Boobs (takes place after Eleanor & Park)
"I just didn't know if something happened between you and Jacob . . . or if you were hoping that something would happen -"
"Mom!" Ada yelled, turning up her nose.
"Sweetheart, you're a lovely young lady and he's a young man and it's very normal if your hormones are leading to you have sexual -"
"Gross!" Ada pushed Amy's hand off her knee. "No, no, no. It's Jacob! Never in a million years!"
"Ada -"
"You'll never understand me!" Ada wailed and flopped over on her pillow again. "Just go away."
"I'm trying -"
"Go away, you're just making everything worse!"
She hated them. She really did. Why, oh why, she wondered, not for the first time, couldn't she be switched at birth or adopted or anything else? But no, she was stuck with the most embarrassing, weirdest, most horrible parents in the whole school. And she couldn't even deny they were hers, because she was cursed to look so much like her father.
And look what else this curse brought her: no boobs, no hips, freakishly tall. She was probably never going to get her period, either! If she had to be stuck with them, why couldn't she have at least got Mom's boobs? Mom had boobs. And hips. Granted, Ada would not have wanted to be overweight, but some cleavage would have been nice.
Ugh, Mom! Couldn't she let something rest for once? It's not as though Ada was a child, needing explanations for everything. Sometimes she just wanted to be alone and cry, even if there wasn't a logical reason for why the news of Lucy's new bras made her so upset. But, no, Mom wanted to discuss everything, to find the reason and the meaning, to make it all a lesson or something stupid. Like that dumb Book Club.
It's not like Dad was much better. A man in his fifties who still showed up at school events in a train tee shirt? And that wasn't even as embarrassing as the way he acted. Yeah, Dad, we get it: you're the smartest man in the room. This is all tedious and beneath you.
God, they were such nerds!
Ada allowed herself a tiny smile. She should ask Dad about the bras. Better yet, why she didn't have her period. He would faint!
Why couldn't Raj and Stuart be her dads? They were cooler, at least, even if they were getting frayed around the edges lately. But comfortably frayed, like old house slippers. Not Jacob's parents; she didn't understand how Jacob had withstood all that yelling for years. And then Howard and Bernadette had divorced and then it was all weird because they still both came on Friday nights and seemed to get along and then they went home together . . . Ugh. No wonder Jacob was so shy and backwards. Aunt Penny and Uncle Leonard would be cool. Penny was beautiful. And sort of famous. And rich. Plus, they didn't hover.
That was it: her parents were always hovering. Not physically - thank God! - but mentally. They expected so much. Once or twice, Ada had been tempted to purposely put all the wrong answers on a test just to see their faces when she failed. But, then, she just couldn't do it. She was the smartest girl in the room, in her grade, heck, in school. She just couldn't do it. It was beneath her.
Why couldn't her parents be more like Grandmother Fowler? She was perfect. So calm, so cool, so detached. Nothing was worthy of a panic at her house. No hovering. Just, if warranted, "Good work, Ada." And her clothes! She dressed like an adult, not an overgrown child. Or an old lady. She had a sense of style. Impeccable taste. It was so nice at her house. Okay, yes, her parents would let her do whatever she wanted at home, read in her room or draw or whatever, but she always felt like they were watching her out of the corners of their eyes. But not Grandmother Fowler. She would truly ignore Ada. It was . . . freeing. Sometimes she actually looked surprised when Ada entered a room. Not like she was waiting with bated breath for just another sight of Ada, like Ada was some treasure or vision or something. She even liked calling her Grandmother, like it was due her station or something. Regal. That was it. Why couldn't Ada be regal like Grandmother?
Oh, right, because her parents were such nerds. She was cursed to be a giant boobless nerd, too.
Ada raised her head off her pillow at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Her parent were going to bed. Then she looked at the clock and groaned with disgust. Seriously? They couldn't even wait until ten tonight? Now she'd have to wait in her bedroom until they were done. Good thing she didn't have to pee. So she wouldn't hear. Ada shivered.
She almost hadn't believed it the first time she heard it. And realized what it was. Two years ago. She had just told Jacob that she couldn't imagine her parents having sex. It was the day after Jacob had complained to her about his Mom coming over to talk to his Dad, and then they ended up upstairs.
"Gross, Jacob! They're divorced!" Ada had hissed. Why was Jacob talking to her about sex? And sex between Uncle Howard and Aunt Bernadette!
"And old! How do you think I feel!" he'd groused, fiddling with one of Fox's Lego ships in his hand, as he and Ada hid out in the corner of the playroom, as they did most Friday nights, sitting on the floor, talking. Too old and cool for the playroom, but far too cool for the dining room.
"At least my parents don't do that anymore," Ada said.
Jacob laughed at her. "Ada, you're such a baby sometimes."
"I am not a baby!" Ada protested. "I'm serious."
"I know. You're always serious. That's what makes you funny."
"I'm not being funny. Look at them! They're too weird to, you know, figure it all out."
"Well, they figured it out at least once, right?" Jacob asked.
Ada looked away. Her parents would kill her if they knew she was talking about sex with Jacob. Probably if she was talking about it in general. They knew she knew all about it - ugh, Mom, again, so serious about it - but that didn't mean she could talk about it. That's what she liked best about Jacob, though: they could talk about anything. She was never embarrassed with him. Yeah, he was one of the biggest nerds in their class (president of the chess club! like he was trying to be bullied!), and sometimes the other girls teased her about talking to him in the hallways, but Ada channeled her best Grandmother Fowler look of disdain and they usually backed down. Sometimes being tall was useful, too.
- Ugh, Mom! Why did she have to say those things about Jacob and . . . hormones! Honestly, Jacob?! How disgusting. She would never, never, ever think of him that way. Just the idea make her shiver. -
Oh, yes, that night. So, later, she couldn't believe it when she's gotten up to go to the bathroom, after staying up late reading, and she heard strange sounds from behind their closed bedroom door. She stood in the hallway, breathing heavy, her palm pressed to her flat chest, her ears red and straining. Mortified and scandalized, she couldn't make herself move. It was all muffled, behind their door, and she was certain she'd never heard anything when her door was closed, but there was no denying what was happening in their room. And then she heard two things in rapid succession: "Sheldon!" followed by a . . . growl? . . . something deep and rumbling from Dad. That did it, she turned and ran back to her room, only remembering not to slam the door at the last second, so the sound wouldn't give her away. Oh my God! Her parents just had sex!
As bad as that was - so bad she tossed and turned most of the night - even worse was the wink her mother gave Dad the next morning, when she passed him his glass of milk. Ada wanted the dining table to open up and swallow her. Is that what the wink meant? It didn't happen every morning, and she's never really thought about the pattern before, but what if . . . Oh God! What if they've had sex on the dining table? Right were she was eating? That happened in movies in she wasn't supposed to watch, right? Ada snatched back from the edge and her plate of French toast.
"Ada, are you okay?" Mom had asked.
"Um, yeah. Just not hungry, I guess," she mumbled.
Dad gave her a worried look over the top of his glasses. Ada took a breath. No, of course they never had sex on the dining table. Or the sofa. Or in the shower. Or on the floor. Or outside the bedroom. Probably never with the lights on. It was a ridiculous thought. Dad wouldn't allow it. They'd have to get rid of the table. And the sofa. And the shower. And the flooring.
Not accustomed to being stupid or wrong or obtuse, Ada quickly realized how blind she'd been. The winking was the first clue. Then she started to notice the looks, the smiles, the little touches. Had they been there all along? Her parents were animals! It was disturbing, really, how they looked at each other sometimes.
"Jacob," she'd whispered a couple of months later on a Friday night, unable to hold the shame in, "my parents had sex!"
"So?"
"So? It's my parents! And not to make me, but, like, this week. And the week before. Jacob," she leaned in closer, cupping his ear with her hand, "they do it every week, I think. I think they like it!"
He'd pulled away, wiped his ear, and laughed. Finally, he'd said, "I know."
"What?" Ada looked around the playroom, wondering how he knew about her sex-crazed parents, if everyone knew, even little Fawn.
"Well, it sounds awesome doesn't it? I mean like when you - never mind." He got up and left the playroom, going to join the adults in the dining room.
Ada's eyebrows went up. Jacob had never not told her something before. When you do what? What was it that Jacob knew about doing that she didn't? She sat on the floor of the playroom, suddenly feeling just like the baby Jacob always teased her that she was.
Now, two years later, Ada knew exactly what Jacob was referencing. Ugh, boys were so disgusting. If she decided to try that - If! - that would different, right? Girls weren't disgusting. It wouldn't be that messy. It would just be . . . an experiment. Ada shook her head and got up off the bed, changing into her pajamas, grateful for the heavy doors in their home. She was suddenly very tired. Maybe it was all that crying.
Which only reminded her she'd never have boobs. Only nerdy sex-manic parents. She sighed deeply at the unfairness of her life, turned off her light, and imagined going to live with Grandmother Fowler.
She felt it as soon as she woke up. Something different. She shifted in bed to look at the clock. 6:24. A little early. But what was this vague ache? She put her hand on her stomach, expecting to find Belle's warm form pressed up against her. But, no, Belle was behind her knees. Was she getting sick? No, she couldn't. She had that history report to start on and some Japanese to practice and she had an idea for a drawing and she and Sophie were going to see a movie later.
Getting up, she shuffled to the bathroom as Belle ran off toward hers, too. Maybe she just really had to pee. After all, she'd slept longer last night and hadn't gone before bed. That would explain the heavy feeling down low.
Oh! she finished sitting down on the toilet with thump. Oh! Her heart was pounding. That was . . . it had to be . . . oh.
Ada took a couple of deep breaths. This was good, right? She was thirteen, this was normal. Mom - ugh! another serious conversation - had prepared her for this. Not that she needed Mom's lesson, really; all her classmates were two years older. Periods were discussed almost as much as trigonometry in the girls bathroom. Squirming, Ada managed to open the cabinet door next to her. Plenty of supplies. Ugh, Mom. Couldn't she be unprepared or stymied just once?
Looking at the tampon box, Ada's lips curled. Could she just stick it up there - nope. Not today. She threw the box back into the cabinet. That left just one option. Grabbing what she needed, she washed her hands and headed back to her bedroom to change.
The door across the hall opened just after she shut her own. She looked over at the clock. 6:35. Dad. She heard him pause in the hallway. Go away, go away, she silently prayed. Finally she heard him walk on, to get cereal and watch Star Trek: Legacy without her.
Tiptoeing across the hall, Ada's knocked softly on her parents' bedroom door. "Mom?"
She heard shuffling and a murmured, "Ada?"
Ada opened the door slowly, which was a good thing, because Mom was sitting in bed, hurriedly wrapping a robe around herself. Oh gross, she was naked. Eww, they'd slept that way, hadn't they?
"Ada, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Mom started to get out of bed. For once, Ada had managed to surprise her. That, at least, was satisfying. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in here. It had aways been a mystical, magical room to her. Sometimes, when she little, Mom would let her come in when she was getting dressed for Date Night - They were so weird! They had been married forever, what did they need dates for? - and Ada would brush her tiny hands along the clothes hanging in the closet and let Mom put clear but shiny lip gloss on her lips.
"No, stay, I'll come there," Ada shut the door behind her. She crawled across their big bed, an entirely new experience and settled on her knees next to her mother. "I just got my period."
"Oh, sweetheart." Mom pulled her into a hug. Ada had expected that, dreaded it, really, though it was probably best to get it over with. Now would come the speech: some biological facts, how special it was, gift to humanity, now a woman, body preparing for babies, the word "special" about ten more times, blah blah blah.
What she had not expected was how good her mother's arms felt. "Oh, Mom," it escaped in a sob.
Mom squeezed her tighter, rubbing her back, and Ada let herself cry. Why was she crying so much - oh.
"Are you cramping?" Mom whispered.
Ada shook her head into her hair. She didn't think so. Heavy and full and now like she was wearing a diaper, but not cramping, she thought. The bedroom door creaked open and Ada buried her face further, unable to turn around. God, Dad. Couldn't he leave them alone just for once? Why did he have to follow them every where like a lost puppy?
But she felt Mom's arm, swinging, waving him away, and the door shut again. Ada smiled a bit, her tears drying. Dad was so obvious: confused by why his wife and daughter would want to be alone without him, frightened by the sight of two hugging and crying females, but not able to ignore a command from Mom.
Mom pushed her away slightly, and pushed her hair out of her face. Mom. Her hair was really getting gray now (she refused to dye it, how embarrassing!) and her eyes had little lines around them. But her eyes were still soft. "Did you find everything you needed? If there's blood on your pajamas, too, don't forget to put them to soak."
Rolling her eyes, Ada nodded. Here we go. The speech.
"Do you want to talk about it? Do you have any questions?" Mom asked.
Ada looked at her carefully, trying to gage what she meant. "Don't you want to talk doubt it?"
Smiling and shrugging, Mom said, "I think you're old enough now and intelligent enough that you don't need one of my silly little speeches. You understand the implications. You don't like it when I make a fuss over you."
A new sob welled up, that her mother really did understand her after all, and Ada pulled her back in. "Oh, Mom, I love you."
"I love you, too, sweetheart," Mom whispered. The sat on the bed, hugging, Ada crying, even Mom sniffling a bit although Ada couldn't understand what she had to be all worked up about.
Then Ada thought of something. "Mom?" She pulled away quickly in a panic. "Does this mean it's done? Puberty? Does this mean I'll never get any boobs?"
God, he was so . . . inevitable. Mom was never shocked and Dad was too easy to shock. What a pair.
Ada could feel his eyes on her, the way he slowly rotated his neck to watch her as she went to the kitchen to get her cereal. She could practically hear his mind churning, the questions forming and lingering: Why did she go to our bedroom? Why was she hugging Amy? Why was she in our bed? Was she crying? Why was she crying? Will she tell me? Will I have to ask Amy? Will Amy tell me? Yes, of course she will. That last question popped away, of course. Ada was under no illusions that her father would not know of, and be distressed by, her new condition by the end of the day. She sighed as she poured the milk. Well, at least he could be counted on to be too embarrassed to talk to her about it.
Without words, she went to sit by him on the sofa, holding her bowl of cereal, crossing her legs. "This isn't Star Trek," she finally said.
"Computer, stop playback. Play latest episode of Star Trek: Legacy," Dad called. As Siri complied, Dad said, "I was waiting for you."
"It's okay. I've seen it, remember? We all watch it together on Wednesdays, when it's on," Ada said. Belle came over to investigate the delicious white liquid in her bowl, and Ada waved her away.
"But you and I always watch Star Trek together. Every Saturday morning," Dad protested. "It's your favorite. You love Captain Spock."
Ada tilted her head in agreement. It was true that she love this particular incarnation of the famous franchise the most, primarily because of the charter of Hadiya Spock, the beautiful and confident daughter of Uhura and Mr. Spock. What Ada enjoyed most was how much like an iceberg she was: smooth and cold to the naked eye but jagged and passionate beneath the surface.
"Plus," her father continued through the opening scene, "I have devised the most challenging Counterfactual question based on this episode to ask you afterwards. It almost stumped your mother."
"Huh," Ada said, managing not to laugh. That was highly unlikely. Dad and Mom had been playing the same game of Counterfactuals for decades without a victor. The only way one of them would stump the other is if the other person were dead.
Uh, that's morbid. And sad. A wave of emotion passed over her, followed by a wave of frustration. Damn period! Was this how it was going to be?
Then Dad licked his lips. "Do you not want to watch Star Trek with me anymore?"
Ada turned at looked him, so predictable in his plaid pajamas and robe. (Eww, that he put on to come out to watch TV. Because he was naked in bed. With Mom. Gross.) She smiled. "I can't imagine doing anything else."
He nodded and turned back toward the screen. Ada finished her cereal, tipping the bowl up to drink the last of the milk with a loud slurp - Dad hated that and thus she made sure to always do it - and then leaned forward to set her bowl on the coffee table.
Looking at him him out of the corner of her eye, Ada could almost see the tension in the way he sat. Something unusual had happened, something out of the ordinary, something he didn't understand, and it weighed upon him. She wove her arms around his and leaned in with her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Dad."
She felt him relax slightly. "I love you, too." A pause. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." Then she grinned to herself. "But I'll be better if I ever get some boobs."
As his arm jerked, Ada smiled toward the screen. God, her parents. Such nerds.
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