The Day Amanda Turned Up Missing

Man, was I upset at my husband, John, when he accidently locked me out of our home yesterday. Of course, none of this would have happened if I hadn't decided to play hooky from work.

Actually it was tennis I played. I had committed to a team that had first place riding on this away match. While I gave notice that I could not play the month of December, duty called when there was a shortage of players. So, the CLOSED sign went up at the shop and my husband drove me to our local club, where the players would pick me up. Hubby drove me, because the club agreed to let us display some paintings from my shop there and he would be hanging them in the concrete walls. (Thank you, honey.)

As usual, tennis was such a blast and we won two courts. There were actually three alligators in the water retention pond/lake near the tennis courts, but I digress.

On the way home, I was so exhausted that when we dropped off my partner who was sitting in the front seat, I just stayed in the back. I felt like I was being chauffered in a pretty red Mercedes. As soon as she pulled into my driveway, I realized - I had nothing with me. Just my racquet.

When I was single (something I say repeatedly), I could always get in my house - key or no key. Since my husband moved in, the place had become like Fort Knox. I used my friend's cellphone to call him and he did not pick up. He was making me mad. I told my friend to just take off, I would figure something out. As I walked the outer perimeter of the house, I saw the only way in was to climb over a chain link fence. Meanwhile, my dachshund was literally screaming for me to come into the house.

Since I'm not a climber, I walked over to a daycare next door and asked if I could use their phone. I'd try to call hubby again. Still no answer. And as I listened cheerfully on the exterior to the little kids telling me about their experiences with Santa Claus, inside I was seething. I told them that if they were real quiet, they could hear my dog howling. They did. "He's hungry," I told them sadly.

Okay, things were going to change around here. There is going to be a key OUTSIDE from here on in. Even meaner, I was thinking about locking HIM out of the house so he could see what it felt like. I was shivering in my sweaty tennis clothes and then looked at the time. Amanda, the 15 year old should be home from school by now. So, with the dog yelping, I banged on the door, rang the doorbell and screeched out: A M A N D A-H-H-H!!!!!!!! I looked in the house and saw it looked totally empty.

Then I remembered she said something about a FHA, FAA or FFA meeting after school, but I could have sworn she said it was Tuesday. With no answer, I went to my other neighbor's house to see if he'd climb over the chain link fence, but he wasn't home (or he very wisely pretended not to be). Finally, I pretended I was in the Amazing Race - took a hammer to a padlock and banged away until it got loose. From there, I was able to break into my house, to a very relieved dachsy.

It was about 3:30, so I showered and ate a huge lunch, which ended up also being my dinner. By the time my husband showed up, I wasn't so angry any more. I was proud that I was able to break into Fort London-Ferguson. And a new set of rules would be established - including he needed to pick up the phone when I called him - like when I was SINGLE.

As I was finishing up a salad, and John made his upteenth phone call to Amanda who was not picking up - we both decided we should head to her high school. We sat in the parking lot at the only exit - and at 4:30, I said we needed to go in. I was imagining her being nice to someone in a car and they grabbed her. Or cutting through an isolated part of the school to get home. The first chapter of Lovely Bones ran through my head.

"Okay, what was she wearing?" I asked John. "Was she wearing shorts?" (These young peeps today, wear such short shorts. Never mind that we had 'hot pants' during our high school days.) "No, she was wearing long pants."

"Okay, we're going into the administration building," I said, opening the car door.

"You're not going anywhere," John said, boldly. "You're not dressed properly." I looked at my after-shower doggie-squared housedress with a rip in it. I wasn't wearing shoes, but I was wearing a bra.

"But, it's my daughter!!!" I whined, as he shut his car door and headed to the building alone. As soon as he hit the doors to the deserted school, I saw him stop and answer his cellphone. I knew it was Amanda, but where could she have gone? I know she would have called her Dad if she was going over to a friend's house.

I thought it could have been a long-winded speaker at her How to Judge Cows meeting. But 4:30, when school lets out at 2:15? When John got back into the car, he asked me if I had checked her room. The door was shut, I said. So out of privacy, I didn't check it.

There she had slept through everything, except for when Rex was barking. "I covered my head with a pillow when I heard him crying," Amanda said, "and went back to sleep." Relieved, we all laughed about it - and were reminded of important lessons. Like, always walk with someone and be aware of your surroundings. And for me? Don't play hooky from work.