Once More I Feel Hell for You

4.00 You're late, your dinner is going cold.
You can't reheat pasta it ruins it.
You're in trouble when you get home.
4.30 'Where the hell is she?' your mother asks,
I suggest you dropped in to see grandma along the way,
Your mother is sceptical, she picks up the phone.
4.35 Its gone beyond a joke now it really is.
You're not at grandma's.
Your mother is starting to panic.
She asks me to take a drive around.
4.55 For fuck sake.
I've been driving around for twenty minutes.
The town is deserted.
I see the only friend of yours I really know and pull up beside
her.
5.00 Jesus where are you?
My heart is pounding in my chest.
I'm sure I'm over reacting.
Your friend hasn't seen you since lunchtime.
5.10 I call the school.
You didn't come back after lunch.
I lose my head and give the principal an earful before hanging
up.
5.15 I call home.
You're not back yet.
I'm trembling.
I whisper 'please God, please god' over and over.
6.00 I call the guards. A fruitless endeavour.
You've only been gone for three hours they say.
They suggest various scenarios accounting for your absence,
Neglecting to mention the worst case.
8.00 I call the guards again,
This time I insist they take down your description.
They agree to send out a squad to take a look around.
8.45 Your mother is a basket case.
I'm holding my own simply because one of us has to keep our
head.
It isn't easy, I won't be able to keep this up for long.
9.10 I watch the news, my vision unfocused.
A story I've seen a million times before:
Missing girl. Parent's plea for help.
Thank God your mother isn't watching this.
10.10 'Richard! Richard!' your mother screams.
She runs down the stairs and into the hall.
'What-what is it!' I call back.
I hear the front door opening, your mother screaming.
I run out into the hall. A Ban Garda at the door, smiling,
Your mother crouching down, huddling something.
I slowly approach, feeling tears being manufactured in my eyes.
Your mother stands up, sniffling. Turns around. Make up smeared.
Runny nosed. Hugs me close.
I look down at you, your head to the floor, feet shuffling.
I slowly push your mother aside,
Walk toward you, arms folded.
'I know that look' I say to myself.
I look at you, the officer, and back to you.
I cannot restrain my instinct; I kneel down and sweep you up into my
arms.
'Sorry dad' you say.
The Garda clears her throat, I set you down, hand on your
shoulder.
'I found Kathy here on the beach with a young fellow.'
I bite my lip, nodding for her to go on.
'I confiscated this from the pair.'
Her arm is outstretched, holding a plastic bag.
Your mother grabs it and turns away to inspect its contents.
I wasn't so eager to look inside, I already knew.
I could smell the vodka on your breath.