They were still laying there, talking about what might happen next when Paul's phone rang.
"Not looking forward to this," he said, but looked, and it wasn't Rose. It was Barbara McCormack… Rose's mother. Shit! Could this get any worse? For a moment, he considered ghosting her, but Bab had always been very sweet to him. Lately, she'd been, well, sweet, but weirdly sweet. She was always asking about him and Brianna, but not in an accusing fashion. More like she was making sure their relationship was good. She probably wouldn't approve of their relationship now. He answered. "Hey, Bab. How are you?"
"Hello, Paul," she said. She was always so proper. "How are you? And how's Brianna?"
"We're both fine. And you?"
"Paul, we don't have a lot of time. I know what just happened. Rose's on her way over here and I don't want her to know we've talked. Not yet. So I'll ask you again, how is my granddaughter right now?"
Still cautious, Paul asked, "What do you mean, 'you know what just happened?'" Brianna looked surprised to hear that. Paul nodded to her.
Barbara replied, "Rose just walked in on the two of you 'in flagrante.' Do I need to be more, how shall I put it, descriptive, dear?"
How could she know that already? Of course, Rose would call her. But why wasn't she screaming obscenities at him, and vowing his ruin, castration, imprisonment, or demise?!
"Paul"? she prompted.
His train of thought was speeding along out of control, about to derail, and Bab's gentle prompt refocused him to the present. "Yeah, Barbara, that about sums it up. And Bri is fine, and she's right here. But we've talked about it, and we're not stopping. Sorry. The family's probably gonna disown us both, but this thing is real."
"No one is being disowned. Be home tomorrow, and I'll come over and explain everything. Tomorrow, okay? Brianna needs to be there as well. I'll be there after church, say around 2:00. Okay?
Paul was speechless. This was not what he expected. "Uhh, oh -… okay."
"That's a good lad. It'll be fine, I assure you. See you then!" and she ended the call.
He looked at Brianna, still unable to make sense of the call. Unable to process any of it any further, he glanced at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "Look at the time!" he told his daughter. "Let's go grab some early dinner."
*****
"That fucking monster! That sick fuck! Divorce him right now! He must have raped her! Call the authorities! Ruin his ass, tell everyone he knows! Throw his ass under the jail!" Rose could imagine her mother saying any of those things. She could have imagined her mother saying any of a million other things just like it, each one more outraged than the last, and Rose would have agreed with every one of them. But never in a million years would she have expected her mother's calm response. What the fuck did she mean?! And how the holy FUCK did she know?
Rose had walked in on the most horrific scene in her entire life. Her husband of twenty-six years, their twenty-two-year-old daughter, both naked, in their bed. Her straddling his lap, his disgusting prick buried all the way inside her, her urging her own father to fuck her. She was so shocked, she couldn't move for a few seconds. Then, lightheaded, she stumbled against the door and nearly passed out. That stumbling is why they heard her. They were so far gone in their illicit deed that the surprise of seeing her there simply triggered their orgasm… they both sat there, clutching each other, locked in their throes, unable to move, while Rose ran out of the house and back to her car. The last thing she saw as she peeled out was Paul running out wearing just boxers trying to catch her before she got to the car. She only drove a few blocks before she pulled into a shopping center parking lot and broke down crying.
How could he DO that? To her, to THEM? How could he rape their baby? Sure, Brianna was flirty with her dad. Most girls were flirty with their dads (she never was, but still…), but that didn't give him the right to molest her!! She was going to RUIN him, she thought murderously. She couldn't go back home. She was going to tell her girlfriends. She was going tell everybody! But first, she needed some support. So she called her mom.
She struggled to stop sobbing enough to make the call. "Mom?" she sobbed when her mother answered. "l… I have to come over," she began, but started crying again. "I walked in on… and Paul was… and… Bri…" She could barely talk. "They were… they were… oh, mom, it was awful! I…" She couldn't continue.
Her mother, Barbara McCormack, shushed her and tried to comfort her. "That's okay, sweetheart. I know. Why don't you come over and we'll figure it out together, okay? Just sit there and calm down for a minute before you drive, alright, dear?"
"Okay, mom. I'll be there in a few minutes," she said.
Sometime later, walking into their tastefully appointed home, Rose remembered as always, this wasn't her home… this was where her parents had retired to.
"Rose," her mom greeted her. "Come, let's sit in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee? Something stronger?" she asked.
"Sure, mom. Coffee would be great, thanks."
Barbara poured two cups, added cream and sugar, and placed one in front of Rose.
"What I was trying to tell you was—"
Her mother interrupted her, saying, "You walked in on Paul and Brianna having full-on sex, and from the looks of it, it wasn't their first time. Is that right?"
Rose was shocked. She hadn't been able to tell her much of anything through all the sobbing. How did she know all that?
Barbara took her hands and said, "This part's going to sound, well, crazy. Honey, I knew this was going to happen. I've been expecting it since she was eighteen."
"Wait, you knew Paul was going to rape our daughter?"
"Rose, I promise you he wasn't raping her, and I guarantee you she made the first move. She wasn't doing anything she didn't desperately want to do."
"What are you talking about? How the fuck can you know that?"
"Language, dear," said Barbara.
"Language?! My husband and—"
"That's no excuse to be uncivilized," she said calmly. "Now let me finish. As I was saying, I knew this was going to happen. I've been expecting it because, and there's no way to say this except to say it: Honey, it runs in the family."
Rose's head snapped back in surprise. She said, "What? Runs in the family?! I never fucked—" Barbara pursed her lips disapprovingly, "had sex with my dad. Did you? And how are you so calm about this?!"
"Yes. That's why I'm so calm about this," she answered.
"Yes? Yes, what? Yes, you slept with your father?"
"Yes, my dad and I slept together. In fact, we had quite the sex life," she said, smiling as if remembering good times indeed.
Rose was incredulous. She said, slowly, "Wait… you're saying, you… you and…? You fucked your own father?!"
"Lang—"
"Fuck that, I'll say whatever I want! You fucked your own father? And you think that justifies Paul molesting our child?!" Rose finished, breathing hard, glaring angrily at Barbara as if she didn't even know who she was. With what was just admitted to, maybe she didn't.
Barbara sipped her coffee as calmly as if they were chatting about unseasonably nice weather. "Rose, I know that this is a lot to process, so if you'll listen to me for a second, I'll explain everything as best I can. After that, feel free to rant, rage, and even break things. I won't stop you. Okay?" she asked sweetly.
Glaring at her through slitted eyes, Rose said, "Go on."
"Going back as far as anyone can remember," began Barbara, "girls in this family have always favored their fathers. I wouldn't be surprised if the first person ever called a 'daddy's girl' was one of our ancestors. And because men naturally feel like they're supposed to be their little girls' big strong protectors, it's a good match. But somewhere around seventeen or eighteen, all of a sudden, they start to look at him a little differently. It starts innocently enough… admiring his body, noticing his scent, perhaps a little light flirting. Then, over time, it builds and gets more, well, intense. Her flirting becomes more like seduction, she starts dressing sexier, she can't seem to keep her hands off him, always finding reasons to touch him. And she's completely unable to stop herself from doing any of this. Any of this sounding familiar?"
Rose said, "I noticed all of that behavior in Brianna for the past two years. I just figured she was testing herself in a safe place, and then she'd grow out of it."
"When that part starts, normally her mother will step in, and help her, well, make it happen," Barbara continued.
"So wait, you're telling me that in our family, moms help their daughters fuck their dads? Their own husbands? Is this for real?!" exclaimed Rose.
"Dear, could you please try not to be so crass and vulgar about a beautiful tradition in our family? Anyway, yes, it's up to each generation to pass this on to the next. Sweetie, we know all too well about the laws and public opinion about incest, but here in the confines of the family, we're pretty proud of—"
"Wait," said Rose. "Nobody helped 'coach' Brianna. So how—"
Barbara cut her off, "It was always going to happen, no matter what. You couldn't keep her away from her father any more than you could have stopped her from growing breasts. It's completely natural, at least in our family. And we all knew that if she came to you, you'd drag her off to therapy, make wild accusations against Paul, and generally bring all kinds of unwanted attention to our family and that would be unacceptable. So while we didn't interfere, we've, well mostly 'I' have been keeping a close eye on her, and as soon as I saw her start acting and dressing more provocatively, I've been preparing to have this conversation with you."
"But Paul! He should have said no. He should have resisted, turned her down—"
"No dear, he couldn't," challenged Barbara. "We think that it's DNA… the 'fever', as we call it, only affects biological fathers and daughters. No stepparents, adoptive parents, second husbands, just fathers and daughters. We think that when it hits, something in her DNA triggers something latent in his DNA, and they—"
"That is disgusting… And… Why… Why didn't it happen to me.?
Barbara shook her head sadly. "Nobody knows, dear. Every other female in the family, including me, and your aunts and cousins, have all experienced the joy of being loved, fully loved, by their fathers. It's so sad that you missed out for some reason. And your father missed out as well. My dad always told me he enjoyed me more than mom, and that made us both proud."
Rose said, "You keep saying 'we'. Who is we?"
"Why, all of us, dear," Barbara replied. "Every man and woman in the family who've enjoyed our legacy… our 'fever'. We all know how wonderful it is."
Rose, asked, "Is that why you were always pushing me towards dad? Sometimes it felt like you were trying to… You were trying to set us up!"