House on Fire

Chapter 25

  That summer, Dad borrowed a friend’s Hobie Cat and taught me how to sail. He showed me how to skip a stone across the top of a breaking wave. He taught me to use the power tools in the basement workshop, even dangerous ones like the radial saw and band saw. We played chess but he never let me win; I had to earn every victory.

  He was always curious about what I did with Spaz and what I watched on TV, but unlike a lot of parents, he didn’t try to act cool or be my friend. He wasn’t even being nosey or trying to catch me at something; he was genuinely enthusiastic. He even made a point to read the same books I was reading. My favorite was The Dove, about a sixteen year old who sails around the world alone.

  When he was at work, I’d build things to sell in the local gift shops; decorative stuff like brightly painted ore ships and lighthouses, and coin banks that looked like log cabins. My specialty was the sailboats. Tourists bought them to put over their fireplaces back at home.

  For me, the summer was really weird. The house felt so empty without Jessie. I took the pillow from her bed and traded it for mine. It made me smile because it smelled like her. I missed her so much it hurt; being around her was torture, but being apart was agony.

  Spaz came over on weekdays, but spent almost every weekend at his dad’s. Sometimes Janna would come over and hang out, but we really didn’t have much in common. Jody showed up a couple times – always when Dad was at work. We played chess and watched TV, but she always seemed nervous and fidgeted a lot.

  I invited my friend Jeremy to spend the night. He brought his Nintendo and we stayed up late playing games. He admitted that he was jealous of me because he wanted Jody to like him instead.

  “I don’t think she likes me like that, Jer.”

  “Yeah, she does. Everyone knows it,” he said, plugging in a new game cartridge.

  “I doubt it. I’m pretty seriously ugly.”

  “Sure are, but I don’t think she cares.”

  “Huh. She does act kind of weird around me. Have you told her how you feel?”

  “No way, Cor. She’d probably just laugh at me.”

  “Well, do you want me to tell her?”

  “Would you? I mean, if it comes up or something.”

  After Dad went to bed we went back to my room. Jeremy got his backpack and pulled out some Playboy and Penthouse magazines. It was fascinating and exciting. None of the pictures were as beautiful as my memory of Jessie in the shower, but looking at them made me hard and tingly.

  After a while Jeremy asked if I wanted to “whack off” together. I told him that didn’t sound appealing.

  “Aw, c’mon, I won’t tell anyone. You know you want to.”

  “Really, no thanks.”

  “Well, do you want to watch?”

  “Not even a little.”

  “I could watch you…”

  “Tell you what,” I told him. “You take your favorite blonde there into the bathroom and I’ll go to the kitchen for a couple more pops.”

  I prayed that Jeremy wouldn’t tell anyone about me looking at the magazines. If it got back to Jess she might guess I’d lied about being gay.

  The next day was Dad’s day off. He told me he needed help with an errand. That was unusual – I sensed something was up. I waited with my stomach in a wringer while Dad filled his pockets. I guess that’s what you have to do when you’re too old to carry a backpack. He grabbed his keys from the counter and asked, “Are you ready?”

  Panic nibbled at the back of my brain. “For what?”

  “Road trip.” This didn’t make any sense, and it did nothing to calm me.

  He locked the back door as we left.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Green Bay.”

  “That’s two hours away. Why would we go there?”

  “We need to pick up a couple things, and I thought I’d take you along. Maybe give us some time to talk, just you and me. About last night.”

  That’s what I was afraid of.

  I tried pleading ignorance.

  “What about it?”

  “I overheard something about some magazines. And you were interested in the pictures?”

  “Well, I...” I was caught – there was no weaseling out of this. “Yeah, I was pretty interested.”

  “Good. That’s normal. You’re thirteen. I’d worry if you weren’t at least a little curious. And I’m proud of you.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, I am. You were put in a situation of peer pressure, one you weren’t comfortable in, and you handled it very maturely. It’s reassuring to me that you were adult enough to say no.”

  What kind of super hearing does this man have?

  “I guess I’m glad that I said no, then.”

  “Look, Cory, I’ve always told you that your body is your own. What you do with it is your business, not mine. And if you’d wanted to masturbate with your friend, that’s also your business.” I cringed. “Whatever you guys did and talked about is perfectly normal. Unless something’s unhealthy or harmful, you’re allowed to figure things out; you’re allowed to be who you are.”

  “Okay,” I said, immensely relieved, and anxious to change the subject. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  “Son, I need to tell you, I have a real problem with pornography. It’s like big-time wrestling or comic books about superheroes – you have to understand that it has nothing to do with real life.”

  “It looked pretty real.”

  “Of course; professional wrestlers are real people, too. They eat and breathe and act like people want them to, but the image you see isn’t the real person.”

  “Yeah, it’s just a role they play. I get that. Same thing with... the magazines, then?”

  “Yes, but porn is worse. It treats women as if they were things.”

  “But they’re so beautiful...”

  “So is a sculpture, so is a toy. Those are just objects to own and enjoy. You don’t treat people like things.”

  “Even if they’re willing, like pro wrestlers? Why’s that bad?”

  “What do you think those girls are really like?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Would you trust them to hold your wallet? Do they have healthy self-respect? Are they kind or mean?”

  “I... I have no idea.” I shrugged. “I just liked looking at them.”

  “So you didn’t care anything about them as people.” He had me there. “That’s the worst part; pornography takes sex out of context. Sex, the best sex, is part of a loving relationship. Posing naked isn’t about love, and looking at naked strangers isn’t about love. I think sex is too important to be trivialized that way.”

  “I still don’t understand – if it’s so bad why did it make me feel good?”

  “Sometimes things that feel good aren’t good for us. Drinking used to make me feel good.”

  “Ohhh. Okay. Slippery slope, huh?”

  “That’s right, Son. I’m not mad at you, but I have to tell you when I think something is unhealthy. I expect that you’ll see plenty more pictures of naked women before you’re grown. I’m not going to search your room, but I can’t promise your sister won’t.”

  Good point. I couldn’t risk her finding porn in my room, unless it was gay porn, I guess. I sighed.

  “We don’t keep many secrets anyway.” That earned me a long sideways glance.

  “Oh, and I probably don’t need to say this, but the no-search policy goes out the window if I suspect you might be drinking or doing drugs. I wouldn’t tolerate that.”

  “No worries there, Dad.”

  “Anyway, like anything else about sex, looking at porn is something you can only decide for yourself, but now you know how I feel.”

  “So does that mean that you’re not going to drive out to an onion field, blow my brains out, and bury me?”

  Dad burst into laughter, loud in inside the cab. It was as if it came from his toes and all the way through h
is body, disarming and contagious. Okay, so my question was a little melodramatic, but it wasn’t really that funny. I was tired of my whole life being melodramatic.

  Seeing him like that, though... it made me happy way down deep. Then it clicked; how often I’d heard that sound before, and how long ago it’d been. I realized how much I’d missed it, how much I’d missed him.

  The morning sun glinted over whitecaps, backlighting Dad as he drove down M35. The wind rushing by the truck was filled with the scent of lake water, warm pine trees and occasional road kill. Summer bugs and mosquitoes accumulated on the windshield.

  It was a few miles before he spoke. I watched his face as he talked. He seemed to be struggling for words.

  “Actually, given a choice, you might prefer the onion field, I guess. Anyway,” he continued, “that brings me to point of this trip. Protection.”

  It didn’t click at first. Protection from what? Why did he look so...

  “What?! Oh geez!” I writhed inside. This was not a topic I felt like discussing with my father, not trapped in a vehicle for the next couple of hours! “But Dad, you already… and I’m not having sex!”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “Then why...?”

  “Because someday you will. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but then again, who knows? Your sister’s friend Jody seems pretty interested in you. She’s smart and good-looking.” He looked at me, and I wished I could die on the bench next to him.

  “Dad! I don’t like Jody that way, and...”

  “Sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t tease you. I want you to trust me on this, and I apologize.”

  “Accepted, I guess. So why now?”

  “Because now you’re curious, so I know your hormones have kicked in. Hormones are crazy, powerful things. They have their own agenda. They don’t care much about logic or reason, and they’re notoriously impatient.”

  “But Dad, I’m not going to...”

  “This isn’t all about you, Son.” I sighed. That phrase again.

  “Look, Cory, someday I might be a grandpa, but I’m not in a hurry. No way. And I refuse to be a grandpa just because I failed to do educate you. I’m going to talk to you like I wish someone had been able to talk to me.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I yielded. “I’m squirming, but I’m listening.”

  His booming laugh filled the cab again. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m squirming, too.” This time I had to laugh along.

  “First, you know that wearing a condom can prevent diseases.”

  “We already talked about that.” I remembered how I thought I’d be scarred for life when Dad used the banana to show me how they work.

  “They drill that into you kids now. No pun intended.” This was horrible. I giggled nervously. “And it protects your, uh, your partner from getting pregnant. I know you’ve learned the basic stuff in school, how reproduction works, so I’ll try not to rehash anything. We just need to talk about some of the practical stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sex – by that I mean everything from kissing to, well, everything else – is supposed to be an expression of love. But some guys think of having sex as an event. And some girls think of sex as babies. Maybe they want one, or think they do, or even want one subconsciously. There are a hundred reasons why, but the motives don’t matter for this discussion. They’ll tell you that they’re on the pill or have an IUD, that they’ve had their tubes tied, or that they’re infertile.”

  “But it might be a lie.”

  “Right, you can’t let her vouch for herself, no matter how much you want to believe what she says.”

  “Okay, but then who do you trust?”

  “It’s not about trust – it’s about responsibility. You’re liable for the choices you make, and accountable for the consequences. Okay, what’s the first rule of handling firearms?”

  “Uh, you always assume a weapon’s loaded, so you never point it at someone.”

  “Unless?”

  “What? Um, gee, unless you’re willing to shoot them, I guess. So... never have sex unless you deliberately want a kid?”

  He chuckled, “Well, that’d be the ultimate rule, I guess. That’s abstinence, and it’s the only completely reliable method. I meant to always assume that it’s loaded, so never have sex without a condom... unless you’re dead certain you want a baby.”

  “Oh, okay, that makes more sense.”

  “If you don’t use one, it’s the same as consciously deciding to father a kid. Or twins or even triplets,” he added with a wicked smile.

  “Yikes.”

  “Remember, no solution’s perfect. That’s why couples need to talk about the options if it fails. If a couple agrees that’s adequate, they’re each – individually – deliberately and consciously deciding that getting pregnant is okay if it happens. Besides, Son, people change, and lovers can be unfaithful. In the end, it’s a duty to yourself. You’re the only person responsible for your choices.”

  I wasn’t anxious to prolong the conversation, but there was one thing I was really curious about.

  “Dad? Some of the guys claim they carry one in their wallet. That’s probably a good idea, right?”

  “Yeah, guys brag about that sometimes. Even in the box they eventually expire, and they probably won’t last very long if you squash it every time you sit down. Also, you can’t store them long where it’s hot, like in your pocket. They could be weakened and end up tearing. You don’t want that.

  “Cory, you know that using a condom is the safe and responsible thing to do. But protecting yourself and your partner isn’t always enough of a motivator in the heat of the moment.”

  “Because of the hormones.”

  “Right. You might need additional motivation.”

  “Like what?”

  “Use one because when a woman has your sperm, she has you by the balls.”

  I winced. Sperm. I hated that word. “Can we say DNA?”

  “Okay, that’s fine.”

  “I assume you’re not speaking literally?”

  He grinned, “Might as well be. Once a girl has your, uh, DNA, all your rights are gone.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If a girl has your DNA, she holds all the cards. If she gets pregnant, she may or may not tell you about it – you might never even know. She could just have an abortion. It’s not up to you, and no matter how much you may have wanted that kid, you have no say in the decision. None.

  “Or she could give up the child for adoption. She doesn’t have to list you on the birth certificate, and again, you might never know. And what if you did know you had a kid out there in the world? One that you might’ve loved but will never meet? A son or daughter that you never got to hold, and will never know? That would be torture.” He was quiet for a little bit.

  “On the other hand, she might decide to keep it. Again, it’s her choice to tell you or not. But say she does name you as the father. Now you have a big financial obligation – for about twenty years. It’ll cost you more than a Cadillac, or a house, or a master’s degree. Even if you go bankrupt, you’ll still owe all the money.

  “Don’t misconstrue me, Son, there’s nothing wrong with supporting your child. It’s the only honorable thing to do. But do you know what you get in return, other than a warm feeling in your heart? Nothing. You aren’t guaranteed any visitation. She might not even tell you where she lives. You might never see that kid. You pay your money but have no rights, and she can take a cruise with the cash. It may not be fair, but that’s the way it is.”

  “No worries. You’ve convinced me, Dad.”

  “What’s your motivation?”

  “To... be responsible, not die of syphilis, and to protect my, uh, DNA.”

  “Good. But it’s not enough to use a condom, Cory. You have to use it correctly, and don’t take chances. Okay, I’m just warning you – I’m going to be explicit. These are
the rules.” He took a deep breath.

  “One: Bring your own, so you know that it’s good quality, and that it’s not damaged. Two: Put it on as soon as you’re hard. Three: Be careful of teeth, nails, or jewelry that could tear it. Four: When you’re done, make sure it doesn’t slip off. Five: Keep control of your DNA. Don’t leave a used condom where anybody has access to it. Wrap it in a tissue and flush it, or wash it out with soap before you throw it away. You got all that?”

  I repeated them back, twisting at every word.

  “Um, I have a couple questions.”

  “Excellent, go ahead.”

  “Teeth?”

  “Use your hands, not your teeth to rip open the package. Plus, oral sex.”

  “I know what that is; a blowjob, right?” I said that to see his reaction. He just gave me a little smile. “But why would you need one for that? Even I know you can’t get pregnant that way.”

  “Syphilis, herpes, hepatitis... there’s a long list. Shall I go on?”

  “No thanks, I’m good with that. Um, Dad? Why’s it called that? Do they like, fill your bladder with air or something?”

  “No, that’d be unhealthy, and probably pretty painful. Blowjob’s just a slang term.” And now he’d said it. This was a really strange conversation.

  “What did you mean it might be damaged?”

  “A pin or a needle through the middle of the package, for example.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “I’m afraid not. Remember, your lover may be trying for a baby.”

  I looked at him skeptically. “It doesn’t seem like a pinhole would make much difference.”

  “Think about it this way; you’re, um, releasing two hundred million very active DNA cells, all with only one thing on their minds, and it only takes one to get through...”

  “Yeah, not good odds.”

  “It’s a very efficient system that’s evolved over millions of years. Amazing, really. Good, what else?”

  “No, I’m too embarrassed.”

  “You’re not going to shock me, Son. It helps me a lot if you ask.”

  “Why put it on right away?”

  “When you’re excited, DNA can leak out.”

  “Oh.” I looked out the window, and then back at him. “Dad? I’ve seen those machines in men’s rooms...”

  “Stay away from the novelty stuff, a lot of it is junk. I’d stick to name brand – it’s not a place to get cheap. You want ones with reservoir end. That also helps keep them from tearing.”

  “The one you used, um, when you showed me? It had, like gel all over it. Wouldn’t it slip off?” An hour ago, I couldn’t have imagined asking my Dad anything like that.

  “The lube is for the outside. It should have spermicide in it – just an extra layer of safety. There are other foams and creams that have spermicide, but you never want to trust them alone. You still need to add lube once it’s on, that also helps the condom not to tear.”

  “What? Like Vaseline?”

  “No, no. That’s not good to use. Neither is hand cream or anything like that. That can weaken the plastic, and can really sting. Use something water-based, like KY Jelly – that’s the kind of thing it’s made for.

  “The good condoms are Latex, the stuff they use for balloons or safety gloves. Don’t use the “natural" type. They’re more expensive and less reliable. Probably the most important thing is to experiment until you find a kind that feels good.”

  “I thought the most important thing was protection.”

  “If it feels right, you’ll actually use it.”

  “But what happens if it does tear? How do you keep your, um, DNA safe then?”

  “That’s why both people need to be responsible.”

  We talked all about different kinds of protection girls used, most of which I’d overheard when he talked to Jessie. Diaphragms, IUDs, shots and pills. This was amazing. I learned more in an hour of driving than in all my sex ed classes combined. I searched for any other questions.

  “This’s going to sound stupid, but couldn’t you just, uh, stop before you, I mean, before…” I couldn’t say it.

  “That’s called coitus interruptus – it’s Latin for “stop screwing.” We both had to laugh at that one. “Okay, obviously, that’d be useless for disease, and pretty unreliable as birth control. There’s also the rhythm method, where you have sex according to your partner’s monthly cycle, when she’s least likely to get pregnant.”

  “That sounds just as lame.”

  “It is.”

  “So the only sure methods are abstinence or a vasectomy?”

  “Well... vasectomies have been known to come undone.”

  “Geez, Dad, I’m afraid to ask, but how come you know so much about this subject?”

  “Son, I’ve been preparing for this talk your whole life.”