An Abundance of Surly Teenagers
“I wish you liked Theo more,” I said to my friend Lisa.
“I’m not crazy about surly teenagers,” she answered.
Knowing she had two teens of her own, and knowing also that Theo had never exhibited the slightest charm or gentility with Lisa nor evidence of any redeeming qualities—in fact, he usually responded with a silent grimace when she said hello to him—I changed the subject.
Not long after that conversation with Lisa, I left my house where Theo (technically, a “young man” rather than a teen) had been refusing to talk to me for a brief errand at Lisa’s. I greeted Lisa, who was outside. I stepped up onto the porch and raised my eyes to see her oldest, a 16-year-old, standing tall and straight behind the storm door glaring at me through slightly narrowed eyes.
I opened the door and said, “Excuse me” rather than hello since it did not appear that a cheerful greeting would be welcome. Once inside, I saw that he was standing there to keep his younger brother from darting out of the house while his mom was outside. I knew also that he had just caught a cold and therefore was not in the best mood.
He looked “on guard” or in defensive mode, rather than “en garde!” with sword in hand, his stiff posture and glare expressing, “This fortress is closed, I would rather die than smile right now.” I said hi to the younger boy, who looked puzzled at my appearance, and walked on into the kitchen, where I heard the one daughter calling hello to me.
“Hey, you’re going to be 14!” I said about her upcoming birthday. “You look different. You look older than last time. Hey, are you wearing makeup?”
I leaned forward a little, trying to see her eyes better against the glare from the window. She stared at me, looking affronted. “I never wear makeup!”
I remembered when I had once offered her a skirt I liked that had become too small for me. It was a nice wool skirt to below the knee, in a gray-and-black pattern. I held it up: “Would you like this?” She glanced at the skirt and looked in a helpless way at her mom, seemingly unable to speak. I gathered that she was not interested, but I wondered if the look at her mom meant: “How can I answer that without sounding rude?” or “Why would she offer me that?” or what.
As I walked toward the front door, the oldest was now standing near it but not blocking it. I made an effort and said Hi! and his name, and “I like your haircut.” This attempt at ingratiating myself failed as the young man’s expression did not change. “This fortress is closed.” Rebuffed at every turn, at my house and my friend’s house, I exited into sunshine.
"Let there be laughter."
I wish Theo would sometimes show his lighter side to my friend, like out of the goodness of his heart. Difficulty taking another person’s feelings into account seems to be one of his “deficits.”
Recently, Theo came back from a couple of days with his dad and requested supper. I set it in motion but was deep into reading the news and didn't get up right after the timer went off.
Theo started saying, "Hey, what are you doing? Why are you not out here doing what you're supposed to be doing?"
He continued in this vein as I came out to the kitchen, standing too close and being too loud. He was not angry, just venting.
"Go over there," I said. "I don't want this looming."
"Let there be looming," Theo answered in a flash, with a hint of a smile.
Completely disarmed, I said, "Did you make that up?" (meaning the clever adaptation of "Let there be light"). It seems that he did. We both laughed.
The next morning as Theo put on his mask preparatory to getting on the school bus, he said to me amiably: "Do you think Adriene [his aunt] would laugh if I put my mask on upside-down?"
"Yes," I said.
"Let there be laughter," he responded.
Coming: Bargaining: Possible Outcomes, Part 3