The Resort - Fathers and Daughters

Regardless of that, he was an observant man. He had worked as a firefighter for years, before eventually becoming an arson investigator for the county. He had an attentiveness to detail that others simply lacked. As it got closer to the vacation, Meghan grew more nervous. It didn't make much sense to him, and doing what he usually would have done, which was to spend time with her and hug her, just seemed to make it worse. In the end, he decided just to give her some space.

As the airplane began to land on the small island that he'd never even heard of before his wife telling him about it, his daughter turned and smiled at him. It was a weak smile, but he saw hope in it. That was enough for him, at least for the time being.

He'd figure out the rest as he went on.

BUSY MORNING

Samantha, Sam to her friends and family, took yet another Kleenex out of the box and tried to clean the mess that was her face. She knew that her mascara had to look like a wreck and that things had gotten out of hand. Well, not out of hand. Her therapist, Trish, would never share anything that Sam said, but there were still things that she never had intended sharing.

Violet, a wide-eyed middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair who sat in a chair across from Sam, was a good listener. She'd worked with Sam for months now, and had known, almost instinctively, that behind her grief was something that ran beyond the understandable trauma and survivor's guilt. Sam was so close to telling her, but there was still a reserve.

"Sam," Violet said, gently, "You stopped in the middle of a thought. I wouldn't ordinarily push you, but I'm worried. We haven't made a lot of progress over the last few months, and you don't seem to be feeling better. If anything, you seem to be more fragile. There's nothing wrong with that, but I need to know if I'm doing more harm than good."

"You're fine," Sam said, sullenly. "There's nothing wrong with what you've been doing. It's me. It's always me. I can't share this. I...it's too much. I trust you, but..."

"It's too personal? Shameful? Dark?" Violet queried.

"All of the above," Sam said, before blowing her nose again.

"All right," Violet said. "What if we played a sort of game?"

"A game?"

"Yes. Something like twenty questions. You answer, but not with your voice. Just nod or shake your head. If you don't want to answer, don't move at all."

"How would that be different from talking?"

"You'd be surprised," Violet said, smiling. "Sometimes we have trouble with openly saying some things, even when we know them to be true. Using non-vocal communication with someone you trust can make it easier. Also, I won't take any notes. Not even of my questions. So this won't be accessible to anyone outside of our memories. Okay?"

"Okay, I guess," Sam said, bracing herself.

"Good," Violet said. "Let's begin. Could you be arrested if this secret got out?"

Sam shook her head vehemently.

"Could you be expelled from school?" It was kind of a lame guess, but Sam was a senior in high school and wanted to graduate so she could go to Brown next year.

Sam shook her head, but a little slower.

"Do you think your friends would judge you for this secret?"

Sam nodded.

"What about your family?"

There was a pause, and then Sam nodded. It was brief, but Violet knew that she'd hit a nerve.

"What about your father?"

Sam nodded again, new tears forming at her eyes.

"All right. Now that we've discussed some of your concerns over disclosure, I'm going to ask you about the nature of your secret. Do you think about it often?"

Sam nodded.

"Did you hurt someone?"

Sam shook her head, but there was a slightly different motion to it as if part of her believed the opposite.

"Do you want to hurt someone?"

Sam shook her head as Violet expected. She was getting closer but didn't want to scare her patient away.

"Do you find yourself wishing that your secret could be exposed and accepted?"

Sam paused, then nodded.

"Do you ever fantasize about that?"

Another nod and a slight flush on her cheek. Violet was familiar enough with her patient to understand, although she gave no sign.

"Do you think your fantasies are healthy?"

Sam shook her head.

"Can you stop them?"

Another shake. Violet gambled.

"Do you feel an attraction that you fear is inappropriate?" Violet knew what she was really asking, and if Sam stopped and thought about it, she would understand. Still, the therapist said it with a clinical detachment, as though it were a question on an examination form that she'd asked many times in the past.

Sam nodded, her lower lip quivering.

"And this attraction compounds your guilt from..."

This time Sam didn't even wait to answer. She nodded, and then her tears really began to flow.

Violet looked at her young patient for a long moment, then came to a decision. It was a gamble, a big one in fact, but what else was the place for if not for helping people like Sam and her father? Violet stood up and walked back to her desk, unlocking the top left drawer. There were a few items that she didn't like to leave just sitting out. She took a single pamphlet from it and walked back, kneeling next to her patient.

"Okay, Sam, the quiz is over. You did great."

"You...you won't write any of this down? You promise?"

"I won't record any of this, and even if I had, I'd never tell anyone. I have a kind of strange recommendation, but I think it might be best for both your healing and your father's." Sam's eyes grew wide, but Violet continued in a calm tone as she handed her the pamphlet. "This is a resort for...familial reconnections. It's very exclusive and moderately expensive. If you call them and give them the number on the back, they will make all the travel arrangements for you. I'm given to understand that there are organizations that help out in case you can't afford it. They're going to ask you a few questions, but nothing overly personal."

"Familial reconnections? What exactly do they mean by that?" Sam asked.

"Honestly, I'm not privy to all of their methods. They tend to be a bit on the radical side, but I've spoken to people who have gone, and they all agreed that it was an excellent experience for all involved."

"So, you're prescribing a vacation?"

Violet nodded, smiling warmly.

"For you and your father and no one else. Think about it."

* * *

Sam did think about it, as she sat on the bench outside the businesslike office building. It was a beautiful if chilly early spring day. Sam couldn't help but wonder if Violet knew what she was concealing. It was possible. Violet was an expert at her job and had helped alleviate at least some of her depression and anxiety. Sam was re-reading the text on the small pamphlet even as her father pulled up in front of her.

Do you want to be closer to your beloved family member? Do you feel as though you can't talk to anyone about your issues? Take hope in that many thousands have felt this way before you, and that the Resort has been able to help the vast majority of them achieve their deepest needs.

Sam stood quickly and put the pamphlet away in her purse. She wasn't sure if she would bring it up to her father yet, but she would consider it. As she got into the black, expensive car, she wasn't surprised to hear her father's phone ring. He looked at her apologetically, but she just smiled and nodded. He took time out to drive her around, even in the middle of a workday like this. Some interruptions were to be expected.

"This is Gordon," her father said in his confident voice. Looking at him, it wasn't difficult to see what her mother had seen. He was tall and leanly-muscled, with artfully messy black hair that was going gray at the temples. He wore tight-fitting jeans and band shirts regularly as if it were a uniform. Sam supposed that it was, of a sort. Her father was a musician, and perhaps more importantly, a producer. He owned and operated a small label that was generous with its contracts. He made enough for both of them to be comfortable, if not luxurious. After a minute, the call concluded, and he hung up, putting the car in drive and pulling out, back onto the busy road.

"How did it go?" Her father asked the same question after every visit, and he did so cautiously as if Sam was a deer who might run away if he moved too fast. It both annoyed her and reassured her somehow that he cared that much.

"Um, pretty well, I think. We made more progress today. You can probably tell by the fact that I'm a mess."

Her father looked at her then, just briefly before returning his eyes to the road. She could almost feel his eyes all over her. She suddenly felt vulnerable in her tight black skirt and blouse. Did he think that she was immature for still being a Goth? God, did he think that she looked ridiculous in the runny makeup and the black choker? Was that what he was thinking? He spoke then, and that changed Sam's mind and gave her a new resolve.

"I don't understand how someone who looks so sad can be so beautiful at the same time," Gordon said. "Somehow, right now, you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen."

Sam blinked. He said it so offhandedly, but there was real conviction there. Sam felt something inside her flutter and shift. Her father had complimented her before, to be sure. He said she was smart and funny and pretty. He'd never said anything quite like that, however. Sam spoke again before she lost her nerve.

"Dad, Violet told me about this special resort. I was wondering if you had any vacation time coming up?"

* * *

Samantha took in the large crowd of men and their daughters being seated in the banquet room at the resort, and for the fifth time that morning wondered if this was all a mistake. She could feel something in the air. Not quite fear but something like anticipation. Most of the family units were pairs, although she saw at least one father here with twins and one with three daughters. Her father's gentle touch on her upper arm pulled her from her reverie, and she followed a smiling Resort staff member who led them to their table.

They were the last pair to be seated at their table. To their right, there was a man about her father's age, a bit shorter, with a shaved head and neat beard. He had broad shoulders, and she guessed an active job of some kind. The red t-shirt with the fireman's association logo on it bore that out. A very petite girl, probably close to Sam's age, was sitting next to him. She had dark red hair and a friendly, if nervous, smile, and was in a cute green dress. She was slender in the way Sam always wanted to be but never could. The other girl's discomfort somehow relieved Sam, as if it validated what she was feeling.

At the other end of the table was a man about fifteen years older than her father. He had a full head of white hair and may have been a bit overweight, but it was easy to see that he was still relatively fit. A woman, who must be his daughter, sat next to him. She was every bit the young suburban yoga mom, maybe in her late twenties, with long blonde hair, a somewhat skimpy tank top, and shorts to match.

"Good morning," the blonde said, noticing Sam's gaze and returning it with a broad smile, "I'm Holly, and this is my father, Fredrick."

"You can just call me Fred," the older man said, shaking Sam's hand and then her own father's.

"I'm Samantha," Sam said, "but you can call me Sam, and this is my dad, Gordon."

With that, the other man at the table spoke up.

"I'm Alexander. This pretty little thing is my girl, Meghan."

"Hi," Meghan said, shyly, blushing. Clearly, she was embarrassed by her father's words. Sam would have loved to hear her father say that sort of thing about her.

Soon Fredrick, Alexander, and Gordon had switched chairs and gravitated into their own conversations. While it was evident that they were very different people by their dress and demeanors, they somehow fell into a pattern of laughing and joking within minutes.

Not so for the girls. Sam had a million questions that she wanted to ask about this place, things that she desperately wanted to talk about, but knew that she couldn't. Meghan just looked ashamed and terrified now. Holly had a bit of a thoughtful look on her face for a moment.

"First-timers?" Holly asked, a wry smile on her face.

"Is it that obvious?" Meghan replied.

"Yes," Holly said, "because you both have the same look on your faces that I did a few years ago."

"How many times have you come here?" Sam asked, hopefully.

"Oh, this is our fourth," Holly said, "We try to make it every other year, but that's not always possible. Plus, we come during the off times when there aren't any events. It's a good place to relax and just be yourselves, you know? No judgments, no expectations."

Sam was wondering how to word the question properly when Meghan just blurted out her own. Maybe Meghan wasn't so much shy as anxious.

"What is this place like? Really, I mean. What goes on here."

Holly smiled and waggled her finger before replying.

"The Resort doesn't have a lot of rules, but one of them is 'No Spoilers.' At least not before the first day's presentation."

"Really?" Sam said as her eyes narrowed. "That's sketchy as fuck."

Holly laughed, but it wasn't cruel.

"I can see how you might think that. It's all a bit mysterious, at first, but the presentation explains everything. Whatever your first reaction might be, remember that nothing is written in stone. If it turns out not to be for you, then you can just have a regular vacation, but I'd keep an open mind. The results of participating can be pretty extraordinary."

Holly looked back at her father and squeezed his hand.

"Extraordinary in what way?" Meghan asked.

"Well, I mean, if you're here, its because there's something wrong with your relationship with your fathers. Or at least you think there is."

Meghan and Sam exchanged an involuntary look. Holly took that as confirmation.

"Look, you guys love your dads, right? Like really care about them?"

"Yes," Sam and Meghan answered almost simultaneously.

"When I was a lot younger, I was kind of in a bad spot. I talked back to my mom, was a brat with my older brother, and just plain awful to Daddy. I was always so angry with him, and if anyone asked me, I couldn't really tell them why. I kind of fucked up the entire house, to be honest."

"What...what happened?" Meghan asked, eyes huge. Sam could tell that Holly had hit a nerve.

"Well, we went to a family therapist, because that was kind of in at the time. Fortunately, we got kind of a weird one," Holly said, and then laughed.

"Weird how?" Sam asked.

"She wasn't afraid to try new things, and she said that this place had a lot of success with restoring family relationships. She recommended that just Dad and I go. Mom agreed, and so we ended up here. I was terrified, and he was worried about me. I thought that nothing could help. But it did. We're both closer and happier than we ever were, and each year we just seem to love each other a little more."

"My therapist said something similar," Sam said suddenly. Holly shared a glance with her then, and Sam felt a jolt of mutual understanding. Oh, god. It wasn't possible. It wasn't. There was no way that a place like that existed. And if it did...her father would never go for it. He'd hate her for sure after, for bringing home the pamphlet, for everything. Sam felt the panic attack begin in her chest as I always did, a tightness of body and mind.

"Hey," Holly said, taking Sam's hand, "Relax. You're not alone. No matter what you're thinking right now, remember that someone here has thought the same things, and they're here on their second or third trip."

"Yeah," Meghan quietly agreed, "I'm scared. Like really scared. I think Dad is going to kick me out if something doesn't change."

Sam looked at the petite girl again. Meghan didn't look like a bad girl to her, but what did a bad girl look like? Sam herself had been quite naughty in her Freshman and Sophomore years before maturing quite a bit, but she still tended to dress the same. Nevertheless, Sam's instinct told her that Meghan was relatively innocent.

"Don't worry," Holly said. "And if you get nervous or scared, you can call me. Cell phones don't work here, but our room is 574. I mean it. Don't hesitate to call us."

Somewhat to her own surprise, Sam relaxed a bit. Holly, Meghan, and Sam started sharing details of their lives. Little things, funny stories, travel anecdotes. By the time the food came, it seemed like the whole table was almost like old friends, just regular people enjoying a vacation together.

That all changed quickly.

* * *

Breakfast was simple but delicious, and it was clear that the Resort paid close attention to the meal requirements of each table. Meghan had an omelet with some ingredients that she couldn't quite place. However, it had tasted excellent, washed down with the freshest orange juice that she'd ever had. Not for the first time, Meghan caught her father's eyes straying over to her new friend.

"I'm pretty sure my dad is checking you out," Meghan said softly between bites to Sam. She didn't know why. Generally, it wasn't the sort of thing that she liked to point out, and in fact, she did feel a little jealousy at his wandering eye. There was something about being here alone with her father that made her feel a bit more confident and self-assured. She didn't mind sharing his attention, at least.

Sam sputtered briefly, almost spitting out the water she'd just sipped. Meghan couldn't blame her father for looking. Sam was gorgeous. She had a real hourglass-figure, large breasts tightly held under a black tube top, and wide hips showed off nicely in tight black jeans. Her skin was pale, and her lips were full. She carried herself with a confidence that was appealing but not arrogant. She was everything Meghan wished she could be but wasn't.

"You can't just say that, Meghan!" Sam looked scandalized, which just made Meghan chuckle more.

"Whatever. We're on vacation, and you're hot. It's not a huge deal. I mean, I peeked at your dad. He's got that older-guy-into-metal thing going on."

Sam grinned wryly.

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling wryly. "He gets a lot of younger women looking at him. You should hear the disgusting shit my friends say about him when they think I'm not listening. It's honestly kind of annoying. I bet you hear similar things about your dad,"

Meghan blushed.

"Y-yeah," Meghan said, blushing. "I do hear that a lot. Its weird hearing girls talk about him. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Nah," Sam said. "You didn't. I can understand why you'd look at him."

Meghan could almost hear the unstated implication out loud. Does that mean Sam found her own father attractive?

"It's normal to be a bit jealous when you hear girls talk about your father," Holly said, with just the faintest smirk on her face. "But maybe you guys need to pay better attention to what your fathers are actually interested in."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Well, Sam, I'm glad you asked," Holly said, leaning in closer as if to share a secret. "Gordon has done his best to behave, but he's checked out your tits at least three times during breakfast. And I know that he was looking at your ass when you guys came in."

"Oh my god," was all Sam could get out.

"As for you," Holly said to Meghan. "Have you noticed how Alexander keeps putting his hand on the small of your back? Or touched your arm while we were eating? That's all sexual interest and possessiveness."

Sam and Meghan shared a look. Both were too shocked to speak. Meghan noted that Holly used their fathers' first names as if they were their dates and not their relatives.

"What are you getting at?" Sam asked.