2015 Anniversary Challenge
A Fig Leaf, A Banana, and a Pink Ribbon
by ChicagoTunnelKid
In hindsight, Catherine wished she had been more circumspect and kept her big mouth shut. Sigh. Not in her nature. She couldn’t help but speak up when learning there was no sex education per se for the tunnel children.
She was hard pressed to remember just how the topic came up in conversation. Probably when she overheard two boys of middle school years arguing about what could get a girl pregnant. None of what she heard was accurate. How could this be? Surely the adult residents did something to help kids learn?
She had made it a point that evening to ask Vincent. Considering sex was a topic they really never discussed, Vincent was a bit stunned when Catherine asked, “Vincent, who taught you about sex?” His stunned look spoke volumes along with his silence, but Catherine really wanted to know, so she pressed on. “No, really, Vincent. Who taught you about sex?”
After what felt like an eternity of silence, he stuttered out an answer. “… uh, well, no one .. exactly ... taught me. I ... mostly read books.”
“What about Father?” she asked. “Doesn’t he teach something?”
Vincent hung his head briefly, then looked up. “He tried one time, and it did not go well. He didn’t wish a repeat of the experience.”
“So ignorance is preferred over understanding?” Her face reflected the incredulity she felt.
“Others have also tried. Winslow ... found he didn’t have the patience required; Pascal couldn’t get words out, as red-faced as he became, and didn’t think banging on the pipes for all to hear would be acceptable. Mary was uncomfortable talking to the boys, but was willing to speak to the girls. But Father ruled it was all or none, so none it was. Children asked questions when they wanted, and whoever they asked did their best to answer.”
Vincent watched Catherine carefully as he spoke. He could feel a swell of energy rising from within her, and patiently waited its outcome.
“This is not acceptable, Vincent.”
“What would you have us do?”
“Give me a few days to work up a plan, then gather the children together. They are going to be taught about sexuality so that they aren’t spouting old wives’ tales!”
“Catherine, I’m not sure ...”
“... that Father will approve, I know. But he dropped the ball, so I’m picking it up. Consider it my way of contributing to Below.”
With that, she turned and left his chamber, striding out on a mission. Vincent remained rooted to the spot he stood, debating whether or not he should inform Father of this development. He thought about something he had heard that applied to this situation – better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. He sat down at his desk, picked up a book, and pretended to read. Whatever would she say to the children?
***
Catherine had a friend who was a pharmacist. She stopped in to ask when she might talk with Marie. “I get off at 9 PM, if that’s not to late?” She looked doubtfully at Catherine.
“How about I meet you about 9:15, then. Across the street at the diner? We can have something to eat and chat. Will that be okay?”
Marie nodded. “See you then.” The phone rang, and she turned away.
***
Catherine relayed a story of a group of children she knew from a very religious school who were basically uneducated about sex. Not that the religion forbade it, just that the adults in the group were too reticent to teach it. So she had volunteered. What she wanted from Marie was some handy, up-to-date facts, and perhaps some samples of various means of birth control.
Marie smiled. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, Catherine. Of course I’ll help. Stop by later tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll gather some pamphlets and supplies for you.” Marie went on to relate some of the humorous stories that pharmacists have regarding contraceptive products and the people who purchase them.
The time sped by, and both needed to be up early the next day. They finished their coffees and pie and said goodnight.
***
Catherine looked at the pile of boxes on the tabletop. “Marie, good heavens, what is all this?”
“Get with it, girl!” Marie winked. “Condoms aren’t the plain wrapper product they once were. You have choices: lambskin, latex, ribbed, smooth, lubricated, un-lubricated, even various colors and patterns. Then there are products to enhance the experience, both internal and external. I have some demo contraceptive packs you can show, and those, of course, need a prescription, as does a diaphragm or IUD. But there’re foams, sponges, flavored lubrications …” She pawed through the pile to see what she might have missed. “Pretty much everything is here that you might wish to cover.”
It was Catherine’s turn to be a little dazed. “Who knew?” she said with a shrug. “Thanks so much, Marie.” Catherine hugged her goodbye.
“You’re welcome. Let me know how it goes.”
They walked out together, heading in opposite directions.
***
Heading out her office building laden with bags, Catherine stopped at one of the local markets for one last purchase: a bunch of bananas. With her bags gathered into her arms, she set off for her apartment building to use the basement entrance into the tunnels where Vincent waited to assist her.
She handed bag after bag down. With each bag, Vincent’s trepidation mounted. What on earth was she planning? The last bag held groceries, it seemed. Was she planning on making dinner? All in good time, he thought.
They trudged down the tunnel path with their packages. Silence reigned for a portion of the trip. Finally, Catherine could stand it no more. “What did Father say?” she asked.
“Father doesn’t know. I thought it better to ask forgiveness –“
“–than permission,” she finished. She grinned. “I don’t blame you.”
“Are the children ready?”
“Oh, yes, and many of the adults, as well.” He smiled. “You will have quite an audience, Catherine.”
“And Father still doesn’t know?”
“No one wanted to spoil this. Many have felt a need, but didn’t know what to do. They really are grateful that you volunteered.” He walked a bit. “And curious,” he concluded, just as they came to one of the emptier storage chambers that had been cleared specifically for the occasion.
They placed the bags, or all but one that Vincent still held, on the table in the center. Catherine looked up. “You can put that one down, too, Vincent.”
“I thought you wanted this bag for later, since it holds food. I was going to walk it back to my chamber.”
“No, no, Vincent. That’s part of the lesson.”
He looked at her, confused. “Bananas?”
“Yes, bananas. How else are they to practice putting on a condom?”
Vincent might have blanched, but it was hard to tell with his coloring.
Poor Father would be apoplectic when he heard. Vincent swallowed. Then sighed. Shuffled a bit, then settled.
Catherine bit her lip to prevent her laughter from escaping. This evening might turn out to be more fun than she thought!
Shortly, her audience began trickling in to find a place with good eye-lines to the action. Nobody wanted to miss a word. The children whispered and occasionally giggled. Pascal was seen to be tugging on his neckline as if it was uncomfortably tight.
Catherine addressed her charges. “Shall we begin? Why are we here?” she asked. And waited. She looked around at the expectant faces, often gazing at their feet rather than looking at her. “Why are we here?” she repeated, holding up a finger in caution to one of the adults who was about to answer.
One of the older, and obviously worldlier, teenagers spoke up. “To learn about sex, at least for the younger kids.”
“You already know all about it, Greg?” she asked. He nodded confidently, his chest puffed out. “Then share with us when the most risky time of the month is for a girl to have sex, in terms of becoming pregnant?”
Greg spluttered, looked embarrassed, then admitted, “I dunno.”
She smiled at Greg, to remove the sting of his being an example. “Thank you, Greg, for demonstrating a common occurrence – thinking we know more about sex than we do.” She looked around at the group. “But this is an important subject that not knowing enough about can have very serious consequences – from an unplanned pregnancy or sexually transmitted disease. I bet you guys talk about sex a lot, don’t you.” No one answered, but eyes suddenly shifted downward. “It’s natural to have curiosity about sex,” she continued.
She leaned against the table and faced the young boys of the group. “Do you remember when you thought girls had cooties and avoided them if at all possible? They were absolutely not to be played with unless no one else was available?”
Some slight nods and giggles.
“Well, boys were dumb!” Young Ellen exclaimed in retaliation.
Many of the adults smiled.
“Ah, yes, I remember that stage, too!” Catherine smiled as she looked at Vincent. “But then suddenly boys got more interesting, didn’t they?” She turned to the boys. “And girls became someone you wanted to impress.”
Some nodded.
“Attraction begins. But we don’t always know what to do with it, or if we are supposed to do anything with it. Our body suddenly feels like it has a mind of its own, quite separate from our senses. And if no one speaks about it, how do you ask a question? How are you to find out?
“I remember going to the museum as a girl about 12 years old.” She looked behind her on the table and grabbed a book, rifled through it a few pages, and got to the marked page. She held up the book for all to see – slowly turning from left to right for all to see. It was a picture of a nude male statue standing next to a nude woman, posed only as Greeks knew how. “What do you notice about these sculptures?”
Girlish giggles broke out. “He’s nekkid!”
“So’s she!” rang out from one of the boys.
“Really?” she asked. She flipped the book so that she could see the picture. “Well, not entirely, unless I don’t know my anatomy.” She turned the book back out facing the crowd. “Is he naked? Is this what a man looks like naked?”
“Naw,” Kipper spoke up. “He’s got a fig leaf where his weenie’s supposed to be. Not a very big fig leaf, either, if ya know what I mean!”
“Fig leafs and weenies.” Catherine laughed.
Vincent marveled at her composure. He was positively sure he couldn’t have held this discussion stone cold sober or drunk. Yet, this woman just matter-of-factly discussed weenies like it was a normal day for her.
“Why is it that we feel a need to cover up our private parts?” Catherine went on. “And call them by every name but the name they are actually called?”
Shrugs all around.
“How many of you boys looked at the size of that fig leaf, besides Kipper?
Several adult guffaws broke out.
“And ladies, how many of you looked at the breasts on the woman, or maybe at the size of her hips?”
Hoots from the guys this time.
“We always wonder how we measure up, don’t we, as if bodies and measurements define us, our worth and value. But our value is in our hearts and in our ability to love and accept ourselves so that we can love others. If you are comfortable with yourself, others will be, too.”
Ellen piped up. “Vincent’s comfortable with himself even though he’s kinda different, and we like him all right.”
“That’s right, Ellen.” Her gaze shifted to Vincent as she turned to the front of the chamber. “For us, Vincent is ... Vincent.” Her eyes gave a different definition of ‘Vincent’ for him alone. She turned, reluctantly breaking her gaze. “Sex is often hard to talk about, because our bodies are hard to talk about, and we often feel embarrassed or wonder if we look good enough, or will we be good enough at sex. But we can’t help being attracted, so … what to do?”
She had everyone’s attention. Unknown to her, Father had edged into the room. He had heard some of the conversation in the tunnel as he approached. This he had to see for himself!
“But let’s talk a moment what our private parts are for. What else does a man’s penis do besides have sex?” she asked. Tittering occurred at the mention of the word ‘penis.’ “What’s so funny, hmmm? Penis? That’s what it is called. Just as these …” She wiggled her fingers in front of her face. “… are called ‘fingers,’ a man’s private part is called a penis. Of course, it also has a lot of other names that people give it for various reasons. Perhaps Shakespeare has a reference or two you might want to look up.”
Children perked up, thinking about literature class. Would Vincent know which story of Shakespeare’s she meant?
“But in this class, we are going to be adult and call things by the name they have. So, what else does a penis do besides have sex?”
“Mario writes his name in the snow!” ventured Susan.
Catherine laughed. “Yes, a man’s penis is how he urinates.” She paused. “What about women’s breasts? What else do they do, besides intrigue men?”
Lena spoke up. “They feed babies that come from sex!”
“That’s right! Breasts are a woman’s milk machine.” She laughed. “But breasts are also involved in sex – I believe it’s called getting to second base?” She wiggled her eyebrows at this, and everyone laughed.
“The human body is sensitive to touch and touch is a part of arousing a person so that sex can take place. Of course, both people involved have to want to have sex, to be ready for it, and participate willingly. We will leave the discussion of how to know if someone you are interested in wants to have sex for later.”
The words ‘touch’ and ‘arousing’ tied up Vincent’s thoughts. He shook his head to clear it.
“Tonight,” Catherine continued, “I want to focus on how to prevent pregnancy. For the bottom line is this: anytime you have sex, you could be creating a baby. No birth control method is 100% effective. So be sure you are ready for that potential consequence before becoming sexually active.”
The next 45 minutes sped by as Catherine went through some basic biology and the variety of products that help prevent pregnancy. Vincent noticed several of the adults leaning in, straining to see well. Everybody surely learned something from Catherine tonight.
Finally, Catherine reached for the final bag. “One last thing, and this requires audience participation.”
This was met by a few gasps, some giggles, and then a question. “Is somebody going to demonstrate sex?”
She didn’t catch who asked. She laughed. “No, nothing like that!” She pulled out bunches of bananas. “We,” she indicated the whole group, “are going to learn how to apply a condom using a banana as an erect penis.”
“Why do we have to learn?” Susan asked. “We don’t have a penis.”
Catherine was glad that the kids were more comfortable now with using correct terminology. “That’s true, Susan. But sometimes the woman likes to help, especially if the guy doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing!”
General laughter occurred.
Everyone finally had a banana when she turned to Vincent and asked him to help pass out a condom to every person. He stepped forward and completed the task. He headed back to the doorway where he was standing when she approached him with a banana and a condom. “I noticed you didn’t have your banana, Vincent. You can practice, too.”
He stood looking down at his hands, claws and all, wondering how this came to be. He looked up at her, eyes pleading to let him off the hook.
“Perhaps you’d like me to help?” Several of the adults poked one another in the ribs, containing their laughter for the most part.
“Um, yes, that would be good.”
She pulled him over in front of the class.
Can this get any worse? he wondered.
She showed him how to hold the banana, explained how to unroll the condom, and demonstrated as she went along. Soon, everyone was ‘protecting’ his or her own banana.
She moved about the group checking the results.
“Excellent, everyone! That’s all I have for you. So now you know how to be smart and safe when the time comes for you to have sex. Thank you for being such a great audience.”
Applause and a few whistles echoed in the chamber. Laughter seemed to accompany most out the door. Several adults paused on the way out to thank Catherine. Father even commented she did a good job and may have to do it again in the future. Soon, just Vincent and Catherine were left, picking up and straightening. Finally, the job was done, and Catherine looked up.
Vincent stood looking at a banana he had picked up, still wearing its sheath. “You know what, Catherine?”
“What Vincent?”
“I’ll never look at a banana the same way again!”
She laughed and took the banana from him and laid it momentarily on the table. She replaced it with a small box tied with a pink ribbon. “This is for you,” she said. “Just in case you should need to protect any ‘bananas’ yourself.” He untied the box to find an assortment of the condoms he saw used in the class.
He looked up from the package and smiled, a bit embarrassed by the gift. He paused, as if not only gathering thoughts, but courage as well. “Catherine, you have spent the better part of two hours talking about sex which is about two hours more than you and I have ever spoken about it. Perhaps we should think about ... having such a conversation.”
Inside, Catherine was dancing her happy dance. Yes, oh, yes please! she said in her mind. What came out of her mouth was, “Perhaps we should.” Her smile said it all. Suddenly, bananas became her favorite fruit!