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She glanced over her shoulder at me.
“Abby, you can talk to me about anything.”
“Like what?” I asked not picking up on the subtle or not so subtle fishing trip she was on right now.
“Boys,” she said.
Mom had this discussion with me when I was eleven when I had started my period. She gave me the birds and bees story then Grandma gave me the scoop.
My grandmother was cool. She wasn’t so different from my mother in looks, just a few more laugh lines and age spots. Her hair grayer. She called it aging gracefully. She wasn’t like Mom she didn’t mind the grays. She didn’t get facials. Her cream came from the corner pharmacy.
Gran didn’t mind talking about sex. She didn’t beat around the bush either. “Don’t get
pregnant in your teenage years, Abs. Too many options to protect yourself. Don’t leave it up to the boy to protect you either. Take responsibility for yourself and your own health.” That is the gist of what Gran told me over and over. She wanted to pound it into my head.
She and Tyson were the only two to call me Abs.
Mom was somewhat embarrassed by Gran’s straightforwardness. She had been that way with her too. Grandma was of the mentality that every female should be an informed kind of woman.
She explained blow jobs to me when I was fourteen. Not that she wanted me to be giving them at fourteen. She thought I should know what they were and why men liked them. Why maybe I shouldn’t swallow or even allow a man to come in my mouth without knowing his sexual health. Who at fourteen knows their sexual health? I had asked her.
Exactly she responded. She had a point to make and it was important. She thought being informed made you safe from sexual diseases. She wanted me to always make sound decisions including about swallowing.
I just sat there on the barstool in her kitchen and stared blankly at my grandmother. I can tell you that baking Christmas cookies with my Gran, would never be the same holiday tradition again.
I don’t know why she chose that time to explain that even blow jobs aren’t completely safe if the guy is carrying an STD. I went home from Gran’s house with more knowledge and bad dreams of penises with diseases for a couple of months. I never told on Gran. She was just trying to be helpful and I loved that woman more than anything. Our secret blow job talk was safe with me.
So, having a discussion with Mom about sex was awkward. “I know,” I responded.
“You aren’t doing anything with Cal, right?”
“Nope,” I replied feeling my face flush with embarrassment that she would even ask this. “He’s not even trying anything Mom.”
“Good,” she replied. I saw her shoulders relax. I wanted to chuckle. “You’re only fifteen. Don’t rush things.”
So, I took the plunge that most kids probably don’t. I asked the question that most girls probably aren’t interested in knowing. Mom turned and looked at me in horror when I asked if Dad was her first and only. Now Mom was on the hot seat. I could see that I had made her uncomfortable which forced me to stifle a giggle.
“Abby, I want to be honest with you. I had been with a few other guys before your dad not that I want you to test the waters like I did. I think,” she stared off into space like she was remembering her younger days, “no I wish that he had been my only one.”
“Had Dad been with anyone before you?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Again, that doesn’t mean it was right.” She walked over to the island and leaned on it. She looked at me, her daughter. “Abby, sex is special and should be shared between two people who really love each other. It feels really, good but if its with someone that you don’t care about when its over the next day you don’t always feel so special about yourself. Make sense?”
“You did the walk of shame one too many times, Mom,” I teased her, using the term I had seen in a movie or two.
She sighed and straightened. “Something like that. I can’t make you wait for the one. My wish for you is that you wait for him, the guy that you will spend your life with but if you don’t let me know and we’ll talk about birth control but not at fifteen or sixteen. You just don’t know how to handle the consequences if birth control fails.”
Then we both looked at the entrance to the kitchen where Dad stood looking more than horrified. “I’m not having sex, Dad. Relax.”
He was somewhat reassured by that declaration but not completely at ease. I knew that Dad wasn’t ready for me to be dating yet so walking in on a conversation about birth control and sex had created a whole new level of heart attack for him.
If this was Tyson having this conversation about dating and sex, he would be more comfortable though. I just want that noted that my father was a sexist.
“Why is there this double-standard for me and Tyson?” I asked voicing my frustrations.
He stared at me like I had three heads and should understand. Mom chuckled. “Because you’re his little girl,” she answered for him when Dad didn’t.
“But I’m not. Not anymore,” I replied. “Ty and I will be sixteen next month. He could have already had sex for all I know, and Dad would be patting him on the back and saying way to go son.”
