Page 51 of Forfeits

“Dad!”

“Where did you get those?”

“At the thrift store.”

“I think you got gypped. Half of them are missing.”

They were ripped in several places, one of those spots being on the upper thigh, a little too close to areas that should not be exposed.

“Dad, all my friends wear jeans like these!”

“I don’t give a fuck if half the city is wearing them. You’re not.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, for a gay dad, you really disappoint me sometimes,” she said. “You can’t actually see my ass. And anyway, why do you get to decide?”

I blew out a breath, sorry I’d even started this. I was usually big on bodily autonomy, but I was also big on appropriate social expectations in some situations.

“It looks…you know”—Don’t say it. Don’t say it—“slutty,” I said it, digging myself in deeper.

“Really, Dad? You’re going to slut shame me? Why is my female body automatically considered sexual?”

We stared at each other for a long moment, and I decided I didn’t actually care and wasn’t going to die on this hill. And, she had a point.

“Fine. I don’t give a fuck. Let’s go.”

“Oh, wow. Great parenting there.”

“Just get in the car.”

Lucy and I had been on each other’s cases for days, and it wasn’t like us. We’d had our moments in the past, but for some reason, the last few weeks had been harder. Maybe it was because Lucy had tests and mid-terms and I had a couple of time-sensitive projects. Or maybe it was the brisk and depressing November weather. Whatever it was, we’d both been short-tempered and irritable.

Lucy listened to music all the way to the therapist’s office, so I didn’t have to make conversation, then felt guilty for that thought. I felt a burst of rage toward Daniel for dying right before Lucy became a preteen and leaving me with the stress of parenting a teenager all by myself, then felt guilty for that. Too bad mine wasn’t the therapy appointment today.

When I picked Lucy up after her session, her mood had improved.

“Good appointment?” I asked with a smile, determined to make an effort.

“Yep. She complimented my outfit.” Lucy gave me a look that only a triumphant twelve-year-old could produce.

“Huh. I guess I’m just an old fogey with outdated attitudes,” I said.

“You’ve got to stop policing my body, Dad.”

“I…didn’t know that’s what I was doing.”

“Where are we going for lunch?”

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“How about Milestones?”

“Sure.”

We had a wonderful lunch, then found ourselves at the Museum of Nature on McLeod street, right across from Aiden’s apartment. I tried to forget about that. It was our favorite of all the museums in Ottawa, and I was glad that Lucy still wanted to go. In a couple of years, she’d probably only want to hang out with her friends at the mall.

“Look at this, Dad!” Lucy said, beckoning me over to a display of pretend dinosaur eggs. “It says that Gallimimus laid eggs in grassy spots near the bottom of cliffs but they were often found and eaten by T-Rexes and Carnataurs.”

I loved that Lucy still got giddy over dinosaur facts. I walked over to see the exhibit a bit closer.

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