Daddy's Little Girl

My father thinks that I'm a lesbian....but I can't be quite sure.

I'm not though. I'm not, though? (Raised eyebrow...) Confused, I guess...no..no Questionable...curious....but anyhow...

We haven't talked about it face to face. Just little hints and vibes I get from him. Like curious sideways glances as if trying to probe my psyche or quick headshakes of frustration...

The thought of it sorta makes me laugh and want to help the charade along by maybe buying more guy shirts and cutting my hair shorter than it already is. Or maybe putting K.D. Lang's picture as my desktop. (Genius!) But then I don't want him to have a heart attack...or a broken one at that.

It started when I began working at our family store. My days were perfectly scheduled to make time go by faster and just be more efficient. Get in at 10:30 A.M. Restock the scratch-off tickets, put out the latest results, change the lotto jackpot sign. 11:00A.M. stock the soda machines and chip racks. 12:00-1:30 p.m. take care of the lunch rush and Pick 3 rush. 1:30 p.m.-3 p.m. miscellaneous dusting and stocking.

And then the time of day when the sun seems to shine a bit brighter....3 p.M. watch the Ellen Degeneres Show. She's funny and it makes me smile. My dad noticed my little afternoon pick-me-up and even began watching it with me. He thinks she's amusing in a weird androgynous sorta way, i guess. Whenever the signal would fade on and off for that channel, he'd hurry to the roof to correct the fuzziness. He's a sweetheart and it was good doing something we both could share and enjoy.

But then word got out about her homosexuality somehow. The cat was out of the bag. I dunno...maybe he was watching news or something and a blip about her new mistress bubbled up to the headlines. Or one day while standing in the grocery line he saw a tabloid headline...something about how Ellen prefers smaller chested women with blonde hair over a slim waist and big feet...those darn tabloids..! Or the article about how curiously similar Ellen and Owen Wilson look...that darn Owen Wilson...god bless 'em. Anyhow, Dad was talking to my little sister and my little sister reported back to me, "Annie, Dad says Ellen is nasty because she likes girls."

He never joined me in watching Ellen's show ever again.

Which was fine. I could be a solitary spectator. But I had to admit--I missed him.

But then there was the night I was online and I just so happened to be in the market for some new undergarments and was perusing through the Victoria Secret website (which is a horribly, non-user friendly site) and I didn't notice my father behind me watching television while simultaneously glancing in my direction with a confused look on his face wondering why his daughter was so staunchly concentrated at looking at the skimpily clad models on my screen.

That night I heard my father's exasperated voice question to my mother, "Do lesbians run on your side of the family?"