Thoughts raced through my mind at light speed. I was wrapped up in a mix of emotions, none of them easily defined. When had my little girl grown up into such a self-assured young woman? When had she grown so articulate and precise? With a brush of my hand through my hair, I took a deep sigh. “You really want to know?” I asked her.
Amity didn’t miss a beat. “Like I said: I think I ALREADY know. I just want to hear you say it.”
Feeling the challenge behind her words, I hardened myself and scowled. Suddenly the dam within me broke and the floodgates between mind and mouth flew open. “Do you? Fine. Okay. Here it goes: yes, I’ve been hiding from you. More to the point, I’ve been avoiding you like the plague. Because, since your birthday, every time I see you, the only thing that comes to mind is the fact that, daughter or not, all I want to do is have you the same way I had our mother. Every time I see you, literally see you with my eyes, I’m mentally undressing you and wishing that I could feel your body sweating under mine as I take you either as a gift or by force. When you’re in the same room as me and I catch your scent, my cock is immediately hard and my pulse quickens and I have to make a near physical effort to pay attention to what you’re saying because my imagination is doing its best to drown you out. When Mother was alive, I’d be able to get out my sexual frustrations with her, any time I wanted to and any time SHE wanted to, and I wouldn’t think twice about the fact that our daughter was the physical embodiment of lust personified. But now she isn’t here and every single thing about you makes me want to forget that I’m your father and instead revel in the fact that I’m a man and you’re a woman and I haven’t had a woman in a very long time and I miss our mother and every time I feel like just throwing you across that counter top, the very one you were conceived on, and fucking you until I put a child in YOUR belly, every time I think about that I feel like shit because it feels like I’m being unfaithful to the one woman who brought BOTH of us into this world. And I hate that feeling, I hate feeling betrayed by my own lusts and I can’t… I can’t… I…” I yanked the chair away from the table suddenly and sat down heavily in it. “Fuck.” Then I ashamedly dipped my head down in defeat and cradled it in my hands, elbows acting like tripods on the kitchen table. I didn’t cry, no more strength was left in me to do that. So I just sat there in abject shame, hiding my eyes from my daughter who watched me in my tirade with a stony expression.
I didn’t even hear her move, but a moment later I felt her body next to mine and, more surprising than anything, she pulled me to her midriff and held me there in a gentle embrace.
All I could manage to say was, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.”
She breathed a few times in silence before answering. “I’m not.”
As though struck by a cattle prod, I jerked back, away from her hug and looked up at her in shock. “Amity! I-” and there I paused. What was I going to say? My eyes locked with hers and all I could see behind her gaze was complete openness. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
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