From Queen Bea to frantic lunatic in a split second.  Direct to voice mail every time.  His phone is turned off, and I can’t tell if he can see any texts.  He doesn’t answer his office phone.  He’s not at his desk.  I can’t reach him.  It’s now about 6:30 pm, and I’m on the other side of the country, and utterly helpless.  If he’s still at the office, he won’t be home until 7:30 pm, earliest.  That’s assuming I get a hold of him at this exact moment, scream at him for two minutes, and tell him to get home right away.  I close my eyes and place the call I dread.

“Suzie, I can’t find him.  Cell phone is off.  He’s not picking up the desk phone.  I don’t know what to do.  Should I call my parents?  I’m so sorry,” my voice trailing off and my head buried against the door jamb.

“I’ve called Steve, and he’s OK.  He’ll take care of Stuart tonight.  He knows there’s nothing you can do.”  She really sounded OK with the whole thing.  Realistically, though, I knew I’d pay for this somewhere, somehow.  These are the kinds of things that go down in the nanny chit-books.  Regardless, I was relieved for the response.

“Thanks, Suz, as always, you are the best.  I will keep trying him, and hopefully one of us will hear from him soon.” Bless Suzie and Steve, I thought to myself.  Thank goodness for stable people with simple lives who can support desperate-sad-sacks like me.

Nicole Drapeau Gillen, Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved