. While all of the other children were running around like little savages, Brhin and Melody were quietly pushing their tiny vehicles around on the streets of a miniature city. Mona had become so overwhelmed with the idea of taking Brhin right then and there, she'd had to make excuses to the director and quickly leave The P. S. Center.

  "And now he's here."

  Mona danced around the room in exultation, making hopping, twisting movements in her rapture and only stopping at the sight of Brhin standing in the doorway.

  "Is this your little boy's room?" Brhin looked around as he walked in the room. Running and jumping onto the bed he made loud car noises while bouncing and laughing in his enjoyment. "I like this bed. I wanted one, but Momma said I couldn't have one 'cause I will grow out of it too soon. She bought me a pretty wood bed; it has bookshelves on the top and little sliding doors I can hide things in and two big drawers on the bottom. I keep my favorite toys in them. You can keep a lot of different things on the shelves, though. I love that bed. Is your little boy smaller than me? Where is he? Is he with his daddy? I have a daddy. I don't see him for real though, only in the pictures in my momma's book. I wish I c
ould be with my daddy sometimes. My momma says some day I can go and visit him."

  "Yes, this is my little boy's room." Mona ignored his other comments. She didn’t want the thoughts of the other woman spoiling her day "I have a package here for you. Go ahead and open it. Everything in this room is for you. You're my little boy now."

  Brhin's tiny fingers had begun to tear into the wrappings, but stilled at the last part of her answer.

  "You're not my momma." He stated emphatically. "And when my momma finds me, you'll be in trouble. I won't stay here." Jumping off the bed, he ran to the door. Looking over his shoulder at Mona he continued talking. "My momma will look for me forever. She said so."

  Mona stared at Brhin's defiant little form standing poised to run from the room. She massaged both of her temples and closed her eyes for a second. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes, crossed the room and knelt at his eye level.

  "Maybe you're right. I'll have to think about that. Maybe we'll leave town. Let your hair grow out and change your name. We'll do whatever it takes. Right now, I want you to open your gift."

  "I need to go to the bat'room." He stepped through the door.

  "Oh, okay." Mona muttered miserably. “We'll come back. We have a lifetime.”

  CHAPTER 4- REVELATION

  *****

  “Bertha Wall”

  Bertha Wall angrily slammed the receiver of the telephone back into its cradle, yanked open the drawer to her desk and threw in the little brown book which contained the telephone numbers of The P. S. Center's staff. She had just finished calling and ordering the staff to get to The Center as soon as possible. Threatening them with the fact their job was in the deepest of jeopardy, if they did not come. She cursed loudly in irritation when she backed the wheeled armchair and her knee hit the solid wood underside of the edge of the desk. She felt like screaming, throwing her hands into the air and stumping around like a maniac. Why is this happening to me?

  "Damn it." Bertha threw an ashtray across the room and watched as it shattered on contact with the wall. "I should just close down that damn center. I am really getting tired of the constant problems. The hassles are just not worth it." She fell into her habit of mumbling aloud. "I can’t stand the whining, runny nosed little brats and the majority of the staff happens to be dimwits. I don't even know how half of them got hired in the first place."

  Bertha loudly listed the faults of The P. S. Center as she combed her hair.

  "First, it was the stupid little kid that purposely stuck something in the light socket and almost fried her brain. What in hell the teacher was doing when the child was so near a socket was unexplainable. And what had happened to the socket covers? I’ve spent a minor fortune on the things and they were constantly being misplaced. Thank God no one noticed anything more than the child's hair sticking up. Good thing the child's parents hadn't been told about that little shocker. A few months before that incident, Mrs. Lacey had forgotten a child at the park. It was a miracle the mother never made any charges or reports. That fiasco by itself would have definitely been a reason to have The P. S. Centers closed. It always amazes me when parents don't report things to the authorities. It is their ignorance that was keeping The P. S. Center open.” Bertha closed her eyes briefly thanking God for their carelessness.

  “After that little fiasco, it had been the episode with the little girl who was constantly swallowing the small rocks on the toddler playground. Her parents had complained constantly and so a soft colored padding was put down as a replacement. That new padding on the grounds had cost another fortune, but it ended the complaints and the word-of-mouth praise had caused a lot more toddlers and infants to be enrolled in The P. S. Center. The padding had turned into a major plus, until the next stupid problem occurred.

  Last month a two-month old infant was forgotten on one of the vans for damned near two hours before a staff member noticed she hadn’t been brought in. Poor little thing had been strapped in her car seat and had suffered no ill effects from exposure. Thank God it hadn’t been summer time. Summer in Texas, without air conditioning was a killer. A week later, one of the teachers angrily yanked a toddler by the arm and fractured his shoulder. To keep The P. S. Center from being closed, the stupid teacher had to be fired. It's only by the grace of God the centers have not been closed before now."

  Ever since that particular teacher was fired, new teachers were changed constantly and the toddler room was now in a state of major chaos. Toddlers required a lot of patience and understanding and she hadn't found anyone capable or willing to stick to the job. Bertha knew that it didn't look good to the parents, but so far she had been unable to find anyone that could stick with the job. Just that morning, in a tremendous case of desperation, she’d made the astounding mistake of calling and offering a substitute job to a novice in childcare, Stephanie Franklin.

  Bertha rubbed her hand across her closed eyes, down her right cheek and covered her mouth with her open palm and shook her head in hopes of clearing her troubling thoughts. Nerves and fear kept her from getting the peace she desired and pushed her into reviewing the day's happenings.

  After opening The P. S. Center for the day and turning on the monitors, Bertha had felt like the day would turn out to be a great one. She was extremely proud of The Center. Things were running very smooth. There hadn't been any complaints from parents in months and she had been having no problems with getting fees paid, especially, after hiring the office assistant, Mrs. Julioux.

  That little woman was punctilious when it came to keeping up with the books. The main problem Bertha had with the center was the attendance of the staff. When the teacher who had been working with the toddlers for the past two weeks, called in at the last minute, it had really blown her mind. Especially after calling the list of possible substitutes and learning they had all been engaged in other pursuits. She’d felt trapped. And so she had made the gigantic mistake of hiring someone without checking the credentials.

  ******

  ******

  "Mrs. Julioux, come into my office." Bertha yelled through the open door of her office.

  "I'll be right there as soon as I finish writing this receipt for this parent."

  "That's fine."

  Bertha spun the chair of her desk around and stood to pace the room. She was at a lost as to what she would do. There were a lot of children in the toddler room and she knew that. She just didn't want to make the mistake of hiring someone that would report the fact. She knew what the child/staff ratio was supposed to be, but she had always disagreed. Toddlers didn't always come on a continuous basis so she had purposely over enrolled the class in order to keep a steady flow of funds running into the building. In order to have a spectacular center she had to start off spending spectacular money. The up to date computers and educational supplies did not come cheap. And neither did a top rate highly paid staff. The women may have a lot of intelligence, but they really lacked street sense. They always screwed up when it came to the simple things.

  Halting her mad pace around the room, Bertha stood in front of the large picture window, and looked around The Center's parking lot. She smiled at the sight of one of The Center's three vans. Not because of the children that were being helped off by the driver and her aid, but because she loved seeing the name of the daycare centers inscribed on its side, The Perfect Solution & After the Perfect Solution Daycare Centers. These centers promised to be the thing that could set her up for life. If she could just manage to get through the rest of the year without a major problem, she planned on starting another center on the other end of town.

  Bertha checked her watch and saw that it was nine o'clock. She literally loved the driver of this particular van because the driver was a stickler for time. The woman was the truly most dependable person on the job. She did three van runs in the mornings, seven through nine a. m. and never allowed herself more than ten minutes unloading and reporting whatever incidents or accidents may have happened in route to The P. S. Center and then she
parked the van and left until her next run at two in the afternoon. If only the rest of the staff was as reliable.

  Looking past the van, Bertha noticed the dark green car parked near the curb of the empty field across the street from the center. This would be the third morning that she had seen the car parked there. In the afternoon it would be sitting in that same spot from one to about three o'clock in the afternoon.

  The driver of the car was unrecognizable. As a matter of fact, she couldn't tell whether the person was a male or female. The head was covered in a dark cap and the clothes were also dark. It made her kind of nervous to come in to The P. S. Center by herself at 6:00 in the mornings. That is one of the reasons she made it her business to turn on the monitors. She could look through the building and check for intruders without doing a walking tour. Looking at the car again she promised herself that she would have to report the matter to the police if the car was still there in an hour, she turned her attention to Mrs. Julioux.

  "Perrie called to say that she wouldn't be able to come in today…"

  "She called again? She called in twice last week," Mrs. Julioux interrupted. "She's probably trying to find another job."

  "Yes again. You're probably right. I've called the three people from the sub list and they’re all busy. Do you know of anybody I can call to sub in here today?"

  "Uhm, we have a few applications in the other room. A couple of the people seemed useable. Two of the applicants are too old to work with that class. As busy as those children are, you need someone that wouldn't mind doing a little running."

  They both laughed at the subtle inside joke, the class was definitely a handful.

  "Sounds like a winner to me. I don't care, who she is, as long as I get someone to work in there today. Who is in the class with them now?"