The Talk

By Ada Stone

About The Talk

Knowing that her preteen son Noah is about to go through his first unit of sex education at school, Carrie, a single mother, wants to have her own talk with him first. But she struggles to decide what, and how, she wants to broach the subject. In a daring move, Carrie turns to her own journals for inspiration, thinking that if she can understand what sex has meant to her over her lifetime, she will have a better chance of constructing an appropriate lesson for Noah. Sparing no uncomfortable details, Carrie takes a trip down memory lane. As Carrie starts to understand just how much frustration she has endured in the name of romance, she tries to imagine another version of events for herself and, perhaps someday, for her son.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Apr 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781094409283

Ada Stone

Ada Stone is a queer and trans book-obsessed human from the Pacific Northwest, where they live now. They love spending quiet time among trees and mountains, listening to their favorite albums on repeat, and receiving “your holds are ready for pickup” alerts from the library.

Book preview

Part 1: Conception

Hey! Wait, how was school? Carrie says, trying to catch Noah as he comes in through the back door.

Fine, Noah calls, already dashing up the stairs to his room, undoubtedly to embark on some computer-related venture.

I’m going to have to start emailing your teacher to check in if you keep avoiding my questions, Carrie says as she approaches the base of the stairway and projects her voice up toward Noah’s door.

He doesn’t hear, or at least, he pretends not to. Carrie sighs and paces over to where her son dropped his backpack on the floor; sometimes there are good clues inside. She pulls out his lunchbox, satisfied with its emptiness. She hopes he’s eating and not just throwing the carefully-curated food into the trash with a grimace. Digging further, she retrieves his folder, which contains a note from his teacher printed on green paper:

Dear parents and guardians,

Our Body Awareness unit will be beginning soon, on Monday, May 25th. For those unfamiliar, Body Awareness is the state-mandated curriculum for sexual awareness, puberty preparedness, and emotional mindfulness. This year will be your student’s first exposure to this content within our school.

Though I will do my utmost to answer all questions, it shouldn’t come as a surprise if your student brings a new sense of curiosity home with them. Please be prepared to answer inquiries as they arise. Helpful resources can be found on the district website at www.kingstonk12.edu/bodyawareness. Feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns.

Kindly,

Debra Rodriguez

Carrie feels her face blushing. She itches the back of her neck subconsciously. She had been aware that sex ed started in the fifth grade; after all, she and most of her extended family had gone through school in the region. But now it feels so sudden. Noah is still a silly little kid. He doesn’t need this serious adult stuff; not yet. Carrie breathes in and recognizes her overprotective parental instinct kicking in. Thinking realistically about it, she realizes her son already knows about a lot of what’s going to be taught, at least in some roundabout form that he’s learned from his friends, or, as much as she cringes to think of it, the internet. Nonetheless, this news has a strong emotional force. She needs someone to process with.

Even if Carrie knew how to program speed dial on her phone, she would never have bothered with it. Rachel is always in her recent calls list. And that’s where she goes to dial her best friend’s number. Hey, Car, Rachel answers after a few rings, her voice sounding far away, no doubt from being on speakerphone. Carrie hears the sink running in the background. A door, maybe the fridge, slams closed. What’s up?

Carrie sits down on the entryway bench, almost tripping over Noah’s raggedy sneakers in the process. I just got a note from Noah’s teacher about the sex ed unit. I don’t want him to be old enough for this! I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream about it.

Maybe all three then? You know that’s what I would do, Rachel quipps. But if you’re feeling that emotional, let’s think about an action you can take to make it more manageable. Rachel doesn’t shy away from using her therapist voice outside the office. Carrie is both amused by, and grateful for, this quality in her friend.

"Okay. Yeah. That’s a good idea. I guess the main throughline is that this whole event, if I can call it that, is making me feel powerless. Time’s going to pass; Noah’s going to learn these things, whether I like it or not. And then, before I know it, I’m going to be the still-single mother of a teenager!" Carrie’s worries spiral quickly into the current of her deepest insecurities: aging and loneliness. She remembers reading somewhere that most of life’s angst can be traced back to a fear of dying alone.

A few thuds echo through the phone’s speaker. Carrie guesses Rachel is chopping some kind of fruit or vegetable. Rachel’s dachshund, Greg, barks, the metal tag on his collar audibly rattling. So, we’re catastrophizing, Carrie can hear Rachel smiling from the other end of the line. Greg, no, Rachel scolds before returning her attention to the call. Jump back to what you said about Noah’s learning feeling out of your control.

And just like that, Carrie knows what she’ll do. She’s had enough of these conversations with Rachel to recognize that it’s her friend’s idea cleverly disguised as a conclusion she’s arrived at on her own, almost like Inception. Therapists are modern-day witches, or at least one form of them, Carrie has come to believe. Right. I’m going to take things back into my hands. I’m going to give Noah my own little lesson beforehand. Oh, I’m already feeling better! Thanks, Rach.

Well, of course!

What are you cooking, by the way?

Oh! she laughs. I’m just chopping some carrots to dip in this tub of hummus. It technically expired a couple days ago, but it still smells fine to me. Want to give it a whiff?

Carrie inhales dramatically into her phone’s microphone. Yeah, I think you’re good to go, she proclaims.

Hallelujah! Okay, boo, I’ll talk to you later. Happy lesson planning.

Thanks, talk to you soon, Carrie says, and ends the call.

Sliding the phone into her pocket, Carrie starts to feel the weight of the task she has given herself. This is famously one of life’s hardest conversations; so many opportunities for things to go wrong, and in so many ways. What if she makes Noah disgusted by his own body? What if she ends up sounding too enthusiastic about sex?

Instead of thinking about the myriad opportunities for failure, Carrie realizes, she needs to focus on how to present her lesson well, or at least well enough; she needs to figure out what the hell she wants to tell her son about growing into his body, and about