Page 3 of Callow

“Alright,” I agreed. “Don’t forget your charger,” I said, nodding toward where it was still plugged in near the bed.

I was in the kitchen brewing some coffee when she came back out, slipping into her shoes, and grabbing her keys.

“Okay. I’m going,” she said.

“Text me when you get there,” I demanded.

“Okay.”

“Love you,” I said, giving her a smile.

“You too,” she said, making me miss the days when she would give me a hug before she left.

It’s just temporary,Allie’s mom had insisted when I’d been a little weepy over ice cream one night when the girls had first skipped out on the game and movie night that had been our tradition for years.They’re just trying on the clothes of grown-ups. As soon as they areactualadults, they will be running back to us to beg for advice or comfort. It won’t be like this for long.

Having no relationship with my own mother, I had to put my faith to rest in those who had those sorts of experiences.

Shifting out of ‘what am I going to do to try to bond with my teenage daughter all weekend’ mode, I decided that my night was going to involve two things.

A shitton of junk food.

And binge-watching TV.

So I grabbed my coffee and my phone, then set to placing delivery orders to Chinese, pizza, and this local dessert place, getting myself half a dozen donuts that, yes, I would eat over the course of the weekend.

Then I went through all of the movies I’d been wanting to watch but Daphne thought were too cheesy or cringe or cheugy or whatever word she’d use to describe something that wasn’t cool enough for her.

I was in a food coma and through a movie and a half when I decided to call to check in on Daphne. She was going to hate it, would likely later tell me I was being overprotective. And maybe she was right.

What can I say, though?

She was my whole world for the past sixteen years. I’d, in a way, grown up with her. What choice did you have when you had a baby when you were still a kid yourself?

“Yeah?” Daphne answered.

“Just calling to check in,” I said. “If you want to come home but not sound like the bad guy, just tell me you’ll do the dishes when you get home.”

“Mooom,” Daphne said. I could hear the eye roll through the phone.

“Alright. Just checking. Can I talk to Britney?” I asked, figuring Allie’s other mom was likely already in bed since she got up at the crack of dawn for work.

“Oh, she ran out to get us ice cream,” Daphne said. “I can tell her to call you when she gets back.”

“It’s no big deal,” I said. “Alright, you girls have fun,” I said, hanging up.

For a moment, I felt that crushing wave of nostalgia. The carelessness of youth. The feeling like you had all the time in the world. And not a single responsibility to kill your joy.

At the end of the day, though, I’d had my fun. I’d had the fun of ten girls, if I were being honest. When you had no one keeping an eye on you, it really freed up your schedule to do all sorts of wild and shady shit.

You name it, I did it. Sneaking into bars. Clubbing. Having experiences with guys who, looking back, were predators. Smoking, drinking, some other… experimenting.

I even had a tattoo. I would tell Daphne it was on my hip, but it was totally on the side of my ass. It had been done by a friend’s older brother who bought a machine somewhere and had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Or having, you know, a single artistic bone in his body.

Three years ago, on my thirtieth birthday, I’d splurged on a professional tattoo session to get the hideous thing covered up. Of course, because of how big the original had been, I’d needed to get a kind of massive floral piece that went from the side of my butt down my thigh to fully cover it.

I secretly loved it. Getting it done and telling no one had felt a bit like a throwback to my mischievous youth.

I guess I should have been glad that my kid was just hanging out with her friend, likely making silly videos on social media than out doing the crazy crap I used to get into at her age.