7 A Lesson

By this time, Sweetgrass Vegetarian Cafe had filled for lunch, then emptied. Cosette said she felt a bit guilty about the waitress’s suggestive looks that we free up the table. I think she was looking for an excuse not to continue her story. She asked for the bill and gave the waitress three times the usual tip. But I didn’t want to leave until I heard more.

“What makes him, as you say, ‘pretty good’?”

My friend didn’t take the bait, but said, “Libby, I think you have enough details to suffice for the next couple of years. Of course, you can do what you want, but in my opinion, you’re still too young to get involved in this sort of thing.”

The pout on my face probably told her she was right. On matters of sex, I was too young to behave sensibly.

My tone of voice supported my pout and her conclusion, but I wasn’t ready to let go of my curiosity. “Everyone always tells me that I’m too young. Probably they won’t stop until they switch to telling me I’m too old.”

“Well, it’s a matter of opinion, but sex can be strong stuff, Lib. You have plenty of other issues to work on while you’re waiting for the magic age, whatever that is.”

“Sure. And nobody will tell me what that magic age is.”

“It varies, depending on how grown up you are, not your calendar age.”

I looked around to see that nobody was watching us, then I cupped my breasts, thrusting them upwards. “So, look at me. I’m already grown up.”

“That’s not what I mean. Yes, of course there’s a physical component, so you don’t get hurt, but you probably passed that a couple of years ago. I’m talking about emotionally grown up. You can’t imagine what strong feelings sex triggers.”

“You don’t seem so whacked out about it. I mean, I can see that I might freak out if I went through what you went through. But don’t you think your story is rather extreme? I’m not likely to go through something like that.”

“You never know what you might have to cope with. And even if you could handle the emotional roller-coaster, there are other considerations.”

I scooted my chair forward, anticipating her reply. Looking around, I noticed the two middle-aged couples at the next table doing a poor job of pretending they weren’t trying to overhear what we were saying. Cose noticed too. She said, “I’m not putting you off, but let’s move to a more private place. Like outside.”

“It’s too cold outside. Let’s stay here and talk softer.”

“I don’t think so, Lib. You may not be aware, but you keep raising the volume.”

I had thought I was talking softer. I scanned the dining room. “They have a couple of alcoves for meetings and groups. Like that one.” I stood and started for a door just past the end of the buffet line. “If it’s empty, I’m sure they won’t mind if we sit in there.”

“You really want to hear about this, don’t you?”

I tried to act cool, but failed. “You bet.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you,” she said, trying to show a smile so I’d take her meaning.

She gathered her purse and left an additional tip. I had already found a tray, loaded up the remains of my meal, reached the door, opened it, and given Cose a thumbs-up. She joined me, detouring first to let our server know we were just looking for a private place to talk.

I resumed the conversation before she’d even finished making herself comfortable at a table just like the one we’d abandoned. “Other considerations, you were saying. What did you mean?”

She said nothing until she was completely settled, then reached across the table and took my hand. “In the first place, there’s the matter of the law. Until you’re eighteen, you could get the guy in very real trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? I thought it was the girl who had all the trouble.”

“I’ll get to that later. First the guy, okay?”

“Okay,” came my reluctant answer, while I pushed one of my spring rolls around in its sauce.

“You don’t sound okay. Don’t you care about the guy?”

“I don’t have any specific guy in mind, so it’s kind of hard to care in the abstract.”

“I’m glad to hear you don’t have anybody specific in mind, though it doesn’t take very long to start caring when you meet someone new.”

“Like you did? With what’s-his-name? Yesterday?”

“Well, yes, like me and Desmond. He’s a good example. Even if I didn’t care much about him as an individual, I wouldn’t want to see him go to prison because he couldn’t keep his hands off of me.”

“Prison?”

“Not with me, I mean, but if I were your age. I’m not sure of the exact law here in New York, but certainly if he had sex with someone your age …” (I could tell she almost said, ‘with you,’ but caught herself, hoping I hadn’t noticed her hesitation–but I did.) With someone your age, he would be guilty of rape.”

“Even if I … the girl … consented?”

“At your age, according to the law, you’re not mature enough to give real consent. So he could spend years in prison, possibly his entire life.”

Her answer made me literally quake in my boots. “Jeez! That’s not right.”

“Maybe not, but it’s the law.”

“It’s not natural.” I think I sounded ready to march on the legislature.

“Speaking of natural law, that’s the second thing.”

“The second what?” By this time, I’d pretty much given up on eating anything.

“Other consideration.”

“For the guy, or the gal?”

“Both. Or, at least half for both. I’m talking about disease. If … when … you start being sexually active, you want to be absolutely sure you’re not contracting some social disease …”

“I know all about that. From school. And books. And the Internet.”

”… or spreading one. And I’m sure you don’t know all about it. For one thing, nobody knows all about social diseases, so there’s always risk.”

“I know how to behave rationally.”

“You may know how, but when you’re wafted away by the intense feelings of the moment, your rationality may be wafted right out the window.”

“That’s hard to believe.” The moment I said that, I realized I wasn’t being honest with myself. I remembered times when my emotions took over so strongly that I couldn’t have even prove the square root of two was irrational.

“Believe it. As I said, there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Well, Carmela explained everything in pretty much detail, and I do know how to surf the web. I’ve seen pretty much all there is to see.”

“Seeing’s not the same as the feelings that go with it. Like watching someone solving differential equations. It’s not the same as solving them yourself.”

Was she reading my mind? “I like your analogy,” I said.

“What do you like about it?”

“Because people can’t understand what a thrill it is to solve a differential equation, if they haven’t done it themselves. I image that’s what an orgasm is like, isn’t it?”

“Libby, we’re not going to discuss orgasms, except to say they’re nothing like solving equations. In fact, I think this little talk has exhausted its usefulness. I just hope I’ve persuaded you to keep your curiosity in check for a few more years. Okay?”

“You can’t just leave me hanging there. It’s not fair.”

I knew fairness was likely to hook her, but she had an idea that trumped mine. She looked at her watch, saying, “It’s getting late. Did you forget that Josh is on TV this afternoon?”

That did it. I made a face, but pushed back my chair and stood to leave.