I woke up early the next morning, feeling better than I had in a very long time. I felt giddy, filled with energy and life, like nothing could stop me. And then it hit me. I began worrying about what had happened the night before, and what Mackenzie and I had done.
I had woke up with the intention of doing something nice, something wonderful, something truly fantastic, because that was how I was feeling. Even though my worries were getting the better part of me, I decided to still go through with making breakfast and so I found myself in the kitchen, in my pajama bottoms, cooking eggs and bacon, and hash browns. I even put a batch of cinnamon rolls in the oven.
Soon enough, the whole house smelled like fresh baked cinnamon rolls and as I pulled them out and started coating them with the icing, I head Jennifer's bedroom door open.
"Oh my gosh," Jennifer said as she came stumbling into the kitchen, bleary eyed. "That smells so good."
"Hey sweetie," I said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I made breakfast."
"I see that," she said, snatching a piece of bacon off the paper towel lined plate.
I grabbed a plate and served her up some of the eggs, put a few more pieces of bacon next to them, and then deposited a cinnamon roll next to that. "There's orange juice in the fridge," I said, giving her a smile.
"Dad...?" Jennifer questioned. I felt my stomach lurch and my heart skipped a beat. I sucked in a breath, ready for the worst of the worst. "I...uh.... About last night...."
I clenched my jaw tight, fearing the worst, but given the circumstances, I thought she was handling it pretty well.
"I... Look, I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. I figured, at this point, honesty was the best policy and I was just going to fess up, admit I'd fucked up, and swear to god that I would never do it again. "I..."
"You don't have to apologize," Jennifer said then, her cheeks turning red.
"No, no, I do," I said, pressing my point. "I...was out of line. I shouldn't have done that. Any of that."
"Jesus dad," Jennifer said.
"No, I know, I do, but, you know.... It just felt so good." Jennifer's face turned an even darker shade of red and I shook my head ashamedly. "It was late. I was tired. I...my mood was just, I don't know. Something about the move really got to me I guess."
"Well, yeah," Jennifer said, laughing light heartedly.
"And then, once I started, I just couldn't stop. But, I swear to god, I'm done with that. I won't ever do it again. I swear."
"No!" Jennifer said then, as if I was making a big mistake. "No, you... don't do that. No, it's perfectly normal dad. Jesus. You have emotions, you have needs. I know that."
"You do?" I asked, and it was my face that turned five shades of red.
"Yeah. We all do. I mean, you know... everyone does it."
I shook my head, not wanting to admit it, but she was right. It seemed everyone was fucking everyone now-a-days. Nobody really put much investment in solid long term relationships. It was all about "hooking up" and having "casual sex".
"Smash or pass," I said, repeating something I'd heard online. Jennifer looked up at me with wide opened eyes and blinked dumbly. "That's what they say, isn't it? Smash or pass?"
"I mean, yeah, I guess," Jennifer replied. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I...I don't know. What does it mean?"
Jennifer burst out laughing so hard, she almost dropped her plate and had to set it on the counter to keep from dumping it. When she finally calmed down enough to regain her composure, she said, "smash or pass is like...a thing. Where a guy who really doesn't, uh...get a lot of dates...he might ask a girl, smash or pass. It's...I don't know. It's like, don't waste my time. Am I the kind of person, just based on looks alone, that you would...you know...have sex with."
"Wait. So smash or pass is like saying, would you fuck me?" I asked.
"It is exactly that," Jennifer said, laughing hard at my embarrassment.
"Okay, well...then I guess an old dog can learn new tricks," I said and I shook my head, embarrassed once again. "But I'm serious. I won't ever do that again, I swear," I said.
"No dad. Please, look. I get it! You have that DVD in the player like, all the time." I felt my face burn red hot as Jennifer called me out on my porn. "And I can tell when you've been watching it," she said, and then her face turned even brighter red. "It's not like I'm coming home from work and going to the DVD player and looking to see what you've been watching that day."
I turned my head away, now thoroughly embarrassed because, I had known Jennifer had watched the DVD as well. I'd stopped it right after my favorite scenes a number of times, only to power the DVD player up later on and find it at a different spot. I entertained the idea that the player had simply run without me knowing it, or had skipped a chapter or two, but now I knew. I knew Jennifer had been curious, and she was an adult now. She wasn't a child anymore. She could watch porn if she wanted. For gods sakes, she had her own T.V. and her own DVD player in her bedroom.
"Look. Everyone watches porn. Even I do," Jennifer said then. "You don't have to swear it off, or promise to never watch it again. I just wanted to tell you, I didn't mean to interrupt."
My jaw dropped open and I stood there, unable to breathe. "You...didn't interrupt," I said.
"Well, it sure seemed like it from what I saw," she said, her face turning almost purple. "Nope. Not, going there. I wasn't trying to watch, or catch you, or...any of that. You're entitled to your privacy."
Slowly, I nodded my head. "You too," I said.
"And I thank you for that," she said, giving me a peck on the cheek. "I, uh...don't know how long Mackenzie is planning on staying," she said after another moment. I could tell she thought I would be upset by her statement, but at this point, I wasn't. I was oblivious.
"She can stay as long as she wants," I said.
"Really?" Jennifer asked, a curious look of disbelief coming over her face.
"Yeah," I said then, as if I'd suddenly had a complete change of heart. "You know, you're getting...I mean, you're older now. More mature. You can make adult decisions. I think you know who you can trust and who you can't."
"I'm pretty sure I can trust her," Jennifer said reassuringly.
"Okay. If you say you can trust her, then I'll trust her too," I said.
"Good," Jennifer said, and she gave me a weird smile, and then looked back to the food. "Uh, can I eat in my room?"
"I guess so," I said, and then added, "just make sure you bring your dirty dishes out when you're done. I don't want half the kitchen in there."
"I'll make sure," Jennifer said, and then she grabbed another plate and started loading it up.
"For Mackenzie?"
"Yeah," Jennifer said. "She said she's super tired, and sore."
"Oh," I said innocently.
"I was like, sore? Sore from what? You know what she said?"
I swallowed nervously but replied with one word, "what?"
"She said she had this crazy dream." Again I felt impending doom coming, and then Jennifer finished, "about working out. She said she dreamed she was running the mile and a half, lifting weights, doing jumping-jacks. I said she's crazy, but she said now she's sore all over."
"Your mother had something like that happen before," I said informatively. Jennifer's face turned to something like stern acceptance whenever I spoke of her mother. She'd left us when Jennifer was just six years old, and two years later she sent a single letter that basically said, she was sorry. She didn't feel like she belonged here, and she decided she had to go back to her home country of Brazil. She left no return address, no phone number, and no email address. Nothing. It was the one, and only time, we ever heard from her.
"What happened?" Jennifer asked, unsure she wanted to hear it.
"Said she had a dream about swimming," I said, making a motion with my arms as if I was doing the backstroke. "I woke up with a black eye."
"Daaad!" Jennifer said, raising her voice and slapping me on the upper arm. "That's not funny!"
"I know," I said, smiling. "You should have seen my eye!"
Jennifer laughed and then shook her head before taking both plates into her room. I sighed and sat down at the kitchen table and ate my own food in relative peace and quiet, reminiscing about days long gone, when a Brazilian beauty came into my life, made me promises she never kept, and then left just as Jennifer was starting her first year of school.