‘Hey dad…’ My daughter Samantha came on the phone.
Dad. Not Sam. Maybe she had outgrown her rebellious phase.
I think one of the best parenting decisions I’d made was naming her Samantha — “Sam” for short. That way I could pretend she was talking to herself whenever she referred to me in that disrespectful manner.
More than bringing her into the world, I’d catered for her from the cradle and deserved a lot of respect for that. And calling me by my first name just didn’t cut it.
Adrienne always thought I was hard on her, but how else does one beat a child into shape? She had attended exclusive private schools run by nuns. And now was in her sophomore year at an Ivy League Medical School. I paid her tuition. I got her a sleek pink Volkswagen Bug for Matriculation. By my books I was a darn good father!
‘Hello dear… How’s school?’
‘Fine. How are you holding up dad?’
‘I’m fine’ I gave out instantly. ‘I’m doing very well, thank you.’
‘Are you sure dad?’
‘Well under the circumstances I’d say I’m as fine as I can possibly be.’
‘You want me to come over dad? Its only a four-hour drive.’
‘No. That’s fine. I was just…urm, checking up on you.’
She paused for a moment, and I could imagine her staring absently into space. ‘Okay then’ she said finally. ‘Bye…’
‘Samantha..?’
‘Yes dad.’
‘What was your mother’s favourite colour?’
‘Red… She’s always liked red. The colour of her nails and lipstick. Never changed. And blue too. She did like blue, but red was her favourite… Why do you ask?’
I was quiet.
‘Dad? Are you there?’
‘Yes Sam. I’m here.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes’ I said at first, then on a second thought: ‘No… Nothing is okay. I never knew Adrienne liked red. I don’t like red. I hate it!’
‘Dad–’
‘I didn’t know she liked blue either. No wonder all the coffee mugs are blue.’
‘Dad–’
‘She wanted to wear a red dress to the company’s end of the year dinner party last year. And I’d convinced her –forced her to wear that ugly, black mourning dress I’d bought February 14th last year when I’d realized it was Valentine’s on the way back from work.’
‘Dad–’
‘They were the only cloth store open Sam… Okay, I admit I didn’t really go out of my way!’ My voice started to break. I wanted to shut up, but it was like a tidal wave I could no longer shut in.
‘Dad listen to me–’
‘And I’d made her wear that ugly black dress. Oh God!’
‘Okay that’s it I’m coming over!’
I tried to put myself together. It was ten o’ clock at night. There was no way I was letting my only child drive out that late on a four-hour journey. I ordered her to stay put.
‘Okay. But I’d get on the intersate first thing in the morning, okay. Just hold yourself together dad.’
I nodded absently to the phone, and then made a spur of the moment decision.
‘You know what Sam… Why don’t I come to you instead. I’m sure you have lectures you need to attend… I could leave in the morning and be there by lunch.’
‘Really?’ She seemed genuinely surprised. ‘You would do that…? I mean, what about work?’
I thought about that for a second, and replied: ‘You’d help me draft my resignation letter.’
She was quiet for a moment, and then said okay.
‘See you tomorrow then?’
‘Yeah. Tomorrow…’
‘Goodnight dad. I love you.’
‘I love you too hun’.’
I replaced the receiver and listened to the silence.

I had breakfast at a diner off the interstate the next morning, sipping my latté while poring over the local newspaper, and having croissant after croissant till I was certain I had food up to my chest.
I discovered there wasn’t a better way to kill time than listen to truckers gossip their way through breakfast and white-collar types discuss politics or headline news. Doing so while munching multi-cereal croissants and watching pick-up trucks and small sedans flit past through the window.
It was ten by the time I got back on the interstate and lunch break was over by the time I arrived my destination.
Samantha must have been in class I thought, and decided I’d wait till evening before I called.
I found a small hotel two blocks away from Samantha’s school and I thought maybe I’d enjoy my daughter’s company a few more days. It wasn’t like I had anything else to go back home to.
‘What’s the name sir?’ The brunette behind the receptionist’s desk asked. Her name tag read “Mallory”.
‘Sam’ I replied. ‘Sam Cohen.’
‘Cash or credit card?’
I passed her my credit card.
CNN and ESPN kept me company till evening when I called Samantha’s cell phone. I’d sent her an sms earlier informing her I was in town and what hotel I was at.
The phone rang but was left unanswered.
She called back twenty minutes later: 4:35 pm. I checked.
‘Hey dad. Sorry. I just got off from class.’
‘Long day huh?’
‘You have no idea. So what’s up? I need to get back to the dorm and wash up. And I’d meet you…where?’
‘Why don’t I come over and pick you up…’ I suggested.
‘Urm, dad its a girl’s dorm.’
‘And? I said I’d come pick you up. Not climb in a shower with your dorm mates.’ My tone climbed an octave.
‘You know what… I’d just rush and wash up then come meet you at the hotel, okay.’
‘Samantha–’
‘I’ve got to go now dad. Love you.’
‘Samantha–’
Dial tone. She had hung up on me.
I watched the phone in my hand for a long time before replacing it.
That was strange if anything was. Why did I feel like my daughter was stone-walling me…
Had she dropped out of school? Had she been in class all day like she claimed?
All that money for tuition… Could it have been trumped up? And if she’d dropped out, when might this have been…
The last time she was home was for her mother’s funeral, and I’d been too preoccupied to notice if anything was amiss.
Adrienne always said I didn’t spend enough time with our daughter. That I didn’t know her. Well, I think I knew her better than anyone else, and I’m sure I might have been able to discern something if the darn Ray Bans hadn’t been so dark.
I was curious, and more than that, suspicious. Something just wasn’t right with the way Sam had hurriedly gotten off the phone. And if she was being guarded about something, I had to find out exactly what it was.
I snapped my car keys up from the bedside bureau and headed out.
I was going to pay Sam a surprise visit.

Hmmm. *still following* but why write chapter two as a new topic instead of continuing it on d thread for the chapter 1.

The titles go with the theme and plot of each new episode. However, it doesn't take away from the element of continuity. Stay tuned for more...