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"Never be embarrassed to hear where you came from." I rub the small of his back, giving him encouragement. "I for one think it’s a remarkable story."
BJ’s father issues me a curt nod. "I lost my virginity that day. I was an accountant in my thirties who was bad with women. She changed my life."
I try not to bust out laughing. "I never would’ve guessed."
BJ’s mother leans in and kisses her husband. "I thought you were the cutest virgin I’d ever seen."
His cheeks flush. "Thank you, dear."
After dinner, BJ and his mother jump up to wash the dishes. I gaze with love in my eyes as his petite body bucks this way and that, scrubbing plates, rinsing forks and knives, and even clapping his hands together to create an explosion of bubbles.
I rise to my full stature, then motion for BJ’s father to follow me into the living room. "We have something to discuss."
BJ’s father sits across from me. I find it odd that I’m in control of this conversation, but I cannot be too surprised. BJ’s father doesn’t seem like he does a lot of leading in his life.
He furrows his brow. "Is everything alright with my son? I hope he’s not disappointing you. He can be quite a handful."
I like how that’s the focus.
I smile. "I wanted to speak to you about your relationship with BJ."
He scratches his forehead. "My relationship with BJ? I’m afraid you’re mistaken—I’m BJ’s father."
"Exactly." I scoot close to him and place my hand on his knee. "You play a vital role in BJ’s life. He looks up to you, except he tells me that you prefer to read instead of speaking to him. I get that you’re an introvert, but every boy needs their father to pay attention to them. Otherwise, they act out and get into trouble. You’re lucky BJ turned out well, but he still years for that relationship he doesn’t have with you. When he goes to bed at night, I’m certain that every now and then, he wishes you were the one to tuck him in with his teddy."
"I'll be frank. I don't understand any of this. Why is my nineteen-year-old son sleeping with a teddy bear?"
"Your son is into age play, sir. That means that he enjoys pretending he’s a four-year-old."
"Awww."
"He needs you to accept him. To show him that you support him no matter what and love him unconditionally."
"It’s hard." BJ’s father lets out a sigh. "I’ve never been good with people. Half the time, I think my wife is making fun of me. She and BJ giggle like schoolgirls when I make conversation, and I never feel as if I say the right things. Ridicule is a constant in this home, and BJ contributes."
"That’s because you let him." I let out a growl. "Be a man. Put your foot down."
"I try, but my wife laughs at me even more."
Oh, god.
I can’t keep listening to this.
So weak.
I lean in and bury BJ’s father in a hug. I hug him. Just hug him.
He tries to get away, but eventually he relents to my warm embrace. There’s nowhere else to go, which helps.
We hug for two minutes straight and BJ’s father bursts into tears. "I do love my son. I really, really do. I don't know how to relate to him, but I’m going to make an effort. Maybe there’s a book on parenting adult four-year-olds that I can read."
"No more books. All you do is read books." According to BJ. "I propose that you take your son out on a father and son date."
BJ’s father’s brow furrows. "A father and son date?"
Ugh.
I’m a therapist now.
