I Liked My Life(78)

“Were they mean to you?”

“Nah. They just weren’t nice. But the trip wasn’t a waste. I learned a lot. With Mom gone, and everything I’ve uncovered about my own mother, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve missed something with the women in my life, maybe even something about life in general, and I refuse to make the same mistake with you.”

I’m honored. It’s like winning a grand prize in a raffle I never knew I entered.

And there it is, the tender shiver of my mother crawling up my spine, cheering us on.

Brady

I had no idea my daughter was a young woman, subject to the seductive glances of men and envious glares of less-blessed females, until this trip. I never even recognized her as beautiful, beyond the way I assume most fathers think of their offspring as good-looking. But Eve is what the current generation refers to as hot. Her complexion is clear and she adds a hint of blush to each cheek, so she always looks like she just returned from grabbing fresh air. She walks with her shoulders back in a confident posture and when she laughs, which has to be earned, her whole body moves with the sound, how it did with her mother. It’s strange to put words to, but I’m getting to know my daughter and I like her. I mean obviously I love her, but I am discovering that I also enjoy her company. She’s sarcastic as all hell, but she’s fearless.

Her appeal sits with me now like something I can’t quite digest. It’d help if this hot-air-balloon guide would stop staring at her breasts. I ignore him, knowing Eve will be annoyed if I make a stink. “I think that’s the vineyard we ate lunch at yesterday,” I say, pointing.

“Yeah, there’s the stone patio. This is amazing. I feel closer to Mom up here.”

Before I can respond, the guide says, “I do too. It’s why I took this job.”

Eve rolls her eyes at him and whispers, “He feels closer to my mom?”

Although this dipshit just ruined a moment I’m paying nine hundred dollars for, it’s a relief to see her respond to the predator with authority. Still, the revelation makes me less certain about the boarding-school decision. It was one thing for Eve to leave when I thought of her as a child under the supervision of adults, but quite another if she’s a young lady, capable of making adult-sized mistakes.

When we step out of the basket, my feet wobble to find their place on the ground. “You okay there, old man?” Eve teases.

The guide lets out a belly laugh disproportionate to the humor provided. I take advantage of the only offensive move I have and leave without offering a tip. He can ogle his heart out, but he’s not having a drink on me tonight for the privilege.

We sit for lunch, both famished, having gotten up at four this morning. Eve replays how cool it was to float through the sky, but I’m distracted. She stops talking mid-sentence and says, “Hello? Dad. You there?”

I cannot hold back my observation. It’s time for one of Maddy’s serious talks. “Sorry. It’s just … well.” My palms start sweating. “I’ve noticed…”

“Sp-sp-sp-spit it out,” Eve says with a laugh.

She’s right. I can’t go through life afraid of her. “Okay, fine: I’ve noticed how much older you look, and how many men look at you with interest, and-and I want to make sure you’re aware of it also, so you don’t land in a precarious situation.”

“Precarious situation?”

“It means—”

She puts a hand up. “I know what it means, Dad. Stop worrying. I think that’s just how the French, like, are.”

How can I explain that she’s too beautiful not to worry without me turning into the inappropriate one? “Well, I do worry, Eve. You’re at the age where people don’t know if you’re seventeen or out of college, and I’m not stupid enough to believe your admirers only exist in this country. It’s a problem.”

“A problem?” Her arms cross. I’m losing her.

“Well, it could be a problem if you don’t carry yourself in a conservative way. You have to send a clear message.”

“What if I disagree?”

“You’d be wrong. I’m a man. I know about this stuff.”

She looks me over with a questioning eye, struggling with the assertion that I represent a typical guy. “So what, Dad? Should I yell at people when they look at me?” She rolls her eyes like she did at the pervert guide. It infuriates me, but I want this discussion to be constructive, so I don’t call her out on it.

“I just want you to be aware that as you grow up and look … older … people’s intentions change. That’s all.”

“Okay, fine. I get it—”

“And,” I pause to collect the thought that just revealed itself. “I’d like you to take a self-defense class when we get back.”

“You’ve lost it.”

“There are courses that take a day. Your mom took one once, and it’s the least you can do for your poor father who’s just realized that his little girl is a young woman.”

“Oh, Jesus, here we go.” Her expression is now playful. On some level, she’s enjoying this.

“I’m serious, Eve. I’m really freaking out over here. Please take the damn class.” Of everything I said, this is the line that endears me to her.