Chapter 4

Among the problems posed by working the midnight shift is the complete upset of one's diurnal rhythms. During the work week, you choose a time to sleep between shifts - I usually slept in the evening. But during your days off, you tend to re-orient to normal patterns, to accommodate Life As We Know It. As a result, your (my) body has no idea what normal is anymore. I fell asleep while reading and waiting for Elaine to find an excuse to talk to me.

I woke at 4 A.M. The house was quiet, and except for the lamp next to my bed and the nightlight in the bathroom, dark as well. I left Pat and Julie on my pillow and prowled a bit.

Jay's door was open and her room unoccupied, which meant that the living room was covered with sleeping bags, air mattresses, and sleeping teens. Elaine had evidently found no opportunity to knock on my door, or had been caught up in the joy of sharing teenage camaraderie, for which I would never fault her. I dug out the pajamas I never wear, donned them and a bathrobe, and made my way to the kitchen for a raid on the refrigerator.

As I halfway expected, the sleepover had made serious inroads into the snack and drink supplies. Of course, that's what they're their for, but it always surprises me to find my Diet Coke stash more heavily hit than the Coke, root beer, Sprite and ice tea. I'd long since given up on mixing Kool-Aid or similar drinks; they just weren't as popular today as when I was that age. Come to think of it, they weren't all that popular when I was a teen, if a carbonated alternative was permitted. I snagged a Diet Coke from the fridge and a rolled-up partial bag of Fritos from the counter and headed back to my room.

I paused in the living room and tried to identify the bodies in what little streetlight filtered through blinds and curtains, and reflected into the room from the nightlight. Jay was curled up on the demi-sofa under her mother's afghan. I wasn't sure who occupied the sofa, nor the air mattress stretched before its length; their heads faced away, and in this light hair color was indistinguishable. The chair with ottoman contained Kimberly -bronze Chandler identified her more surely than any feature of hers. The remaining sleeping bag was shadowed from all light, and could be anyone.

I sighed softly to myself. I had the means at hand to stimulate Elaine to wakefulness, but without knowing its effect on the others, I was reluctant to use it. In all truth, I felt I'd made a statement yesterday about mutual consent, and any such action on my part would be hypocritical and... rude. Our talk would wait.

On that thought, I returned to my room and picked up where I'd left off in my second reading of The Skies of Pern.

I heard the first stirrings at about seven. Left to their own devices (and based on past experience) the girls would have slept until noon after keeping themselves awake until the wee hours. Now they woke whether they wanted to or not in response to the pangs of hunger from six red-eyed flits. I donned robe once more and rushed to the kitchen. I fetched two packages of chuck steak from the freezer to replace the thawed meat which I removed from the refrigerator, and moved the thawed packages to the cutting board, where I began slicing meat into short thin strips. Every ten slices, I diverted strips to the greedy maws creeling on my shoulders. As soon as I had a platter, I moved it to the microwave for a minute and returned to the cutting board.

The 'ding' of the microwave coincided with the appearance of Brenda in the kitchen, and I nodded and indicated for her to take the meat into the living room while I finished up. Pat and Julie elected to stay with me, despite the aroma of the warmed meat in Brenda's hands, and despite the fact that they only received two strips out of ten between them.

I popped the second platter in the microwave and again hit the minute timer. The edge was off their hunger, but both of my dependents peered through the door as the platter rotated on the carousel. I think the average fire lizard could consume half its weight in red meat, twice each day. I actually began to worry that one of my ladies might try to go between into the microwave and took the trouble to picture the inside and convey "danger". When the timer 'dinged' again, Pat and Julie disappeared - not quite the reaction I wanted or anticipated.

Carrying the platter to the living room, I saw nary a flit in sight. I had been too effective in making my point. I found not two nor three, but all six fire lizards in my bed, eyes swirling in various degrees of alarm and hunger. I called down the hallway to the girls to bring the meat.

Having four teenagers sitting cross-legged on my bed with me prompted a Penthouse Forum thought, the kind that starts, "I never thought this would happen to me, but...", and I had the predictable reaction until I caught Elaine's sidelong grin. No one else seemed to notice, and I managed to suppress further thoughts down that slope. I noted Elaine's smirk for that as well.

At least the fire lizards' hungers were sated. To prevent any other embarrassing reactions on my part, I offered to make breakfast for everyone. Hunger won over sleep, and we adjourned to the kitchen, where four girls adorned with sleeping fire lizards 'helped' me prepare sausage, scrambled eggs, and toast the way a cat helps you walk. I managed to get them all seated with plates and cutlery, while serving eggs straight from my Texas skillet (the largest). The sausage they helped themselves to, still sizzling on the broiler pan atop a hot pad.

Jay woke up in time to rescue her share, but missed out on her orange juice. She settled for milk this once. The girls discussed their plans for today around mouthfuls. I was relieved to learn that Brenda's mother would be picking up both Brenda and Kimberly within the hour, and Jessica was expected home shortly after (she drove herself). Elaine had no set time. It looked like we might have time to talk after all. I retired to my room to dress for the day.

I got to meet Brenda's Mom when she arrived. Claire was an attractive redhead, with the characteristic freckles that say, "This ain't no dye job." I may have flirted a bit. I felt a stab of jealousy from an unexpected quarter, and pled other responsibilities to cut the introduction shorter than it might have been otherwise. The girls said goodbye in the driveway while I returned inside.

Inside the house once again, the girls were talking about Brenda's Mom. Jessica said that she loved Claire's complexion and hair color, but would hate to have that many freckles.

I asked, "You don't think she was offended by my flirting, do you? It's just part of my nature to flirt with attractive women." I added that for Elaine's benefit, but I didn't know if the feelings of guilt were mine or hers. Jessica assured me that Claire flirted with all her friends' fathers, and no one took it seriously. It was her nature, too.

I thought I could attribute the increase in guilt properly; I'd expected feelings of relief instead.

Jessica took her leave minutes later, with hugs for everyone, including me. At last, it was time for a talk.

I surprised myself when I said, "Elaine, would you mind if I spoke to Jay alone for a bit?"

I surprised Elaine as well, but she said, "No, of course not. I'll just watch TV until you're done."

I led Jay back to her room and closed the door. Without preamble, I started, "Jay, I think you and I need to have an honest adult discussion."

Even without my emotional amplifiers, I could feel walls coming up and doors closing. "Dad, we already had this talk, remember? I know about birth control, I know how you feel about waiting for the right boy, I know all about the birds and bees from you and from school. Can't this wait? I have company."

"We have company, and if I thought this talk could wait, it would have waited." I took a breath. "Look, we had a father/daughter talk, and I said all the father things while you closed your mind and nodded a lot. I'm not asking for a repeat of that. What I'm offering is a chance to talk honestly, adult to adult. You get a get-out-of-jail free card - nothing you tell me now will ever be held against you."

Jay looked at me dubiously, not sure where this was going. That was okay - neither was I. We stared at one another, and I looked -really looked at the young woman I had raised. Her hair was currently Clairol Mahogany. She hadn't liked it when the blonde locks she had flaunted until puberty had darkened, and was a charter member of the color of the month club. My own blue eyes looked back at me through longer, darker lashes. Was she wearing makeup, or was that natural?

I did not look at her bust - I was uncomfortably aware that she had her mother's genes, too, and might forever have trouble finding a boy who would look her in the eyes. I wondered if her height had changed from the five-three mark on the closet door. She had grown up and out and the time for treating her as 'my little girl' was past. I broke the silence.

"Look, sweetie, I've always approached these talks as a parent - a Dad, concerned about his daughter. I know that makes you defensive. What I'm saying now, is that I'm going to treat you like another adult. I'm not telling you not to smoke, not to drink, not to have sex. The Dad in me doesn't want those things for his little girl, he wants to protect and shield her. But the adult in me realizes that you can't be protected from yourself.

"I've lately been reminded that teenaged girls have hormones, too. The boys aren't the only ones who want to get their jollies." I thought I'd lost her there, but her eye-roll was only for my antiquated phrasing.

"You really want the truth?" she asked. "No punishment for truth? You've always said that, but..." She paused, then looked me in the eyes. "Dad, I haven't been a virgin for over a year." She waited for the explosion.

Hey, my view of the universe had been altered repeatedly over the last month. Was I going to get upset over a little thing like some fumbling dirtbag stealing my baby's virginity? Not after I fumbled with the internal Dad-mode switch. I curbed my first impulse to ask who and instead asked if it had hurt, and if she had used protection. It had and she had. I allowed as how it got better with practice and she agreed, nearly tripping the Dad circuit breaker back in.

"Anyway," she continued, "I don't see what the big deal is. It's fun, and it feels good, but I could live without it.

I had to smile. "Sweetheart, if you do it with someone you like, because you want to and not just because he wants to, and you take your time and do it right, you'll find out what the big deal is."

She looked doubtful again, but I wasn't prepared to discuss technique yet. We chatted pleasantly, if hesitantly about orgasms, protection, drugs (Dad mode: Oh No, Not Pot!), alcohol (how can you drink those disgusting wine coolers?) and boys in general. I didn't like the fact that she had lost her virginity to a 20 year-old, and said so, but I also admitted that the age thing made me feel like a hypocrite again.

"Why would that make you feel like a hypocrite?" she asked. Then her eyes twinkled. "Dad! are you seeing a younger woman?" She broke out in a grin, the first since this heart-to-heart began.

It wasn't actually the ideal segue into the other topic I wanted to discuss with my daughter, but I had nothing better planned, so I told her. Everything, leaving out the graphic details, from the last sleepover up through last night. After the initial jaw-dropping incredulity, I must say she took it rather well.

"So you've been having sex with my best friend for two weeks," she finally observed. "No wonder you're ready to treat me like an adult."