A Mother’s Intuition
I’ve reached the age where my mom and I can laugh about my teenage hijinks. I can never sneak much past her but, every now and again, I get to tell her a story from my high school days that she somehow managed to not find out about. I wasn’t necessarily a bad kid but I definitely took certain liberties when I could. Every teenager tells those little lies, right?
Mom, of course his parents are here!
What do you mean my curfew was 10? You said 11!
It didn’t always work but sometimes I managed to slip one past her. Actually, she probably just let me win, now that I think about it.
I always thought she had cameras in the house to spy on me but she was really just that good. I’d have a few friends over while my parents were out of town. Nothing big; certainly not like the parties you see in the movies. Just a few friends in an empty house. Afterwards, I’d always clean it from top to bottom, take out the empty beer cans, and clean out the ashtrays. Golden, right? Wrong. I remember one time the toilet seat was left up in one of the bathrooms. My dad knows better. I couldn’t think up a lie fast enough. One time I broke a wine glass. I cleaned it up but she managed to find a piece of glass the size of a pencil eraser on the floor. I told you she was good.
I never learned my lesson either. Every chance I could, I would try to get one past my mom. It was almost a game; a game I rarely won.
Key word: rarely
To this day, my mom still asks me about the ‘sandy fridge’ incident. I honestly couldn’t remember what happened for a while. I mean, it has been [redacted] number of years since it occurred. However, for whatever reason, it dawned on me this week:
My parents have a beach house in North Myrtle Beach where we spent most of our summers during my teenage years. One of my girlfriends would always join me and we’d bake under the sun all day and then try to get into as much trouble as possible at night. One evening, my friend Rachael convinced me that we should sneak out and go drinking down at the beach. I’d done a lot of things by then, but sneaking out wasn’t one of them. Carpe Diem, though, am I right? We grabbed some beer we’d hidden and made our way outside and down to the beach. The night went by in a blur. We drank and had fun. Eventually, we made our way back to the house, sneaked back in the way we came, and placed the remaining beer in the bottom of the fridge.
In the haze of the next morning, I remembered the beer and panicked. We quickly got rid of the evidence just as my mom came down to check on us. As we made our beds, her shadow suddenly loomed over me in the doorway.
“Why is there sand in the fridge?”
I froze. The events of the prior evening raced through my head as I dug to find a logical excuse.
“Uhhhhh… We’re at the beach, Mom. There’s sand everywhere.”
I continued to make the bed, refusing to meet her infamous glare. She knew something was amiss. But she wouldn’t get the story from me. Well, until now.
Then again, she probably knew all along.
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