“Hey Mom! I need your help! I am going to need a lawyer” Reliving my past trauma

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

“Hey mom,” I said, my voice finally cracking. “I need your help.” In this moment, I changed the course of my parent’s life forever.

“Yes, Simone!” I could hear the anxiety creeping into my mom’s voice. My heart felt as heavy as lead. I knew that I was about to break my mom’s heart.

“Mom! I am in Panama, in a prison here. I am going to need for you to get me a lawyer. Peter is going to help. He is on his way home.”

“What?” I heard my mom’s voice crack. I heard her excuse herself. My parents were in New York at the time at my aunt’s house. I heard the creak of her steps as she went up a set of stairs, and then I heard a door close. “What is going on Simone?” The fear in her voice reminded me about the seriousness of my situation. I had not been thinking about it because I was forcing myself to stay calm. Her anxiety was quickly starting to trigger me.

“I was arrested in Panama mom! They are holding me here, so please.” I looked up as the officer gestured to me that my time was up. “I have to go mom. Call the Canadian embassy. Let them give you some direction.”

“Simone. Simone. How could you? What is going on? Simone….” The officer gently took the phone from me and pointed towards the dark gated room. I stared at the yellow Iron Gate; it was a warning of what was to come.

I didn’t realize how much time had passed. It was that day that I acknowledged the importance of time. The next few days would give me some idea of what it felt like to be at its mercy.

As I walked through the gate, I took in the size of the room. The officer slammed the gate behind me, which made me jump. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw three people sleeping quietly on the ground. One had a cot that was laid flat on the floor. The other figure was lying on newspaper. The last figure, which was curled up in the corner, had her clothes laid out underneath her.

I was unsure of what to do, so I just sat down where I was, with the gate pressed against my back. They had taken all of things from me. All they had allowed for me to bring in is: one nightgown, one outfit, my toothbrush, my body wash, toothpaste, a book of Islamic mantra’s, my neck pillow and my favourite brown leather jacket.

I sat there for a few minutes, slowing my heart down. It was pumping faster then a thirsty child at a well. It finally began to sink in. I had finally done it. I had gotten myself into something that my smile, attractive looks, and my well-placed words could not get me out of.

I don’t know how long I was sitting there for, but I felt my eyes starting to tire. Where was I going to lie down in this cramped space, and what was I going to lie down on?

I saw some newspapers in the corner, so I patterned what the other people had done. I placed the newspapers on the hard concrete and took my jacket off. I folded up the neck pillow, and lay down. I used the brown jacket to put over my shoulders, and for the rest of the night, I tossed and turned.

As I squirmed around, I pictured my mom, and dad. I could feel their anguish, even though they were 1,000 of miles away from me. I know that at that moment, they were just trying to come to terms with the phone call they had just received.

“Sorry mom and dad,” I said to unhearing ears, as I fell into a restless sleep.