Read Online M or F? by Lisa Papademetriou - Free Book Online Page A

said, all wide-eyed and innocent, with a hand to her chest. “Honestly, you boys are so tightly wound. You’re going to get ulcers, both of you.” Dad filled his mouth with food and I got up to get something—anything—from the refrigerator.
    Patricia cut into her pork chop and kept going. “We used to call it shagging. I never even heard the F-word until I was in college.” Then, making some connection in her mind that I didn’t even want to think about, she asked me, “How’s Frannie, hon?”
    With Patricia, it’s never just a question. There’s always some decoding to be done. I guess that’s where I get it. Frannie says I speak in code all the time.
    â€œFine,” I said, which was my own code for, Let’s not go there, either.
    â€œI was thinking maybe you two might want to come out with me and Arthur this weekend. Like a good old-fashioned double date.”
    I had no idea who she was talking about, and apparently, neither did Dad. “Arthur?” I heard him ask.
    â€œMy new friend,” she said. “I met him at the farmers’ market.”
    Friend? Now there was some code. Suddenly, I realized why Patricia had sex on her mind, and then, just as suddenly, I had this whole new batch of unwanted images and thoughts.
    â€œSo what do you think, hon? Saturday night, maybe?” Patricia asked my back.
    I leaned farther into the refrigerator. “Uhhh . . .” Milk, orange juice, pickles, mustard, canola oil, cream cheese, my grandmother having sex, please God, make it stop—
    â€œHon?”
    â€œUhhh,” I tried again. “I don’t know what Frannie’s doing this weekend.” It was a lame response, but it was all my mouth could come up with on its own since my brain was quickly shutting down.
    â€œI thought you two always did Saturday night videos or something,” she persisted.
    Then I heard Dad cut in. “Momma, why don’t you let Marcus see what’s up, and he’ll get back to you. How’s that sound?”
    Thank you, Dad. When I finally came back to the table, Patricia winked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s okay. I know you kids have better things to do than hang out with a couple of old farts.” She wagged a forkful of pork chop and zucchini at me. “But you might have fun. Arthur and I know how to have a good time.”
    Yeah, I thought. I’ll bet you do.
    I’m not a prude. Not at all. Patricia was free to have all the wild, kinky senior citizen sex she wanted. I just didn’t want to hear about it, know about it, or think about it. And on a side note, I wondered as I left the table, why was I always getting invited on other people’s dates? I wanted one of my own, thank you very much.
    When I told Frannie about it later at her house, she just thought it was cute. “Aww,” she said, closing the door to her room. “Patricia wants to double date with us.”
    This was like a weird twist on the brain twin thing. Every time something annoyed me about my family, Frannie thought it was quaint or sweet or whatever, and vice versa with her family. I can never understand why she complains about them. The Falconers could have their own show on Nick at Nite. It would be called The Perfects , and it would be boring, because nothing bad would ever happen.
    â€œPatricia wants a double date with someone who doesn’t exist,” I said to Frannie. “Namely, her straight grandson.”
    â€œWell, you know—” Frannie started in.
    â€œDon’t say it.” She didn’t have to. I already knew. If Patricia thought I was straight, it was only because I let her think it.
    â€œSweetie, I’m not saying it’ll be easy to tell her. I’m not even saying that it should have happened by now, necessarily.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œBut you’ll feel better if you do,” she said. “I know it.”
    I