After yet another argument with Dylan, her estranged husband, Emily slammed the door shut to her bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
Emily and Dylan were high school sweethearts and they married immediately after finishing their university degrees. They were now 26 and although they were no longer a couple, and awaiting divorce proceedings, they were still temporarily living together in their rented apartment. They slept separately and generally tried to avoid each other as much as possible until they both managed to find another place to live.
Emily's life had played out to be almost the complete opposite of her hopes and desires. Her teaching degree and the beautiful children she taught everyday were perhaps the only highlights. Dylan, a mechanical engineer, had shown a complete inability to hold down a job for more than a few months. They never had any money to even consider saving up to buy a house.
On top of everything, after they decided one drunken night to start a family, months of trying and then the inevitable tests that showed that she wasn't capable of conceiving, was the final straw to their marriage. In a way, she felt that it was a blessing that she couldn't fall pregnant with his child before realising what a useless piece of shit he was.
In the present moment, she resolved that she would leave as soon as possible, and return to her hometown. She had old friends still living there, and her father still hadn't moved out of the family home - even after her mother, Sandy, died of breast cancer two years ago. She knew that she'd easily get a new teaching job there.
Michael's phone rang, and he saw Emily's contact details appear. "Hi, Em!" he greeted cheerily. "I was just thinking about calling you! How are you?"
Emily sobbed into the phone, "Oh Dad! I'm shit, to be honest!" She cried into the phone for a few seconds.
Michael collected himself, transforming immediately into father mode. "Em! What is it?" he asked as gently as he could. He could guess. It was always the same lately. "Another argument?"
After sobbing for a few more seconds, Emily mustered the ability to respond. "Yeah! He's such an asshole! What did I ever see in him?" It was rhetorical, of course. Michael knew she didn't expect, didn't want, an answer. Pulling herself together, Emily finally asked quietly, "Dad, can I stay with you for a while? I have to get out of here. I want to move back to where I grew up. Move jobs. The whole thing."
Michael had suggested on several occasions for her to get out of her situation with Dylan after they agreed to separate. "Of course, Em. You know that this house is your house too. You can stay here as long as you want. I could do with the company, and it's been too long since we've spent time together."
Michael spent most of his time alone these days since his wife died. Not too long ago he'd tried dating, but after several complete failures, he'd decided that it was more trouble than it was worth.
"Thanks, Dad. I'll work out a more permanent place to stay when I get everything sorted."
"No, Em. You stay as long as you want," Michael repeated. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed forever, but I know you'll want to get on with a new life."
"Oh God," Emily said. "I don't want to think about anything new for a while. Definitely not a new boyfriend!"
Switching to the practicalities of it, Michael stated, "I'll organise a moving van to bring all of your stuff." When Emily began to protest, Michael interrupted her, "No! I insist. You've been through enough already. Start packing now."
"I love you, Dad," Emily sobbed again. "Thanks so much!"
"I love you too. I'm looking forward to seeing you soon."
***
Michael opened the door to greet Emily. He was surprised by her when she energetically pounced through the door, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. They had always had a close relationship. He had been the perfect father to her, and they were often inseparable in her teenage years when Emily lived at home.
"Oh Daddy, thanks so much for this!" she said, still hugging him tightly.
Michael gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed them so that she was forced to release her hold of him and look him in the eyes.
"OK, that's gonna have to stop," he said sternly. "I don't want to hear you thank me for something that's yours already. This is your house just as much as it is mine. You can save your thanks for when I bring you a cup of tea, OK?"
Emily hung her head overly dramatically and batted her eye lids. "Sorry, Daddy!" she said in mock apology while smiling.
Michael returned her smile. "That's better," he said jokingly. They both laughed. "Let me help you with your things."
***
Days turned into weeks, and father and daughter both felt like they had never lived apart. It reminded her of the old days, except for the sad absence of Emily's mother.
The house was not small, having been home to four in the past - which included Emily's brother, Brian - but it wasn't a large house either. It was fairly old when Michael and Sandy bought it. They had completely renovated the downstairs area which included the living room, kitchen, and Michael's office. The renovations provided floor to ceiling glass walls looking out onto a beautiful, secluded garden that got ample sunlight, but also had several trees that provided shade for the summer months.
The upstairs was still original and contained the bedrooms opening off a narrow hallway. Michael's bedroom had an ensuite bathroom, and there was also a main bathroom that was shared. Emily's bedroom was her old one - on the other side, and a little down the hallway from Michael's. The floorboards creaked (including the stairs), and the walls were paper thin. The family had planned to renovate the upstairs when they could afford it, but then Emily and Brian moved out. Michael and Sandy thought there wasn't too much point in spending the money when it was mostly just them in the house.
Emily and Michael loved each other's company. They ate breakfast and dinner together, and lunch on the weekends unless Emily was catching up with friends. They had long chats and curled up on the lounge near each other to watch movies every Saturday night.
As Emily had predicted, finding a new teaching job was easy. It was walking distance to the house, and the staff and students were for the most part very friendly. Finally, her life was getting back on track.
***
One morning, as Emily was getting ready for work, Michael planned to make her some breakfast, as he usually did on her workdays. He wandered down the hall to Emily's bedroom. Her door was open, as it always was. The family had never closed bedroom doors - except those nights many years ago that Michael and Sandy had sex.
Michael asked, "What would you like for breakfast?" before he had quite reached her doorway.
Emily had just jumped out of bed and was completely naked. Michael stepped into the doorway and caught sight of his daughter. She was stunning. Apart from her beautiful face, her body was incredibly sexy - athletic, with toned legs and abdomen. Her breasts were firm and moderately sized, and her pubic hair neatly trimmed in a thin strip leading to her pussy. Michael hadn't seen her naked since the year that she had moved out to live with Dylan. Prior to that, the family had always been very open with their nakedness, not giving a care if they were seen by other family members. It was not sexualised for them - they were simply comfortable in their own skins, and comfortable seeing each other that way.
Michael was about to apologise, unsure of how Emily felt about being naked in front of him after so many years. But her manner and words made him realise that she was still just as comfortable with it.
"Sorry, Dad, I woke up late this morning! I'm just going to jump in the shower. Can you just make me...?" she started, thinking for a few seconds. She made no effort to cover her nudity, and clearly didn't expect her father to look away. "Oh, just some toast with jam," she decided finally. "Oh, and some coffee! Must have coffee!"
"Coming right up," Michael responded. He was trying hard not to act differently after staring at his daughter's alluring form.
"Thanks, Dad! I have to pee badly! You'll have to excuse me before I have an accident!" With that, she brushed past him and made her way down the hallway, naked, to the bathroom.
As Michael made his way down the stairs, he noticed his own troubled feelings. The image of his naked daughter replayed in his mind, and he quickly told himself to stop. She was his daughter. He was her father, he reminded himself. He managed to distract himself by preparing breakfast and didn't think about it for the rest of the morning.
Something had changed for Emily, too. While she had successfully acted care-free about being naked in front of her father, her actions belied her true feelings. She had felt her father's gaze on her and sensed something different to when she used to live with him. Rather than stirring revulsion or shame or any of the things she knew that she was 'supposed' to feel, she felt a slight wave of excitement rush through her. Instead of trying to put the feelings away, she pondered on them. Growing up, she'd sometimes had lustful thoughts about her father, and her brother for that matter, as some girls do. Or at least, she hoped that she wasn't alone in her incestuous fantasies. Of course, she'd never acted on them, other than to masturbate. Her father had always been completely appropriate in his behaviour to her. 'Do I have daddy issues?' she thought to herself. She was not going to give herself a hard time about it. Whatever she felt was right because she knew that she was a good person.
After she showered and dressed, she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. Michael had of course prepared everything for her and was waiting with his own breakfast in front of him. They ate together and talked briefly before Emily had to rush off to work.
"Thanks for breakfast, Dad!" she said as she got up from the kitchen breakfast bar. Michael got up too to say goodbye. "See you after work. I love you," Emily said, giving him a big hug and and a kiss on the cheek.
'There it is again,' she thought to herself. Her father's touch - as innocent as it was - suddenly meant something different, felt different.
