My Love, My Drug, My Release

Paul's Perspective

I spent a lot of the morning on the phone arranging the release of my eponymous solo album and wanking off to old Playboy magazines. Linda still hadn't forgiven me for the lie I told her about criticizing Lo's outfit, which she idiotically perceived as me driving her away. She went to the supermarket and took Mary with her in a stroller. It was surprisingly refreshing to masturbate in my own bed without worrying about getting caught.

Linda returned in the evening with fish and chips, the paper bag soaked through with grease. It was her way of telling me I didn't deserve a home-cooked meal.

She put Mary in a high chair, and I sat next to our daughter, offering her my index finger which she took, shaking around and giggling. She had a way of warming my heart even when I angry as hell. I pulled away once she starting biting on my finger, teething, and took out my meal, stuffing my face; I hadn't eaten anything except yogurt all day. 

"How was your day?" I asked my wife.

She shrugged, popping open a coke and taking a long drink. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose."

"Do you know where Lo is, cheer practice should be over by now."

"Yes, I do know. She asked me to go out with friends tonight, and I gave her my permission." She looked so smug, so proud that she'd done something I wouldn't approve of, it made me want to bash her head into a wall. 

"You let her go out again, after the hell she put us through yesterday?" I carefully annunciated every word, making each sharp as a sewing needle, piercing my target.

Linda shrunk away from me, brows pulled together in confusion. "She asked nicely, I thought-"

"No, you didn't think, you never fucking think, you just do what you want!" I lowered my voice when I saw Mary staring up at us, frowning. "She's a dumb fifteen-year-old, with stupid ideas. You pretending to be a 'cool mom' doesn't help her. She needs boundaries, guidelines; she needs a real fucking parent." I ran my fingers through my hair, rubbed my face, attempting to clear my head.

"I'm so sorry Paul; I was only trying to-"

"Shush, I don't want to hear your excuses," I said, holding up my hand. "Did she say who she was going with?"

"No."

"Did she leave any clue of who it might be?"

"I don't think- well, I think I came in just after she got a phone call from whoever it was who wanted to see her. She was very flustered, emotional, like she'd been talking to a boy, a very charming one at that."

Flustered, who could've left her flustered? It wasn't Thelma, that's for sure. I doubted it was any high-school boy, actually. The only people she'd gotten so worked up over in the past was Brandon and... Oh, fuck me.

"I gotta go," I said through gritted teeth. "I know where she is."