Sixteen
HAM DROVE BACK TO HOLLY’S HOUSE, AND, once Daisy had been properly greeted and apologized to for her lonely morning, they had some lunch.
“I like a ham sandwich,” Ham said, munching away.
“I believe I knew that about you,” Holly said. “Hence, the ham in the fridge.”
“I knew a woman once who said she liked a Ham sandwich, with a big H.”
“You don’t have to spell it out for me, Ham. It’s more than I want to know about your life.”
“You mean, a father shouldn’t have a sex life?”
“No, just not one that his daughter knows about.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”
“Funny, you never asked any questions about my sex life,” she said. “I mean, when I had one. See what I mean?”
“Point taken,” Ham said.
“And anyway, how did this woman make a Ham sandwich, without another woman to help?”
“I wasn’t going to bring that up,” Ham said, washing his sandwich down with a beer.
“Ham, are you telling me you had a threesome?”
Ham took another swig of the beer. “You said that, I didn’t.”
“That is appalling,” she said.
“What’s appalling about it?”
“Not the idea of a threesome; just the idea of you in one.”
“You don’t find the idea of a threesome appalling?”
“Not if I got to pick the guys.”
“Now you’re telling me more than I want to know.”
“Truce on sex lives?”
“Truce,” Ham said, raising both hands as if to ward off ideas of his daughter in a threesome.
“Okay, then.” Holly turned her attention to her own sandwich.
“So,” Ham said, “were you ever in a threesome?”
“Ham! I thought we had a truce!”
“I was just curious.”
“Well, put away your curiosity.”
“I just never thought you were the type, that’s all.”
“The type? What type?”
“The type to be in a threesome.”
“I don’t know whether to take that as praise or criticism.”
“Suit yourself.”
“You really want to know about my sex life, Ham?”
“Not really. I mean, not unless you want to tell me.”
“What kind of father-daughter conversation is this?”
“One we should have had a long time ago.”
“Well, we did have it, as I recall, when I was about nineteen.”
“You call that a conversation? You wouldn’t say a word. I figured you were working on becoming the world’s oldest virgin.”
“At nineteen?”
“But then that young lieutenant came along and fixed that.”
“Which young lieutenant was that?”
“Wasn’t but one,” Ham said smugly.
“Oh, yeah? There might have been a platoon of young lieutenants, for all you know.”
“You thought you could hide that stuff from your old man?”
“I did hide it from my old man.”
“Then how come I knew about the young lieutenant?”
“Okay, how’d you know about him?”
“It was easy.”
“How?”
“Well, you know when you came back from that weekend in the mountains when you lost your virtue?”
Holly turned pink. “You thought that, did you?”
“I didn’t think; I knew.”
“How, Ham?”
“I just walked up to him in the orderly room on Monday morning and stood about six inches from his nose; I looked him in the eye and said, ‘Good morning, Lieutenant. Have a nice weekend?’ And he turned purple.”
Holly put a hand to her brow. “Oh, God.”
“The same color you are right now.”
“I am not purple.”
“Close.”
“Not anywhere near close. A little red, maybe. Who wouldn’t be?”
“You didn’t see me turn purple when we were talking about my threesome,” Ham said.
“My God, Ham, the lieutenant and I didn’t have a threesome.”
“Who said you did?”
“You implied it, just now.”
“You inferred it, maybe.”
“You are impossible. We’re not talking about sex lives anymore, is that clear?”
“Not even about my sex life?”
“Yours is the most off-limits—right after mine.”
“Well, if you want to hide stuff from your old man.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“You’re not talking about it.”
“That’s not the same thing as hiding it.”
“Sure, it is. If you’re not talking, you’re hiding.”
“Ham, what exactly is it you want to know?”
“Me? I don’t want to know anything. We’re only talking about this because you brought it up.”
“I didn’t bring it up; you did.”
“Whatever you say,” Ham said smugly.
“You did! I didn’t!”
“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Holly.”
Holly turned to where Daisy lay. “Daisy, bite Ham.”
Daisy got up, went over to where Ham sat at the table and took his ankle in her mouth.
“Harder,” Holly said.
“Ow!” Ham yelled.
“Now, Daisy, tear off his leg and hit him over the head with it.”
“No, no, Daisy!” Ham cried, prying her jaws from his ankle. “Don’t hurt your grandfather!”
“Is that how you think of yourself? As Daisy’s grandfather?”
“Well, she’s the closest thing to a grandchild I’ve had so far.”
“Daisy,” Holly said, “if he starts asking about your sex life, kill him.”
Somewhere in the house a small chime rang.
“What’s that?” Ham asked.
“It’s a car coming down the road,” Holly said. She looked at the umbrella stand by the door and confirmed that the barrel of Jackson’s shotgun still protruded from it.
“You worried?” Ham asked.
“I guess what we saw this morning spooked me a little,” she said. She got up. “I’ll see who it is.”
She walked toward the front door with some trepidation.