Chapter 19

The week passed quickly. Warm weather hung around, melting the last of the snow. Spring was officially here, buds popping out on trees and bushes, birds twittering, ground squirrels foraging. I’d informed Sia of my decision to gently let Alia down and she’d just dismissed me. “It’s not that easy, Dad. Trust me. You’re gonna date her.”

Friday night I escorted Alia into our local version of Tex-Mex, a restaurant aptly called Tex-Mex Bar and Grill. It was large, had multiple television screens all playing different sports events, loud music and deep booths. Conversations were raised to overcome the music. In a booth, we could talk and never be overheard.

Alia, showing her well-honed sense of style, wore skinny jeans, black leather ankle boots with tall heels, a sky blue buttoned-down men’s shirt, and a brown leather jacket. A white gold chain hung around her neck with matching earrings dangling, the tight waves of her glossy dark hair falling free and straight, framing her face.

We ordered. The waitress brought Alia her wheat pale ale and my Heineken. Conversation flowed easily, very easily. When she laughed her whole face lit up, exotic eyes twinkled, and her smile was broad and bright.

When is the right time to turn a conversation to serious matters? When we’re having fun? Over starters? Over a main meal of baby back ribs? Indecision ended when we finished the ribs. I’d almost left it too late.

As we ordered another beer, I broached the subject.

“Alia, I think you know how much I like you.”

Her endlessly deep eyes studied me.

“I think there could be something here. I can’t explain why, but the timing can’t work.”

Alia smiled slightly. She touched the back of my hand with hers and withdrew it. In a sign I was beginning to recognize, she used both hands to turn her glass of beer on the table.

“I like you, Philip. I think you’re a good guy; one of those truly good guys. I have a few things I want to say, but before I do, before I can ask you to be honest with me, I need to be honest with you. I think I can trust you.”

She had me intrigued.

After taking a sip of beer, she set the glass down, fingers turning it, her eyes on the table. They rose to look into mine.

“When Jasmin was seven years old, after Jerry had been arrested, she suffered from nightmares. It was a difficult time for her and for me.

“Every time she’d wake up screaming and crying I’d go to her and try to calm her. Inevitably she’d wake up again, frightened and calling for me.”

Alia’s eyes saddened. “It was so hard to listen to my child cry. It hurt when she’d say, “Please don’t let Daddy hurt me, Mommy.” I think you might understand that better than most.”

I did. As she sipped her beer, my mind went back; Sia, six years old, her body wracked with grief, crying and clinging to me as if afraid I, too, would die. It’s one of the hardest things in the world to see your child hurt and not be able to make it better. It wasn’t a scrape or bruise that a kiss and Band Aid would make better. It was a deep psychological pain inaccessible to a father’s kiss. Only patience, love, and time could reach it.

“I understand completely,” I assured her.

Alia continued. “I started keeping Jasmin in bed with me. It comforted her. It helped her to sleep. It provided the safety and security she so desperately needed.”

Smiling, I interjected, “I did the same for Sia.”

Alia nodded and smiled slightly. She twirled her half-empty beer glass and looked down at it. Her voice grew softer. “Jasmin stayed in my bed, sleeping with me. I discovered she was giving me the gift of peace. Every night her scent would calm me. She was so sweet, cuddling in a ball at my side.” Looking up and meeting my eyes, she continued. “Watching a child sleep is a gift. They’re so innocent, so cute. In sleep they relax and the pure beauty of a child emerges.”

I nodded. She’d expressed the same wonder I’d felt watching Sia sleep.

“It became routine and, without meaning to, having Jasmin sleep in my bed became normal. She slept in my bed every night until last year. It thrilled me when she slept in her own bed, but it saddened me, too. I missed her.”

“It sounds like you handled it perfectly,” I observed. “Jasmin seems to be blossoming and well adjusted.”

“She is. You should take some of the credit, I think.” Alia sipped her beer and frowned. “It’s warm. Would you like a fresh one?”

“Sure.”

Placing the order, Alia resumed. “I haven’t told you the whole truth. This part’s harder. When Jasmin turned eleven, puberty arrived. It was a confusing time for her. Imagine, a girl starting the journey into womanhood, afraid of males yet suffering from a flood of hormones, new desires emerging. She was conflicted. On one hand, she couldn’t relax around any guy, of any age. Yet, she had a body that was beginning to respond sexually.”

The waitress delivered our drinks. I held my silence. This was Alia’s show. I wondered how she’d handled a difficult set of circumstances so very few parents are ever faced with.

She sipped her pale wheat beer after we clinked glasses. Her pink tongue emerged to wipe up a foam mustache.

“Jasmin’s behavior changed. She became short tempered, withdrawing from friends and me. Other signs emerged. She started chewing her nails. Her appearance changed. From a girl who cared about fashion she became a ... well, a slob.

“It took weeks for me to open her up, to get her to talk. But, once the wall of silence was breached, like a poison it came oozing out.

“I did what I thought was right. In hind sight there might have been other options, but I was too close, too involved.”

A long silence followed. We both sipped beer. She studied me with those endlessly deep eyes. I felt like I was being measured, assessed.

“I did what I thought was right,” she repeated. “I taught her about her body, how to accept it, how to pleasure herself, and to understand how wonderful a gift it was for a body to feel ecstasy. I taught her to never be ashamed of feeling herself, pleasuring herself. I taught her how to make her body ache with desire and find release.

“At first it worked. My little girl slowly returned to me. But then she had questions, lots of questions.”

I chuckled. “I know how that works. Sia’s never stopped asking questions since she learned how to talk.”

Alia smiled. “I’ve noticed. Well, Jasmin asked questions that involved puberty and maturity. Somehow, I really don’t recall how, we began to explore how her body would react to someone else’s touch. It grew from there. What I’m trying to say, badly at that, is Jasmin and I became lovers when she was eleven years old. I enjoyed it, Philip. I enjoyed loving my little girl. We still enjoy each other.”

I studied her, waiting for her to continue. Did she expect me to be shocked? Perhaps I might have been if I didn’t know Jasmin so well. I couldn’t see any negative effects in her. To the contrary, Jasmin was a wonderful girl.

Alia smiled softly. “You’re not shocked. I knew you wouldn’t be. But, you can see how disastrous it would be if it became known. Have I ruined your image of me? Do you think I took advantage of her?”

I considered her question carefully. Who was I to judge?

“Let me ask you this,” I said. “Were you attracted to the same sex before this?”

“Aside from some exploratory kisses with my girlfriends when I was a young teen, no.”

“Did her age excite you?”

The pause was longer. “Being completely honest? Yes. But only after things started. Not before. In fact it wasn’t even a factor until she was almost twelve.”

“Despite the trials in your life, and those faced by Jasmin, I think you’ve done an amazing job at raising an incredible girl. Have you ruined my image of you? No, not at all. Have you abused your relationship with Jasmin? Not that I can see. I might think differently if Jasmin wasn’t so well adjusted, but she’s blossoming, emotionally and physically. No. I think you’ve done a wonderful job.” I smiled when Alia let out a breath.

“So, dessert? Another beer?” I offered.

“Beer. I have to watch my sugar intake. Too much and I’ll need a new wardrobe.”

“Beer it is.” I waved to the waitress and held up two fingers. She nodded.

“I’ve told you this for a reason, Philip. I trust you to keep my secret.”

She studied me again, head tilting slightly. “I’ve noticed things over the past few months. I think you have a very ... unconventional relationship with your daughter.”

Apprehension made my gut clench. I drained the last of the beer clutching the glass hard. It rattled when I set it down. “In what way?”

“Sia obviously loves you. No. She adores you. It’s clear for anyone to see how she dotes on you. It’s also clear you adore her. I’ve never seen two people so connected, so attuned to each other. But, I’ve also noticed little things that tell me you and Sia have an intimate relationship.”

Blood sounded loud in my ears, roaring as it raced through my veins. It had been my deepest fear; that people would find out and ruin my daughter’s life. Why hadn’t I been stronger? Fuck!

“Philip? Philip!” Alia said sharply. When she had my attention, she spoke. “I’m not judging you. Relax for goodness sake.” She smiled. “Let me throw your words back at you. I think you’ve done a wonderful job raising a special girl. Sia’s perfectly charming, bright, outgoing and, from what I’ve seen, perfectly well adjusted. It seems to me, rather than harming her, the intimacy has let her glow and flourish. And seeing you two together is magical in its own way.”

We were interrupted by the waitress delivering more beers. When she left, I sipped mine, taking pleasure in the icy cool taste. It helped clear the fog of fear.