Chapter 4
At day's end Scott came to pick me up from Peter's house. As we drove home I looked over at him and shyly asked, "Scott, I know we studied health and human reproduction but ah… what ah… advice can you give me… you know… about… girls?"
He glanced over at me with a huge smile. "You saw some cute ones today, did you?"
I shook my head yes.
He continued to drive for a while deep in thought and then finally replied, "Lance, I'm not going to try to dictate to you how to act in that area of your life. As for me personally, when it came to sex, I knew I never wanted to leave a hundred fatherless clones of myself all over this planet. I wished I could have had a wife and children, but my line of work prevented me from being around in one place long enough to settle down. Marriage and having kids was one of the things I sacrificed in the service of my country. Yet another good reason not to follow on my occupational path. As for you, that's a decision you'll have to make on your own. However, since you asked, here's my two cents. First, think of your own father. He used your mother solely for sexual gratification, got her pregnant, and then abandoned her. Was there any honor in that? Do you want to follow in his footsteps when it comes to your own relationships with girls? You have your whole life ahead of you. Would you want to see it or some girl's life wrecked by a single act of passion? Secondly, I believe you can have fun with and around a girl without having the constant thought in the back of your mind that you have to try and get her in bed. Girls are a lot of fun to be around. I'm sure you'll find that out soon enough. Finally, if you want to be treated with dignity and respect, treat others the same way. That includes members of the opposite sex. That's all the advice I can give you. Basically, all I would like to see in your life is that you behave honorably towards others—including girls."
"Okay," I quietly replied while pondering his advice.
"Oh yes, there's one more thing. If you ever meet a girl who you think would make a great friend, never have sex with her. If you do, things will never be the same between the two of you because you'll never be able to look at her the same way again."
He continued to drive and I said, "Scott, I really want to go to public school for my senior year."
"No, that's not a good idea. I haven't finished with your—"
"I know, my training," I replied, irritated. "But I'm tired of all this studying and training. It's all I've done my whole life. I'm eighteen now and old enough to make my own decisions. I'm tired of being in your operative boot-camp and I now want to go to school with Peter."
He did not say another word the rest of the way home and I could see he was not happy. The next time I met with Peter, we talked about my predicament. "You need to get away from him, at least for a while," Peter advised.
"But where can I go? Even if I go to your school he'll still be dogging me; always looking over my shoulder. And I'll always feel guilty knowing he never approved of it. Where's the enjoyment in that? I'd hardly be better off than I am now."
"Let me think," he replied. After a few minutes he said, "I've got an idea. There's an option our school offers called the Student Exchange Program. It lets you study at a school in a foreign country. I know it's a little radical, but it's the only way I can think of to go to a public school and get away from him."
"Study in a foreign country? I never thought of that before. Which one would you suggest?"
"That's a no-brainer; the States. It's close enough so that we could easily stay in touch. Plus, American girls are…"
"Are what?"
"Simply put, amazing," he replied with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Think of everything you could possibly want in a girl, and I guarantee you'll find it south of the border. Trust me."
"But the States is huge. Where do you think I should go?"
"That's a no-brainer too; the West Coast. The 'Beach Boys' got it right. California girls are the most beautiful in the world."
"California? I've always wanted to see the Pacific Ocean."
"And what borders the Pacific Ocean?"
I shrugged my shoulders, "Shoreline?"
"Beaches, you bozo! Beaches filled with tanned babes showing off their tan-lines! You've got to change your way of thinking if you're hoping to score big down there. Also, I wouldn't tell Scott about it. Get your mom to fill out the paperwork. I'll get you the program's list of schools that are located on California's west coast. I won't be able to be down there to help you," he remarked with a sigh of regret. "But you'll figure out what to do. I have confidence in you." He grinned and gave me a high-five.
When I mentioned it to my mother her first question was, "What does Scott think about it?"
"I don't really care what he thinks about it."
"Lance!"
"Mom, he doesn't want me to go."
"Why?"
"Because he wants me to stay with him so he can finish my training."
"Finish your what!?"
"My homeschooling. Mom, he's a control freak.
"What? Why are you talking about him like that?"
"He doesn't want me to go and I don't want him to know anything about me leaving. He's not really my legitimate father anyway. I just want you to fill out the forms and keep this between us."
"I want to know what's going on between you and Scott. Why are you acting this way toward him and talking about him like that? He's never done anything bad to you, has he?” she asked with a sudden concern in her voice. “Hasn't he treated you like you were his own son over the years? He just bought you a Jeep for your birthday. What is going on here? You're starting to worry me and I want to know."
"I really don't feel like discussing this with you right now, mom. Could you please just trust me and sign the forms?"
"Alright, I'll do as you ask. But I'm not at all comfortable with this."
"And promise you won't say anything to Scott, okay?"
She nodded her head yes.
"Give me your word, mom."
"Lance!"
"Please?"
"Fine, I promise."
"Thanks. I owe you big time!"
After my having aced an aptitude test that was a prerequisite of the California school that I'd be enrolled in, Peter's school gave me the green light to go. One of the guidance counselors had directed me to Santa Barbara Area Senior High School. I would be staying with an older host couple, Mike and Charlene Colson. Their children were grown and no longer living at home. It suited me perfectly. I would be able to slowly acclimate myself to a completely different living and educational environment with no peer pressure from kids my own age. Particularly girls—since their company and mannerisms were for the most part, foreign to me.
Everything was on track until the day, a few weeks later, when Scott asked, "Why do you feel the need to go to Santa Barbara Area Senior High School?"
I shook my head. "Let me guess—my mother told you."
"Your mother hasn't spoken a word. Do you really think she needed to?"
"No. I guess not. I should have known I would never be able to keep any secret from the agency's top operative—whatever agency you used to work for."
"I'm sorry you feel that way."
"You don't feel sorry," I replied tersely. "You just don't understand. I need my space. I'm tired of the life I've lived up to now and I need a break from it. I want to start living normally and go to school with kids my own age. You said it yourself, never become an operative. Yet all these years you've treated me like I'm in some kind of secret operative boot camp. Peter has often questioned what kind of childhood I've had. I'm now finally realizing that I've never had a normal one—thanks to you."
A hurt expression came over his face and I instantly felt ashamed for having said that.
"Okay," he replied calmly. "I'll stay away. I'll give you your space. Just don't forget to say goodbye before you leave."
We got in his car and drove back to my mother's house in silence. I felt guilty for having talked to him in such a disrespectful
manner. No matter how much I tried to rationalize that this man was never really my legitimate father and that I knew what was best for myself, my conscience bothered me for the way I had just treated him.