Fathers and daughters

never underestimate a girl

Samantha Mash

It's scorching hot today. Sunset won’t arrive until 8:30 PM, which is a small luxury. I’m sitting inside an Ethiopian restaurant in Oakland. The lentil samussas just came out of the fryer and landed on my table on a white plate. Three crispy triangles. They are hot and spicy and too delicious for me to wait very long before taking a bite. The burn makes it all the tastier. Eating hot food on a hot day is a one-of-a-kind experience. It brings you closer to your fragile humanness. It's tantalizing, even erotic, to feel both hot on the outside and on the inside.

I came here to write, pieces of a novel about love, and pieces of a memoir about pain and beauty. Something about the heat and the glistening light outside makes it difficult.

The sizzling from the kitchen and the joyful sound of women chatting behind me is such a nice melody. Ethiopian music plays from a speaker by the cash register or maybe from the ceiling. The door is open. It's the size of the entire wall. I'm looking at an archway entrance covered in pink vining flowers. Because the door is open and wide, I can also see to a patch of grass across the street where a father is chasing his two little daughters. Their braids are beaded with bright colors and the girls seem to levitate with every giggle across the grass.

My eye twitches, but it’s been twitching all week. I think I’m dehydrated. The server was kind to make me an iced chai latte, since it's so hot today but it wasn't on the menu. The first sip was refreshing, cold cinnamon spice, and it immediately cooled me. I'm grateful to her. My chest is damp with sweat.

A few minutes later, a high school girl walks into the cafe followed by her dad and uncle. Her uncle returns to the patio, because, leashed to him is a standard white poodle. They are tall and recognizably well-off, in the sense of having an American middle-class steadfastness visible in the physicality of their shoulders. The dad is still wearing a wedding band even though he's at the perfect age to blow up his life, so it must be going pretty well. When he sits down, he has the relaxed look of somebody with a job he doesn't fear losing this month, although I can't tell what his work could be. They are a sporty family. He could work a corporate B2B job or he could run a boat house on the water.

While they chat and wait for their takeout, the dog lies peacefully on the warm ground. The family has been on a walk.

The girl says: “That's why I’m against genetic modification in humans.” I wish I heard what it was her uncle said that prompted her to respond with a position on genetic modification. Now he sounds surprised and dumbfounded, but not necessarily in a negative way. By the look on his face, I think he realizes she’d brought up a complex subject he doesn’t know anything about. He stumbles over his words and changes the subject, and he glances at her with an expression of reverence. It’s good to remember how thoughtful young girls are, no matter whether they are wrong or right.

Each family member is wearing sandals. It’s 6:30 PM and it's still hot. I’ve written very little of my novel, but a lot about these strangers. The girl is drinking a lemon Spindrift and scrolling on her iPhone 13 or 14 or 15, in between declaring her opinions and cracking jokes.

She points to her arm and says, “I know this is eczema, because if it was poison oak you would be in anaphylactic shock.” And she laughs.

Her uncle says, “You’re right, I am allergic to poison oak.”

Something about her character reminds me of Jane Austen and the way she writes girls. Teenage girls are full of wit and opinions and self-assuredness. I've never met a teenage girl who wasn’t wise despite their innocence, primarily when they’re given room to express themselves.

This family interacts with a dynamic unfamiliar to me. The girl doesn't seem worried about when to speak, how to speak, or how loud to speak with her dad. In fact both men are listening to her intently, offering the type of conversation which allows her to express herself without judgment or persecution in their tone.

Isn’t it Elizabeth’s father in Pride and Prejudice who adores her thoughts and opinions the most? Isn’t it her father’s encouragement that gives Elizabeth a feeling of permission to be as self-assured as she is? In particular, to be as self-assured as she is with other men.

A father who underestimates his daughter gives other men permission to underestimate her too.

The family is leaving now. The dog gets up crookedly and ambles behind them. The dad leads his daughter down the sidewalk with a bag of food in his hands.

I'm going swimming at the beach after this, my hope is even though the sun is setting I can run into the ocean and it will still be warm enough outside to lay on the sand afterwards. I hope the tide isn't too rambunctious, which it usually is in the evening, turning up all the seaweed to stick between my toes.

Ah, it’s cooler now.