It was the end of December. I'd been flying halfway around the world on business--forget Christmas, I'd been up to my eyeballs in Hong Kong ironing out the contracts for my corporation. All I wanted to do was grab a cold drink, a hot shower and an even hotter porn flick that had been pressed upon me by a grateful client. But as I pulled into my drive, the car's headlights flashed on my daughter Rory, sitting on the side door steps.
Damn. I'd made sure she got all my presents well ahead of time. But I knew she'd be upset with me. She's the starting center for her school's basketball team, and they were in a big invitational Christmas tournament all vacation. I'd missed every game. I hoped my ex-wife and her twin boys had been there to cheer her on.
I got out of the car and gave the kid a hug. Her hair was still damp from her post-game shower, and her body was covered by baggy sweats. I saw tears glistening on her face in the reflection of the Christmas lights. Timers are amazing things. While I was thousands of miles away, my house looked cozily lived-in, twinkling up a storm on my suburban street.
"Crying, kiddo? Don't tell me you guys lost! How come you didn't let yourself in with your key?"
Rory sniffed. "I forgot my backpack in Kelly's car. And we won, not that you'd care."
"Rory, honey, you know I had to go overseas on business. My company doesn't care about Christmas, just the almighty dollar."
I opened the kitchen door and dropped my suitcases on the floor. "Are you hungry?" I asked, not that there was apt to be anything in the fridge that was edible. I'd been gone for three weeks and had made sure to throw out anything that was perishable, including the inevitable fruitcake that my Aunt Irene always sends.
Rory shook her head. "We stopped at Borelli's after the game. Dad, I need to talk to you."
She sounded pretty desperate. "Let's go in the living room. I'm beat. All I've been thinking about for hours is putting my feet up in the Lazy Boy."
Rory shuffled ahead of me. She's tall, obviously, and lanky like her old man. I played basketball too, way back when, but she's even better than I ever was. She's a triple-threat---soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter and softball in the spring. Colleges were recruiting her and I know she felt some pressure. I hoped she wouldn't ask me about where she should go to school tonight---I was too exhausted to think straight.
"Daddy, something happened tonight." She looked embarrassed and fiddled with the cord on her sweats.
"What? Did you foul out? It's a family tradition, baby."
"No, no, the game was fine. We won the whole tournament. It was afterwards, in the locker room."
"Uh hunh, go on." I forced myself to keep my eyes open.
Rory sighed. "I'd better call Mom and tell her where I am. Is it okay if I stay here tonight?"
"Sure." She went for the kitchen phone and I wriggled around trying to get comfortable. It seemed like I was in for a long night.
I must have drifted off. Rory was standing over me, her big blue eyes filled with more tears. "Daddy, I need you to pay attention."
"Sure thing. Why don't you grab me a beer? You can have one too."
"Tsk, tsk, you know I had to sign that pledge with Coach." She was almost smiling.
"I'll never tell. It'll be just between you and me," I winked.
Resigned, she went back into the kitchen and returned with two Coronas. She plopped down on the sofa and took a dainty sip. "Do you think I look like a boy, Dad?"
What a loaded question. She kept her blond hair short and she was as flatchested as she could be, but I still thought she was an awfully pretty girl. "Don't be silly, Rory. You're beautiful."
"Terry Marshall--you know the girl who plays for Central---came up to me after the game and asked if I was really a boy," she choked out. "Then she said I must be a lesbian."
