“I figured he ordered it online.”
“I think Dad keeps getting it from his old endorsements. I’m surprised he isn’t using it as a stocking stuffer at this point. Doesn’t Mom have safe sex conversations with you?”
I shrug. “Sure. But usually it’s the whole, ‘it’s your body, you should learn it before you let anyone else, blah blah blah.’ You know? Like she’s already talked to me about Kodiak, and whether he needs the special condoms, and is he taking care of my needs before his own, that kind of thing.”
River looks like his head is about to explode. “Isn’t that mortifying?”
“I don’t know. Should it be? She has a point. Guys are pretty basic. Insert A into slot B, make friction. Women aren’t the same. We have lots of buttons to push and lots of ways to push them. It takes some figuring out.”
He makes another face. “I feel like I should apologize to all the girls I made out with over the years for the lack of gratification they experienced with me.”
“Meh.” I pat him on the shoulder. “That’s not all on you. You have to ask for what you want, and I’m guessing those girls were too starstruck by your broody, emo prettiness to do that.”
“Still, I feel kinda bad.” He scowls, clearly mad at himself for not being in tune with whoever he dated before Josiah.
“But you take care of Josiah’s needs, right?”
He smirks. “Fuck yeah, I do.”
I’m aware this is true. Often because Josiah will show up to class after a night with my brother looking very sated and half-asleep. He also likes to tell me my twin is all about seduction. Which doesn’t surprise me. River’s an emotional guy, and he usually hides all those feelings behind a scowl.
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” I glance down at the table and notice a pair of bananas on one of the chairs in superhero garb. Looks like Dad missed a couple. I nab them, not wanting Mom to be horribly embarrassed in front of all her friends. “I’m going to find a good hiding spot for these and get my overnight bag, then we can go to Kodiak’s.”
River heads for the kitchen—he’s always hungry—and I go upstairs. Unlike the holiday bananas, these ones are dressed up like Superman and his alter ego. They also smell like fresh laundry. I decide not to leave the bananas in my parents’ bedroom. Instead, I toss them into my overnight bag, thinking Kodiak might get a kick out of it. I don’t know if we’re into playing dress up with our sex parts, but if nothing else, it’s something to laugh about, and make us feel better about our own predilections.
I also grab a roll of duct tape and a few of my silk scarves from the back of my door and stuff them in too.
“Knock, knock.” Mom pokes her head in the door as I’m zipping up the bag.
“Hey. ‘Sup?”
“Just coming to do my motherly duty and tell you to be safe and careful and all that jazz tonight. I’m assuming there will be drinking.” She leans against my doorjamb.
“There’s a distinct possibility, particularly since all the young kids are going to the Kingstons’.”
Mom nods. “I’d tell you to make good choices and all that, but since you’re dating Kody, and he doesn’t strike me as the type to get shitfaced to the point where he can’t function, I’m going to say just stay inside for the most part. It’s cold out tonight and hypothermia is a real thing.”
“Yeah, we’ll be staying indoors. You don’t have to worry about that.” I’m not interested in frostbite.
She nods once and taps her lip with her index finger.
“Anything else you want to talk about?” I prompt, since clearly she does.
“Do you know what’s going on with Mav? It’s like him and River role-reversed. River’s all happy, and Mav was sullen and withdrawn the whole time he was here. No joking around, no pranks.”
“He left a banana orgy on the dining room table this afternoon.”
Mom’s eyes go wide. “Oh my God!”
I raise a hand. “Dad cleaned them up. Don’t worry.” It doesn’t even phase me that I’m calming my mother down about her “banana costumes.”
“I knew I should have hung them to dry instead of putting them in the dryer last night.” Mom grouses.
At least I can confirm that they’re freshly washed. “Maybe you need to start locking them up.”
She drags a hand down her face. “I’m sorry your dad and I have given you so many reasons to need therapy. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.”
I shrug. “Eh, at least you two still have fun together, even if you’re a couple of weirdos.”
Not that I should talk when I routinely duct tape my boyfriend to his computer chair and then torture-tease him until we both get off. Recently I started using my silk scarves though, because Kodiak is missing an obvious strip of hair on his forearms, which our cousin and his mother had noticed.
“We are weirdos,” she agrees. “It’s amazing you all turned out as normal as you did.”
“I don’t think I’d call any of us normal, but normal is boring anyway.” I shoulder my overnight bag. “As for Maverick and his emo-ness, I don’t really know what it’s about. I’ll mention it to Kodiak and BJ tonight and see if they know anything.”
“Maybe it’s girl-related. Maybe he’s dating someone?” Mom looks optimistic.
“Maybe, but I haven’t seen him with anyone in a while. Not since around the time Kodiak and I started dating, actually,” I say.
“Do you think he’s reconnected with one of them?” she asks, voice all full of hope.
“Anything’s possible, I guess. But he seems pretty determined not to get attached to anyone with a potential NHL contract coming his way. He’s kind of secretive, though, you know? More than I realized.”
“He is. Sometimes I worry about him.”
I nod my agreement. “He’s usually so fun-loving and easygoing.”
“I know. And we should be happy about that, but sometimes I wonder if he’s just really good at hiding shit,” Mom finishes for me.
We stand there for a moment and then burst into laughter. “He’s probably just cranky because he isn’t getting any action over the holidays,” I offer.
“That seems more likely than him hiding stuff. Apart from his shitty midterm marks. He better keep his socks pulled up this semester. I know he’s all about his professional hockey career, but if it doesn’t work out, I’d at least like him to have a solid fallback plan.”
“Do you think that’s even possible? Him not making the cut?”
Mom shrugs. “Always better safe than sorry, right? He’s an excellent player, but he can be impulsive, in life and on the ice. Anyway, enough psychoanalyzing your brother. Enjoy New Year’s Eve. Don’t drink too much. Use condoms. Make sure you get the first orgasm and all that jazz.” She waves the last part away and rolls her eyes at herself. “Sorry. I wish I could stop things like that from coming out of my mouth, but they just happen.”
“It’s solid advice, though.”
“Still, I try not to be as mortifying as my mom was with me, but I doubt I’m all that successful since we’re carbon copies of each other.”