Operation Recover Mr. D

"That and about a thousand other things," I laughed. "I have been a little busy, you know."

"Dad." Her tone told me she was serious. The dollop of pineapple sauce on her cheek didn't help her cause, so I took my napkin and wiped it off gently. She ignored my parenting gesture and continued. "I know Jackie and Emmy told you about our discussions. You really need emotionally meaningful interaction with other people. When was the last time you talked to Uncle Paul?"

My only sibling was 13 years older than me, and while he lived about forty minutes away, we rarely saw each other. He and Dolores never had children, so they traveled a lot. Plus between his career and mine and our other commitments it took some planning to see each other. When Beth and I were married she organized family dinners with them every couple months, but that all gradually stopped a few years ago. I'd call him or he'd call me if we needed something, which wasn't often since Mom and Dad died five and four years ago respectively.

"Um, a few weeks ago, I guess."

"When did you last see Suzie?"

"Hmm. Four weeks ago, I think. But I talk to her a couple times a week."

"She said you two haven't talked since she told you she wanted to go to the volleyball game two weeks ago."

"You can't count the last two weeks! Your friends monopolized me."

"Dad," she sighed, a little dramatically. She knew me well. "I know you talk to people all the time. I've been to the grocery store with you. You can't help it. But you don't have Mom to organize you any more, so you just float along, talking to whoever you randomly intersect. But those are like empty calories, right? You need to spend time with people you care about. Consciously, not waiting for them to come to you. You need to create those opportunities yourself. That's what I'm here to help you with, okay?"

I don't know why, but I felt a little hurt and a little pissed off. I'm supposed to take care of my kids, damn it! They're not supposed to take care of me. Not until I'm at least eighty and in a nursing home anyway.

"I don't really need your help, Katie," I said petulantly. "I do appreciate you and your friends, and I'm touched that you care about me enough to spend time with me, but I'm really fine. I'm happy with my life."

That was a lie. I wasn't unhappy with my life, but the past two weeks with Jackie and Emmy were the best days I'd had in a very, very long time. And it wasn't just the sex either. Two smart, thoughtful, and very interesting women engaged not just my libido but my mind and my spirit too. It was fun being with them, I learned a lot from them, and I saw things differently because of what they shared with me. I'd missed that greatly since Beth and I started drifting, and the past two weeks brought that into sharp relief for me. But I'd be damned if I would admit that to my elder daughter.

"Dad," Katie said, reaching out to squeeze my forearm. Which completely broke my resolve. Was I that easy to manipulate? But I knew that my ire at my children evaporated as quickly as an ice cube in a microwave, so I guess that answer was yes. "You do need our help. I love you. You're an amazing dad, and a really great person. But you're not intentional in what you do. You totally live in the moment, which is a great thing for everyone around you, but not so great for you. So let us help you. Let me help you. You've done so much for me. Now it's my turn."

"It's not supposed to be like that, sweetheart. Parents are supposed to help their kids. Not the other way around."

"'Families take care of each other.'"

Damn. That was something I said a lot as the girls were growing up. She was using my own words against me. I so loved this girl.

I was lost yet again. Truly I was lost when she showed up in my life a bit more than twenty-one years ago.

"Fine," I sighed. "And Katie?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I love you. More than you'll ever know."

* * * * *

"Who's idea was La Traviata?" Katie asked as we drove there.

"Whose do you think?"

"Sounds like Jackie."

"Bingo." I laughed.

I'd suggested McClintock's chop house, but Katie wasn't going to let a chance to hit La Traviata go by, especially since her friends had already had the experience. So I'd made the reservation, and for the third Saturday in a row I had a dinner date at the most romantic restaurant in town.

Katie had her mother's shape. She had wide shoulders and wider hips, but she was also tall, so those curves looked great on her. Beth always knew how to dress to her advantage, especially to frame her bountiful cleavage, and she always succeeded in inflaming my passion whenever she tried. Katie didn't fire me in that same way, but I could still appreciate how her navy dress and modest heels complimented her body, and she'd learned well from Beth. The valet appreciated it even more, and the maitre'd seemed to expect that I'd be here with another nubile young woman to spoil. I shook my head when they brought us to a particularly dark and secluded table, because this time I really was with my daughter.

Our meals were again amazing. We split a bottle of red wine, Chianti this time, and just to ensure Katie didn't feel cheated we ordered port at the end too. Katie wasn't much of a fan though, so I had to finish her glass. We talked easily throughout the meal, and our conversations ranged from politics to current events to family gossip, expressly excluding anything to do with Beth. We watched a couple sitcoms when we got home, and then we retreated to our rooms for the night.

I relished every minute we spent together.

* * * * *

Suzie showed up at nine on Sunday morning, and after church we all went to Franklin Diner. I was getting a little tired of the place, but the girls insisted and once I got there the owner and waitress greeted me like a long-lost relative, then grilled me about the two dates on my arms. The girls thought it was cute that I blushed.

Once we had our coffee and made our orders, the girls got right to it.

"When are you taking me to La Traviata, Dad?" Suzie asked.

"Really? Before I've had even a sip of coffee?"

Suzie rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Dad! Katie got to go."

"When you're a senior in college I'll be happy to take you too. Besides, shouldn't you take that up with Cole?"

"They'd never serve us wine. It would completely suck."

"Suze, you should definitely wait until you can drink," Katie said. "But whatever he says, don't order port. That stuff is nasty!"

I puffed up in mock exasperation. "Nasty? Heathen! It's manna from heaven."

"Whatever." Katie was unmoved. "Now let's talk about how we're going to get you out of the house."

"Finally," Suzie said. "Do you have a girlfriend, Dad? Is that why you haven't called me this week?"

"No, no girlfriend, angel. Don't you know about Jackie and Emmy coming down to help me with my condo?"

"Yeah, I knew that, but why didn't you call me? They couldn't have taken all your time."

Katie jumped in. "You know Dad -- he can't help talking to whoever's right in front of him. That's what we're up against."

"Right. Friendliest guy in the world, but too distracted to make a phone call."

"You know I'm sitting right here, right?"

Suzie was sitting next to me in our booth, and she kissed me quickly on the cheek. "We love you, Dad, but you are impossible to corral. Mom always said you were like a puppy -- frustrating because your attention always wandered, but so full of love she couldn't get mad at you."

"I wonder when that changed."

"Dad," Katie said, admonishing me with her eyes. "That's in the past. Focus on what's going on now. We need to get you out and about, so you can build some meaningful relationships. You thrive on that."

"I'm uncomfortable talking about my dating life in front of you both. That's a personal decision for me, and me alone."

"And your dates," Suzie piped in.

"And my dates."

"Dad. We don't want to tell you who to date. That's your call. But we need to set up some structure so that you will date. Otherwise you'll just meander through your life and end up alone in your condo babbling to whoever randomly crosses your path."

"And what do you have in mind?" My girls were just trying to help their old man, but I was feeling a little defensive.

"Well, you need to commit to at least one date a week. And we're going to be checking in with you to make sure it's happening."

I sighed, and it was my turn to roll my eyes. "Girls, what if I just don't feel like dating?"

"Too bad. You need to do it, at least for practice." Katie was a woman on a mission.

"What if I can't get anyone to go out with me?"

That stopped Katie short. I guess I should be flattered that she didn't think I'd ever get rejected, but I'd lived with my prominent nose for my whole life, and I knew that my lifetime batting average wouldn't put me in any dating hall of fame.

"Fine. You need to ask at least one woman for a date each week. Second, you need to have a class or regular activity at least one night a week, so you're meeting new people. Emmy said you decided on a cooking class. Have you signed up yet?"

"Yes. She was nearly as insistent as you."

"Good. She's learning. Third, you need to see a friend or relative in person at least once a week. Someone you can talk to about stuff that matters."

"Does Suzie count?"

Suzie laughed and rolled her eyes, but Katie was, as usual, all business. "Of course. Anyone you know well enough to talk about something other than the weather. Fourth, at least once a week you need to have a phone conversation with a relative."

"I thought that we just covered that."

"That was friends OR relatives. And in person. This is just relatives, and it's a phone call, so you can widen your net. We're the people you should talk to the most. In the last month I bet you've talked to a half-dozen people you barely know more than you've talked to anyone in our family."

A quick inventory of my conversations indicated that was likely true. But I didn't have to admit it.

"I've been monopolized by a couple very headstrong women for the past two weeks."

"What about the month before that? You're not getting off the hook here, Dad. We know you. And random sometimes works. But it can also leave you where you are now -- feeling isolated and lonely."

"As long as I have you two around, I'll never feel alone."

"Awww. I love you, Daddy," Suzie said, giving me a little hug.

"I love you too, Dad," Katie added. "But that's not the same. Knowing we're around isn't the same as interacting with us. It'll be good for us too. We'll always be connected, but the bonds will be stronger if we're talking regularly."

I sighed. I'd never imagined in the slightest that my daughters wouldn't get what they wanted from me, and I should have raised the white flag at the start of our breakfast. On the other hand, of course they were right.

"You better write all this down for me. I'd hate to forget. And can we add a fifth?"

"Depends. What is it?"

"That you and I talk at least once a week. Both of you. And that doesn't count towards any of the other things you want me to do."

Both girls smiled. Suzie hugged me again, and Katie nodded at me.

"I think we can fit that in."

* * * * *

The week with Katie was different from the previous two for a couple reasons.

First, no sex.

Second, as gratifying as it was to spend time with Jackie and Emmy, we weren't daughter and father. I fed and changed Katie when she was a baby. Chased her around the house while she shrieked at volume. Put her in time out when she bit her baby sister. Cleaned and bandaged her palms when she tripped on the hem of her princess dress while trick-or-treating. Cheered like crazy when she scored her only goal in four years of youth soccer. Held her on my lap for a half-hour and then bought her a banana split when she didn't make show choir junior year of high school. And bawled like a baby when I kissed her goodbye after Beth and I brought her to college. I had hundreds of moments with her friends, but 21-plus highly-involved years with Katie. I just don't have the vocabulary to describe how emotionally filled I felt after spending a dedicated week with my older daughter.

I loved that girl so damn much.

Not because I had to take care of her. Not because I could tell her what to do (like that ever happened, even when she was eight). Not because half of her DNA came from me. She was an adult, and she had established long ago that she was capably independent. I loved her because I knew her as well as anyone, and she was an amazing person. Who also loved me. Who invested her time and energy and intention into my wellbeing.

Katie and I transitioned from parent-child to an adult relationship the week she spent with me. She had clearly been thinking more consciously about me because of my divorce, and I became willing to share more fully with her what I was thinking and feeling because of all her efforts. We weren't exactly peers, because parents still hold residual power no matter how old the child, but we grew closer. Much closer.

With her big sister in town Suzie spent a couple evenings with us, which helped my relationship with her too. I did say Suzie is Beth's personality clone, so I had to work harder with her. Suzie's natural reserve keeps her a tad distant. I do get the goodwill from all the time we spent clowning around as she grew up, and I avoid a lot of the resentments that Beth harbored for my in-your-face presence and plan-ruining spontaneity, but I still need to gauge her mood before giving her a big hug or teasing her about her cautious driving. But I do love my girls, and having them both around and paying attention to me was a delight.

It was a great week.

Not that Katie was any less bossy than her friends had been. She debriefed me about the women in my office building. I'd only been into work a handful of days since identifying them, which was deemed a convenient excuse for what Katie derisively called my "lack of progress" report. And both Katie and Suzie made me write out a list of friends and relatives who would count towards my weekly quotas. They were surprised that I didn't include Beth.

"Mom's not on your list." Katie said with a quizzical look.

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to hear from me."

"That's silly. Of course she does. You were married for 22 years."

"Twenty-three years, plus two years of dating. But we barely talked the last two years, and that was before we got divorced."

"You know she still cares about you, right?"

"And I still care about her, sweetheart. But I don't think either of us is up for regular chats."

Katie set her mouth, but Suzie jumped in. "She always asks me about you. I mean, I don't have much to tell her, but I know she thinks about you."

"Girls, your mom and I are divorced for a reason. A lot of reasons. And we both agreed to it. We'll always have a relationship, because we'll always have the two of you. But I'm a little bruised, and I'll bet she is too. And seeing each other, especially now, would be uncomfortable for both of us. So let's give each other space and see what might evolve in a couple years."

They got quiet for a few moments, then Katie said, "But why? Why did you get divorced?"

"Have you asked your mother?"

Katie was mute, but Suzie shook her head. "You know Mom. She wouldn't give us anything more than what she's already said. 'We grew apart.' No shit. Sorry, Dad. But why?"

My daughters were more confused than I thought, and their hurt surprised me too. And I was their dad, so that bugged me.

"I wish I could give you a simple reason, girls. We did grow apart. But I can't really say why, except that in the end we just didn't have the will or the energy to make the effort required to tend to our marriage. I'm a little ashamed about that, and I'll bet your mom is too. We take pride in being strong people, we flatter ourselves that we have character to meet our commitments, but we failed in our most important relationship. We just didn't have it in us. And that's pretty humbling.

"But we also recognized it once we'd gone past the point of saving it. We could have just gone through the motions and lived a comfortable but unfulfilling life together. Instead we made a brave decision to give ourselves the chance to find love again. We created space in each of our lives for a new intimate partner. And I hope we learned that we need to be more attentive next time. At least that's what I want for myself."

Suzie hesitated, then put her arms carefully around me. Katie gazed at me with an inscrutable look.

"Would you get back together with Mom?"

"I can't see it, sweetheart. And I don't think she'd take me back either."

"But you could. You could be so good together. You know that."

"I do know that, angel. But while we could be good together, we just weren't. We weren't bad either. But we both deserve better than not-bad."

My daughters were not going to get the resolution they wanted. I suppose every kid wants their parents to stay together. It's stable and reassuring to have that family as you grow up. And I felt bad that I disappointed them, but truth is almost always a greater kindness. It wouldn't feel very kind for a while though, and that made me sad.

I did resolve to call Beth. Just about the girls. They hadn't come to peace with the divorce yet, and we needed to help them get there. And knowing Beth like I did, it would be an easy conversation. When it came to our daughters we always sang from the same hymnal.

But it wouldn't count towards that damn quota.

* * * * *

Saturday came too quickly. I took Katie to breakfast, this time to a little bistro she'd heard about. The crepes were a nice change of pace from diner fare, and the French-press coffee dazzled with flavor.

Katie usually focused keenly on whatever was immediately next for her, eschewing analysis, ignoring anything that had already happened, and considering only vaguely anything farther out than a day or two. So when she seemed introspective that morning I noticed right away. It hadn't happened often, but I'd seen it just enough to know that she'd eventually bring up anything she wanted to share. So I waited.

Once our food arrived, Katie looked at me with uncharacteristic vulnerability. For a moment she seemed like that adorable six-year-old who'd long since won my love and needed me to shield her from a confusing and scary world.

"Am I too much like Mom?"

Ah, so that's it. "I sure hope so, sweetheart."

"What do you mean?"

"Your mother is an incredible woman. She's so smart, for one. Maybe the smartest person I've ever known. And she focuses like a laser beam. She makes things happen. I could get myself out of the house in the morning, but she got you and your sister ready for the day and still went off to her job, which was very demanding. She was always totally prepared. Every single day. Your mom cleared all those obstacles out of the way for you, like food and clothes and getting you where you needed to be, so you could just do what you needed to do. She's selfless like that. And she's beautiful. You look just like her, you know."

"But she wasn't good enough for you."

"Oh, sweetheart." I reached across our little round table and held her hands. They were small and chubby for a flash, and then I touched her long, elegant fingers and felt her cool, smooth skin. "She was more than good enough for me. Her worth was never the problem with us. In the end, we just couldn't sustain our connection. Your mother is a remarkable person. Amazing, really. But love is kind of random. We clicked for a while, a long while, but in the end we just didn't work together any more. That doesn't mean she's any less amazing. In fact, to face our failure like she did, with resolve and generosity, just showed how strong and kind and thoughtful she really is. I'm ashamed that I couldn't make it work with her. But you also can't fake love, at least not for long."