Fortuity (Transcend 3)

Gracelyn rolls her eyes, a clear sign that she spent too much time with my eye-rolling daughter. “The truth. I said it tastes briny with a hint of copper and rust like an oyster. I told her it’s the most succulent, mouthwatering thing she will ever experience.”

I release her arm and have a mini stroke right here on the deck.

“Don’t collapse, Daddy-O.” She gently slaps my cheek several times. “I didn’t answer her question. I stressed the importance of letting herself be ten and innocent. I apologized more than once for letting her see what she saw. And that’s about it.”

Still in shock from the briny and succulent remarks, I blink several times. “H-how … w-what did she say?”

“She said you’re an overprotective, neurotic, freak of a dad and begged me to show her the ropes of being a true woman before you guys go home in August.”

I frown, not finding her humor too funny in light of my recent mini stroke. “I live next door to Satan.”

She grins. “Don’t be so hard on Mr. Hans. He’s not evil all the time.” She pivots and saunters home.

I tell myself it’s not the appropriate time to watch the sway of her ass … then I do it anyway.

“I’m ready.” Morgan opens the door.

I turn. “Ready … yes. Um … let’s go to the store. Maybe we can go out to dinner. How does that sound?”

“Whatevs …” She breezes past me. “I just have to watch my salt intake because it’s my bloated time.”

Gone. My little girl is gone.

Stifling my chuckle, I close the door and follow her to the car.

“Hey, wanna go Rollerblading with me and Gracelyn?” Gabe asks, sitting in their driveway and shoving his feet into skates.

“Sorry …” Morgan flips her hair over her shoulder before opening the car door. “I have some personal and grown-up things to do. Maybe in three to five days.”

“Uh …” Gabe squints against the sun and shrugs. “Whatever.”

I cough to hide my amusement while sliding into the vehicle. On the way to the store, I contemplate discussing the blow job intrusion with her. Of course, I’d find a better way to phrase it. Her lack of conversation—which is odd for her—keeps me silent as well. Maybe the best thing is time.

“This aisle.” I nod to the aisle with personal hygiene products.

“Um …” Morgan turns and presses her palm to my stomach. “I’ve got this. Please wait here.”

I hold up my hands. “Fine. I’ll wait here.”

Thankfully, there is no one else in the aisle as my little-girl-turned-woman-overnight scuffs her flip-flop clad feet down the aisle. She stops and faces right, leaning forward a bit to study the products. After a minute or so, she grabs a package and walks toward me with her chin held high.

“Got it. Let’s go.”

I pluck the package from her hands.

“Dad!” she whisper yells like I’ve embarrassed her.

“These are underwear for urinary incontinence.” I hand them back to her with a smirk glued to my face. “Want to try again? Or would you like my help?”

She scowls. “I’ve got it.”

Again, I hold up my hands in surrender. She stomps her feet back down the aisle and takes a good five minutes to locate the right products, pick one out, and return to me with them hugged to her chest.

“Think I should take a look and make sure you got the right product?”

Another evil look gets slung in my direction. “No. It’s the right thing this time.”

“Okay … let’s go.”

We stop for pizza. Morgan asks me how much salt is in everything we order. I assure her it’s all low sodium. Some lies are okay. Right now, I want to have a fun dinner with my daughter and talk about her trip to Disneyland instead of feeding her concerns of menstrual cycles and water retention.

*

As it approaches bedtime, I get the nerve to broach the subject I’ve been dreading all day. Shutting off the TV after back-to-back documentaries, I angle my body on the sofa to face Morgan. “About earlier … when you got home—”

“I talked with Gracelyn. She already apologized.”

I nod slowly. “Okay. But I didn’t apologize because I honestly didn’t know what you did or didn’t see. So I’m sorry. I know you’re very smart, and you know more than most kids your age, but reading about something and seeing it are two different things. I just …”

“I’ve seen your penis before. It’s no big deal.”

I cringe. Yes, my daughter, who has never prioritized privacy until the past six months, has walked into many bathrooms to brush her teeth while I’ve showered. She’s seen me. I’ve seen her. We’re family. It’s just anatomy. However, seeing someone suck said penis is not the kind of openness I’ve ever wanted to display to her. I fear that she’s not making a big deal of it now, but years from now she will think back and her mind will scream, “Gross! I saw the neighbor lady giving my dad head!”