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i_am_tl_drTitle: The Birds and the Bees (and the Other Bees)
Characters: Harold Graham, Paul Graham, Tyler Jordan Graham
Rating: PG
Word count: 1615
Notes: Back when Paul and Tyler Jordan had a mom (although not their mom) and Harold had slightly fewer children to care for and a lot more help in doing so.
Timeline: November 1997
“Okay, so what’s three times three?” Harold said, pointing at the problem on the worksheet. Tyler Jordan scrunched his nose up. “It’s three more than three times two.” The boy looked down at his fingers, slowly putting them up one by one.
“Eight?”
“One more than that.”
“Nine!”
“Exactly!” Tyler Jordan painstakingly wrote a 9 on the worksheet, and Harold pointed to the next one. “Okay. Three times four.”
“Dad?” Paul tugged on his father’s sleeve, and Harold looked over at him with a smile.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“You have to sign this paper.” Paul handed him a photocopied page, and Harold pushed his glasses higher up his nose and scanned the sheet. “I have to bring it back by Wednesday.” Harold reached the end of the page, blinked, and looked at his son.
“Aren’t you twelve?”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t this a bit early?” Paul shrugged.
“They sent it home today. It’s a health class thing. You have to sign it.” Harold frowned at the page, pulling his pen out of his shirt pocket. It was a consent form for a sex ed class to be taught at the end of the week. He glanced at his son again: skinny, short Paul, with his unruly hair and his quick smile and his constantly bruised shins. His firstborn child, already old enough to be learning this sort of thing. Well. There was no way at all Harold would leave his child to the vagaries of public school education on something this important. He signed the page and handed it back to Paul.
“Paul, sweetie, do you have anything after school tomorrow?”
“Um… no? I come right home on Tuesday. I have to meet Tyler Jordan at the bus stop.”
“The bus was gross today,” Tyler Jordan piped up. “It smelled like farts. Like lots of farts.”
“Were you sitting in the back?” Paul asked. Tyler Jordan nodded. “The back of the bus always smells like farts, TJ. Sit up toward the driver.”
“But she smells weird too.”
“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but buses stink no matter where you are in them. If you sit at the front you get the fresh air when the door opens.”
“But only nerds sit in the front of the bus.”
“I sit in the front of the bus,” Paul said. “Every day.”
“You’re not a nerd.”
“Nope. I’m smart enough to know where the least stinky part of the bus is.”
“Okay… I’ll sit up front tomorrow and see if it’s better.” Tyler Jordan tugged his dad’s shirtsleeve. “Is it twelve?”
“It is twelve. Good job!” Harold looked back at Paul. “When you come home tomorrow I’d like to talk to you in my office, all right? You aren’t in trouble, I just want to teach you myself what they’re going to tell you later in the week. Just to make sure you know the real facts.”
“Okay? Can I bring my snack in your office?”
“I will bend the food rule for tomorrow afternoon. Nothing messy though.”
“Okay! Tomorrow. I’m gonna go do my homework now.”
“That’s my boy.” Harold ruffled Paul’s hair before he darted off and Tyler Jordan tugged on Harold’s sleeve again.
“Am I done?”
“Does it look like you’re done, TJ?”
“No…. can I be done anyways?”
“I don’t think so. Come on, you’re almost done. Three times five.” That time Tyler Jordan resorted to counting toes too. One of the twins ran through the dining room, the other one not far behind her, and then Juliana followed them at a much slower pace, big as a house with the next little Graham girl inside.
“Harold, the girls are doing it again,” she sighed, “I swear they’ll be the death of me.”
“I don’t think our toddlers are going to kill you, dear. They’re weird, but I doubt they’re homicidal.”
“What’s homicidal?” Tyler Jordan asked. Harold sighed.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said, and went to go wrangle his daughters.
---
Harold had brought a chair up from the dining room table to set behind his desk to show Paul the slideshow presentation he’d made. Paul had brought his snack up to the office and settled next to his father, looking curious as Harold turned the screen so he could see it better.
“If you have any questions at all, ask them, okay? I want you to understand this. Keep asking questions until it makes sense to you, all right?”
“Yeah, okay.” Paul crunched on a celery stick covered in peanut butter as his father brought up a slide on the computer screen.
“So when a man and a woman love each other very much, they might decide that they want to have sex. And sometimes sex is how babies are made, but not always. You know how Mom has a baby in her now? That’s how the baby got there.”
“Um, Dad…”
“One second, Paul. Now, you know what body part men have for having sex already. You’ve got one.”
“Yeah. My penis. I know that, Dad. But--”
“Well, wait. Women have a private part too.” He brought up another slide. Paul looked stunned. “Just like a boy has a penis, a girl has a vagina. And if you want to make a baby, you need both parts-- a boy’s parts and a girl’s parts. Okay?”
“Yeah, but Dad--”
“What is it, Paul?”
“What if a man doesn’t love a woman very much?” Harold blinked at his son.
“What do you mean?” Paul blinked back at him, the father’s nervous habit very much present in the son as well.
“What if a man loves a man?”
“Well, that-- I mean, some people-- why do you ask, sweetheart?” Paul looked-- not scared, just very, very confused.
“I don’t like girls.”
“Yes you do, you like Ellie.”
“I like Ellie because she’s smart. I don’t want to… make babies with her. I don’t want to make babies with any girl. I don’t like girls like that.”
“Paul? What are you saying, sweetie?”
“Dad… I like boys, I think.” Harold watched his eldest son shift on the wooden chair, staring down at his shoes. “I don’t want to chase girls around and kiss them like the other boys do. I want to kiss the boys. Is there something wrong with me? Am I broken?”
“No,” Harold said firmly. “No, Paul, you are not broken, there is nothing wrong with you. Sometimes boys like other boys and that’s okay too.” Paul glanced up at him, and Harold took his son by the hands. “If you have feelings for other boys, that’s all right. It’s…. it’s not easy. It can be really, really tough. A lot of people will try to tell you you’re wrong, but you’re not wrong, okay sweetheart? You love who you love. Just… be careful who you tell about it. Because some people are so afraid of boys who love other boys that they’ll hurt them. And I don’t want you getting hurt, Paul. You’re precious to me.” Paul nodded slowly, and Harold gave his son a faint smile. “Is there a boy you like?”
“Yeah, he… he’s in my art class. His name is Lucas. He draws really good animals. He helped me draw a german shepherd last week. He’s really, really nice. I like him a lot.” Paul smiled as he talked, and Harold’s heart ached a little for how brave his son had been to tell him this. Harold hadn’t had the courage to say it when he’d gotten the sex talk from his parents. Harold hadn’t had the courage to say it at all. Harold had two marriages and five children and he’d never put a voice to the feelings he’d harbored since he was Paul’s age, always too fearful of something to do anything about it, whether that something was his parents’ disapproval or the AIDS epidemic or his own desire for a family that he never could have had with another man. “And he said that I drew really good ears, it looks like a real police dog on alert!” Paul finished his ramble, and Harold smiled at him.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. He sounds like a good friend.”
“He is a good friend. He’s great. Art class is my favorite because that’s when I get to see him.” Paul pointed at the computer. “Do I need to hear the rest of that? I’m not… I don’t think I need to know it.”
“You need to know it whether it applies to you or not,” Harold said firmly. “It’s basic biology. Even if reproduction isn’t something you plan on doing, it’s important to know the facts about it. And I haven’t even mentioned puberty yet.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll find out sooner rather than later,” Harold said dryly, and Paul shrugged and reached for another celery stick.
“I’d rather find out from you than the health teacher. He’s weird. You’re weird but you’re my kind of weird.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
Harold figured he had a few years to figure out how to tell Paul about safe sex for non-heterosexuals. That was a conversation he needed a couple of years to brace himself to have, anyways. At least the world wasn’t quite as lethal for gay men now as it had been when Paul had been born, and hopefully by the time he started doing anything that needed worrying about it would be safer still. Harold was determined to take every shred of fear that had kept him silent and turn it into support for his son so that Paul would never be afraid to speak up.
Characters: Harold Graham, Paul Graham, Tyler Jordan Graham
Rating: PG
Word count: 1615
Notes: Back when Paul and Tyler Jordan had a mom (although not their mom) and Harold had slightly fewer children to care for and a lot more help in doing so.
Timeline: November 1997
“Okay, so what’s three times three?” Harold said, pointing at the problem on the worksheet. Tyler Jordan scrunched his nose up. “It’s three more than three times two.” The boy looked down at his fingers, slowly putting them up one by one.
“Eight?”
“One more than that.”
“Nine!”
“Exactly!” Tyler Jordan painstakingly wrote a 9 on the worksheet, and Harold pointed to the next one. “Okay. Three times four.”
“Dad?” Paul tugged on his father’s sleeve, and Harold looked over at him with a smile.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“You have to sign this paper.” Paul handed him a photocopied page, and Harold pushed his glasses higher up his nose and scanned the sheet. “I have to bring it back by Wednesday.” Harold reached the end of the page, blinked, and looked at his son.
“Aren’t you twelve?”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t this a bit early?” Paul shrugged.
“They sent it home today. It’s a health class thing. You have to sign it.” Harold frowned at the page, pulling his pen out of his shirt pocket. It was a consent form for a sex ed class to be taught at the end of the week. He glanced at his son again: skinny, short Paul, with his unruly hair and his quick smile and his constantly bruised shins. His firstborn child, already old enough to be learning this sort of thing. Well. There was no way at all Harold would leave his child to the vagaries of public school education on something this important. He signed the page and handed it back to Paul.
“Paul, sweetie, do you have anything after school tomorrow?”
“Um… no? I come right home on Tuesday. I have to meet Tyler Jordan at the bus stop.”
“The bus was gross today,” Tyler Jordan piped up. “It smelled like farts. Like lots of farts.”
“Were you sitting in the back?” Paul asked. Tyler Jordan nodded. “The back of the bus always smells like farts, TJ. Sit up toward the driver.”
“But she smells weird too.”
“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but buses stink no matter where you are in them. If you sit at the front you get the fresh air when the door opens.”
“But only nerds sit in the front of the bus.”
“I sit in the front of the bus,” Paul said. “Every day.”
“You’re not a nerd.”
“Nope. I’m smart enough to know where the least stinky part of the bus is.”
“Okay… I’ll sit up front tomorrow and see if it’s better.” Tyler Jordan tugged his dad’s shirtsleeve. “Is it twelve?”
“It is twelve. Good job!” Harold looked back at Paul. “When you come home tomorrow I’d like to talk to you in my office, all right? You aren’t in trouble, I just want to teach you myself what they’re going to tell you later in the week. Just to make sure you know the real facts.”
“Okay? Can I bring my snack in your office?”
“I will bend the food rule for tomorrow afternoon. Nothing messy though.”
“Okay! Tomorrow. I’m gonna go do my homework now.”
“That’s my boy.” Harold ruffled Paul’s hair before he darted off and Tyler Jordan tugged on Harold’s sleeve again.
“Am I done?”
“Does it look like you’re done, TJ?”
“No…. can I be done anyways?”
“I don’t think so. Come on, you’re almost done. Three times five.” That time Tyler Jordan resorted to counting toes too. One of the twins ran through the dining room, the other one not far behind her, and then Juliana followed them at a much slower pace, big as a house with the next little Graham girl inside.
“Harold, the girls are doing it again,” she sighed, “I swear they’ll be the death of me.”
“I don’t think our toddlers are going to kill you, dear. They’re weird, but I doubt they’re homicidal.”
“What’s homicidal?” Tyler Jordan asked. Harold sighed.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said, and went to go wrangle his daughters.
---
Harold had brought a chair up from the dining room table to set behind his desk to show Paul the slideshow presentation he’d made. Paul had brought his snack up to the office and settled next to his father, looking curious as Harold turned the screen so he could see it better.
“If you have any questions at all, ask them, okay? I want you to understand this. Keep asking questions until it makes sense to you, all right?”
“Yeah, okay.” Paul crunched on a celery stick covered in peanut butter as his father brought up a slide on the computer screen.
“So when a man and a woman love each other very much, they might decide that they want to have sex. And sometimes sex is how babies are made, but not always. You know how Mom has a baby in her now? That’s how the baby got there.”
“Um, Dad…”
“One second, Paul. Now, you know what body part men have for having sex already. You’ve got one.”
“Yeah. My penis. I know that, Dad. But--”
“Well, wait. Women have a private part too.” He brought up another slide. Paul looked stunned. “Just like a boy has a penis, a girl has a vagina. And if you want to make a baby, you need both parts-- a boy’s parts and a girl’s parts. Okay?”
“Yeah, but Dad--”
“What is it, Paul?”
“What if a man doesn’t love a woman very much?” Harold blinked at his son.
“What do you mean?” Paul blinked back at him, the father’s nervous habit very much present in the son as well.
“What if a man loves a man?”
“Well, that-- I mean, some people-- why do you ask, sweetheart?” Paul looked-- not scared, just very, very confused.
“I don’t like girls.”
“Yes you do, you like Ellie.”
“I like Ellie because she’s smart. I don’t want to… make babies with her. I don’t want to make babies with any girl. I don’t like girls like that.”
“Paul? What are you saying, sweetie?”
“Dad… I like boys, I think.” Harold watched his eldest son shift on the wooden chair, staring down at his shoes. “I don’t want to chase girls around and kiss them like the other boys do. I want to kiss the boys. Is there something wrong with me? Am I broken?”
“No,” Harold said firmly. “No, Paul, you are not broken, there is nothing wrong with you. Sometimes boys like other boys and that’s okay too.” Paul glanced up at him, and Harold took his son by the hands. “If you have feelings for other boys, that’s all right. It’s…. it’s not easy. It can be really, really tough. A lot of people will try to tell you you’re wrong, but you’re not wrong, okay sweetheart? You love who you love. Just… be careful who you tell about it. Because some people are so afraid of boys who love other boys that they’ll hurt them. And I don’t want you getting hurt, Paul. You’re precious to me.” Paul nodded slowly, and Harold gave his son a faint smile. “Is there a boy you like?”
“Yeah, he… he’s in my art class. His name is Lucas. He draws really good animals. He helped me draw a german shepherd last week. He’s really, really nice. I like him a lot.” Paul smiled as he talked, and Harold’s heart ached a little for how brave his son had been to tell him this. Harold hadn’t had the courage to say it when he’d gotten the sex talk from his parents. Harold hadn’t had the courage to say it at all. Harold had two marriages and five children and he’d never put a voice to the feelings he’d harbored since he was Paul’s age, always too fearful of something to do anything about it, whether that something was his parents’ disapproval or the AIDS epidemic or his own desire for a family that he never could have had with another man. “And he said that I drew really good ears, it looks like a real police dog on alert!” Paul finished his ramble, and Harold smiled at him.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. He sounds like a good friend.”
“He is a good friend. He’s great. Art class is my favorite because that’s when I get to see him.” Paul pointed at the computer. “Do I need to hear the rest of that? I’m not… I don’t think I need to know it.”
“You need to know it whether it applies to you or not,” Harold said firmly. “It’s basic biology. Even if reproduction isn’t something you plan on doing, it’s important to know the facts about it. And I haven’t even mentioned puberty yet.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll find out sooner rather than later,” Harold said dryly, and Paul shrugged and reached for another celery stick.
“I’d rather find out from you than the health teacher. He’s weird. You’re weird but you’re my kind of weird.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
Harold figured he had a few years to figure out how to tell Paul about safe sex for non-heterosexuals. That was a conversation he needed a couple of years to brace himself to have, anyways. At least the world wasn’t quite as lethal for gay men now as it had been when Paul had been born, and hopefully by the time he started doing anything that needed worrying about it would be safer still. Harold was determined to take every shred of fear that had kept him silent and turn it into support for his son so that Paul would never be afraid to speak up.
