Do You Want My Opinion? By M.E. Kerr

Do You Want My Opinion? By M.E. Kerr

The night before last I dreamed that Cynthia Slater asked my opinion of The Catcher in the Rye.

Last night I dreamed I told Lauren Lake what I thought about John Lennon’s music, Picasso’s art, and Soviet-American relations.

It’s getting worse.

I’m tired of putting my head under the cold-water faucet.

Early this morning my father came into my room and said, “John, are you getting serious with Eleanor Rossi?”

“Just because I took her out three times?”

“Just because you sit up until all hours of the night talking with her!”
he said.
“We know all about it, John.
Her mother called your mother.”

I didn’t say anything.
I finished getting on my socks and shoes.

He was standing over me, ready to deliver the lecture.

It always started the same way.

“You’re going to get in trouble if you’re intimate, John.
You’re too young to let a girl get a hold on you.”

“Nobody has a hold on me.
Dad.”

“Not yet.
But one thought leads to another.
Before you know it, you’ll be exploring all sorts of ideas together, knowing each other so well you’ll finish each other’s sentences.”

“Okay,” I said.
“Okay.”

“Stick to lovemaking.”

“Right,” I said

“Don’t discuss ideas.”

“Dad,” I said, “kids today-”

“Not nice kids.
Aren’t you a nice kid?”

“Yeah, I’m a nice kid.”

“And Eleanor, too?”

“Yeah, Eleanor, too.”

“Then show some respect for her.
Don’t ask her opinions.
I know it’s you who starts it.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay?”
he said.
He mussed up my hair, gave me a poke in the ribs, and went down to breakfast.

By the time I got downstairs, he’d finished his eggs and was sipping coffee, holding hands with my mother.

I don’t think they’ve exchanged an idea in years.

To tell you the truth, I can’t imagine them exchanging ideas, ever, though I know they did.
She has a collection of letters he wrote to her on every subject from Shakespeare to Bach, and he treasures this little essay she wrote for him when they were engaged, on her feelings about French drama.

All I’ve ever seen them do is hug and kiss.
Maybe they wait until I’m alseep to get into their discussions.
Who knows?

I walked to school with Edna O’Leary.

She’s very beautiful.
I’ll say that for her.
We put our arms around each other, held tight, and stopped to kiss along the way.
But I’d never ask her opinion on any subject.
She just doesn’t appeal to me that way.

“I love your eyes, John,” she said.

“I love your smile, Edna.”

“Do you like this color on me?”

“I like you in blue better.”

“Oh, John, that’s interesting, because I like you in blue, too.”

We chatted and kissed and laughed as we went up the winding walk to school.

In the schoolyard everyone was cuddled up except for some of the lovers, who were off walking in pairs, talking.
I doubted that they were saying trivial things.
Their fingers were pointing and their hands were moving, and they were frowning.

You can always tell the ones in love by their passionate gestures as they get into conversations.

I went into the Boys’ room for a smoke.

That’s right, I’m starting to smoke.
That’s the state of mind I’m in.

My father says I’m going through a typical teen-age stage, but I don’t think he understands how crazy it’s making me.
He says he went through the same thing, but I just can’t picture that.

On the bathroom wall there were heads drawn with kids’ initials inside.

There was the usual graffiti:
Josephine Merril is a brain!
I’d like to know her opinions!

If you’d like some interesting conversation, try LouLou.

I smoked a cigarette and thought of Lauren Lake.

Who didn’t think of Lauren?
I made a bet with myself that there were half a dozen guys like me remembering Lauren’s answer to Mr. Porter’s question last week in Thoughts class.

A few more answers like that, and those parents who want Thoughts taken out of school curriculum will have their way.
Some kid will run home and tell the folks what goes on in Porter’s room, and Thoughts will be replaced by another course in history, language, body maintenance, sex education, or some other boring subject that isn’t supposed to be provocative.

“What are dreams?”
Mr. Porter asked.

Naturally, Lauren’s hand shot up first.
She can’t help herself.

“Lauren?”

“Dreams can be waking thoughts or sleeping thoughts,” she said.
“I had a dream once, a walking one, about a world where you could say anything on your mind, but you had to be very careful about who you touched.
You could ask anyone his opinion, but you couldn’t just go up and kiss him.”

Some of the kids got red-faced and sucked in their breaths.
Even Porter said, “Now, take it easy, Lauren.
Some of your classmates aren’t as advanced as you are.”

One kid yelled out, “If you had to be careful about touching, how would you reproduce in that world?”

“The same way we do in our world,” Lauren said, “only lovemaking would be a special thing.
It would be the intimate thing, and discussing ideas would be a natural thing.”

“That’s a good way to cheapen the exchange of ideas!”
someone muttered.

Everyone was laughing and nudging the ones next to them, but my mind was spinning.
I bet other kids were about to go out of their minds, too.

Mr. Porter ran back to kiss Lauren.

She couldn’t seem to stop.

She said, “What’s wrong with a free exchange of ideas?”

“Ideas are personal,” someone said.
“Bodies are all alike, but ideas are individual and personal.”

Mr. Porter held Lauren’s hand.
“Keep it to yourself.”

“In my opinion,” Lauren began, but Mr. Porter had to get her under control, so he just pressed his mouth against hers until she was quiet.

“Don’t tell everything you’re thinking, darling,” he warned her.
“I know this is a class on thoughts, but we have to have some modesty.”

Lauren just cant quit.
She’s a brain, and that mind of hers is going to wander all over the place.
It just is.
She’s that kind of girl.

Sometimes I think I’m that kind of boy, and not the nice boy I claim to be.
Do you know what I mean?
I want to tell someone what I think about the books I read, not just recite the plots.
And I want to ask someone what she thinks about World War II, not just go over its history, And I want to…

Nevermind.

Listen- the heck with it!

It’s not what’s up there that counts.

Love makes the world go round.
Lovemaking is what’s important-relaxing your body, letting your mind empty-just feeling without thinking-just giving in and letting go.

There’ll be time enough to exchange ideas, make points-all of that.
I’ll meet the right girl someday and we’ll have the rest of our lives to confide in each other.

“Class come to order!
Mr. Porter finally got Lauren quieted down.
“Now, a dream is a succession of images or ideas present in the mind mainly during sleep.
It is an involuntary vision…”

On and on, while we all reach for each other’s hands, gave each other kisses, and got back to normal.

I put my memory out of my poor messed-up mind, and put out my cigarette.

I was ready to face another day, and I told myself, Hey, you’re going to be okay.
Tonight, you’ll get Dad’s car, get a date with someone like Edna O’Leary, go off someplace and whisper loving things into her ear, and feel her soft long blond hair tickle your face, tell her you love her, tell her she’s beautiful…

I swung through the door of the Boy’s room, and then I saw Lauren, headed right toward me.

She looked carefully at me, and I looked carefully at her.

She frowned a little.
I frowned a lot.

I did everything from blurting out, “Lauren, what do you think about outer space travel?”
…

…”Lauren, do you think the old Beatles’ music is profound or shallow?”

For a moment my mind went blank while we stood without smiling or touching.

Then she kissed my lips, and I slid my arm around her waist.

“Hi, John dear!”
She grinned.

“Hi, Lauren, sweetheart!”
I grinned back.

I almost said, “Would you like to go out tonight?”
But it isn’t fair to ask a girl out when all you really want is one thing.

I held her very close to me and gently told her that her hair smelled like the sun, and her lips tasted as sweet as red summer apples.
Yet all the white I was thinking, Oh Lauren, we’re making a mistake with China, in my opinion…Oh Lauren, Lauren from your point of view, how do things look in the Middle East?