If your daughter sets you up for the sexual encounter of your life, is it Incest? Well, I’ve wondered about that too!
“Do you miss sex?” Beth asked.
“WHAT?” I asked incredulously.
“I dunno, I’m just askin’.” Beth said quietly.
“Bethany, that’s a little out of line.” I said, and jerked the steering wheel to the left. Damn near drove off the road when she said that.
I noticed her fingering her necklace. The necklace her mother and I had given her years ago when she graduated from High School. She always had it on, and long ago we’d noticed that if she was anxious or nervous about something, she’d play with it as she was doing now.
It was the Christmas Day, well, the night of Christmas day, and fairly late. We had just spent the day with family and it had snowed the whole time. Beth had had a few glasses of wine, and felt she shouldn’t be driving by herself, so I was taking her home.
The first Christmas without her mother, my wife of thirty five years, and it had gone much smoother than I thought it would. They say the year of firsts is the toughest, and to be honest Christmas was something I dreaded. Each birthday, anniversary, the various holidays throughout the year, all of it was bad, and I was relieved to realize that I was almost at the end of the first year. I must be honest though, each day was no better or worse than the last, and I was beginning to question if there was some magic feeling that would overtake me as the first anniversary of her death came and went. Maybe the people that had coined the phrase “the year of firsts” knew something I didn’t, and I was anxious about the date coming up because I was cautiously optimistic that my life would change for the better. As it was; my life seemed pretty dull, and dreary.
There’s something else you need to know too. When Polly died in a car wreck I was instantly aware of people’s well intentioned stupidity. Don’t really know how else to put it other than that. My own mother, a day after the funeral, told me how young and good looking I was and I’d find another soon enough. To be honest, I’ve not had three words with her since then. Most people want to make you feel better, find something profound to say in the hope that it will lift your spirits. Most of them fail miserably. Even the grief counselors, who worked with us didn’t seem to get a handle on the depth of our pain, and would go off into “idle speak” where words are coming out of their mouths and jumping into our ears with no affect what-so-ever in easing the pain. My son, my daughter, and myself, all had had those moments with well intentioned “friends.”
The best thing anyone said to me was a neighbor, “Phil, I don’t know what to say, I can’t relate to your loss, but know this: I’m right there (as he pointed to his house), and if you need anything, you just ask.” Funny, he’s the first one I got really drunk with about a month later. I cried for hours and he just sat there with his arm around me, silently, dutifully, and let me have my moment. Now there’s my kind of guy.
So I’m driving my slightly tipsy daughter home, who’s obviously had just enough to drink to loosen her tongue. She just spoke of what most people only think about, and I’m absolutely dumbfounded. Oh well I thought, chalk it up to the booze.
“Dad, I’m not trying to hurt you, but as a divorcee, I’m just saying, I miss the sex. Don’t miss the hassle and the fights, but I miss the sex.” Apparently she wasn’t going to drop the subject.
“That’s more information than I need.” I said a little testily.
We rode in silence for a bit and felt relief as we pulled onto her street and slowed down for her driveway.
“You know what else?” She asked.
“Probably not.” I said, now getting a little more than pissed.
“I think a woman invented the vibrator. Men couldn’t be that kind.”
“God-damn it Beth, that’s enough, that’s certainly a visual I didn’t need. You got your keys?” I glared at her.
She smiled, held up her keys, and opened the door. Leaning across the seat she kissed me on the cheek and said: “Thanks for the lift dad, I’ll see ya later.”
Relieved when she slammed the door, I waited to make sure she got into the house okay, backed out of the driveway, and headed the seven miles back home. Good God what was she thinking I wondered.
By the time I got home it was pretty quiet. My son and his wife had left with their little girl, and my brother and his wife were just heading to bed. I was so glad they had decided to come and spend the holiday with us. They’d arrived a week before Christmas and it had been nice to have the house full of noise, the smell of baking cookies and all the hustle and bustle that went along with getting ready for Christmas. Their three children were so full of life and I loved the noisy racket they brought with them.
Tom and Sherry would fly home in the morning, and I’d be back to an empty house, which I dreaded.
“Want one more drink?” Tom asked as he poured himself one.
“Sure, why not.” I replied.
We sat down in the living room in front of the fire, neither saying a word, but just stared into the fire place for a bit.
“I’m glad we came out Phil.” My brother said.
“Me too, and I’ll admit that while it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, I can’t imagine how it would have been without you guys here. Thanks again for coming.”
“Not a problem.” Tom said and we both got quiet again.
A few moments later Tom’s wife Sarah came into the room carrying her own drink, and quietly sat next to me on the couch. Putting her arm around me she squeezed my shoulder, smiled, and said; “Merry Christmas Phil, you doing okay?”
“Yeah I guess. I mean what can I say? I’m just glad it’s over. Kids seem okay, and I was worried about them. I’m so grateful you guys were here.”
Sarah leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and smiled.
“We were glad to do it hon.” She said, and then looking at my brother finished, “I’m going to bed Tom; I’m beat and tomorrow will be a long day for all of us. Damn I wish we didn’t have a six hour layover in Chicago.” She finished, got up, gave Tom a kiss, and headed down the hallway to bed.
I glanced after her walking down the hallway and caught myself looking at her ass as she glided away from us. Good Lord, Beth’s right, I do miss the sex I thought, and then glanced back at Tom who thankfully didn’t notice me eyeballing his wife.
We finished our drinks, said goodnight to one another and after a brotherly hug went to bed. The next morning things got a little hectic. We were about a block from home when their youngest daughter realized her doll was missing, and after retrieving it got back on the road to the airport. I wanted to go into the terminal with them but Tom reminded me that with all the security it would be a mad house anyway, so I dropped them at the curb and headed back home.
My cell phone rang and it was Beth wanting to know if we’d made it on time and after I told her we had, she went on:
“Dad, I know the house is a mess, and I’m pretty much off until after the first of the year, so you want some help cleaning up?” She asked.
“You bet,” I replied, relieved that she was willing to help out. The last ten days had created quite a mess around the place, plus I wanted the decorations down, bedding washed and all the other thousand things that needed to get straightened away now that Christmas was over.
“You wanna pick me up on your way by here?” She asked. “My car is still at your place.”
“Sure, I should be there in about twenty-five minutes.” I said and after our good byes, hung up.
Arriving at her house I gave a quick toot on the horn and Beth bounded out looking much better than when I had seen her last. She wasn’t a morning person, so I was pleased to see she was bright eyed and bushy tailed as she opened the door and climbed in.
“Mornin’,” she said, and leaned over to kiss me.
“Mornin’ hon,” I replied.
“So is it going to snow more?” She asked and then said, “I’m sick of shoveling this crap already, I sure don’t want any more.”
“According to the weather, we’ll get a couple days break, and maybe more snow on the weekend.”
“Great, the boys will be back then, and I’ll have some help.” She started, and then finished with, “You hungry?”
“Yeah, I’ll fix something when we get home.”
“Good, I’m starved.”
We rode in silence then, driving through the subdivisions, tires squeaking on the new snow, and shading our eyes from the bright light of the sun glaring off the surrounding areas. Occasionally someone would be out in their driveway shoveling and wave as we went by. It was one of those peaceful days, full of promise and energy that if you worked it right, by night fall you’d be exhausted and more than ready to sleep. God knows I needed to sleep better than I had been; maybe tonight would be that night.
When we got home Beth went back to the bedrooms and began stripping the beds while I went into the kitchen, fixed bacon and eggs and called to her as the toast popped up.
“It’s ready,” I hollered down the hallway.
“Okay, be right there,” she responded.
We sat and ate, made small talk and decided that we should stick to it all day and get everything done. I was pleased she’d decided to stay and said so.
“That’s okay, I guess after running my mouth last night, I owe ya.” Beth said.
“Let’s not go there again, K?” I asked.
“Whatever,” she said and not too sweetly.
She picked up her dishes, put them in the sink, and then headed back down the hallway to continue the cleaning.
The day went quickly enough. All the decorations came down, the living room and family rooms were put back together with their normal things, and soon enough it was late afternoon.
“I’m famished,” Beth said coming into the living room where I was vacuuming.
I shut the machine off and asked her if she’d like to have pizza brought in. Beth said yes and within the hour the pizza was delivered to the door.
We both decided to have beer with the pizza, and after some more small talk Beth looked straight at me with a serious look on her face.
“You’re still pissed about last night aren’t you?” She asked.
“Not really mad,” I said, “but a little embarrassed about it I suppose.”
“Can I press this?” She was staring at me with an expressionless face, but her eyes bore into me with a hint of anger.
“I’d prefer you didn’t.” I replied.
“What you prefer and what you’ll tolerate are two different things.” She observed.
Well, that was true enough. Our children had always been told that no subject was taboo, or couldn’t be discussed when they wanted to talk about something, and this was obviously something she wanted to talk about.
