Switch: Part One

                A wise man once said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. When I first heard that, I thought it was so profound. If you asked me what I thought about it now, I might write it off as an old cliché that has little application to my day-to-day life. As far as I know, the only enemies I have ever made were customers whose coupons for 50% off a loaf of bread or some obscure item at the grocery store I work at expired. Chances are that I may run into that same customer down the line, but I barely know them. I hardly feel threatened by these enemies, if you can call them that. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Just an old saying.

***

                "Any big plans for the weekend, Laura?" I ask as I shuffle through some paperwork. I just hired Laura about a month ago, and so far she's been nothing but attitude that needed to be double-bagged. Somewhat reminds me of my own seventeen-year-old daughter, Maggie. Maybe that's why I hired her in the first place.

                "Piss off," Laura retorts as she walks out of the break room.

                "Nice talking with you, too." That's the thing about being a manager: it doesn't exactly make you the most popular person at Thrifty Acres. I walk to the bulletin board and looked at the schedule. Laura's scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, nine to five. That's not so bad. When I was a checkout boy, I had to work eight hour days nearly every day of the week. You don't get to the top without a little elbow grease. I'll have to have a talk with Laura about that. It can wait until Monday. I don't have to work this weekend. That's the thing about being a manager.

                I walk across the parking lot and hop into my '03 Accord. As I fire up the engine, I find "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy on my iPod while I sport the corniest grin this side of the Grand River. I decide to take the longer way home today so I can  take in the beautiful autumn colors. The summers may be humid, the winters frigid, and the springs damp, but I live for Michigan falls. It takes me about twelve minutes to get home, but when I do, a sense of excitement washes over me. Maggie is with me for an entire week starting today. Carol finally decided to allow her to come see her father. I guess she can only keep our daughter in Ohio for so long. Five months, to be exact.

                I walk through the front door and see the picture of Maggie and me that she took herself when she was eleven. A sentimental smile creeps on to my face as I think about all the good times we had before the divorce. I stroll into the kitchen and fire up the stove top to make eggs and pancakes. Tonight, we're having breakfast for dinner, Maggie's favorite. I check the clock, and it tells me that it's 5:45. Maggie should be here around six. This timing will be perfect. At quarter after, I have the pancakes made and the eggs are all ready to go. I just need my angel to walk through the front door. 6:45. 7:00. 8:00. I'm starting to get worried. Unlike her mother, Maggie is usually very punctual. I decide to give Carol a call.

                The phone rings twice and then a familiar voice answers. "What do you want?"

                "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking. Where is Maggie? Did you send her on her way or what?"

                "What are you talking about? She left over five hours ago. She said she couldn't wait to get up there, God help her. That girl's got an attitude that could make that Demi Lovato blush, but she still loves you for whatever reason." My heart rises up into my throat. "Paul, is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, I can make a call to my friend down at the alimony offices and arrange it so Maggie..." My phone starts vibrating. Unknown number coming in. "...do you understand me?"

                "Loud and clear. She's pulling into the driveway right now. Everything's fine. I gotta go. Call coming in." Before Carol can answer, I switch the line. "Hello?"
                "Dad?" comes a feeble voice into the earpiece.

                "Maggie, where are you? Are you all right? You have me worried sick."

                "Your daughter is fine, Mr. Aldridge. If you want her to remain that way, go to the address we send you. No cops. No weapons. No money. Just you. You have until midnight to rescue your daughter before you suffer my same fate."

                "Listen, maybe we can make..." *click. The next thing I know, I'm in my car, ready to go get my daughter. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm definitely not staying here.