Wade struggles to find his voice and spits out, “Just say yes next time.” He shakes his head and starts walking off. “You guys have fun with that.”
Theo runs ahead and blocks him. “No, no. You don’t want to feel like a third wheel, right? Come on, be a bro that helps his other bros buy condoms.”
I help Theo drag Wade into the Duane Reade by my building. Wade is shaking his head, but we’re all laughing like idiots as we make our way to the family-planning aisle—straight to the wall of condoms. My family plan: don’t start a family the next time we have sex. But condoms are only 98 percent effective, so who knows?
“You got to love the options,” Theo says, beaming at our possibilities and Wade’s discomfort. “I can’t help but think of horses and gladiator sandals with Trojan. Magnum sounds kick-ass, like it’s going to come with a bazooka. Casanova is trying too hard to be suave, I think. Suave comes before sex, not during it.” Theo picks up a small black box. “What about this one? They’re spelling skin with a y.” He picks up a blue box. “Or we can go classic. Not sure why anyone would want classic when you can have Trojan’s Fire and Ice condoms.”
I raise my hand. “I’ll go with boring classic if it means my dick won’t simultaneously burn and freeze.”
“Fair.”
“How about Durex?” Wade suggests, gamely trying to get into the spirit of things. He’s never had sex before, but both Theo and I know he came close a couple of times during our freshman year. “Does that make you think about ponies or rocket launchers?”
“It’s horses and bazookas, but no.” Theo takes the Durex condoms from Wade and pats his back. “Thanks, man.”
We enter the line. I’m not laughing anymore. I really wish they had self-checkout here because buying condoms may be the most awkward legal transaction ever. It’s weird to be looked at as someone sexually, I don’t know why. It even felt a little weird for Theo to see me that way, and he’s not some random cashier. It’s rare I see the same cashiers here, so I really shouldn’t care; I might as well be buying these condoms on the other side of the world in a country I never plan on visiting again. But it still feels like this purchase comes with a spotlight. I grab some impulse-buy candy in the hopes of dimming the glare.
“Just be cool,” Theo says. “You’re not buying drugs.”
He’s right. I’m going to be cool. I’m not buying drugs. I’m not even buying alcohol, where I have to be twenty-one. Buying condoms is totally normal. It’s something enough guys are doing because there are options, which means it’s a thriving business, which means there are multiple companies trying to convince us theirs is the best, which means we have everyone—including myself, in this moment, sort of—to thank for not only helping to keep the world a safe place, but for making sure it doesn’t become too overpopulated.
“Griffin. Hey.”
No way.
I freeze at the sound of my dad’s voice. He’s right behind us. I honestly think I’d rather be caught masturbating.
Wade laughs a little to himself, probably because this is going to be painfully humiliating. He slow-claps. “Bet you’re regretting bringing me here.”
There’s no being cool about this. The only thing that could make this worse is if I turn and see that my dad is also buying condoms. I know my parents still have sex, because I’m not an idiot, I know they’re not just watching Netflix or going to sleep early when they wish me good night around 8 p.m. I turn and he’s holding shaving razors and boxes of cereal. The cereal reminds me of being a kid and eating breakfast in front of the TV during Saturday-morning cartoons. I’ll never be that innocent again.
“Hey, Dad.”
He nods at Theo and Wade. “How was the High Line, guys?” He spots the condoms in my hands, which are poorly hidden behind the gummy worms. “Oh.” He’s trying to say something. His arms are sort of all over the place, like a robot being turned on for the first time.
I desperately want a superpower right now. Maybe mind control so I could wipe my dad’s memory clean and then force him to turn around and get the hell out of here. I’d settle for invisibility, though.
“Protection is good,” Dad says. “You can’t get pregnant, but there are other dangers.”
At this point I’d even take the power to set myself aflame, anything.
I put down the condoms in a bowl for dollar chocolates. “Nope, not doing this,” I mumble. “Let’s forget this ever happened, Dad. Come on, guys.” We try leaving the aisle, but my dad cuts ahead of us.
“Wait. We should be able to talk about this. This doesn’t have to be embarrassing,” Dad says.
“This doesn’t have to happen in a Duane Reade line either . . .”
Knowing we have no choice but to follow him, the four of us end up hiding out in the aisle with all the shower products. Theo and I are standing side by side. We turn to Wade, who’s grinning and won’t take a hint and leave. Of course not. He finally has the upper hand.
“Your mom and I were thinking about sitting down with you soon to talk about this stuff—to talk about sex. Let’s call it what it is. Sex. We figured you two might be thinking about this at some point . . .” Dad stops himself. “Wait. Have you both already . . . ?”
My face is on fire; maybe my superpower wish to burst into flames is coming true. “We have,” I say.