Transition

by Henry Charles Mishkoff

  “Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” Jillian jumps to her feet. “I’m not one of your hired hands. I’m not stupid. I know what I saw.”

  “Don’t you talk to me like I’m one of your little friends,” G.W. says, turning to face Jillian, the poker still in his hands. “You seem to have everything ass-backwards, little girl. I don’t know where the hell you got the idea that you were in charge here, but this is my house, and I’ll do whatever I damn well please. And if you don’t like that arrangement, you can just pack up your bags and move the fuck out anytime you feel like it.”

  G.W. has been waving the poker, its tip glowing red-hot, as if it were a ruler that he’s using to punctuate his speech during a schoolroom lecture. Suddenly, he feels foolish, as if he’s been caught red-handed bullying a child – a girl, no less. He flings the poker into the fireplace, where it strikes the grate with a resounding crash. The violent sound startles them both. They stand in a wary silence for several seconds while the echoes die down, G.W. with his hands on his hips, Jillian with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Daddy,” Jillian finally says, tiredly, “how could you? She’s not even as old as I am. I mean, it would be like you were sleeping with…” She lets the sentence die, the thought too horrible to complete out loud.

  G.W. frowns as he quickly considers whether he should continue to deny that there anything was going on. She’s my daughter, he thinks. I’ve struggled for twenty years to make a good life for her and her ma, and she’s got no right to talk to me like this. On the other hand, he considers, she did catch me, dead to rights, with my hand in the cookie jar…

  He sighs. “I guess you think you know everything,” he says, softly. “I know I sure did when I was your age. But there’s a lot that you don’t know about what goes on between me and your ma, so don’t go…”

  “And I don’t want to know, Daddy,” Jillian says, shaking her head, as if to ward off his words. “It’s none of my business. And whatever it is, it’s no excuse for…”

  “Señor?” A robed figure has appeared in the doorway, his hair mussed, his voice thick with sleep. “Is everything alright, señor?”

  “Everything’s fine, Manolo,” G.W. calls over Jillian’s shoulder. “Go back to bed.”

  “I heard a loud noise, señor, and I didn’t…”

  “I said everything’s fine, Manolo,” G.W. says, sternly. “I dropped the poker, and it made some noise, is all. Now go on back to sleep.” Manolo shrugs and stumbles off, muttering.

  As he watches Manolo shuffle out of the room, G.W. feels a wave of remorse start to sweep through him. “Honey,” he says, and he takes a step toward his daughter, his arms outstretched…

  “Don’t touch me,” Jillian says sharply. “You keep your filthy hands off me.”

  “Jill,” G.W. says, wounded by her rebuff, “don’t you think you’re overreacting a little? You’re tired. You don’t want to say anything you’re gonna regret.”

  “You’re right,” Jillian sighs, “I am tired. I’m going to sleep.” She squints at her father. “In the guest room,” she adds meaningfully. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight, Daddy.”

  G.W. laughs, but it’s forced, uneasy. “Surely you don’t think…”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Jillian says, shaking her head sadly. “I don’t want to think about it. Not right now. I’ve got to get some sleep. Good night, Daddy.”

  G.W. hitches his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and watches as Jillian turns and quickly walks – almost runs – out of the room. He stands stock still, his head cocked curiously to one side like one of his hunting dogs clinging to the last traces of a dying sound, as he listens to Jillian’s rapid footsteps thudding up the thickly carpeted stairs, finally fading into a heavy silence. He continues to stare after her, unmoving, for several minutes, as if he half expects her to return.

  Behind him, the dying fire crackles and wheezes its last gasps. Without its enveloping warmth, a chill sweeps through the over-cooled room, and G.W. shivers, which seems to rouse him from his trance. Shaking his head, either to shrug off his lethargy or to clear the cobwebs from his mind, he ambles off toward the bar to fix himself one last stiff drink before he turns in for the night.

  2.7.3: Dallas

  “I’m so sorry about Daddy, Sunshine.” They lie in the dark, both of them staring up at the ceiling, side by side in their twin beds, no more than a few feet between them. “He must’ve had a little too much to drink. He’s not usually like that.” Or maybe he’s always like that, Jillian thinks. But that’s not a subject for public discussion.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the way he was coming on to you.” This is incredibly awkward, Jillian thinks. I’m not used to apologizing to my friends for my father’s actions. But Sunshine’s being awfully nice, acting like she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “He’ll be real embarrassed in the morning. If he even remembers what he did.”

  “Gee, I would hate for him to feel embarrassed. I don’t think that he was coming on to me. I just thought he was being… well, friendly.”

  “You’re sweet, Sunshine.” Or incredibly naive. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “And even if he was coming on to me, I don’t think that he did anything that he should feel embarrassed about.”

  “Sunshine…” I should just let this drop, Jillian thinks. This girl has her own… well, unique way of looking at things, and there’s no telling where this conversation might lead.

  I really should just drop it.

  I’ll regret it if I don’t.

  But instead she says: “Sunshine, you don’t understand. Why do suppose I’m sleeping in here tonight instead of in my own room?”

  Long pause. “To keep me company?”

  “I’m sleeping in here because, if I didn’t, there’s not a doubt in my mind that Daddy would be coming in here after you. That’s why.” There. Did that spell it out in enough detail?

  “I don’t get it.”

  “For God’s sake, Sunshine,” Jillian says, with undisguised exasperation. “What do I have to do, draw you a goddamn picture? He wanted to sleep with you, alright? If I wasn’t in here with you, he would’ve snuck down the hall and tried to crawl into bed with you.”

  “Oh, I understand that part. What I don’t understand…” – Sunshine sounds genuinely puzzled – “… is why it’s upsetting you so much. I mean, your father seems like a very nice man, Jill. I like him.”

  “I don’t mind you liking him, Sunshine.” Is she being deliberately dense? No one could be this innocent. “I just don’t like the idea of you sleeping with him, is all.”

  Long pause. “Why not?”

  “Oh, Sunshine, get real, will you?” Jillian props herself up on her elbows and looks over at Sunshine. In the darkness, all she can see is a vague shape under the sheets. “He’s my father, for God’s sake. He should be sleeping with my mother. Not with my goddamn friends.”

  “You mean he’s never made love with anyone but your mother?”

  “Well, I’m sure he wasn’t a virgin when he married her, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You mean he hasn’t made love with anybody else since they’ve been married?” There’s a hint of surprise and disbelief in Sunshine’s voice, as if the suggestion is more than a little absurd.

  Jillian’s first reaction is defensive, as if Sunshine is somehow attacking her father, impugning his integrity, and thus, by association, casting aspersions upon her as well. She opens her mouth to protest, but then snaps it shut as she realizes that she doesn’t really have anything to say. She frowns and sinks back down on the bed.

  “I’ve never really thought about it,” she says, hesitantly. “I guess you don’t really ever think about your parents actually doing the deed, if you know what I mean. Not even with each other. But now that I think about it, I suppose that he might have been with other women.” Jillian is finding her own frankness to be b
oth surprising and disturbing. “I mean, Mother can be such a bitch sometimes, I guess I really wouldn’t blame him if he did.” She laughs. “I guess what I mean is I’d be surprised if he hadn’t slept with anyone else. I just never thought about it before.”

  An unbidden vision of her parents, naked and coupling obscenely, dances in front of Jillian’s eyes in the darkness. “Ugh,” she says, as if she’s tasted something foul. She shakes her head violently to dispel the unwelcome image.

  “But, don’t you see,” Jillian says, hoping to prevent the return of the unsettling image by concentrating on the discussion, “even if he has slept with other women, that doesn’t mean he should put the moves on my friends. That’s different.”

  “Why, Jill? I’m a woman too.”

  Jillian sighs. “But you’re my age, Sunshine,” she explains patiently, as if she were tutoring a child. “Actually, you’re even younger than I am. Don’t you get it?”

  After a few seconds of silence, Jillian realizes that there’s not going to be a response. That was a silly question, she thinks, of course Sunshine doesn’t get it. I’m going to have to spell it out for her. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

  “Look, Sunshine, if Daddy slept with one of my friends, it would make me feel… well, it would be just like he was sleeping with me.” Jillian closes her eyes and shakes her head; that was a tough one to say out loud. “I mean, that’s what it felt like when I woke up and saw what he was doing to you. I felt like he was doing it to me. That’s a pretty disgusting thought,” she says, as she fights the same sense of revulsion that she felt earlier. “Don’t you think?”

  But Sunshine is strangely silent, as if she’s actually having to think it over.

  “Look, Sunshine, try to imagine how you’d feel if I slept with your father. Or better yet, try to imagine how you’d feel if you slept with your father. Then maybe you’ll understand the way I feel.”

  Again, there’s a long silence. Well, Jillian thinks, maybe I made my point too well, I must’ve really grossed her out. Or maybe this whole subject is so boring to her that she fell asleep, and I’ve just been lying here talking to myself.

  “I have slept with my father,” Sunshine says. She speaks so quietly, almost a whisper, that Jillian isn’t sure that she’s heard it correctly. Or maybe she doesn’t want to believe that she’s heard it correctly.

  “You… say what?”

  “I have slept with my father, Jill.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Jillian shivers as a chill washes over her, head to toe. Her arms are suddenly crawling with goosebumps. She has an overpowering urge to go to sleep, immediately, to terminate the conversation in mid-thought. She’s pushing her way into territory that’s better left unexplored. Her mind races as she gropes for solid ground, trying desperately to fit this stunning new information into some frame of reference that she can relate to.

  Sunshine slept with her own father?

  Did she really say that?

  That’s impossible, Jillian thinks, refusing to accept what she’s heard. People just don’t do things like that. There must be more to it, a missing piece that will reveal the form of the puzzle…

  “You mean…” – Jillian struggles to come up with a plausible explanation – “… you mean he raped you?” I’ve heard of cases like that, she thinks, but I never expected it to happen to someone I know. “Oh, you poor baby. It must have been awful. How could he do a thing like that?”

  “No, Jill, he didn’t rape me. He just asked me to make love with him. A couple of years ago. I said sure.”

  “But, Sunshine…” – Jillian grapples for words – “… but, Sunshine, that’s incest, that’s what it is,” she says, weakly. “It’s incest. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

  “It is what it is,” Sunshine says, patiently, as if she’s reciting a lesson to a slow child. “Putting a label on something doesn’t make it any better or any worse. Nothing is right or wrong in and of itself.”

  “But… but, why?” Jillian is as stunned as if Sunshine has just confessed to being a visitor from another planet. “Why did you do it?”

  “Why not? He’s a very special person. Very kind. Very warm. He’s always taken very good care of me. He loves me very much, Jill, and I love him. I couldn’t think of any reason to say no.”

  Slapping herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand as if to rouse herself from a bad dream, Jillian explodes. “Holy shit,” she says. “Holy fucking shit, I don’t believe this crap. You couldn’t think of any reason to say no? He’s your fucking father, isn’t that a good enough reason?” Jillian’s voice grows louder as she grows angrier. “You’re a goddamn pervert – you and your father both. Your whole fucking family’s probably nothing but a bunch of goddamn perverts. I thought that you had been raped,” Jillian fumes, embarrassed at what she perceives as her own gullibility. For the second time this evening, she’s seriously misjudged somebody. “I was actually beginning to feel sorry for you. I guess the joke’s on me,” she adds bitterly.

  There’s a long and uncomfortable silence. Well, Jillian thinks, at least she’s got the decency not to try to defend herself. Although that may be the only decency she has.

  And when Sunshine finally does speak, it’s so softly that Jillian can’t hear anything more than the ghost of a whisper. But it sounds like…

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, I was raped, Jill.”

  “But… but…” – was that catch in her voice a sob? – “but you just said that that he asked you and you said yes. Didn’t you just say that? That’s not rape.”

  “My father didn’t rape me. This was someone else.”

  “Well then, who was it?” This is the most confusing conversation I’ve ever had in my life, Jillian thinks. Is she delirious? Is this supposed to make any sense? Am I just too tired to follow it?

  “It happened while I was out running one night,” Sunshine says, and now her voice is definitely starting to crack. “And I know that I shouldn’t have been running after dark, so it’s really all my fault, I know that. But I just didn’t expect…”

  “What the hell…”

  “Some guy from the town ran me off the road with his truck, and I tried to get away, but I tripped, and they almost didn’t find me in the field. It was so close. It was so close.” She begins to sob as she speaks. “But they found me, and I tried to tell them that they didn’t have to hurt me, I would’ve done whatever they wanted me to do, but they just wouldn’t listen to me, Jill! Why wouldn’t they listen to me?”

  Jillian is taken aback by the sudden transformation – in the space of several seconds Sunshine’s gone from total calm to uncontrollable sobbing, and now she appears to be on the verge of complete hysteria. “Hey, take it easy,” Jillian says, although that hardly feels adequate for the situation, which seems to be spiraling out of control.

  “And then he did it to me, Jill, right there in the middle of the field.” Sunshine moans, a frightening and hollow sound from the depths of despair. “It was terrible, Jill, it was the most horrible thing that’s ever…” And then wrenching sobs wrack her body and she can’t talk anymore.

  Throwing back the covers, Jillian sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed. In the dim light, she can see that Sunshine has covered her face with her hands, and that her whole body is shaking as she cries. Jillian has a strong urge to go to Sunshine, to comfort her. But she has just as strong an urge to stay away, to maintain a physical and emotional distance from this strange girl who, just a minute ago, admitted to willingly having sex with her own father.

  So Jillian just sits on the edge of her bed and waits for Sunshine to gain control of herself.

  “How long ago did this happen?” Jillian asks, when she feels that Sunshine might have calmed down enough to speak.

  “About a week ago.”

  “A week ago!” For some reason, Jillian has been assuming that Sunshine was describing an event from the distant past. “Yo
u’ve got to be kidding.”

  Sunshine shakes her head solemnly. “It was only about a week ago, I think. Although it does seem much longer. It’s hard to believe that it happened at all.”

  “Holy shit.” To Jillian, Sunshine suddenly seems very brave to be competing in a race – the Olympic trials, no less – so soon after what must have been an inconceivably traumatic event. “Did he hurt you?” It seems like a dumb question as soon as she asks it, and when Sunshine doesn’t respond for a few seconds, Jillian is afraid that she might be prying too far. “Hey, look, it’s really none of my business. If you don’t want to talk about it…”

  “It hurt a little bit when he… it hurt a little at the time,” Sunshine says in a dreamy, far-away voice, as if she’s exhausted from the violent emotional release. “I was sore for a couple of days. And he punched me in the face, which hurt a lot. But he didn’t really injure me or anything like that. No broken bones. And I feel okay now. It’s just…” She starts to sob softly again.

  “It’s just what?”

  “It’s just that I don’t understand why he did it, Jill,” Sunshine says, plaintively. She takes a couple of deep breaths and manages to bring her voice under control. “I just don’t understand it.”

  “I hope they hang the son-of-a-bitch.” Jillian finds that she’s growing angry, not only that someone has done such a terrible thing, but that it happened to Sunshine while she was running. “Did they catch him?”

  Sunshine shakes her head, a barely perceptible movement.

  “What did the police say? Do they think they’re ever going to catch him? Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  “Oh, I know who he is. I recognized him. I know his name.” And then her voice grows so small that Jillian can barely hear her, and what she says is so strange that Jillian is certain that she couldn’t have heard correctly. “We didn’t go to the police, Jill.”

  “Did you say that you didn’t call the police?”