Mask of Celibacy

Chapter 32

"Promise you won't get mad?" I asked in a small voice.

"Oh, boy," muttered Grandad. "Here we go."

"I learned how to dance for prom," I replied. "So that I don't look silly."

Mom breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, well. That's good, right?"

I didn't know whether she was trying to convince me or herself.

"The girls should teach you how to dance," she said. "It can be a very bonding experience. Is Helen a good dancer?"

"She's really good."

"And you danced with Helen, right?"

Jesus Christ! It was always the same. Mom always re-enacted the Spanish Inquisition so that I had no wiggle room for even a semblance of privacy. That way she could root out any potential evil in my life.

If I told her the truth, she'd roast me over an open fire. But if I lied, I'd drown in a disgusting pit of regret.

Why should I hide the truth? I did nothing wrong! This isn't fair!

"Jess, dear?" Mom looked at me through the side mirror. "Did you dance with boys?"

I sighed. "Yes, Mom."

"At one of those nightclubs?" she asked tersely.

"No, Mom! Jeez!" I huffed in frustration. "I told you, I wanted to learn how to dance. One of Helen's friends taught me how to dance in the ballroom."

Mom stayed silent, which scared me more than her fussing. It usually meant we'd reached DEFCON-2. Instead, it was Grandad's turn to continue the interrogation.

"Did he behave like a gentleman?" asked Grandad in a gruff voice.

"The whole time," I replied. "He didn't sin or touch me badly in any way."

"Were you alone with him?"

I paused for a beat. "Yes."

"Jessica Maria Sophia Perez!" he roared so loud my poor eardrums screamed at me to make it stop. "What did I tell you about being alone with a boy?"

I was so startled that I didn't even get pissed off about my name.

"But..."

"I'm very disappointed in you," he said with a hurt look. "When you act like this, you don't make it very easy to trust you."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I shouted. "Jeez, Grandad. It's not like we were grinding."

"What the hell is grinding?!"

I crossed my arms. "You don't want to know."

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Probably not."

"Don't sass me, young lady!" he said in a fierce tone that brokered no argument.

"It means gyrating your hips near a boy's--"

"Jessica, dear!" Mom exclaimed.

"I didn't do that." I sighed. "We danced a foot apart the entire time. Like good Catholic kids. You can trust me."

"You acted very foolish indeed!" insisted Grandad, wringing the steering wheel as though he wished it were my neck. "Dancing alone with a stranger."

"He was Helen's friend."

"That doesn't mean you can trust him!" He turned into full Papa Bear mode. "If he hadn't been a gentleman, he could have taken advantage of you, and no one would have been there to help."