Soul Belongings

My father and I were pretty much on our own, when I think back on it, I can tell that he was hurting too because of Jack and Janine’s absence, but I was so absorbed in my own misery, I didn’t notice it then. My father knew something was wrong. He would often find me in my room crying into my pillow. He tried his best to console me, but it was hard for him considering I wouldn’t even tell him why I was upset. I thought about telling him everything, but even though he was the most understanding person I knew, I was afraid of him finding out what his children had been up to. So I just cried and sulked, and every time I did my father was there to put his arm around me.

I think he might have hurt just as bad as I did not being able to ease my pain. I remember one time when I was a kid and Janine accidentally slammed the car door on my fingers, nothing was broken but it hurt like crazy! My father quickly got ice to put on my hand and he lavished me with sympathetic love, but what I remember most was the tears he shed and the look of sheer agony on his face at the sight of me in pain. From the way he looked, you would have thought he was the one who had his fingers slammed in the car, and funny enough, seeing him like that, so worried and so caring, it took my mind completely off my own pain as I tried to consolehim, assuring him I wasn’t hurt that bad.

He had always been there for me whenever I was hurting and he always made me feel better, but this wasn’t like the times when I was a kid and he could put ice on an injury, kiss it, tear up or make a funny face, and it would feel better, he didn’t know how to heal this pain I had. However, that didn’t stop him from trying. In attempts to stop my moping he would take me out to dinner, a movie, or we would go shopping and he would buy me a little gift, and for a while it would help. I enjoyed his company a great deal and while I was with him I didn’t feel so sad and forlorn, but eventually I would be by myself again and the oppressive feeling of loneliness would return.

A couple months after Jack moved out, I was feeling so dejected I couldn’t stand it. Sometimes all I wanted to do was sleep, other times I couldn’t fall asleep if my life depended on it. The time I spent with my father was the only bright spots in my days.

It was on one of those nights I couldn’t fall asleep and all I could do was toss and turn, my mind in turmoil over my desolation, that I knew I needed human companionship at that instant. There was only one person I could turn to; the one person who was always there for me.

I got out of bed and went to my father’s room. I asked him if I could sleep in his bed that night, something I hadn’t done since I was eleven. He looked quite befuddled, but he could see that I had been crying again, so he agreed. I climbed into his bed with my back against his chest and his strong arms around me. He held me all night, stroking my hair and telling me how much he loved me. He made me feel like a little girl again safe in his arms, it had been a long time since I had felt that good.

Throughout the night I thought about how my father was the one person who never let me down. I knew that he missed my mother a great deal. I remembered as a kid seeing him in the morning with dark rims around his reddish eyes, I knew he had spent a sleepless night downhearted and thinking about my mother. There were still mornings he showed up like that. After my mother left, he never seriously dated, spending almost all of his spare time with my siblings and me. Our happiness was the only happiness he ever seemed to need or want if he couldn’t have my mother. I hadn’t realized completely until that night how terribly lonely he must have been all these years since my mother had left. She left him to run off with someone else, I now knew how it hurt to be rejected like that.

I don’t know why my mother left him. I suppose she felt she found something better with the guy she ran off with. She said she was deeply in love with him. He was rich, and my father wasn’t, but he always made enough to provide for us and give us a decent life. Mother tried to keep in touch with us after she left, sending cards and gifts, calling us on the phone, but every year she would always miss at least one of our birthdays and sometimes Christmas. She said that she wanted me, Jack, and Janine to come live with her, but she and her new husband wanted some time to themselves at first, as if any of us would rather live with her than our father by that time, which none of us did.

Last I heard from her she was pregnant but I don’t know if I have another brother or sister out there because eventually all contact lapsed between us. I’ve been curious to know what happened to her, but I never looked into reestablishing contact with her, I figured if she had wanted us in our life we would have been. She turned her back on all of us and if there ever was going to be a reconciliation she would have to make the first move, but she never has.

In any case, father tried desperately to be all the parents we needed, and for the most part he succeeded. Whatever problems I had growing up, whenever I felt angry, depressed, or confused, he was there for me and always made me feel better. He was always supportive in anything I was interested in, like art, and he encouraged me to pursue my interests. Because of him, I majored in graphic design and made a career out of it. Sometimes I felt as if my heart was filled to the bursting point with the love I had for that man. I never felt more so after that time he held me all night comforting me and whispering words of love.

I thought my father was a handsome man. He was tall, though not as tall as Jack, he used to have jet black hair but at that time it had started to go gray, he worked as a mail carrier and that helped keep him in nice shape, he had a powerful build much like Jack’s. However, my father’s best feature was his dark brown eyes. They were the kindest eyes I have ever seen. When he looked at me, or any of his children for that matter, it pervaded to us his love. I loved looking into his eyes, it was like looking into a window and seeing a place so warm and welcoming you yearned to be inside. After that night I spent cuddled with him in bed, I knew I wanted to be even closer too him, I wanted to feel his love in the deepest way possible, I hungered for it.

With the tender love I felt in father’s arms I was finally able to get some sleep that night, but by the next morning I knew I wanted more. My father had to get up early that morning for work, he tried to be careful not to disturb me, but I knew he was getting up. Just before he left, he ran his finger gently and lovingly across my cheek and I heard him whisper “I love you”, and then he was gone. That gesture of affection was so sweet and after all I had gone through and realized the night before, I wept with the love I had for him.

I decided that night would be the night my relationship with my father would become something more. I planned the entire night out in my mind while I lounged in my father’s bed, basking in his scent that lingered in the sheets and pillows. The smell of his musky yet sweet aroma combined with what I was planning for that night was enough to get me very aroused. My panties had become very wet and so had I. I put my hand to my crotch to feel how wet I was and I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing, at first on top of my panties, but then I slowly slid my hand underneath them and rubbed my excited sex directly. My sexual desire was aflame and I needed relief. I laid in my father’s bed thinking of him while I masturbated, I smelled him, I could remember the feel of him, I came strong and I came hard. I had never had such an intense orgasm from masturbation alone. Afterwards, with my erotic urges abated, if not sated, I got out of bed. I noticed that there was a damp spot from my sexual juices where I was lying on the bed. I made the bed without changing the sheets, letting my essence intermingle with my father’s. It would be entirely dry by the time he came home and in my mind it was a way of christening the bed in anticipation for that night.

I got dressed and went to the store to buy food so I could make my father’s favorite meal for dinner that night: porterhouse steak, batter dipped onion rings, baked potatoes, and a fresh garden salad. When I came home I showered and spent a good amount of time making myself look as attractive as possible. I did my hair up nice, I strived to apply the perfect amount of make-up to make me look ravishing, and I wore my black strapless dress that showcased my cleavage to good effect (an outfit which always drew attention), and high heels.

By the time my father came home that evening I had the meal and myself ready, I also had the radio on in the background tuned to the soft rock station, the lights turned down low, and candles lit on the table, all providing a romantic atmosphere.

My father was stunned by the way I looked when he first arrived home, but when I gave him a huge hug and kiss on the cheek, beaming up at him, he became delighted that I appeared to have risen from my depression. He was also pleasantly surprised with the meal, if still a little bewildered by my appearance and the décor.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asked when we sat down to dinner.

“I just felt it was high time you had a reward for being such a good father.” I said smiling demurely. My father blushed which made me giggle. My father was a shy and unassuming man and when he received praise he never really knew how to handle it and felt embarrassed. In the awkward silence, I poured him a glass of the red wine I had picked out to go with dinner. He raised his eyebrows in bemusement that I had even gone and added wine to the night’s menu. My father was never a big alcohol drinker, but he did enjoy a nice wine to go with a meal on special occasions. He tasted the wine.

“Mmm…excellent selection.” He said pleasing me no end when he voiced his approval. The dinner had started out wonderfully. When I served him the food, he responded as if the taste of it sent him to nirvana. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he let out a very gratifying moan.

“This is really exquisite!” He said as he chewed a bite of the juicy steak. It always pleased me when he enjoyed something I made for him, but watching him so thoroughly enjoy this special meal that I lovingly created for him was one of the greatest pleasures I had ever felt.

We had pleasant conversation throughout dinner, he told me stories about him in his youth that I always loved hearing, I told him about some of the more devilish stunts I pulled as a child of which I had never been caught. It was exhilarating being able to talk like this, one adult to another, instead of like a parent to a child. At one point during dinner we started holding hands and stayed that way until we finished. We gazed into each other’s eyes and I could tell my father was looking at me for the woman I was, not like his daughter. It was an incredible feeling to be looked at that way by him.

A nice song was playing on the radio,’Can’t Fight This Feeling’ byREO Speedwagon, and I mentioned that this would be a wonderful song to dance to. He didn’t catch on to what I was implying at first so I had to be more direct. I told him it would make my evening if we could finish the meal with a dance. Finally he got the message and very gentlemanly asked me to dance, I happily accepted.

In the middle of the living room we swayed to the music, my father held me close and I joyfully reveled in the feeling. Our chests were pressed together, my head rested on his shoulder. I could feel his heart beating, in time it felt like mine and his were beating as one in tune with the music. I could feel the warmth he generated as we moved radiating off him and covering me like a cozy blanket, protecting me from any chill in the air. Thanks to the high heels I was wearing, my head could reach up to dance cheek to cheek with him. Then I moved my mouth closer to his, closer and closer and right when the song said:

“And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might”

I pressed my lips up against his. I did so gently at first, as if by accident, and then I pushed in harder, exploring his mouth with my tongue. At first, he responded in kind and we kissed intensely as the song went on:

“Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Come crushing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore”

But then as if waking up from a spell, the music forgotten, his clarity of thought returned and he pushed away.

“Oh God, Julie, I’m sorry!" he said looking mortified. I laughed.

“What are you sorry about? I was the one who kissed you.” I placed my hand around his neck and tried to bring him closer so I could kiss him again, but he instantly pulled back.

“We can’t do this Julie.”

“But I want to, I love you.”

“Honey, you’re just confused. There is a great deal of love in our relationship, but you are seeing it as a different kind of love.” He said with concern.

“But daddy, I want our relationship to be this way. I know how lonely you are, I know what you had to sacrifice in being a full time single parent to three kids. Isn’t it time for you to find some happiness? We could both find happiness.” I decided to take a risk and said, “I know you are attracted to me.” It wasn’t too big of a risk as since the time I had started to look more grown up, I had seen my father steal quick admiring glances at me that were anything but paternal, but I also saw how quickly those glances changed back to a father’s look and could almost see him reprimanding himself in his mind for what his physical nature reacted to. He didn’t deny it but it was still disheartening to hear what he said next.

“Julie, nothing can ever happen between us. Even if I wanted it too, it wouldn’t matter because what I want most is what’s best for you. Allowing myself to indulge in a romantic relationship with you, even out of pure love, would be wrong.” He reached out and took my hand. “All the happiness I need is to see you happy and with the person who is right for you.”

“But can’t you see what I’m saying? You are the right person for me, I want no one else.” It wasn’t until that moment that it hit me how certain I was that my father was the perfect man for me. I told him what I felt in my heart. “You are the only man, the only person, in my life who I could always depend on and who I knew would always be there for me. You are the only one I trust explicitly, the only one I know who loves me with all your heart, you are the one person that can fill this void inside me. I love you more and more every day. There is no one else and there could be no one else. I have no doubt about that.”

“Sweetie, you’re young, you will find someone else who you will feel that way about. It would be wrong if it was me.” He said and I was getting upset that he wouldn’t listen to me.

“Why should I go looking for someone else when I can all ready have what I want with you? Why is it wrong?” I asked.

“It’s wrong because it is genetically and culturally unacceptable and viewed as deviant in this society.”

“You were the one who brought me up to make up my own mind, not let my beliefs be determined by what society says.” I reminded him, “Now you’re letting society do that to you?”

“I may have brought my kids up to be free thinkers, but I also taught you that you shouldn’t be contrary just for contrary’s sake, that it is ignorant and foolish to make decisions and form beliefs without knowing as much as possible, that there are times that knowledge will confirm society has the right way of things, and in this case it does.” He countered. This wasn’t going the way I had planned.

“How can society be right in this case? How can it hold sway over two people being in love? How can you adhere to what other people think when it keeps people who love each other apart?” I asked breaking into sobs.

“There are genetic dangers of incestuous relationships.” He stated.

Before he could add more I immediately responded and asked, “Is genetic compatibility the main basis of two people being together, genetics and not love?”

“Of course not,” he answered, “but the danger needs to be taken into account, also the law.”

“The law? You never put stock in any law that tried to say Janine and her lover shouldn’t be together.” Janine had come out to dad during that visit when she told me she was seeing someone else. My father had understood about that, especially when Janine said she had found someone who she really loved, of course my father didn’t know that I had been one of her previous lovers. “You said you were happy if she was and damn anyone who said she couldn’t love who she chose!

“As for the genetics issue, there are ways that we could have a relationship and not have any biological children, I’m on birth control and I can stay on it, that would drastically reduce the risk. If we both love each other, precautions were taken against having a child, and we all ready established the precedent that law shouldn’t factor into two people being in love, what’s stopping us?” I wanted him so badly to see my point of view and admit that he wanted what I wanted. But for the first time in my memory, my father acted stubborn and unreasonable.

He lifted his finger to me and said, “I am stopping us because I am still your father and sometimes I still know what is best. I love you Julie, more than you could possibly know, and because of that love I can not allow myself to do something that would hurt you like this. That’s the end of it!” He was in anguish, I could see it in his eyes, maybe partly because he was denying himself something he wanted, but I knew it was mostly because he was denying me and couldn’t stand to see how that pained me. He hated to do it, but he thought he was still doing the right thing. By hurting me now he thought he was preventing me from a worse hurt, but what he couldn’t comprehend was that turning me away was going to hurt me infinitely more.

Tears were streaming down my face as he cupped my chin in his hand and wiped one of my tear streaked cheeks with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Baby, I love you and I would do anything for you, but I can’t do that.” He said choked up. Through my tears I began to make one last effort to state my case but he stopped me and told me that he was tired and was going to bed. He gave me a hug and told me he loved me one last time then turned his back on me and headed up the stairs.

It took me a few minutes to gather myself after he left. The dining room and kitchen needed to be cleaned up, but I only did a cursory job, leaving what I could for the morning. I felt completely drained and if I let my thoughts wander to the events that had just transpired, I would break down crying all over again.

In about ten minutes I had things in good enough order for the night. I barely remember going up to my room, I felt completely numb by that point. What I do remember is when I got to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror I almost shouted in alarm at the creature that greeted me. I was a fright, my make-up had run and smeared all over my face, my eyes and nose were red, my hair was a mess. I looked horrendous. Once I got over the initial shock the depression quickly returned and I felt ready to burst into tears again. I took off all my clothes except my panties and then scrubbed my face clean in the bathroom sink, washing off all the make-up and dried tears. I took my hair down and brushed it out some and then I put on my long white and pink night shirt that I normally wore to bed.