Almost as soon as my wife’s plane lifted off the tarmac for California, my daughter said, “Remember you promised to take me to the escape room.”
“My word is my bond,” I replied. I knew once we got into the escape room, however, Natalie would want me to solve all the puzzles required to unlock the door. Seeing an opportunity to relieve myself of that burden, I said, “Why don’t we invite your friend Lisa to come along?”
“That’s a great idea!” Natalie said. What a sucker.
Throughout Natalie’s life, my wife’s made several business trips a year, leaving me to take care of our daughter solo. When Annie made her first trip after Natalie was born, I suspected my mother and mother-in-law were worried I’d forget to feed and change her or absentmindedly leave her infant car seat on the hood and drive away – to the point that I felt a twisted sense of pride that Natalie was still alive when my wife got back. But, as I’ve pointed out to my spouse several times, she’s never had care for Natalie by herself as much as I have. In fact, when I went to Costa Rica, that was the longest Annie ever had our daughter all to herself. “And she cheated,” I told my host. “She had her sister stay over to help her!”
On Sunday, I picked Lisa up at noon and began the trek to the mall, but needed a caffeine boost first and detoured to my favorite coffee shop. Stay here,” I told the girls, as they chattered in the backseat with the speed of bi-polar patients on crack. “I’ll be right back.” When the proprietor handed me my coffee and asked how I was doing, I replied, “I’m taking two tween girls to the mall to go to an escape room. What could go wrong?”
“You’re such a good dad,” he said, rather mournfully I thought.
When we got to the mall, we hit a restaurant so the girls could fortify themselves with hamburgers while I munched on a sensible chicken sandwich. Though the bar had my favorite beer on tap, I resisted the siren call of hops because I was responsible for a child who was not my own and drank seltzer instead. Lisa’s dad also happens to be a cop, and I’d hate trying to explain to him how I’d lost her. Handcuffs aren’t a good look for me. Skipping dessert over protest, I paid the bill, left our harried waiter a nice tip, and then guided my charges out the door and into the crowded mall.
“You guys have to find the escape room.” I said.
“I don’t know where it is,” Natalie said.
“You’ll be spending a lot of time in malls soon,” I said. “Figure it out.”
My daughter is always asking when she can go to the mall with her friends without her parents in tow. At eleven, that’s not an option, but I decided to hang back and give the girls the illusion of freedom as they attempted to navigate by themselves. Passing another dad following a gaggle of girls, we grinned at each other in solidarity. Eventually, Natalie and Lisa found the escape room complex, and we were soon locked inside what the staff called “the easiest room.” With one hour to liberate ourselves, I sat down on the floor and watched my daughter and Lisa frantically sort through all the clues, offering helpful inspiration when they got stuck.
“If you knew they’d pump poison gas in here if you fail,” I said, “You’d be more motivated.”
The escape room was anything but “easy,” and to my embarrassment, my daughter and her friend solved the clues faster than I could. Lisa was especially sharp and, if she had more time, she would have solved it but, alas, the clock ran out. Instead of being dejected, my daughter was ready to move on to the next thing. “Can we go to Claire’s and shop by ourselves?” she pleaded.
Claire’s seems to be the go to place for tween girls to buy costume jewelry, knickknacks and get their ears pierced. I’d taken Natalie there when she was seven to get her ears punctured with all the attendant wailing and love showing her the video I took to embarrass her in front of future boyfriends. Knowing the staff were always on guard for shoplifters, I walked into the store and told the cashier, “I’m the dad and I’ll be right outside.” and let the girls shop by themselves. “Stay within your budget,” I told them before I left. Thirty minutes later the girls emerged with their purchases. Natalie got a bottle of perfume while Lisa got earrings for her little sister and friendship bracelets adorned with a pendant that split in two. Natalie was proudly wearing one half and Lisa the other. Pals forever.
“Look,” Lisa showed me. “The pendant changes color depending on your mood.”
“So, what does the color blue mean?” I said, pointing to her half.
“It means I’m chill.”
“Me too, Dad,” Natalie said. “I’m so chill.”
The girls begged me to take them to a frozen yogurt place and, after shelling out twenty-seven bucks for bacteria cultures loaded with candy, I let them prattle while I read the news on my phone. “Still chill?” I asked after they pushed their half-eaten treats away.
“I’m so full,” Lisa said.
Tossing $13.50 in the trash, we went back my house where the girls retired to my daughter’s bedroom and giggled over lord knows what until it was time to return Lisa to her parents. After dropping her friend off, I told Natalie we had to go to the supermarket to pick up supplies for the week. “You’re pushing the cart,” I said. But, as we were picking out fruit and vegetables in the produce aisle, Natalie’s looked at her wrist with a start and shrieked, “I lost my bracelet!”
“I’m sure you didn’t lose it,” I said. “It’s probably in the car.”
“Lisa’s going to be so mad!” she said, anxiety coloring her voice.
“Relax. I’m sure you’ll find it.”
“I’ve got to look for it! Maybe I dropped it walking into the store.”
“Okay,” I said, testing an avocado for ripeness, “Go retrace your steps. I’ll be right here. Just don’t go outside.”
Some parents would never let their eleven year old walk around a busy supermarket unattended but I’ve been trying to let Natalie off the reins a bit since she’s going into middle school next year. Besides, she had her phone watch to call me if she ran into trouble. Returning to my shopping, my brain edited through several recipes as I picked out ingredients and planned for the week ahead. Then that alarm all parents have in their brain began to wail. Natalie’s taking too long. Leaving my cart behind, I went looking for her.
When Natalie gets anxious, part of her brain shuts off and I was worried she’d disobeyed my injunction not to go outside. Fearing vehicular mishap, I abandoned my cart and darted out to my car looking for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Returning to the store, I walked around and, when I still couldn’t find her, I called her phone watch – but it just rang, and rang, and rang. Feeling a sense of dread spread through my chest, my mind went to a very dark place. If I’d been wearing that mood bracelet the pendant would’ve turned black. Suddenly all the shoppers around me became enveloped in a sinister aura and I had visions of Natalie being whisked away in a non-descript van to some horrible destination. Then I took a deep breath and remembered such events are exceedingly rare and, when they do happen, the first suspect is one of the child’s own parents. But my wife was 3000 miles away, so that struck her off the list. Then, just as I was about to go to security to report a lost child, my phone dinged with an incoming text.
Dad where are you?
By the vegetables.
K.
When I finally saw Natalie walking towards me, I faked being nonchalant. It wouldn’t do to freak when I was trying to teach her to be more independent. “I tried calling you,” she said, sounding very annoyed. “But it went straight to voicemail. You really should fix that.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“I called mom, but she didn’t pick up either.”
“Your mom’s in San Diego,” I said. “What the heck could she do?”
“I dunno. Get you on the phone?” Just great.
“Did you find your necklace?”
“No.”
Of course, my wife called Natalie to see what was going on. Bending down to speak into the watch I said, “Sorry, honey, we have to still pay for college.”
“Darn,” Annie said.
“Don’t worry,” Natalie said, “You guys are going to be paying big time.”
Back in the car, Natalie found her bracelet and I asked her to hand it to me, Pressing it against my wrist, I saw the pendant turn blue, not black. I was chill. Later that night, after I’d checked the locks and was heading to bed, I peeked into Natalie’s room and saw she was fast asleep with her new friendship bracelet securely on her wrist. While I had the shit scared out of me, she had a very nice day and I was glad I could give it to her. Slipping under the covers, I stared at the patterns cast on the ceiling by the moonlight filtering through the trees and sighed. I knew more days riven with worry over Natalie lay ahead of me – that first walk home from middle school, trips to the mall by herself, driving on her own, dating, college, her first apartment, etcetera, etcetera. When I was an expectant father, I hated when veteran parents told me – rather sadistically to my mind – “When you have kids you worry all the time.” But when Natalie was born a good friend of mine told me, “Yeah, you worry, but what your children give you in return more than makes up for it.” So far, he’s been right.
But I know it’ll be hard to stay chill.
