Daddy, Come Get Me
“Daddy come get me.” It’s four words a parent never wants to hear. I’ve always been worried about these calls. Being her father never gets easier. I don’t even ask her what is wrong. I don’t need to because she’ll tell me what happened when I get there. “Are you someplace safe right now, baby?” “I don’t know. Please hurry.” She might be crying, it sounds like. She gets upset a lot. Most teenagers do… But she almost never cries. “Hide. And keep your phone on okay? I’m coming now, I’ll call you when I’m close.” I say. I take off my apron as a dozen burgers sizzle on the flattop grill in protest, I take off my stupid paper hat too and look around the kitchen. Jimmy is the only one back here with me. He’s slow. He can’t manage the rush alone. Glancing next to me, I can see Read More …