Two years ago my husband drained our bank account and fled the country. I had a mortgage, a twelve year old daughter and thirty-five dollars in my purse. Juggling work, home and raising my daughter became overwhelming. Adding to my stress, my parents finalized their divorce and my mother transferred to the west coast.
Six months passed and the mortgage payment was killing me. I thought of downsizing, but it was a buyer's market. My dad offered financial help, but he was retired and his budget was tight. He had offered to take me and his granddaughter in, but I didn't even entertain the thought. Going back home would be like admitting defeat.
Summer break from school was approaching and the sitter I had lined up had a change in plans and I couldn't find a suitable replacement. Dad offered to watch Carrie and I reluctantly agreed. Dad was wonderful with her, but I felt guilty to imposition him like that. After much discussion and little choice, it was agreed that Carrie and I would spend the weekdays at Dad's house.
The first month went well. Dad and Carrie never lacked things to do and it was nice, after Carrie went to bed, to relax in the evening with him. Financially, I was hanging on, but barely. I had to accept the fact that I would only get on my financial feet by selling my house and moving in full-time.
September was fast approaching and I enrolled Carrie in a new school and prayed my house would sell. In mid-September, an offer was made on my house and at the end of the month my bank account was finally in the black.
Dad took us out for a celebration dinner and when we returned home, we all toasted with a glass of wine. Carrie didn't like the taste and I happily agreed to drink it for her. After tucking her into bed, Dad and I went into the living room and clinked our glasses together. I was feeling a touch tipsy, but I didn't refuse another refill. It felt like the world was lifted from my shoulders.
I hadn't dated since my husband walked out and I turned down all requests from my girlfriends to go out. I forgot what wine tasted like and this was going down so well. My dad looked so relaxed as well. I had stayed neutral during my parent's separation and like myself, Dad had no desire to date. I showed him several dating services on the computer and helped set up a profile for him. He received many responses, but never met anybody.
"Why don't you date, Dad?" I asked. "It's been months and you can't stay alone forever."
Dad took a sip of his wine. "For a time I thought your mother would come back, but I realize that isn't going to happen. Dating seems so foreign to me."
"I just don't want to see you alone."
"I'm not alone. I have you and Carrie," Dad said.
"Yes, but we can't stay here forever."
"I know sweetie. Its been wonderful to have you both." Dad brushed his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. "What about you? You need to date. To go out and have some fun."
I shook my head. "I'm not ready to get into another relationship. I don't need more stress in my life and I get paranoid just thinking about STDs."
"When I went out of town with work some of the guys would cheat on their wives and I always wondered how they could do that and what were they bringing home to their wives."
"Did you ever cheat on mom. She told me once that she thought you had cheated with someone in your office."
Dad laughed. "There was a lady at work that I liked, but only as a friend. Once in a while Mom would bring her name up, but that was her insecurity."
My nose felt numb and my cheeks were warm. "Well Dad. We could have sex and I wouldn't worry about catching a STD."
Dad's eyes opened like he'd seen a ghost and the glass I was holding slipped from my fingers and tumbled to the floor. "I didn't mean that. It came out all wrong." I flew to the kitchen and ran a dishcloth under the cold water.
I felt a presence and turned around to see my dad standing at the doorway.
"Dad," I said. "I had one to many glasses of wine. Sorry, I really didn't mean it like that."
"Let's have a hug," Dad said.
His arms opened and I slid into them. He had broad shoulders and his tummy only held a few pounds extra. It felt so good to be in a man's arms, even if those arms belonged to my father. My arms tightened around him and he pressed me close to him. I loved the scent of his shirt and the warmth of his body was spreading through me.
"I miss this closeness," I whispered.
