he kiss you?”
“Of course not.” I felt like an idiot lying to her, but how do you admit to your thirteen-year-old that you've been making out with a man in a Jaguar? When I was her age, they called it necking. I could have offered a history, of course, traveling through the ages to explain the terminology used for harmless sex acts through the centuries, but I knew her better than that. She wouldn't buy it. Lying to her seemed simpler. Besides, I had somehow kept a firm grip on the belief that, whatever happened, and whatever you did or didn't do, you had to pretend you were still a virgin. I had the same obsession when I was dating in college. Roger always thought it was pretty funny.
But Charlotte just cut right through it. “You're lying, Mom. I know it.” Yeah, okay, so I am. So now what? There was no certainty at that point that it would ever be more than that, so what point was there to making a confession? He had never asked me to spend the night at the hotel, and I hadn't offered either. And besides, I had to get home to pay the sitter. Her parents would have killed me if I'd kept her out all night, and my children would have killed me. Coming home to Charlotte's inquiries was worse than coming home to my parents when I was in high school.
“I know you're going to do it with him,Mom,” she accused finally, at the end of August, and I was beginning to think she was right. As usual, her extrasensory perception was fully operative. We had gotten a little carried away that night when we left the restaurant, and engaged in some serious groping. But fortunately, we had both come to our senses. Charlotte should have been proud of me, instead of looking so outraged.
“Charlotte,” I said calmly, trying not to remember the feel of his hands slipping slowly under my blouse, and the feelings it had reawoken in me, “I am not going to do it with anyone. Besides, you're not supposed to say things like that, I'm your mother.”
“So? Helena is always walking around naked in front of Daddy, and then they go in the bedroom and lock the door. Just what do you think that means?” Another splash of icy water. I didn't want to hear about what Roger did to Helena.
“That's none of my business, or yours,” I said firmly, but Charlotte was not easily daunted.
“I think you really have the hots for him, Mom.” She grinned evilly, the child from The Bad Seed dropped off on my doorstep, as I glanced back at her in horror.
“Who? Daddy?” I hadn't had the “hots,” as she put it, for Roger in ages, and the thought of it did not cheer me.
“Oh.” The kid never took her eye off the ball for a minute. “I just like him, that's all. He's a nice man, and we enjoy spending time with each other.”
“Yeah … and the next thing you know, you're going to do it with him.”
“Do what?” Sam interjected as he walked into the room with the dog. The neighbors who owned him must have thought he'd gone to camp for the month, but even when he went back to visit his owners every once in a while, he always faithfully left us little presents. “Do what?” Sam asked again, helping himself to a Dr Pepper. It was late, but he said he'd had a nightmare. So had I. Mine's name was Charlotte. She would have had a seat of honor at the Spanish Inquisition.
“I told Mom she was going to do it with Peter, if she hasn't already.”
“Do WHAT?” he shouted at his sister in exasperation, as I tried to get them both to go to bed. It was hopeless.
“Have sex with him,” Charlotte explained to her younger brother, as I pushed the dog through the screen door, hoping he'd be enticed to empty his bladder or worse on the lawn instead of on our rented carpets.
“I'm not having sex with anyone,” I said, cuttingher off, “and you're both going to bed RIGHT NOW!”
“Sure, Mom, get rid of us, so you don't have to tell us what's really happening with Peter.” Charlotte managed to look both insulted and disapproving.
“Nothing is
“Of course not.” I felt like an idiot lying to her, but how do you admit to your thirteen-year-old that you've been making out with a man in a Jaguar? When I was her age, they called it necking. I could have offered a history, of course, traveling through the ages to explain the terminology used for harmless sex acts through the centuries, but I knew her better than that. She wouldn't buy it. Lying to her seemed simpler. Besides, I had somehow kept a firm grip on the belief that, whatever happened, and whatever you did or didn't do, you had to pretend you were still a virgin. I had the same obsession when I was dating in college. Roger always thought it was pretty funny.
But Charlotte just cut right through it. “You're lying, Mom. I know it.” Yeah, okay, so I am. So now what? There was no certainty at that point that it would ever be more than that, so what point was there to making a confession? He had never asked me to spend the night at the hotel, and I hadn't offered either. And besides, I had to get home to pay the sitter. Her parents would have killed me if I'd kept her out all night, and my children would have killed me. Coming home to Charlotte's inquiries was worse than coming home to my parents when I was in high school.
“I know you're going to do it with him,Mom,” she accused finally, at the end of August, and I was beginning to think she was right. As usual, her extrasensory perception was fully operative. We had gotten a little carried away that night when we left the restaurant, and engaged in some serious groping. But fortunately, we had both come to our senses. Charlotte should have been proud of me, instead of looking so outraged.
“Charlotte,” I said calmly, trying not to remember the feel of his hands slipping slowly under my blouse, and the feelings it had reawoken in me, “I am not going to do it with anyone. Besides, you're not supposed to say things like that, I'm your mother.”
“So? Helena is always walking around naked in front of Daddy, and then they go in the bedroom and lock the door. Just what do you think that means?” Another splash of icy water. I didn't want to hear about what Roger did to Helena.
“That's none of my business, or yours,” I said firmly, but Charlotte was not easily daunted.
“I think you really have the hots for him, Mom.” She grinned evilly, the child from The Bad Seed dropped off on my doorstep, as I glanced back at her in horror.
“Who? Daddy?” I hadn't had the “hots,” as she put it, for Roger in ages, and the thought of it did not cheer me.
“Oh.” The kid never took her eye off the ball for a minute. “I just like him, that's all. He's a nice man, and we enjoy spending time with each other.”
“Yeah … and the next thing you know, you're going to do it with him.”
“Do what?” Sam interjected as he walked into the room with the dog. The neighbors who owned him must have thought he'd gone to camp for the month, but even when he went back to visit his owners every once in a while, he always faithfully left us little presents. “Do what?” Sam asked again, helping himself to a Dr Pepper. It was late, but he said he'd had a nightmare. So had I. Mine's name was Charlotte. She would have had a seat of honor at the Spanish Inquisition.
“I told Mom she was going to do it with Peter, if she hasn't already.”
“Do WHAT?” he shouted at his sister in exasperation, as I tried to get them both to go to bed. It was hopeless.
“Have sex with him,” Charlotte explained to her younger brother, as I pushed the dog through the screen door, hoping he'd be enticed to empty his bladder or worse on the lawn instead of on our rented carpets.
“I'm not having sex with anyone,” I said, cuttingher off, “and you're both going to bed RIGHT NOW!”
“Sure, Mom, get rid of us, so you don't have to tell us what's really happening with Peter.” Charlotte managed to look both insulted and disapproving.
“Nothing is
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