I’ll go first with a blurb

“Mom told me that every one of those girls was rare and unique and precious, but that they hadn’t understood that, that no one had ever told them that, and they hadn’t known to value themselves enough to wait about sex until they were more mature, more able to cope with the possible results. She told me they had bought the story that they could have sex with no consequences because humans had supposedly outsmarted biology. She said no hour of pleasure was worth what those girls were suffering, and would suffer. I mean, I’m eleven here. It really had a huge impact on me to meet these girls who were like me and my friends.”

Aunty sighed. “I suppose she never brought up that chastity is important as a Christian?” I looked at her, surprised. “I don’t mean to criticize her, Kaezia. She was of the opinion that most teenaged girls wouldn’t see the importance, or be able to count that as important in the face of their raging hormones. She thought that chastity as obedience to God was too abstract a notion for teens, boys or girls. Especially with everything in the world telling them free-love and casual sex was normal; that chastity was just old-fashioned repressive non-sense. She said it was the first test of faith that most kids encounter, and they barely know what to do with it. Every other test—like sharing toys or being polite—are drilled into kids’ heads from the time they can toddle, but chastity was still whispered about behind closed doors as though it was a secret or should be human nature and didn’t need teaching.”

“‘When human nature, left to its own devices is to satisfy those hormones in whatever way we can!’” I quoted, imitating my mother’s voice and tone as well as I could even as my eyes were filling and my nose started to clog up.

“Yep, you sound just like her,” Aunty chuckled. “But did she?”

I thought about it while I blew my nose again. “Not really. She was very focused on consequences. She wanted me to see the consequences, and she wanted me to understand I need to value myself.”

“Understanding consequences is one way, but I often think Marion should have leaned into the Lord’s way a bit more. Still, it seems like her method worked for you,” Aunty said, and it was almost like a question.

I nodded. “The worst was just after my twelfth birthday, a couple of weeks before Mom died. She brought me to the shelter specifically to meet a girl who was fifteen—Emma, she was small, and so we were pretty similar in size and everything. She had brown hair and brown eyes, and she would have been as cute as could be except the whole side of her face was one huge bruised mess. She was pregnant and she had HIV. Her mom had kicked her out when she found out about the HIV. Meeting her, knowing what she was up against…” I shook my head because I ran out of words thinking about that girl. I was ugly crying by now.

“Mom just begged me to value myself and any possible future children more than I valued physical satisfaction. She said any man worth having would want more than just my…” I stumbled here. I didn’t want to use the word that Mom had used in front of Aunty. Aunty just gave me a look. I figured she knew what I meant.

“The day before she died, was the last time she told me: ‘You are rare, and more precious than rubies, my Kaezia. Never forget it.’” Aunty had come over and was sitting beside me on the futon, holding the box of tissues I was emptying at an alarming rate. She had one arm around me as I bawled. I blew my nose and tried to get a grip. I was going to have a monster headache from this later on. She put the box down, and then her bony, gentle, weathered hand was stroking my hair back from my forehead.

After a few more moments, I was able to go on. “So, I have kept my ‘goodies’ to myself. I figured out by the time I went to college that Mom had gone a little overboard, probably because she didn’t feel like she had time to be more relaxed about it. I can’t imagine feeling like you have to get all your parenting for a lifetime done in just a few months or a year. I think she knew she was going to die before the doctors ever did.” I told her as I started to really calm down. “But the point of her message, all she wanted me to understand stuck with me. I really am worth waiting for. I’m not just a life support system for a… uh… vagina.” She laughed at me. Darned if that old woman didn’t know very well what word I had edited there. “And if I am going to produce children, I want a good father for them, so no flingy one-nighters will do. I think I’d do murder if anyone went to crack my baby’s skull. If I’m going to have a family, I want to do it on purpose, not by accident.” I had reached the gross, snuffly stage at the end of bawling. “There you have it. I’ve never been with anyone.”
She was quiet a moment longer while I blew my nose again.

“So, what about this Jason fella in Detroit, then?”

“I don’t’ know,” I had a handle on myself again. “I mean, it’s not like he didn’t try, and push, and pressure me a lot. By the time he came along, I had lots of practice putting guys off. Although, because I thought we were headed toward marriage, I might have given it up. But I’m guessing he either walked around with some serious blue balls or his wife’s sex life got a lot more active for a couple of years, because I stuck to my guns.”

Aunty had been smiling at me a very kind, very tender smile. At this remark she burst out laughing. In just a few moments I was laughing just as much as she was. “Blue balls?” She said through our hilarity and we laughed all the harder. We settled down, and Aunty took my breakfast plate from the coffee table and handed it to me. “Eat up.” She went to the kitchen, and although Aunty eyed her suspiciously, she loaded the Purple Avenger to make herself a cup of coffee.
“Well, Marion may have laid it on a little thick, but she never did do anything by halves.” Aunty told me. “It was effective, it would seem.”

“Very, very,” I replied.

We were both quiet while I finished the breakfast she had brought for us to share and her coffee brewed.

“I guess I don’t see the problem, Kaezi.” She said after a while. “You’re single, the picture of good health, you have no ties or obligations to speak of. He’s single, a very kind man, a flippin’ Adonis, and has no obligations to speak of. Unless you count Vera.”

“Let’s don’t count Vera for now, OK? I have problems enough.”

“OK,” Aunty agreed. “But I don’t see why letting the young man know you’re interested should be one of them.”

“Aunty… I have the farm to think of. I’m really excited about it, but it’s a huge responsibility. And really, what does it say about me if I come in here and just a week later, I’m trying to collect a man?”

“When we’re talking about a man like Aiden Graham, it says that you’re a normal, healthy woman, and pretty darn smart to boot.” Aunty suggested.

“Or does it say that I came here looking for a man to solve my problems for me? That I need someone to figure everything out for me? That I can’t get along or be successful on my own?”

She brought her coffee over to the futon and sat with me again. “I heard some of what you had to say while you were in the bathroom.” She told me now. She seemed to consider my rant with some irony. “You know, you’ve got some crossed up wires. On the one hand, you’ve kept yourself out of circulation for lack of a better phrase, for some very good, sensible reasons. A very moral, admirable if old-fashioned thing. On the other hand, you were in there spouting off about needing to be a complete woman without a man, as though not having a man makes a woman complete, like you might lose your ‘liberated woman’ card for having a family.”

I stared at her, surprised into stillness. I had never thought of it like that at all. I thought about it now, and she let me absorb it for a minute before she spoke again.

“I don’t know who came up with the idea that any person is ever complete; we all grow and change all of our lives. Even me, and if anyone has had time to be complete, I sure have. But just for the sake of our little talk here, we’ll stick with the idea that we all arrive at some point and are ‘complete.’ Just because a woman can be complete without a man doesn’t have to mean she can’t be complete with one. Maybe no woman really needs a man to be complete. But what about wanting a man?” She was smiling at me tenderly again, a very motherly type smile. “Women have wanted men since God told Eve she would have desire for her Adam, Kaezia. You’re no different, I’m sure. Oh, you’re unique and valuable just as Marion said, but you’re human too. I’ve never known a woman of your age who didn’t want. And Kaezi, honey, pardon me for questioning your worldview, but if you want a man, if you really want a husband and a family, are you really complete without one? Does denying yourself your heart’s desires make you a better woman? Who decided you need to live your life according to some check list of accomplishments? You? Or someone else?”

I was reeling. I couldn’t answer her. My words really had dried up. “Aunty, I just never…” I started. “I do want a husband and a family…”

“Sweetheart, you precious girl, this life you’re living is a one-shot deal. You’ll never be who you are and where you are again. You don’t get a do-over any more than the rest of us. Why would you waste your time trying to live up to some standard some other person somewhere set, saying you need to be independent according to their definition of independent and flaunt your ‘goodies’ all over to be a real woman or a complete woman? I mean, if that’s the life you want, then go ahead and do that. But if a life with a man you love and the children you crave is what you want, then quit wasting your life, and live it.”

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