“That’s me.”
“And me,” Scarlet said with a big smile as she jumped and waved, too.
Lewis bent to talk into Scarlet’s ear, noticing she smelled as good as she looked. “How touristy of you.”
She stuck out her tongue at him then looped her arm through Jessie’s. “Come on. This store has some great clothes.”
As much as Lewis hated Jessie’s baggie black garb—that’d turned to be hand-me-downs from a neighbor since her mom had been too sick to work and couldn’t afford new clothes—Lewis was not at all a fan of Jessie’s revealing, burgeoning-figure-hugging choices. “No,” he said again and Jessie stormed back to the dressing room. Unfortunately it seemed last night’s parental epiphany did not mean smooth sailing from then on.
“You know you’re going to have to give a little,” Scarlet said, remaining by his side instead of following Jessie.
“That shirt was too tight.” He swallowed. “Do you think she needs a...” God he hated this. Daughters should not have breasts for boys who will soon be men to look at. Suddenly baggie black attire didn’t seem all that bad.
Scarlet smiled, enjoying his angst a little too much. “Bra?” she asked. “Do I think your daughter needs a bra?” she teased.
“Ssshhh,” he said. “Keep your voice down.”
She didn’t. “Tell you what I’m gonna do,” she said like some cheesy salesman trying to sweeten the deal. “If you let Jessie get three outfits and two bathing suits of her choice, I will accompany her to Macy’s.” She cupped her hands at the sides of her mouth and whispered, “For some bras.”
“No V-neck shirts and no bikinis,” Lewis clarified.
“If you get stipulations then so do I. I’m thinking I’ll suggest she get padded bras to double her bust size.”
Witch. “Okay. She can pick from the last batch of stuff she tried on.” Which thankfully didn’t contain any of the hideously trampy items of clothing Jessie had tried to convince him to consider at the onset of this shopping nightmare.
“Deal.” She held out her hand.
He shook it.
“You’ll get through this,” she said. “Tight shirts and bras are nothing.” She waved a flippant hand. “Just wait until she gets her period.”
Lewis thought he might throw up right there by the girls denim shorts rack. As a pediatrician he didn’t hesitate to discuss breast development, menstruation, and birth control with his patients and/or their nervous parents. But the role of father caring for a developing teenage daughter had taken him into new territory. Had Jessie already gotten her period? Doubtful since he didn’t have any feminine supplies in the house and she hadn’t asked him to buy any. Had anyone had ‘the talk’ with her? Did she know what to expect? And what about safe sex? And sexually transmitted diseases?
He now had a vividly clear understanding of parental apprehension and avoidance when discussing reproductive matters with their children.
Pain typical of an ulcer started to burn through the lining in his stomach.
His doctor self knew what had to be done.
His father self would rather preach the pros of maintaining virginity until marriage.
“He looks pale,” Jessie said, standing in front of him with her arms full of clothes.
“Men often do when shopping for clothes with women.” Scarlet looked up at him with deceptively innocent eyes and smiled. “You feeling okay, papa bear?”
“You are a mean woman,” he said so only she’d hear.
“Nah,” she said. “If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll handle ‘the talk’” she made air quotations around ‘the talk’, “for you.”
A total father copout, but thank you! “Lunch is on me,” Lewis said, his vigor returning. “Then we’ll go to Macy’s to buy Scarlet a nice little gift for accompanying us today,” he said to Jessie.
They found a little Italian bistro on 46th Street whose posted menu appealed to them all and squeezed into the last available corner booth, Jessie and all her bags on one side, Scarlet and Lewis on the other. When the waiter came to take their drink order Lewis asked Scarlet, “Would you like to share a bottle of wine?” Maybe bra shopping wouldn’t be so bad with a nice relaxing buzz.
“No thank you,” she said to him. Then she turned to the waiter. “Just water for me, please.”
After ordering a soda Jessie said, “Scarlet doesn’t drink alcohol, Dad.”
“But don’t let me stop you from having,” Scarlet added quickly.
Lewis decided on an iced tea.
“You don’t have to tell him why,” Jessie said very serious. “What we say between us stays between us.”
“It’s not something I share with everyone I meet,” Scarlet said. “But it’s not a secret, either.”
Jessie jumped at the chance to share the reason. “When Scarlet was sixteen she went to a party where the kids were drinking alcohol,” Jessie said in horror. “She drank too and got so drunk she passed out.”
“I hope you have a good reason for discussing your drunken teenage exploits with my daughter,” Lewis said.
Scarlet turned to face him, her eyes met his. “Obviously alcohol impaired my ability to make good decisions because a few weeks later I found out I was pregnant.”
She watched him, so Lewis was careful to maintain a neutral expression. He knew he should say something, but what? I’m sorry? How horrible? What happened to the baby?
“That’s why kids shouldn’t drink alcohol,” Jessie said, taking the pressure off of him by filling the silence. “Because it makes them do stupid things they don’t remember doing. I’m never drinking alcohol even after I turn twenty-one.” She took her soda from the waiter and pulled the paper tip off of the straw.
“Good girl,” he said, knowing a thirteen-year-old’s declaration of long-term sobriety could be recanted without his knowledge at any time as she moved toward adulthood.
Jessie took a sip of soda then said, “Scarlet’s baby is the reason the two of us met.”
Very interesting.
Scarlet stared at her water glass, sliding her fingers through the droplets of condensation on the outside. If he wasn’t mistaken, a hint of a blush stained her cheeks.
“Jessie, I don’t think Scarlet is comfortable with you telling me all this.” Even though he wanted to hear more.
“No,” Scarlet looked at Jessie. “It’s okay. Go on.” She glanced at him. “Might as well get it all out.” She turned back to Jessie. “It’s not good to keep things from your dad.”
Later, he’d thank her for that.
“The
