Sweet Sixteen: Part 32

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"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you daughter?"

"BENITA!"

Mum's roar made me jump outta my skin, "Mum, no need to shout!" I shot back.

"I do need to shout, when you're not listening."

"I was."

"What was the last thing I said, then?"

Nonchalantly I finished braiding her hair, "You were talking about Mr Lacey," I said, knowing that was a useless guess, as she was right, I wasn't listening to her.

She spluttered and laughed, "I haven't mentioned his name since I sat down." She stood up and checked the six neat side cornrows I'd crafted, "I asked if you've been intimate with Josh, have you?"

I felt my shackles rise, "MUM! Stop asking me that, you're getting weird now, like you're obsessed or something."

Satisfied with my hair handy work she turned to me, "There's nothing weird in knowing my daughter. I know when something's on your mind, and something's playing on it right now, I can see it and feel it," she said, giving me her penetrating gaze, the one I could never hide from; she continued to pry, ""I've never seen you like this before; I know you like this guy." Her face softened, always a good sign, "I'd prefer it if we could be open with one another, woman to woman, rather than mother to daughter about these matters," she said.

The caring in her voice was clear as she raised her eye and smiled, "Well then, have you?"

I smirked and lowered my head, "No." I paused, raised my head and decided to tell her the truth, "But I want to do it with him."

I waited for the Irish Catholic histrionics, but instead she asked calmly, "Have you and Josh spoke about doing it?"

My face flushed, "Mum, we're sixteen, you don't talk about doing it, you just do it," I said.

She leaned back against the sink and raised her hand, "And that's where I want my daughter to be different. Talk to Josh, tell him how you feel, ask him about his sexual history..."

...What, interrogate him about his sex life, he'll probably run a mile, mum!" I said, jumping over her words.

"Well if he does, he's the wrong lad for my daughter." She turned back to the mirror to put on some lipstick; then spun around and wagged her lipstick in front of me, "This isn't the end of this conversation, daughter." Putting the lipstick back in her bag she continued, "And while we're on the subject, please don't refer to love making as 'doing it' that's so crude and vulgar."

I laughed, "You referred to it as 'doing it' not me," I told her.

She chuckled, "Did I, oops," she said, chuckling to herself.

###

"Right, how'd I look?" Asked mum, presenting herself in front of me.

"You look lovely, the hair's particularly on point," I said.

She gave me an appreciative wink, "Anyway, where's Josh, it's a lovely evening, are you not seeing him?" She asked.

I shook my head, "No. He's going to see an ex gay friend," I replied, happy to at least share a smidgen of the truth with mum."

She gasped – "WHAT, does he swing both ways?"

Her reaction tickled me, "No. He has a gay friend, who's now an ex friend because he was in love with Josh and Josh couldn't give him what he wanted, because he's not gay. So Josh's going to talk to him, to see if he can salvage the friendship," I explained.

She tilted her head and let out one of those long, "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww's" Before adding, "That's so sweet of Josh; it takes a very confident young lad to be able to deal with that in such a mature manner." She kissed my cheek, "Promise me you'll be responsible?"

I hugged her, "I promise you, I'll be responsible, mum."

Then I said something that was so incongruous to the situation and conversation that it made mum visibly flinch, "Promise me you still love dad."

Her face saddened, "Where's that come from, Benita?"

I shrugged my shoulders in a 'don't know' gesture, then reiterated, "Do You?"

She looked perplexed, "I'll never stop loving your dad. Is this about me seeing your teacher?" She asked.

"No. But would you still love dad if he did something bad?" I asked, immediately knowing I was going too far.

She put her bag down, "Benita, where are you going with this." She looked at her phone, "Look, I'll cancel tonight and we can talk, you need to get somethings off your chest, clearly," she said.

"No, mum. I don't know where that came from. You go out and enjoy yourself," I said, back peddling furiously.

She picked her bag back up and put it over her shoulder, but still looking at me with a slightly suspicious eye, "Besides, you know your father didn't have it in him to do anything bad." She stopped suddenly to think, "Well, apart from killing someone to protect us, but we know he didn't do that," She said, kissing my forehead and leaving with a cheery, "Goodnight daughter."

###

Mum's parting words swam round my head and I thought if dad had killed someone to protect mum and I, then that wouldn't be bad, that would be dad. I put my hand on the side of my head and slid it over my ear, to push that thought to the back of my mind. It felt so much better when Josh did it.

Josh – I grabbed my phone and pressed his name. As always the ring tone gave me the anxiety flickers, "Hey Benita."

His voice quashed the flickers and made my tummy tumble, "Where are you?" I asked.

"I told you, I'm going to the warehouse, to try and talk to Dylan."

"Yeah, I know that, but I mean where are you now, are you there yet?"

"No, I'm about to leave in five minutes."

"Then wait for me, I'm coming with you."

###

I jumped off the bus just before Peckham, and put on my fro-cap using a shop window as a mirror.

The sun was still high and hot, making the city steamy and the people sweaty, sticky and sour. But of course, Josh looked cool, calm and collected as he waited for me by the entrance to the alleyway that led to the warehouse, "Get you in your wellies, you look like an A-List festival bae," he said, pointing to my footwear. I thought I looked more like a Farmer Giles, but I took the compliment.

Lifting my wellington boot, I explained, "Rats can't bite through this rubber," and pointed to my head, "and hands can't grab the fro. This is my combat gear," I said.

He beamed, "I like it, B. Let's go combat evil," he said, reaching his hand out to me. I took it, and outwardly reveled in how right his touch felt, whilst inwardly reeling about the wrong we were about to confront...

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