From Lust to Love

Ethel's eyes clouded over again. On top of everything, she felt unwanted - he had not even thought it necessary to offer an apology. He had not even deemed her worthy of an after-fuck glance - he had merely used and discarded her. Sobbing, she ran from the room towards the security of hers. As soon as she was inside, she flung herself onto her bed and hugged her teddy, a childhood friend who had been her other constant companion. Abruptly, conscious of its light-hearted gaze, she flung it away - as if she feared it might rape her too...

She clutched a pillow, hungry for solace. She wanted to sleep, but it would not come. She wanted to cry, but it was worthless. She wanted to die, but she couldn't bring herself to it - an insensitive voice inside her blamed her for the rape, reminding her that she had even enjoyed the godawful incident. She wished she had never been born.

Unknown to her, her father was undergoing some serious damnation himself. Now that most of the alcohol had worn off, the enormity of what he had done hit him like a slug to the face. How could he face her again, he thought, after how he had brutally abused her trust? Damn him - how could she face anybody after what had happened? He knew that what he felt was barely an ounce of what she must be suffering - and his knees gave way under him. From where he lay, he covered his face with his hands, crying to himself.

Thus they cried, separately, each in their own world of betrayed trust and unforgivable acts.

Dr. Mick Santos of the local Metropolitan Hospital counted upto twenty-five rings in all before someone finally picked up the phone. It was Stephen, wary and distant. If it hadn't been for the call, he would still have been crying. "Yes?"

"Stan! Thank God I reached you. I've got bad news for you - sorry, but you have to come over right away. It's your wife - she's been in an accident, and it's ... to be honest, doctors aren't too hopeful. I am sorry, Stan."

His wife. An accident. Serious. These words swam around his head long after the doctor had disconnected, before he finally made some sense out of them. Great Gods, what more? He wasn't in love with her now, but he had been, once. A sharp pain cramped his chest, giving him a false hope that he was going to have a heart attack - the perfect solution to the questions in his mind. Spare Ethel the agony of seeing him again. Spare her the fear.

Death seemed to be his only sufficient apology to her.

When the all-enveloping darkness did not come, Stanley's posture sagged. His life, it seemed, was destined to go on. With rubbery legs, he made his way towards his daughter's bedroom. Her door was open, and he almost turned away when he heard her sob. He had caused those sobs, an unforgiving conscience told him, and he would pay for them. Stanley knew he would, but now was not the moment to break down. Maybe, after leaving her at the hospital, he would drive down the cliffs - straight down the cliffs...

Tentatively, he stepped into the room, half-expecting to be blown away by a shotgun. He was, however, totally unprepared for what faced him. Ethel lay spread-eagled on the bed, her red eyes testament of her sorrow. Upon seeing him, her face contorted with a mixture of anger and fear, and she quickly turned her face away. Silently, she flopped on to her back, spreading her legs again, as if mockingly inviting him to fuck her again. Of all the things she could have done, this gesture alone wounded Stanley more than anything else.

He just wanted to run away, away from her and her beautiful face, away from the wretched house, and throw himself upon the first vehicle that he came across. Instead, he willed himself to hold on to his life until he got her to the hospital, and then he would never trouble anybody again, perhaps except the coroner. And the cops who would have to pry his body from the mangled remains of the car.

"It's your mother," he managed to say, "She's had an accident. Get dressed - we're going to MH." Then, in a softer voice, he added, "Sorry!"

Not trusting himself to look at her again, he hurried out of the room. Ethel watched him leave, the news hitting her, like it had hit her father, a couple of seconds after its reception. With a jolt, she sat up - her mother... Forcing the painfully recent memories about what had happened in her father's room out of her mind, she concentrated on getting dressed. She chose a wide-necked t-shirt and a skirt that almost reached her ankles, and hurriedly got herself decent.

Neither spoke a word as they drove towards the hospital.

Dr.Mick Santos had been waiting for them. He smiled as he saw them, but it was a grim smile. "Good news, Stan," he said, "She is stable."

"Where is she?"

"Op room. Doc Trumley decided that surgery on her stomach was an immediate priority. It should take about three hours more."

"Three hours? I thought you said she -"

"She is. Her vital signs are returning to normal. It's just that she took a few shards in her stomach when her car slammed into the truck. Absolutely nothing to fret over. Tell you what - why don't you stay in your vehicle? The two of you look like you need a lot of fresh air. In fact, go home - after the op, she is bound to be sedated for at least three more hours. I'll call you when she wakes up. Don't worry," he said, seeing the doubt on Stanley's face, "She is alright. There is no internal bleeding, which is the only real danger in this kind of a smash. Go on, get out of here."

Stanley turned to Ethel. Trying to keep his voice as level as possible, which was very difficult since he knew it would be the last time he ever talked to her, he gently nudged her towards the hospital. "Ethel, why don't you stay here, in case they need something? I'll just go home and make sure everything is locked, and I'll be back soon." Ethel looked away. As he started towards the car, he paused. The "Goodbye" barely reached her ears.

Ethel did not hear him at first - or rather, the words he spoke just washed over her. Suddenly, the full import of her father's words struck her - he had never said "Goodbye" before. The word seemed to indicate finality, one whose direction she understood instinctively. A part of her still loved this man - the eighteen minutes of rape hadn't totally wiped away the eighteen years before that.

She ran to him just as he was turning the ignition. Stepping quickly to the other side, she opened the passenger door and sidled in before he could protest. "What are you going to do?" she demanded.

Stanley couldn't answer her. He gazed into her eyes for a second, and then bent his pale face into the steering wheel. He was conscious of her brown-black eyes as she studied him, attempting to find out more secrets in the man she had once placed on a pedestal. Silently, he shook her head; tears dropped liberally from his eyes and disappeared into the floor-mat.

"Shit!" Ethel said, her worst fears confirmed. Her contempt for her father had gone, replaced by a fraction of the same concern she had once shown - but only a fraction, for her soreness still kept on reminding her of the wounds inside. "You were going to kill yourself, weren't you? You were going to leave me and Mom all alone." The accusation hurt Stanley, because it was true. "There are our relatives," he offered weakly, a final plea. In front of her, he realized how feeble that belief was.

She didn't counter him directly. Lowering her eyes, she asked sadly, "Why?"

Stanley did not have an answer.

Sensing his need for some thinking-space, Ethel got out, opened the driver's door and pulled out the ignition key before motioning for him to move aside so she could drive. Dumbly, Stanley did as she wanted, and she slid behind the wheel. Once they were on the road, Ethel seemed to breathe more freely. They drove aimlessly for about five minutes before she pulled into a path that led into a popular dating point; being a weekday, it would be deserted at this time. She pulled the vehicle to a stop along the edges of a clearing and made sure that the car-phone was working. Lowering both their windows - Stanley had been too preoccupied to lower his - she let the crisp night air wash over her face. The two stared out in opposite directions, seeing everything and yet, seeing nothing.

"Why?" she asked again.

Stanley took a deep breath. Words had finally come to him, harmless words that shouldn't cause her any grief. "Strange as it may sound, Ethel, my dear daughter, I love you. Your mother and I - as you must have noticed, we no longer have time for each other. It is understandable, neither of us being young anymore. But it tore my heart to see you get dumped so often just because you're a little too bright, and a mite too beautiful. Before I knew it, you had grown up into one of the most beautiful people I've ever known.

"When I mean beautiful, I mean it in every sense of the word. It's not just your looks and your ... figure, but your loving nature. I fell in love with that before I noticed your curves and other physical attributes. I even used to wish that your mother would imbibe some of your kindness." He paused for a moment, as if drawing forth more inner strength. "Gradually, though, I started to compare you with your mother. Somewhere along the line, I noticed your beautiful face. After the face, it was your body that - that grabbed my imagination.

"It started to turn me on. It made me hot to think of you and me, doing all the things no father and daughter are supposed to do. It was all fantasy... an imaginary world where I could run amok without ruining anybody.

"Before the liquor took over - but I am not excusing my actions - fantasies were all I could ever hope for. You were too precious for me to lose by my indiscretion, so I shut up and carried on. Tonight, though, when ... something went inside me, and I wanted you. I never stopped to consider what I was asking of you, or what your feelings were. I lusted for you. That lust took over. "

His voice broke, and he sniffled. "What a fool I was! For the pleasure of a few minutes, I wasted the life of the only good thing in my life. That was why I wanted to ... so that you would never have to see this pathetic excuse for a father anymore. Even my life, I knew, cannot compensate the grief I caused you. I won't ask for forgiveness, though - what I did doesn't deserve any. It still isn't too late..."

Suddenly, Ethel exploded. "Damn you! What makes you think you can leave me... I love you Daddy, I still do. I can't live without you. And I mean that!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "If only you had asked..."

Stanley thought he hadn't heard correctly. For the first time, he looked at her face. So tender, so loving and so caring. And so hurt and indignant. But was that a smile that curved at the ends of her lips? She repeated it again, louder this time. "If you had only asked..."

For a horrifying moment, Stanley doubted if he had caused her to go mad; Ethel seemed to read his mind perfectly. "No, Daddy, I am not stark raving mad!" She placed a soft hand on his cheek, massaging the muscle with her thumb. "You said I was too precious for you to lose - and I believe you used the past tense?" It was a question.

Even though he had no idea what this was leading up to, Stanley corrected her. "You still are. You will always be."

"So don't lose me," she said, a smile lighting up her entire face. Stanley had convinced himself he would never see her smile again; it made him so happy to see his little girl smile. Her teeth radiated something wonderful that seemed to fill the void that he had been feeling. "Keep me with you always. As your daughter. As your lover."

"But I raped you..."

"Uh-huh. You thought you raped me. What if I was play-acting? What if I wanted you as badly as you wanted me? Even more?"

"You did?"

Ethel grinned. "No. But if it makes you feel any better, I am going to make sure you spend the rest of your life atoning for them. By my side. As my lover. Agreed?"

Stanley could only nod. He watched with his mouth agape as she pulled up her t-shirt and flung it out of the window. Then she slipped off her bra and dropped it to the floor. Then she flung her arms around him, hugging him so close to her body they could actually smell each other's breath. Momentarily serious, she spoke to him. "I know rape isn't the same as making love, but I also know that you love me so much that you were willing to kill yourself. Besides, you never abused me orally - I've heard non-consensual oral is quite horrible. So let's put the rough behind us, Daddy, and look forward to a life together. Towards an old age with our children and grandchildren..."

It was now Stanley's turn to grin at her suggestion. He let his hands envelope her, letting them lace together at her back. "Shouldn't we go home?"

Ethel, still grinning, replied in a husky voice, "Why bother, sweetie? All the Uncle Mick said was we ought to get some fresh air. And relax."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Stanley asked, stealing a glance at her pink nipples. They looked ready for action, hard and erect.

"First things first. Pucker up, dahling..."