Monday, June 20, 2005

Noah P.

“Noah P. is very mean! I hate him!”

Lillie was agitated when I picked her up from school.

“I thought Noah P. was your friend. What happened?”

“He calls me names. He said I am stupid, he says I stink, he says red hair is weird.”

Lillie ticked off each complaint by counting her fingers. She walked so that each step was a stomp of her sandals to the sidewalk.

I reached to hold her hand. “But those things aren’t true, sweet. Why would he say them?”

“Because he is mean. He makes me mad. Constance is mad too. He made us both mad—in one day!” She held out her hands in disbelief. “Can you believe it?”

Constance is Lillie’s best friend.

I reached to hold her hand.

Lillie has been talking about Noah P. quite a bit of late, so I recently made a point of meeting him.

Dropping Lillie at school one morning, I asked her and Constance to introduce me to Noah P.

“That’s me!” said the boy just behind me. I turned to find Noah P., smiling.

Noah P. was very cute. His blond hair was parted and combed back with gel. He wore a short sleeve white shirt over a wife beater.

“How do you do, Noah P.? I’m Jefferson, Lillie’s dad.” I offered my hand.

He grinned at Lillie and Constance, then shook my hand.

The girls giggled.

“Show him your muscle,” Lillie said. She was giggling so hard she could barely finish the sentence. Constance laughed all the harder at that.

“You want to see my muscle?” Noah P. asked me.

“Sure pal, show it.”

Noah P. began to take off his shirt.

“Can you do it with your shirt on?” I asked.

“It’s okay, I have two shirts!” He stripped to the wife beater, throwing his outer shirt to a nearby table with exaggerated aplomb.

He flexed a bicep. “See?”

“Very nice!” I admired.

The girls leaned on one another, laughing uncontrollably.

Lillie sat up and drew a breath. “We’re going to marry him,” she confessed.

“Yes!” Constance agreed. The girls gave themselves over to guffaws.

Noah P. joined in the laughter. A grown up was in on the secret!

“Oh, you are both going to marry Noah P.? At the same time?”

“Yes,” Lillie said. She pointed to her friend. “First Constance, then me, at the same time.”

“Well, well! That should be some wedding!”

This had them in stitches. I know when to leave an audience wanting more; I kissed Lillie, took my bows and exited, stage left.

The three conferred before lining up for class.

But now, after school, there was trouble brewing at the engagement party.

Noah P. had turned mean. Lillie and Constance were mad.

I listened to Lillie’s complaints as we walked home.

“Well, you know, Lillie,” I offered by way of fatherly wisdom. “Sometimes when boys like girls, they can say or do things that seem mean.

“It’s dumb, but that can be one way a boy shows that he like a girl—by doing things to get her attention. Even if those things seem mean, he might just want you to notice him. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

“I know. It probably never will.”

My ex, Lucy, took the more direct approach.

She heard Lillie’s tale of woe. She then took her questions to the source—Noah P. himself.

Lucy was never one to hesitate in reprimanding other people’s children.

She took Lillie by the hand and approached Noah P. in the school cafeteria.

“Noah P., can I have a word with you?”

“Uh huh.” They sat.

“Noah P., I understand you have been saying unkind words to Lillie and Constance. Is that true?”

Lillie tucked down her chin and watched Noah P.

Noah P. looked panicked. He was cornered, caught dead to rights.

“No! No! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Well, Noah P., you need to consider how the words you use can affect other people. If you call someone “stupid” or “stinky,” it can hurt that person’s feelings. It can make that person wonder if you are a good friend. Do you understand?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you want to be good friends with Lillie?”

Lillie watched closely for the answer.

“Uh huh.”

“I thought so. Well then, try to be aware of what you say. Now, shake my hand.”

Lucy extended her hand. Noah took it. They shook.

“I’m glad we had this talk. Now both of you need to join your group for class. Bye, Noah P. Bye, Lillie.”

Lucy stood and kissed Lillie. Lillie hugged her mother’s hips.

Man, I thought. I sure miss having that ballbuster on my side.

That afternoon, I asked Lillie about school.

“School was good. And Noah P. is my friend again!”

“Really? Oh that’s splendid news. Why is that?”

“He is being nice again! Constance is his friend too.”

“All’s well that ends well, Lillie.”

That night, Lillie wrote a note to Noah P.:

To Noah P.

I lov you

Noah P.

We ur good!

Bast + boyfnd

Lillie


She added a happy face to the “o” in his name, and drew a heart next to her name.

Sweet Lillie. Dear Constance.

I am so glad that Noah P. is being nice.

I am so glad that you are no longer mad at Noah P.

And I know you adore his moussed blonde hair, his cherubic smile, his tough boy clothes and his awesome muscles. It’s nice that such a cool boy wants to hang with two great girls.

But girls, how can you miss the clues?

Don’t you see?

Sweeties, Noah P. is gay.





9 comments:

Anonymous said...

OMG too funny... gotta love kids :)

ThreeOliveMartini said...

haahahah @gay ..

and its probably true .

Happy Late Fathers Day Jefferson !

Viviane said...

You're probably right, but there's a timely article in the Time's Sunday Styles section, 'Gay or Straight? Hard to Tell' which talks about the melting of boundaries:

'What's happening is that many men have migrated to a middle ground where the cues traditionally used to pigeonhole sexual orientation - hair, clothing, voice, body language - are more and more ambiguous. Make jokes about it. Call it what you will: "gay vague" will do. But the poles are melting fast.'

Now, it's either 'I want to be stylish' or 'I don't.'

Anonymous said...

"We ur good!"

Yeah Noah P., all troubles behind us baby, we ur good.

That's my favorite part.

Anonymous said...

I don't know about gay. I mean, it's possible, but he doesn't seem catty enough.

Now if he was making fun of her clothes, I'd buy the gay thing.

Damned If I Know

The Snakehead said...

Hahahaha....

Your last sentence killed me.

Anonymous said...

what gave him away? the wife beater shirt?

Madeline Glass said...

I think it was the tossing of his shirt onto a nearby table with exaggerated aplomb. So perfectly staged, so brilliantly executed.

Noah P. reminds me of Aerin P., the boy I wanted to marry when I was seven. We were boyfriend and girlfriend and sat on top of the monkey bars on the playground.

He gave me his silver ID bracelet with his name engraved in block letters.

Several years later, he learned to juggle. Soon after, his parents bought him a unicycle. Last I heard he was a street performer at Pier 39 in San Francisco.

And, um, yeah.

Mr. Shankly said...

I nearly fell off the bowl laughing... (yes, I print and read these at more "opportune" times - sorry for the visual) Just had to share this with MY ballbusting wife who would have bypassed little Noah P. and gone after his unwitting parents! You bet i'm glad she's on my side!