The talk

Chase was sixteen, and we didn't talk much. His mother had found a condom in his pants pocket while doing laundry, and had given me the job of talking to him about it. I entered his room and realized I hadn't been in it in years. The walls were covered with posters of rock bands I didn't recognize, and he sat on his bed with earphones in, eyes glued to a handheld videogame. He grinned and blushed through the talk, probably not as much as I did, as I lied to him about the importance of abstinence.