t was the night after Christmas, I think. When all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me because I was waiting to hear from Alexis, my daughter, who had had enough cabin fever and ventured out to see a movie with her friend, Tad.
Our power had mercifully returned hours earlier, having been absent for around 20 hours. We were luckier than most.
Alexis and Tad had gone to see “Django Unchained,” which started at 8:30. She was going to call when it was over, so when 10:45 rolled around and I hadn’t heard from her, I Googled the movie and found it was three hours in length. Longer Tarantino means more carnage.
About that time, my cable went out. I still had power, just no TV or Internet. A few days later, I was picking up something at U.S. Pizza and asked the girl waiting on me if she had her power. It’s the perfect conversation starter. “Yes, but my cable is out.” The guy working with her said, “What’s the use of power if you don’t have cable?” Electricity is wasted on youth.
I drifted in and out of light sleep, in front of the dying fire and dead TV, waiting to hear from Alexis.
My phone rang sometime later, and I saw it was Alexis. The time was 12:01.
“Where are you?”
“We decided not to drive any further because the roads are so slick.”
“Where are you?”
“Wellington, I think.”
“I thought the movie was at Chenal?” (We live off Pebble Beach, not far from Rahling, which is an easy straight shot from the Promenade, where the theatre is.)
“Well, Tad didn’t want to drive down Rahling.”
(He wouldn’t have to, I thought, just get on it and slide home, easy as falling off a fiscal cliff.)
“So you drove to Wellington, and you’re now twice as far away, and it’s after midnight and you’re walking.”
“We’re fine, dad.”
“Call me in 20 minutes and let me know where you are.”
In 15 minutes, I called her back.
“Are you to Rahling yet?”
“No, we had to stop to put on more socks. Tad is pretty far behind me. We’re by the church.”
“Crap, Alexis.”
“It’s fine, dad.”
“Call me back.”
I went upstairs to tell Kathy what was happening and that I was going after them. We live on a hill and it was solid white, but all I had to do was get to Rahling, which was down hill.
“I don’t think you should go,” Kathy said.
“It will be OK. I’ll be careful.”
“They can walk.”
“It’s 25 degrees and she sounded cold.”
“WELL, GO GET HER!”
I had no problem getting to what I assumed was the church Alexis had referred to. But there was no sign of them, which worried me. I could have missed them or they could have gotten a ride, which worried me, too, thinking randomly about the crazy guy from “Fargo” and his wood chipper, and then about Dick and Perry.
I called Kathy and said I didn’t see them. “AND NOW SHE DOESN”T ANSWER HER PHONE!” Kathy told me.
“I’ll double back.”
“It was a bad feeling that mercifully only lasted seconds as my phone rang, and it was Alexis. I answered, and she said “Sorry, dad. We got a ride to Pebble Beach, and I didn’t hear my phone.”
You know that feeling when you’re so mad and so relieved at the same time? If you’re a parent, then you do.