Don't Call Me Daddy
“Not so fast…” The officer grabs my shoulder.
Busted.
I guess it was only a matter of time before I got caught. At least I made it all the way to nineteen before I took my first trip in the back of a police car. A couple of months and I would have been able to say I stayed out of trouble the entirety of my teenage years.
Legal trouble, at least.
“Ainsley, you can’t keep doing things like this!” My mother grabs my arm as we walk out of the police station. “You’re lucky Mr. Smith didn’t press charges!”
“It’s the first time I’ve ever been arrested. Stop being so dramatic.” I roll my eyes and pull away from her. “It was just a Red Bull. It isn’t like I tried to hold the place up.”
“Stealing is stealing!” She glares at me for a moment and then walks to the car. “I raised you better!”
My mother. Always my savior, no matter how many times I get in over my head. She is the only person I can call. Most of my friends are away at college, and those that are still here don’t love me enough to come pick me up from the police station.
Not even Sarah, who is normally an accomplice to my shenanigans.
“What did you have to do to get him to agree not to press charges?” I sit in the passenger seat beside her. “Or do I want to know?”
“I paid for the damn Red Bull, Ainsley. Something you could have easily done.” She leans forward and cranks the car. “Surely you make enough money waiting tables to afford a damn soda.”
“Energy drink, Mom.” I sigh and reach into my purse to pull out a cigarette.
“You are not smoking in my car.” She snatches my lighter out of my hand.
“I was inside there for hours…” I look at her and try my best to pout.
“The only reason you smoke is because you know it bothers me. You never even go outside at home unless I ask you to do something!” She throws the cigarette out the window and presses her foot down on the accelerator.
She’s right. I don’t know why I go the extra mile to annoy the only person who has ever been there for me. I keep telling myself I’m going to do better, but then I fall right back in the same routine—making her life miserable so that mine doesn’t seem so bad.
My mom doesn’t deserve it. I always regret it when I do something that truly upsets her, and I apologize with every intention of never doing it again. It’s a vicious cycle brought on by self-loathing and endless frustration.
God help me if she ever does decide to abandon me like I deserve.
“Do you have to work this weekend?” I look over at her and try to make small talk.
“No. Do you?” She hasn’t calmed down, but she is still talking to me—one good sign at least.
“Nah, I have the weekend off. I’m supposed to go to a Halloween party.” I smile and put a little cheer in my voice.
“If you were a few years younger, you’d be grounded for the rest of your life!” Her expression darkens. “Damn it, Ainsley. Why don’t you try to get a better job or get back in school? You’re not happy; that’s the only reason you do crap like this.”
She’s still scolding me. An even better sign.
“I don’t know, Mom.” I look out the window and sigh.
I really don’t. I could draw a road map and see a few speed bumps that derailed me from the direction my life was supposed to go, but I can’t dwell on that.
I just dodged a bullet, and it was such a foolish thing to do in the first place. My career options are limited enough without a shoplifting conviction on my record. I need to grow up and figure out what the hell I’m going to do with the rest of my life.
I can certainly mark expert shoplifter off my list of skills. One more thing that I’ve failed at like all the others.
“Dinner is probably cold by now. You can microwave it if you want.” My mom puts the car in park w
hen we arrive at our house.
“I’m not hungry.” I reach for the door handle.