I know better than to ignore the call. After all the lost phones I know a strange number could be him. I flip my phone over and keep brushing my teeth. After the fourth call I know I have to answer.
He's frantic because he can't remember where he's parked his car. Again. I reassure him that I'll come help. I'm sick and need to sleep, but I know there's no other choice. Guilt washes over me when I think about how I tried to avoid his call.
I pull up to the store and cross my fingers that he's remembered to wait where I asked him to. When I see he isn't there I scold myself for not changing out of my pajamas.
After an excruciating 45 minutes I finally find him sitting in his car. I tap on the glass and motion for him to roll the window down. He can't figure out how so I walk around to the passenger side and get in. The tears, apologies, and excuses come spilling out. I interrupt him to ask him to come live with me. We've been here before so his refusal isn't a surprise.
I open the door to leave and he reaches for my arm.
"Can I drive you to your car? I don't like you walking alone in the dark."
And just like that I see him. My Daddy. Forever my protector.
