[Caitlyn's been off her game recently. She's zoning out during the basics and nearly got hurt. We've gotta keep an eye on the kid, right?]
[There's a promo right now. Pay up for the semester, and you get one thousand dollars off the fifty thousand fees.]
Reading those words, it dawned on me—I had a second chance at life!
The last time, when I received this message, my gut reaction was to send the money immediately. After all, saving one thousand dollars meant fewer dishes to wash, and that was a deal I couldn't pass up.
But after making the payment, when Caitlyn didn't pick up her phone, I tracked her down to a dingy internet café.
I burst in to find my vibrant young daughter snuggled up with a dyed-hair punk.
In a fury, I demanded she come with me to dance class. She was my responsibility, and I was determined to get her back on track.
But she stood up in front of everyone, yelling that I was a stalker, and even threatened self-harm if I didn't remove the phone tracker.
I hadn't wanted to put that tracker there in the first place.
Back when Caitlyn was little, I was working non-stop to afford her dance lessons.