An Unexpected Lesson
No matter how much he tried, Phoenix just couldn't stop smiling.
"Phoenix, eat with your mouth closed," his father chastised near the end of dinner, sending a disapproving look over the table.
"'Kay." He squirmed in his seat with his mouth still split wide, beaming. He had run around all evening with a particular gleam in his eye, more cheerful than usual.
His mother gently tried to pry. "Honey, did something happen at school today?"
Phoenix felt his stomach churn pleasantly.
"Yeah! Yeah, so it's Valentine's Day, you know," he explained, pausing to finish the rest of his pasta in one big gulp.
"Oh believe me, we know." Phoenix remained oblivious to the sly glance his parents shared.
"So we had a party in our classroom to celebrate, and there was music and confetti, and we all ate lots of candy and cupcakes."
"Candy, hmm," his mother echoed with a wry smile. "I suppose that means you've had enough sugar already." She slid his half-drained glass of Kool-Aid away.
"And then we gave out cards to everyone, and all the girls started giggling, and Larry kept holding hands with Cerise, and it was really fun."
His father began helping his mother clear the table. He collected Phoenix's plate and tousled his hair, thoroughly messing up the spikes. "I bet Larry gave cards to all the girls."
"Nah, just Cerise."
"Did you get any cards?"
"Yeah, I–" Phoenix abruptly stopped, and a pink flush appeared on his cheeks.
"What is it?"
Phoenix wriggled in his seat again, not like he did when he knew he was in trouble, but more shy. "W-Well, we also got to give out special valentines, you know, secret admirer ones." He tried smoothing his hair back, and his hand started to rub at the back of his neck.
"Did you give someone a special valentine?" His mother halted in the doorway to the kitchen, and her voice had a curious lilt, picking up on her son's change in demeanor.
"Yeah." The pink flush deepened into a dark red. "And I got one back." He suddenly flashed a brilliant grin, all his enthusiasm returned. "It made me feel really special."
His father gave him a matching smile. "Hey! That's great."
His mother, however, just nodded, and gave her husband a look. "Why don't you go play in your room," she said, shepherding Phoenix away from the dining table. "Your father and I need to talk about something."
"Okay."
Behind him the plates clattered back onto the table as his parents sat down again. His mother began talking in a serious voice, and as he closed the door to his bedroom he heard his father let out a low, beleaguered groan.
Phoenix paid them no heed, his mind on other matters. He moved over to his play table and unzipped his backpack, and retrieved one of his school folders. Inside, pressed carefully between yesterday's spelling quiz and last week's math test, was the giant blue heart valentine he had received from Miles.
It was really pretty. He'd had no idea Miles could make something like that; he thought only girls knew how to put together colors and arrange things to look really nice. Once again Miles amazed him – it seemed like there was nothing his best friend couldn't do.
He gently traced his finger across the poem inside, following each intricate loop and swirl of the cursive handwriting. Had Miles copied the words from a book? Probably not; most likely he would think that was cheating. So that meant the words were from Miles himself.
His pulse started to beat faster. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, trying to figure out just why Miles had bothered to make a valentine for him. He remembered the look on Miles's face under the slide, embarrassed and red and smiling softly, and he remembered feeling embarrassed himself as he had tried over and over to make the perfect valentine for his friend.
Miles was special to him, right? Maybe this was proof that he was special to Miles too. The thought filled him with something warm and happy inside.
Grinning again, he opened his closet and climbed the small stepladder inside to reach the top shelf, and pulled down his memory box. Everyone in his class had made one a couple of months ago, and for his he had covered one of his father's huge shoeboxes in light blue cloth and made little drawings all over it, like comic book pages. He carefully placed the valentine inside, to make sure that it stayed safe forever.
There was a knock on his door, startling him.
"Phoenix, I'm coming in."
"O-Okay, Dad."
Phoenix slid the box back onto the shelf as his father entered and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. After a moment's hesitation, his gaze moving over all his son's toys, he sat on the bed and patted the open space beside him.
"Come sit down."
There was something about his father that didn't seem right. He was sitting rigidly straight, and his foot tapped anxiously on the floor. He moved his hand across the back of his neck, the nervous gesture his son was starting to pick up, and cleared his throat.
"Your mother and I were talking, and we think– That is, you're old enough now– And considering what happened at school…" He trailed off and buried his face in the palm of his hand. "God, why is your mother making me do this tonight?"
"Dad?" Phoenix tilted his head, confused at his father's behavior.
His father drew in a deep breath.
"Phoenix, it's time you learned about the birds and the bees."