It was a sunny June morning. Contrasting the bright summer sun was a strong brisk wind shaking the trees. As per usual, old women walked and talked, bundled up as if it were September. Besides the speed walking gossip queens, it was rather quiet towards the end of the cul-de-sac where the Owens large family home sat looking as regal as the day it was built.
Inside of the large brick house, it was nearly as quiet as the early morning outside. While the grand white kitchen and formal dining room were empty, upstairs was actually occupied. Up the stairs and all the way down the hall, Patricia Owen sat at one end of her king sized bed. On the other end of the bed sat a fairly large file box, without files.
Patricia's perfectly set blonde curls bounced as she shook the foot that was crossed over the other. Her lip was ferociously being gnawed on between her perfect white teeth. It was all she could do not to hide the file box in her closet, where it had rested for the last ten years.
Down the hall, two rooms to the right, the soft snoring of Andrew Owens could be heard through the door. The sandy blonde young man lay on his stomach, eyes closed, mouth ajar.
His snoring bounced off of the dark blue walls, hitting each sports poster before moving on to the next. Above the solid mahogany desk in the corner was a wall calendar with June 12th marked "18 B-Day!" And a small doodle of a party hat.
The luxury of a summer birthday, meant no early morning requirements. And like any 18 year old boy, Andrew was in no rush to let any requirements be known.
Humming to herself, Patricia read the morning paper and sipped her morning tea. She'd opted for a less caffeinated morning beverage to try and soothe her nerves. Placed on the kitchen island was the same white file box from her bedroom. She blatantly ignored the thing, convincing herself it didn't even exist.
Mid page-turn, she heard the echoed thumping of footsteps on the stairs. Setting her paper down and looking over her glasses, Patricia joyfully chimed,
"Happy Birthday Andrew!" And bounced over to her son. She threw her arms around her sons broad shoulders, holding him close.
"Haha, thanks Mom!" Andrew hugged his mom back, picking her up off the ground. They both giggled as the muscular young man easily spun his petite mother a few times.
Setting her down, Andrew walked over to the fridge, grabbing a yogurt. Patricia's eyes darted over to the plain white box sitting on the counter. She watched her son basically drink his yogurt, thinking about how to delve into a long awaited conversation.
"Andrew," she regained his attention. "We should talk."
Andrew sat opposite his mother, sensing something he couldn't quite identify. He stretched his arms over his head and asked,
"So, what's up mom?"
"Well," she scooted the box between the two of them. "This box, it's some things your father left for you."
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the pristine kitchen changed. Andrew's back and shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched. Patricia's eyes shifted, and her mouth dried.
The mother and son looked at each other for- what felt to them- like hours. But, only a few seconds passed before Andrew said,
"Why haven't I seen this before?"
Hearing the cut of anger in her sons tone, Patricia answered,
"Your father specifically asked, that I not give this to you until you turned 18."
Andrew nodded slowly, eyeing the box wearily. There was no label, no handwritten message, just the plain white cardboard. Slowly, he reached toward the box, his thick fingers brushing the curling edges of the tape holding on the lid.
"Hey mom," he cleared his throat, "I uh... I think I want to look through this in my room." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to hurt his mothers feelings.
She just nodded, trying to hide her immense sadness. As soon as Andrew was around the corner, Patricia let her tears fall down her cheeks. Losing her husband ten years ago still to this day made her heart ache- not just for herself, but for her son too. He hadn't had the father-son relationship that he deserved. Instead, all he got was memories and white cardboard boxes left behind.
Patricia cried silently at the kitchen island, as she had done before. She just hoped and prayed that whatever was in that box, was worth the wait.
Andrew sat at his desk, just watching the box. He watched the thing as if it were liable to get up and run away. Leaning back, he ran a hand through his sandy hair and sighed.
Carrying it up the stairs, the box proved not to be too heavy. Though, he could hear the rattling and movement of what was inside. But, he wouldn't know the contents until the lid came off. So, without anymore thinking, Andrew peeled the tape off of one lip of the lid.
The lid easily popped off of the rest of the box, just to get thrown somewhere on the floor.
At first glance, Andrew furrowed his brow in confusion. But he quickly realized that this wasn't necessarily a "gift" for today, but rather something Andrew had missed out on a while ago. With wide eyes, Andrew scanned over a black box, a small bottle with liquid, two things that looked like metal clothes pins, and a long scarf.
While the other contents were somewhat puzzling, the moment he saw that matte black box with raised silver writing, he knew what he was looking at. Shakily, he picked the small box up, turning it so he could read the words.
Elite Menswear: Large Condoms.
He slowly shook his head, looking at the box in his hand. His father passing when he was just eight meant no "mens" talk at twelve or thirteen. So, Andrew took it upon himself- when he was slightly older and realized what he'd missed out on- to learn about birds and bees.
He took to the internet, which proved to be the most vast source of knowledge. Then, he tried friends, who proved to be the worst source of knowledge. Finally he asked his best friends dad, who gave him the quintessential "you're becoming a man" talk.
Nothing had prepared him for the real thing though. The first time Andrew had sex was mindblowingly clumsy. But, what else is to be expected of a teenager?
At least now- being a few partners deep- Andrew felt like he had some semblance of a grasp on sex.
So now, sitting in his room, Andrew stared down these items that his father had purposely left him. Then, he saw the paper. Folded up, tucked under everything else, was a creased up piece of paper. Andrew unfolded the paper, and it read:
Dear Andrew,
By the time you read this I'll have been long gone. But, it is not something to be upset about. Just as birth is a part of life, so is death. Without one, we would not be gifted with the other.
There are many things I still wish to do with you. I wish I could answer all the questions I know you'll have one day. But, the best I can do is try and prepare you for later.
So, I have supplied you with some things I believe you will need at eighteen. As you see, I've included (the most important) condoms. I've also included some things that I've found to be well received by my sexual partners. These include unscented lubricant, nipple clamps, and a bondage scarf.
Anything that you're unsure of here, I suggest you ask your mother. Know that I am forever proud of you son, and I hope these small gifts will prove useful someday.
Best wishes on your birthday,
—Your father.
Andrew blinked back tears reading his father's letter. His eyes stung as he tried to think. Why on earth did his own father leave him sex toys? Andrew had seen enough free porn to know how all of those things were used. Then, his eyes settled on the part about asking his mom.
