Get a jump on the other kids.”
He began speaking generally about the life cycle of plants and animals in nature. He described the reproductive system of plants; he spoke about pollen, and a flower’s stamen and pistil and ovule; and then he talked about fruits and their seeds and flesh, “like an apple, for instance.” He spoke so thoroughly and carefully that he might have been delivering a lecture. Soon I became bored and confused and a little sleepy.
At last he arrived at his main topic, which was human reproduction. “In other words, sex,” he said, and coughed.
Finally
, I thought, and perked up.
I already knew the basics by then. On the playground at school or squatting behind a neighbor’s garage, boys like Peter would share what they had found out about girls. Some spoke confidently, some sneakily, some with a show of toughness, spitting down into the dirt at their feet when they said what a woman was and what you were supposed to do with her. But I didn’t entirely trust their information to be accurate. Now at least I’d get my facts straight.
My father spoke about the parallels between the reproductive systems of plants and humans. Women were like flowers, he said, in that their bodies also contained eggs that needed to be fertilized in order to reproduce. He described the female reproductive organs: the uterus, the ovaries, the fallopian tubes, the cervix, the vagina—
He broke off, flustered, and cleared his throat several times in a row.
“Maybe a visual illustration would help,” he said, recovering. He stood up, put his feet together, and spread his arms in a T.
“It’s like a little man. Imagine a little man standing inside a woman’s body. These are the ovaries,” he said, cupping his hands into fists. “My arms are the fallopian tubes. My chest can be the uterus.” He explained how egg cells formed in the ovaries and traveled down the fallopian tubes, where they were fertilized by the man’s sperm, thus creating life.
He sat back down. He sighed abruptly. When he spoke again, he spoke slowly, almost sadly, as if he regretted what he had to say.
“Now. This is the important part. On the night of their wedding, the husband and wife lie together in each other’s arms. And the man … carefully … impregnates the woman. This is natural. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s a very … very … lovely event.”
He stopped and looked down solemnly at the floor. We were quiet for a moment. I held still. The air in the room was syrupy and warm. I felt myself sweating beneath my pajamas. Was he finished?
“Okay. I understand. Thank you,” I said.
“You may hear people talking bad about this,” my father cautioned. “Boys especially like to tell jokes and so forth. But I assure you there’s nothing wrong or ugly or dirty about sex. It’s perfectly natural. It’s a part of life. I do believe, however, as most people do, that it is something that should be reserved for marriage. Something that occurs only between a husband and wife.” He added, as if it were a point he’d almost forgotten, “Women are special. Always respect women. Women are like flowers.”
I nodded.
“Do you have any questions? Anything. You can ask me. I’m your father.”
“No. I think that’s all clear.”
“Good.”
He sat back in his chair, relieved that he’d said what he had to say. He patted his hands together a couple of times and looked around my room. He picked up a model airplane from my bookcase, glanced at it, and set it back down. He seemed reluctant to leave now.
I was relieved, too. I didn’t understand the actual how-to business of human reproduction any better now than when he first came into my room, but I was glad he’d stopped talking about it. Sex, in his telling, sounded like a kind of dark fairy tale, strange and a little spooky.
Eventually he got up to leave. He paused at my door. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk. If you have any more questions, I’m
He began speaking generally about the life cycle of plants and animals in nature. He described the reproductive system of plants; he spoke about pollen, and a flower’s stamen and pistil and ovule; and then he talked about fruits and their seeds and flesh, “like an apple, for instance.” He spoke so thoroughly and carefully that he might have been delivering a lecture. Soon I became bored and confused and a little sleepy.
At last he arrived at his main topic, which was human reproduction. “In other words, sex,” he said, and coughed.
Finally
, I thought, and perked up.
I already knew the basics by then. On the playground at school or squatting behind a neighbor’s garage, boys like Peter would share what they had found out about girls. Some spoke confidently, some sneakily, some with a show of toughness, spitting down into the dirt at their feet when they said what a woman was and what you were supposed to do with her. But I didn’t entirely trust their information to be accurate. Now at least I’d get my facts straight.
My father spoke about the parallels between the reproductive systems of plants and humans. Women were like flowers, he said, in that their bodies also contained eggs that needed to be fertilized in order to reproduce. He described the female reproductive organs: the uterus, the ovaries, the fallopian tubes, the cervix, the vagina—
He broke off, flustered, and cleared his throat several times in a row.
“Maybe a visual illustration would help,” he said, recovering. He stood up, put his feet together, and spread his arms in a T.
“It’s like a little man. Imagine a little man standing inside a woman’s body. These are the ovaries,” he said, cupping his hands into fists. “My arms are the fallopian tubes. My chest can be the uterus.” He explained how egg cells formed in the ovaries and traveled down the fallopian tubes, where they were fertilized by the man’s sperm, thus creating life.
He sat back down. He sighed abruptly. When he spoke again, he spoke slowly, almost sadly, as if he regretted what he had to say.
“Now. This is the important part. On the night of their wedding, the husband and wife lie together in each other’s arms. And the man … carefully … impregnates the woman. This is natural. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s a very … very … lovely event.”
He stopped and looked down solemnly at the floor. We were quiet for a moment. I held still. The air in the room was syrupy and warm. I felt myself sweating beneath my pajamas. Was he finished?
“Okay. I understand. Thank you,” I said.
“You may hear people talking bad about this,” my father cautioned. “Boys especially like to tell jokes and so forth. But I assure you there’s nothing wrong or ugly or dirty about sex. It’s perfectly natural. It’s a part of life. I do believe, however, as most people do, that it is something that should be reserved for marriage. Something that occurs only between a husband and wife.” He added, as if it were a point he’d almost forgotten, “Women are special. Always respect women. Women are like flowers.”
I nodded.
“Do you have any questions? Anything. You can ask me. I’m your father.”
“No. I think that’s all clear.”
“Good.”
He sat back in his chair, relieved that he’d said what he had to say. He patted his hands together a couple of times and looked around my room. He picked up a model airplane from my bookcase, glanced at it, and set it back down. He seemed reluctant to leave now.
I was relieved, too. I didn’t understand the actual how-to business of human reproduction any better now than when he first came into my room, but I was glad he’d stopped talking about it. Sex, in his telling, sounded like a kind of dark fairy tale, strange and a little spooky.
Eventually he got up to leave. He paused at my door. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk. If you have any more questions, I’m
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