Scattered Landmines

twenty one

"I think I'm going to die," Cami groans dramatically.

"You're not going to die. Drink this," I console, handing my melodramatic daughter a glass of water. "Your shower is running, and I laid your clothes right here," I point to the pair of sweats laid out on the end of the bed.

"I'm not going. I can't," Cami whines, covering her face with the blanket and moaning as if she's on the verge of death. "Tell dad anything you want, but I'm not going."

I rip her comforter off, and she curls into the fetal position covering her face with a pillow.

"You're going, and you're not going to die. Now get in the shower before the water gets cold," I scold her in a much firmer tone trying not to lose my patience with my hungover daughter.

"Ugh. I'm never drinking again." Famous last words, but one can still hope.

"I hope not. I'm not going to have a conversation with you about what you did, today, but when you get back we are going to have a very long talk followed by a list of consequences," I avow, trying my best to get Cami ready, so she doesn't miss her flight.

As badly as I want to talk about what happened last night right now, I don't want to wreck her time spent with her dad. I plan on intensively speaking to her about the dangers and risks of alcohol consumption, but when she's hungover and about to board a flight is not the right time.

"I know mom. I'm really sorry," she pushes herself up from the bed and scoots to the edge throwing her legs over. "How did we get home?"

"Mr. Murphy, the man whose house I clean, his son carried you all the way home," I reply, trying to help her regain memories from last night, but leave out the part about me knowing him on an intimate level out of them.

"Oh my God," she puts a hand over her mouth. "I remember puking in the forest."

"It wasn't a forest, it was by a tree," I correct her memory. "Go shower, please. We have to get going," I beg.

"Ok. I am sorry, mom," she stands up, grabbing my shoulders and pulls me in for a hug.

Cami does this thing when she's in trouble, where she manipulates me with love. I'll happily take the affection, but it won't negate her mistake. I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.

"I know, baby, you already apologized. I was so worried about you when I didn't know where you were," I push her back, looking into her eyes so she can read my expression, and place a hand on her cheek. "And pissed too, but I'm thankful you were safe."

"I will take whatever punishment you give me, but I can promise you nothing will be as bad as the way I feel right now," she declares, hiccuping an aroma of alcohol that resides in her breath. Thankfully she finally makes her way to the hot shower, and I lug her massive suitcase down the stairs.

The time it took getting Cami ready to leave, put us at the airport thirty minutes later than I had timetabled, but since they were traveling without the companionship of an adult, a security agent provided me with a pass to accompany them to their gate.

Before they boarded their flight, I gave Cami direct orders to call me as soon as the plane touched down. Their departure was harder for me than I imagined, and I immediately felt as if I lost a vital organ as they walked through the narrow tunnel, disappearing as they entered the plane. The longest I could manage holding off the waterworks was until the plane was being pushed away from the gate, and then the flood gates opened. A hollowness that only they fill will be on the other side of the world, leaving me alone, and it wasn't until I was in my car that I felt- freedom? They take up so much of my time that I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now. I think about calling Poppy to see if she's up for some company, but I am not in much of an optimistic and uplifting mood at the moment. Between the kids leaving and cutting ties with Theo, I would much rather go home, put pajamas on, get a tub of ice cream, and lay around watching rom-coms for the rest of the day. Since Dad and Nancy packed up and left for Cornwall for the weekend, I will have the house to myself, which means I can also day drink if I want to. I don't remember that last time I was able to lounge around without having a single responsibility except to live.