DADDY’S LITTLE LEELEE
Chapter 2
The days following my forbidden interlude with my beautiful daughter were filled with tension. The incredible love I felt for her, the desire that still burned within me for her, took a back seat to the fear that somehow, someone would find out. Every time my wife touched me I had to fight not to jump, I was so terrified that the events of that fateful afternoon would be discovered.
It didn’t help any that every time I looked at my daughter I was reminded of what had happened. My paranoia grew so strong that I started acting distant towards her. When she would enter a room, I would leave it; when she was out by the pool, I was in my den, nose buried in a book or a newspaper or engrossed in the TV. I was doing anything and everything I could to pretend like nothing had happened, anything to keep my wife from finding out what had transpired between our daughter and me.
My distance was taking its toll on Leelee. We had always been close; but now, when she would hug me, I would stiffen (in the nervous way, not the fun way) and make some excuse to get away from her. It was as if, having gone so far to the extreme of inappropriateness with her, I was attempting to compensate by going to the other extreme of almost complete avoidance. And it was starting to bother her. Now, when I would walk into the room, she’d look at me and then silently leave. She even avoided meeting my eyes at the dinner table, and frequently requested that she be excused before the meal was over. I knew she was upset, but I didn’t dare ask her about it. I was too afraid that what had happened would happen again. And what kind of man would I be, what kind of respectable member of the university community, if I were carrying on an affair with my own daughter?
I lay in bed at night and agonized over the gulf that was growing between my daughter and I, feeling powerless to fix it.
Leelee began to act out. She’d go out at night and completely miss curfew; once or twice she didn’t even bother coming home until the next morning. When her mother would speak to her about it, demanding an explanation, Leelee would give her some flip remark and then look at me as if to dare me to say anything. Of course, I said nothing; I was afraid that if I chastised my daughter, she’d throw what we did in my face and my life would be over.
One night my wife was away. She and her girlfriends had been planning a spa weekend, and they were off getting bathed in mud and rubbed with vegetable goo and having hot rocks lined up on their backs while listening to elevator music. I’d gone to a football game at the university; usually my daughter went with me to those things, but now, of course, things were different. After the game I went out for a couple beers with some of my colleagues, and eventually headed home.
When I got home the lights were on but the house was quiet. I had expected as much; it was a Saturday night, so both kids were going to be out of the house. I figured I’d stretch out on the couch, flip through the channels for a while, and then head to bed. With nobody in the house and no company except for my own thoughts, my mind unerringly turned towards my daughter…and how I’d ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me by giving in to temptation.
I lay there feeling lonely and sorry for myself until I heard a noise from upstairs. I’d thought the house was empty. I grabbed a baseball bat from beside the front door – there’s one next to my side of the bed, as well, just in case we get robbed in the night or my wife gets really mad at me – and quietly made my way up the stairs. The upstairs hallway was dark, except for a narrow shaft of light coming from beneath my daughter’s bedroom door.
I approached her door and paused, listening. I heard voices from inside; one female, obviously Leelee, and another, male. The fatherly voice in my head raised the alarm, “A boy? In my daughter’s room?” Then, when I heard what they were saying, that voice was drowned out by another, more primal, shouting “A boy? In MY LOVER’S ROOM?!”
Leelee was saying “No, Tommy, I don’t want to.”
The boy (Tommy, presumably,) responded, “Oh come on, Kimmie, you invite me up to your room when your parents aren’t home and you’re not gonna put out? What the hell are you, some kinda cocktease?”
I opened the door and stood in the doorway, bat in hand, doing my best to look menacing. As pissed off as I was, it wasn’t hard. “What the hell’s going on in here?” I demanded.
My eyes took in the sight of my daughter and some unknown boy next to each other on her bed. He had one hand up her shirt and she was removing the other from her pants. They both looked up at me with that “oh shit, I got caught!” look that kids get when they, well, get caught.
The boy said “Shit, you said your dad wasn’t home!”
“Well I am,” I said before my daughter could respond. “Now who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my baby’s bedroom?”
He stuttered and stammered an explanation, which I wasn’t having any of. I grabbed him by the collar and said “Get your filthy fucking hands off of my little girl, you little shit.” I half-walked, half-dragged him down the stairs and unceremoniously shoved him out the front door. “I ever catch you around my baby again, I’ll beat the ever-loving shit out of you.” Needless to say, he didn’t stick around.
I put the bat down and went back upstairs. Leelee was sitting on her bed, silent and forlorn. When I appeared in her doorway, she looked up at me with empty eyes.
“Honey, “ I began.
“What, Dad?” I was startled. She’d never called me dad, always daddy. “You caught me with a boy. Big deal. Something else I did wrong that you can be mad at me for.”
She turned away from me and my heart crumbled.
“Baby,” I said hoarsely. I wend to the bed and sat down beside her. “Baby girl, I’m not mad at you.” I put my hand on her shoulder and she jerked away from me, keeping her back to me.
“Leelee…”
Her shoulders began to shake silently. I got up and went around to stand in front of her. She tried to turn away again, but I stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. I knelt in front of her and turned her to face me. What I saw broke my heart.
Leelee was crying. Tears streamed down her face and her body shook with silent sobs.
Oh my God, I’d made my baby cry.
I whispered “Leelee, honey, sweetheart…”
“What?!” she exclaimed, her voice raw. “What do you want from me? What did I do? What did I do wrong, Daddy?” Her next words tore a ragged, gaping hole in my very soul. “What did I do to make you hate me?” she cried.
My heart crumbled to dust. I wanted to collapse.
“W-what? Hate you? Never, honey, never!”
I put my arms around her and pulled her to me. I hugged my daughter hard, feeling her body tremble, her tears soaking my shirt.
“Yes you do, you hate me,” she sobbed into my chest.
“No, sweetheart, no, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.”
“Then why won’t you touch me? Why won’t you hug me?” She pulled away and looked at me accusingly. “Ever since that day, you can’t even stand to be in the same room with me! What did I do, Daddy? Am I that repulsive? Was I that disgusting that you can’t even be near me anymore?”
“No, no honey,” I whispered. I pulled her to me again and stroked her hair. “Baby, that day was…”
She sniffled. “Was what?”
I paused, and weighed my response carefully. I couldn’t let anything get out of hand again…but I couldn’t lie to my little girl who I loved more than life itself. “It was the most incredible day of my life, honey.”
She sniffled again and looked up at me plaintively. “It…it was?”
“Yes, baby,” I said, looking deep into her eyes. Eyes that mesmerized me. They were filled with need, a young girl’s desperate desire to be loved. “That was the most special thing that has ever happened to me, sweetheart. I just…”
“Just what, daddy?”
I sighed. “I just got afraid.”
“Afraid that someone would find out about…what happened?”
“Yes,” I said.
She looked away for a moment. “It would be pretty bad if anyone found out we…were together, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would, sweetheart.