Where the F**K Is She?
In Which
A Mother Worries About Her Teenaged Daughter Not
Calling...
by Alison Kelly
by Alison Kelly
When she left for school today I asked “Will you be home for dinner?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she mumbled, glaring at me.
I grabbed my yoga mat and did some nonjudgemental breathing. I knew there was something on after school, a make up test for a test she missed but couldn’t tell me why she missed. Just muttered something about “I’m on it Mother. Relax.”
Four o clock came and went as did five o clock. No need to be alarmist. I left cheerful phone calls at her closest friends' homes. “Hi there. Looking for M. If you know where she might be would you let me know. Thanks!”
Six o clock ticked past as did 7. We ate dinner at 8 o clock. Popped hers in the oven.
Placed more phone calls. I made human to human contact with another mother. “Not to worry,” she chirps in the voice of someone who can still breathe because her daughter isn’t missing. “She is probably at badminton.”
My panicked brain grabs this as a better thing to focus on than the image of my daughter lying in the gutter with the life seeping out of her or worse. Do I need to go into the worse?
Now I am only angry because she is old enough to remember to phone me when she isn’t coming home. Now instead of seeing her lifeless body, I see her with a badminton racket in her hand getting healthy. When she gets home we will sit down and have a chat about respect and expectations. I will make eye contact with her and she will see in my eyes how deeply she has frightened me. She will promise never to behave like this again and she will mean it this time. I will smile and forgive her. She will know she is loved.
Tonight as I fall asleep I will imagine wringing her pretty little neck.