Dorsai - Taxi

After a few more weeks went by, it was pretty clear even to me that something was going on with Gail. Aside from the problems she was having about her grades, and at school, she was in almost constant conflict with her mother – and was sometimes even getting an attitude with me. I tried to stay out of it as much as possible (other than doing what I could to help Doris), but there finally came a point when I figured I couldn't let it go any longer.

Doris had invited me over to watch a movie at their place, and I'd agreed – it was a recent release, and something I'd been waiting for. When I showed up, Gail was the one to let me in. Gail made some passing comment about the popcorn I'd brought for all of us; just as casually, I said that I'd only be watching the movie with them. Gail responded with "You're not spending the night? Mom's going to be disappointed…"

Not only was it the first time she'd ever made any comment about my spending the night there, but what she'd said (and how) left me stunned. I could only stand there in silence as I watched her go back to her room.

A few seconds later, Doris came out – and after seeing the expression I must have had on my face, wanted to know what was wrong. Hesitantly, and careful about how I said things, I told her. Doris' first reaction was horror that Gail had actually said anything like that. Immediately following that, she was embarrassed that Gail would be commenting on her sex life. When those two reactions had passed, she wanted to force Gail to apologize to me before being severely punished. It was when she was psyching herself up to go get Gail that I told her "Doris, don't."

"Don't what? Make her apologize? Try to get her to understand that she shouldn't be saying things like that – to anybody, never mind you? Let her know that she shouldn't be taking any interest in her mother's sex life? Don't what, Jim?"

Having calmed myself down, I had to try to do the same for Doris. Patiently (and slowly, so she'd have more time to get herself under control again), I told her that I wasn't offended by what Gail had said, though I was certainly surprised by it. Then I went on to point out that for Gail to say something like that to me was so out-of-character that it might even give us some idea of what was bothering her. Doris didn't seem entirely certain, but her willingness to hear the rest of what I had to say may well have prevented an outright fight between the two of them.

As Doris sat there listening to me, I was able to get her to understand that Gail's comment gave us the perfect opportunity and reason to set the youngster down and find out what the hell was going on with her. Doris agreed that Gail would know that what she'd said had been inappropriate – even if it was after the fact. I also pointed out that we could use whatever guilt Gail felt about it as leverage to learn what the real, base problem was so we could try to deal with it. While it wasn't as direct and immediate and viscerally satisfying as storming into Gail's room and getting into some kind of screaming match, it was likely to prove more productive… a point that Doris finally had to cede.

Next to be dealt with was which one of us was going to go get her. After no small amount of back-and-forth, Doris ultimately agreed that Gail was more likely to be cooperative with me. I was relieved when it took only a little discussion for us to agree to have our "sit-down" with Gail around the kitchen table. Both of us got up, and when I went to get Gail, Doris went into the kitchen.

As I'd thought, Gail was pretty much expecting a visit from me; from the way she acted, I knew that she knew she'd way overstepped her bounds. When I asked her to, she reluctantly followed me into the kitchen, where I found that Doris had gotten drinks for all of us. Gail was visibly less than happy to see Doris there, too, but sat down easily enough when I asked her to.

As Doris and I had agreed, I was the one to get things going by asking Gail to tell me what had made her talk to me the way she had. I wasn't above using every advantage I had available, and used the tone of my voice to convince her that she'd hurt my feelings… terribly. Instead of answering, Gail started to cry, and I used her silence to lay a guilt trip on her that would have made a Jewish mother proud. By the time I was done, it was all Gail could do to blubber out that she was sorry. Playing on her emotional state, I told Gail that I accepted her apology, but that I really liked her and cared for her and that I was worried about her – and asked why she would say something like that to me.

Another bout of crying and sniffling ensued, and my patient, gentle questioning finally drew the answer that there was something bothering her. When I looked over to Doris, she silently let me know to keep going, since I was doing so well.

With Gail's admission that there was something bothering her, I had all the reason I needed to continue. Keeping my voice soft, I kept prodding at her, and asking her open-ended questions to encourage her to give me more than short, simple answers. I took my time about it, too; I'd ask her a question, then let it hang in the silence until she responded. It didn't happen quickly, but I was able to peel away the layers of excuses and justifications and imagined wrongs to get closer and closer to whatever the core issue was. Along the way, Gail focused more and more on me; either forgetting or ignoring that her mother was there – greatly helped by the fact that Doris remained quiet, and still. The few times that Gail raised her gaze from her lap, it was to look at me… without so much as a glance at Doris. No small number of tears were shed (by Gail and Doris, both), we'd all exhausted the beverages we'd started with, and a couple of hours had gone by before I figured it was the right time to ask my final question.

"Gail, honey, we've talked about all kinds of things, and you've told me about all the problems you're having with the kids at school, and a lot of other stuff. But there's still one thing that I don't understand, and I've been hoping that you cared for me and trusted me enough to tell me: what is it that's really bothering you, deep down inside?"

Gail started crying (again), and nearly a minute went by before I heard the anguish in her voice as she softly told me "I… I… I wish you weren't staying in Mom's bed."

"Why not? Because I'm not your Dad? You don't like it that we're having sex?"

She shook her head, and managed to tell me "I don't care that you're not Daddy – I'm glad, even, 'cause I see how happy Mom is. And it isn't because you're having sex with her, either. It's…" before falling silent again.

After waiting a few seconds to see if she was going to continue, I finally asked "Then what is it, honey?"

She raised her head then, and I could see the disappointment and hurt on her face as she told me "I want to be with you, too, like Mom is! But even when I try to show you that I'm old enough, you don't pay any attention to me that way!" before lowering her head again.

To say that I was stunned at hearing that wouldn't even begin to cover it; when I looked over at Doris, it was plain that she was as shocked as I was at hearing what Gail had said.

When I'd gotten my wits back, I told Gail "Sweetheart, I'm flattered that you would want to be with me – really, I am. But remember that it wasn't so long ago that you turned fifteen. Fifteen, honey. That's less than half as old as I am, and it's too young for me to be with you that way; it's even against the law for anything like that to happen. Maybe you don't think I've noticed how much you've grown up, but I have. Didn't your mom tell you what I said about how you looked that night we went out?"

Talking in the general direction of her lap, Gail answered "I know I'm only fifteen, Jim! But I found out that a LOT of girls have sex by the time they're my age… even most of them. And I know that I'm a lot younger than you are, but I don't care! I don't want you to be, like, my boyfriend or anything; I just want to BE with you. I… I want you to be the one I give my cherry to, 'cause I know you'd be nice about it; not like the older girls I hear talking at school, that say it hurt and went too fast when they were with a guy the first time. I know there's laws against you being with me, too, but I'd never, ever say anything to ANYBODY about it, because you've always been so nice and everything, and I know how much you care about me. Yeah, Mom told me what you said, about me being lovely and how you were proud to have me with you. But if you really think I'm pretty, why won't you even look at me when I try to show you how nice I look?"