The Problem With Having A Favorite Pair of Socks

Cole sat there, his long hair covering the majority of his face, twiddling his fingers. Mom walked into the kitchen, caught site of us, realized we were having “the talk,” and smiled as she excused herself silently from the kitchen.

A small package sat on the dinner table between us. Butcher paper wrapped in twine, with a bow, and a small label that said “Cole.”

“You and I never really had a chance to bond. When Dad passed away you were barely four years old. I was already on my way to high school. But you’ve always been important to me. So I’m going to fill in where dad couldn’t.” I said to Cole with a straight face.

He shifted in his chair in an uncomfortable manner. His upper lip covered in a little whispy dirt ‘stache that gathered little beads of pre-pubescent sweat.

“Growing up happens really fast. I know. And you’re going to experience a lot of things soon, going into your freshman year that will seem scary, you’ll want to fit in, and you’re going to agree to do some stupid stuff. You’ll probably get into a fight. It happens. It’s okay. I’m sure you already notice some of the girls in your classes. Some of them probably notice you–”

“Oh come on Robbie you’re not going to try to have the sex talk with me are–” Cole cut me off.

“Mom wants me to have that talk with you. But you already know about sex and using condoms, right? I asked.

Cole nodded his head.

“Great.”

I slid the paper package over to Cole.

“Open it.”

Cole reluctantly picked up the package. He squeezed it, looked at it for a second, and then pulled the twine bow. The package opened to reveal…

“Socks? Gee thanks, Grandma.” Cole’s sense or sarcasm came through.

“You were too young to remember it, but when Dad passed away I had to go shopping for some dress attire for the funeral. Mom did her best. That suit was terrible. Luckily I grew out of it pretty quickly. But I got my first pair of silk dress socks.”

Cole shuffled through the twelve different pairs of dress socks.

“They were my favorite pair of socks Cole. Those socks got me through four years of high school. And I’ll tell you why. Remember Katrina Whitford? Of course you don’t. Well Katrina was my first serious girlfriend. She was a virgin intent on saving herself for marriage. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but for a sixteen year old boy it was rough. Winter formal, home coming, sadie hawkins, junior and senior prom… I didn’t wear those socks to any of those dances. You know why?”

Cole shook his head, confused.

“Because Cole, the problem with having a favorite pair of socks is that they’re always dirty.” As I said this, I made a loose fist with my right hand and made a jerking off motion.

I grabbed a nudie magazine from my satchel and threw it at him. He caught it and smiled at me.

“Keep it in your book bag over the summer. It’s the only place she won’t bother looking. Toss it the first day of school. Give the new socks a spin sooner than later, kid. They’ll change your life.”

The kitchen door swung open, and Cole shoved the magazine under his shirt before mom noticed it. She walked over to the freezer and pulled frozen chicken out.

“Sorry to interrupt. I forgot to thaw this out for dinner tonight. I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” Mom said.

“It’s okay mom. We’re all finished.” Cole smiled.