A cost-benefit analysis came down hard on the cost side of the equation at this point. Trust, I reminded myself, was the real end game. The rest would come along with it.
“You don’t intend to marry this girl, right?” Dad sat back in his usual leather chair, a book open on his lap. The cavernous library dwarfed him, though it was his favorite room at our house in the Catskills.
“No.” I sank onto the sofa across from him.
“But you two hit it off?” He seemed a little too interested. Almost optimistic.
“Not quite.”
He peered at me over his reading glasses. “Then why do you want to date her?”
“Date? No.” I shook my head. “I just want to have sex with her.”
Dad closed his book and took his time placing it on the small table next to him. The fire hissed through the grate, and Dad cleared his throat. “Don’t you think maybe, ah…” He took a deep breath, the skin next to his eyes crinkling like a paper bag, and tried again. “You’re only seventeen, son. I’m not sure this is a good idea. There’s pregnancy to worry about, diseases—”
“I’ve thought about all that.” I stretched one arm along the back of the sofa, my body still gangly, but filling out enough for several girls in the nearby town to notice me. “I bought condoms.”
“When?”
“When I was in town today.”
“Okay.” He shifted in his seat, though he didn’t seem any more comfortable once he stilled. “So, how long have you known this girl?”
“I don’t know her at all.”
A wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. “So, what makes you think she wants to, to…” He cleared his throat again.
“She looked at me when I was walking to my car, then whispered to her friend, and they laughed.” Obvious. I’d gone right to the drug store at the end of the block and bought a box of condoms.
“Son, that’s just something girls do. It doesn’t mean that she wants to be in a relationship with you.”
He still wasn’t getting it. “Dad, I don’t want a relationship. I just want to have sex with her. That’s all. I’ve been wanting to have sex for a while, and I finally found a girl who’ll do. Based on the way she was dressed, I’d say she comes from a middle class to lower middle class family. She was clearly impressed with my car, and by extension, me. She enjoyed her friends’ approval, given their whispering and laughter, so she’ll be swayed by their opinion of me, which I will ensure is favorable. All I have to do is express a mutual interest in her, buy her a few gifts, and flirt with her in front of her friends, and she’ll be ready to give me what I want. She’s an excellent opportunity for practice.”
He stared at me and blinked a few times, as if the correct way to continue his conversation with me was written on the inside of his eyelids like a “how to raise a psychopath” cheat sheet.
“Dad, I’m ready.” I tried a conciliatory tone. “I think about girls…well, their parts, all the time. I jerk off at least twice a—”
He held a hand up to silence me. “That’s plenty. And I understand all that, son. I was a teenager once myself.” His brows lowered. “But, what did you mean when you said ‘parts’ right then?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Their pussies mostly. Tits, too.”
“But attached to them, of course. Right?” He acted nonchalant, but it wasn’t the first time he’d asked me some softball serial killer questions.
“Yes, Dad. I’m not into dismemberment. I haven’t even ordered a Fleshlight. That’s what I’m saying. I want the real thing.”
“Fleshlight? What’s that?”
I held an imaginary Fleshlight in my hand and centered it over my crotch. “It’s this sort of tube that you can stick your di—”
“Okay. I follow.” He seemed to grow more uncomfortable by the second. “You want to have sex. That makes sense at your age. I don’t like it, but it was bound to happen sometime.” His expression softened. “You’re turning into a man right in front of me. Your mom would be so proud.” He laughed. “Well, she might not have been so proud of your Fleshlight knowledge, but the rest of it—great grades, stellar extracurriculars, and a future in the Ivy League. You’ve grown up better than I could have hoped.”
Something twinged inside me, like a rubber band snapping against my ribs. “You seem surprised.”
He shrugged. “Just honest. I’ve done the best I could, but kids don’t come with a manual. And you? You’re a one-of-a-kind, so definitely no manual.”
The rubber band inside me stretched tight again. “I never want to disappoint you.”
“You don’t. Never have.” He scooted forward, to the edge of his seat. “But there’s still a problem with your plan to woo this girl.”