Ransom

It’s the phone call every parent hopes to never receive. “We have your daughter.”

My wife began to panic, but I’ve seen Taken several times, so I was more prepared. I told her to book me a flight to Paris while I talk with the kidnapper. “Don’t you think we should probably hear their demands first before we make any plans?” she said. I’ve always appreciated how cool she can be under pressure, and there couldn’t have been much more pressure than what we were experiencing right then. I nodded in agreement, and in the most intimidating Clint Eastwood voice I could muster up I spoke into the phone, saying, “What do you want?”

My wife looked at me and rolled her eyes. “What?” I whispered.

“Just talk normal,” she said.

I explained that I was trying to intimidate the kidnappers, but she told me that it wouldn’t work. “They’re not intimidated by that,” she whispered to me.

“They might be,” I said.

“We’re not,” said the kidnappers, which surprised me because I was holding the phone away from my mouth and whispering so I didn’t think they could hear me. “We can hear everything you’re saying!” our daughter shouted from somewhere in the background. “Would you please shut up and listen to them before they kill me!”

“Sarah!” my wife and I shouted in unison. “Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

This made me chuckle. “That was a good one, Sweetie.”

“Are you serious right now?” my wife said. She never did appreciate our humor.

I told Sarah that as much as I respected her being able to make jokes even in a situation as dire as this, her mother was right and we needed to get serious. We asked where she was, and the kidnapper interrupted, saying, “Uh-uh. You don’t get any information until you meet our demands.”

“We’ll do anything,” my wife said. “Just please don’t hurt her.” Then the kidnappers told us that there would be a ring on our doorbell shortly with someone delivering a package, and that once we had that we would be given further instructions.

Sure enough, not even thirty seconds after he said that the doorbell rang. I answered, but it was only DoorDash. I told the guy that he had the wrong house and to please go away.

“Was that him?” the kidnapper asked. I told him that it was just a DoorDash delivery driver that had the wrong house, and the kidnapper said that was the guy and to take the package. I ran back to the door to catch him before he left, and he handed me a box from a nearby sushi restaurant.

“What’s in here?” I asked, and the kidnappers told me to open it. “It’s sushi,” I said. The kidnapper was like, “Yeah, what did you expect would be in a box from a sushi restaurant?”

I didn’t get it, then the kidnapper explained that if we wanted to save our daughter then all the sushi had to be eaten. Oh, that’s easy, I thought. My wife loves sushi, so we should have Sarah home by dinner!

“No, the kidnapper said. “You have to eat the sushi, not her.”

“Me?” I asked. Now I was starting to get a little nervous.

“That’s right, Wanna Be Liam Neeson. You.”

“Okay,” my wife said, handing me the box with a smile and a nod of hope and encouragement, as if we’ve just survived the hardest part when in reality it was just getting started.

“It has to be me?” I asked, reluctantly taking the box of fish and seaweed.

“It does,” he said.

I opened the box and examined the contents. My stomach turned and my mouth dried up. It was as if my digestive system was shutting down like a saloon in the wild west when the bad guys came riding into town.

“This is your chance to be a hero,” my wife encouraged me. “It’s what you’ve always wanted!”

“But not like this!” I protested, realizing that my particular set of skills included being repulsed by foods that have been widely acclaimed by most of society. For what it’s worth, it’s not just popular food that I don’t like, but attractions as well. I would have had a similar reaction had I been told that in order to save my daughter I would have to spend the whole day at the beach.

“What’s happening?” we heard Sarah ask from the background. “Is he eating the sushi?” The kidnapper must have shook his head indicating that I hadn’t yet because then she shouted, “Really?”

“He’s working up to it, Honey,” my wife assured her. Sarah was none too pleased as she exclaimed, “You won’t try sushi even if it means saving your only daughter’s life?”

“Is it okay if I only try it?” I asked, hopeful.

The kidnapper explained again that if we wanted her to be returned to us unharmed then I had to eat all of the sushi. He sounded a little irritated at having to explain himself again, taking a big sigh before going back over the rules, but I wish they could understand just how hard this was for me. So, I asked how much I would have to eat for her to be returned to us just a little bit harmed.

“What?” the kidnapper asked at the same time Sarah shouted, “Dad!” from the background.

My wife also seemed stunned and confused by this, but I reminded her how much I really don’t like sushi. “It’s a texture thing,” I explained.

I tried describing how wretched it is having that in my mouth and said that it is like torture for me, to which Sarah said, “Oh, really Dad? Gee, I wonder what that’s like.” I told her that I didn’t appreciate the sarcasm right now.

The kidnapper explained that he had never had anyone ask him that before and that he would need to think about it. I told him that he could take his time and get back with me because I had some errands to run anyway. So, I went to pick up some dog food and the prescription for my sciatica, and made it back just in time for his phone call.

“Perfect timing!” I said as I answered.

“Alright,” the kidnapper started. “Here’s what I came up with…”

He started off by saying that he understood the texture thing because that is how he is with onions. “My wife keeps insisting on putting them in everything she makes, though.”

“Yes!” I said, appreciating that he was at least showing some empathy for me.

“Are we going to do this?” Sarah questioned in the distance.

“I’m sorry,” I told the kidnapper. “She can be a little pushy sometimes.”

“Oh, I understand,” he said. I asked if he had kids, too, and he said that he did not, but that he had kidnapped a lot of people and that they tend to get pretty impatient after a while. My wife insisted that we move it along, and I said, “You can see where Sarah gets it,” which made us both laugh.

This caused my wife to hit me in the arm, and she asked if there was anyway that she could exchange Sarah for me. The kidnapper said that it would be an unequal exchange because there wasn’t as much value in me as in her. Which, if I’m being honest, did hurt a little bit.

We decided to go ahead and get down to what it would take to get our daughter home with me having to eat as little sushi as possible. The kidnapper said that if we wanted her home unharmed then I would have to eat the entire roll, which was six pieces, but that she would lose a toe for each piece that I didn’t eat. The thought of this made my stomach turn. Six pieces of sushi seemed like a lot. Oh, and it also bothered me that Sarah might lose some toes.

Although I can’t imagine I will ever eat sushi again, I am proud to say that I did find the courage to do what was needed in order to bring my daughter home, and with all of the toes on her right foot still intact. I have also been proud of how well she is learning to get along without any of the toes on her left foot. And I hope to be able to tell her that one day, once she decides to start speaking to me again.