Girl Talk

I flee from my house, eager to get back to work and the predictability of emergency services. I realize that I will have to talk with OS when I get home. I know I should have done so before I left, but the shock of Elizabeth’s blinding smile wiped my mind clean of the ability to form words. When I finally regain the ability to speak, all I can do is apologize for the mess in the basement and mumble something about needing to get back to the office.

In the car, my mind is a jumble of questions.

Would OS have told me about his friend if I hadn’t come home? Why was she there? Why have I never met her before? Wow, she sure was cute, wasn’t she? What were they doing? Should I have made her leave when I left? There is no way any messing around could have been going on with eight fourth graders running around the house playing hide-and-seek, was there?

Mostly I wonder, how did my children get so old so fast?

It is difficult to concentrate at work. I fluctuate between wanting to laugh out loud and wanting to take OS and thump him on his incredibly dense little head.
Answering crisis calls and writing a letter for a participant serve as good distractions, forcing thoughts of home to the back of my mind. There, in the deep recesses, my agitated thoughts finally rest in the cobwebs that blanket important facts, stored long ago, for safekeeping.

Returning back home at 5:45, I find that work has provided just the respite I needed to put things in perspective. It has also given my children time to clear out all extraneous people.
This evening, in stark contrast to earlier in the day, the house is a virtual catacomb and I shake the walls awake as I slam the door behind me with a bang.
“Hello,” I yell, cocking my head to the side and waiting for three echoes to be returned to me. I am not disappointed. YD’s distracted “hello” floats down the stairs, YS’ “hello” bounces in front of him as he bounds into the living room and throws his arms around me in an exuberant hug, and OS’ “hello” crawls from the basement as though just waking from a hazy dream.
“Hey, sweetie,” I say to the top of YS’ head. I know that my days of seeing the top of this head, are numbered and that, too soon, our roles will be reversed and YS will be looking at the top of my head. I grab the opportunity to give him an extra little kiss and tousle his soft brown hair.
He smiles indulgently at me before he dashes off to resume his Lego creation.

I head downstairs.
Time for “The Talk”.

I find OS sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, effectively restricting access to the other side of the room. His thumbs dance nimbly over the video game controls as his player executes the perfect slam-dunk, complete with a 360 spin move.
He makes no indication that he has noticed me.

I wait.
He pauses the game and looks at me with eyes filled with equal parts interest and annoyance.

“When you have a minute, I’d like to talk with you,” I say to him, trying for a tone that casual yet serious, hoping that his available minute will be sometime in the future so that I can postpone the inevitable.

He calls my bluff.
“I have a minute.” As he speaks, he checks the TV screen to make sure that the game is, indeed, on pause.
“I wanted to talk with you about this afternoon,” I begin.
OS shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of where I am going to go with this conversation. He says nothing.
“Thanks for introducing me to Elizabeth.”

He nods.

“I kind of got the impression that I only found out she was here was because I stopped by.”

He nods again.

“I am responsible for the people in this house,” I remind him, “so I really need to know who is here.”
“I know. Sorry.” OS looks appropriately contrite.

“Of course, it goes without saying that I expect you to keep your clothes on when you’re with a girl.”

OS is shocked into silence.

“You did keep your clothes on!”

“Muh-mee!”

I’ve done this teenaged thing before. I know better than to let that question go unanswered. I also know that I need to keep it light, so I smile and chuckle, “Well?”

He nods.
I confirm, “You both kept your clothes on?”

He nods.

Question number one asked and answered.
I move on.

“And…having a girl come to visit, by herself, when there is no adult around, is really not a good idea.”

Nothing.
I keep going.

“I didn’t let OD have a boy over when I was out, I won’t let YD have a boy over when I am out, so it doesn’t seem fair for me to let you have a girl over when I am out.”
OS nods and shrugs his shoulders, which I take as a sign that he agrees.
“It’s just not a good idea to be alone with a girl. You don’t want to get yourself in a situation where it is difficult for you to say “no”.”

So far, I’m feeling pretty good about our “talk”. I rehearsed this part several times with my oldest daughter when she and I discussed boys. This is the standard, unisex, opposite sex talk.
But now. I must move into unfamiliar territory, the talking-to-a-son-about-girls territory. I hesitate as I try to form my thoughts into coherent sentences.

OS waits.

“Also, you don’t want to be in a position you have to defend yourself against false accusations, where a girl can say something happened, even if it didn’t.”

There is a vivid picture in my mind of exactly what I am trying to say – a shameless hussy, “in trouble”, falsely accusing my “nice guy” son in order to protect a boy who has been less than honorable.
My words get in the way.
I wish I could hook my brain up to a video camera. I want to project the movie I am seeing in my mind onto the TV screen so OS can see what I see.
I can’t, so I stumble on.

“You need to make sure that you always have someone who can back you up – who can verify your story.”

OS maintains eye contact, but says nothing.

I realize that I am making women sound manipulative and patently untrustworthy. This is not the message I am trying to give to my son, but I do need to make sure that he is aware of the entire spectrum of possibilities.

I add a clumsy disclaimer.
“Which is not to say that any of the girls you know would ever do anything like that…you just need to be careful. You have things you want to do and places you want to go and you don’t want to mess that up.”

My conversation with OS is turning into a monologue.

“And, of course, you know that “no” means “no”, right?!”

OS nods and rolls his eyes.

“No. I mean, “no” means “NO”. If a girl says “no” at the beginning of the evening, it means “no” for the rest of the time you are with her.”
I pause, waiting for a response.
I get none.
I plow forward.

“Even if she starts kissing on you later in the evening, her “no” from earlier is still in effect.”

I look at OS.
He looks away.
I press on.

“Even if she said “yes”. If she changes her mind and says “no”, it means “no”.

OS looks as if he wants for put his fingers in his ears and hum “lalalala” at the top of his lungs in order to drown out the sound of my voice.

I speak up a little.

“Even if you have already started something, “no” means “no”, no matter what point you are at.”

OS’ face tells me that I have gone beyond the bounds of decency, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do to make me stop.

I show mercy.
He’s had enough.

“Anyway,” I say, switching abruptly to a light, casual tone, “just wanted to put that out there…just so you know, and so I know that you know.”

OS nods.

“For now,” I finish, “I think it is just best if you hang out with girls in a group.”

OS unclenches his jaws.
I kiss the top of his head.

“I love you, honey.”
OS sighs.
“I love you too, Mummy.”