Arugula Salad

Valerie Z. Lewis

Just once, just to test a theory, I stop calling my daughter. She’s a wonderful girl, and I love talking to her. But I want to see how long it will be before she realizes I haven’t called. How long until she calls me. It takes twenty-one days.

"Hi Mom," she says when she finally calls. "You know your arugula salad recipe? If I don’t have pistachios, what can I substitute?"

I want to say, Why haven’t you called? I want to say, Who are you cooking for? Are you still dating that boy I don’t like? Are you doing well in school? Are you going out to bars with a fake ID and letting people you don’t know buy you drinks? Do you remember to turn off your humidifier before you leave the apartment? Do you realize that one in four women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime? Are you looking at pictures of models in magazines and wishing you were thinner and starving yourself? Do you know how dangerous crystal meth is? Are you lonely? Do you need me to come get you?

But instead I say, "Almonds."