I also call this story "Stephen Fry Meets Benton Fraser." If you've ever read Fry's novels, you've probably delighted in his irreverent, honest approach to telling a story. Some of his characters are school boys around Ben's age as depicted in my story, and they are invariably experiencing this same period of "discovery." I enjoyed watching Ben and his (dead) father develop their relationship on "dueSouth", and I'm curious to know more about Ben's childhood and what makes him tick. What did he and his father do on those rare occasions when they did get to spend time together? Was Grandma really "all work and no play?" How and why did Ben come by his sly, cunning wits? If Stephen Fry were to answer these questions...

Unfortunately, these characters aren't mine...

Drama/Humor; PG-13; sexual subject matter, but no explicit scenes

LESSONS AT GRANDMOTHER'S KNEE

by Mary

She stood at his bedroom door, looking at him, not with embarrassment or shock, but with concern, as if this were one of the most upsetting misdeeds he had ever committed or was ever likely to commit. It was quite evident what he was doing when she walked in through the half-closed door without knocking. She didn't know why she had asked him what was going on. An ice-breaker, perhaps.

"Um, nothing, ma'am," came the apprehensive reply. He tried to hide the bulge in his briefs, which was still very prominent, as he sat there, frozen. Even the sudden interruption by his grandmother was not enough to immediately kill the overwhelming urges that were playing havoc with his twelve year-old body lately.

"Come with me, Benton," she ordered, and he obediently followed, knowing full well where she was taking him. Discipline was always carried out in his father's office. Not by his father, mind you, as he was very rarely home. Bob Fraser's career with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police took him all over the country, and it always seemed to take precedence over his family life, especially since the death of his wife. And Grandpa Fraser was usually too busy with their traveling library to lend much help at home. He preferred to leave the education and rearing of Benton to his wife. Grandma Fraser hoped the stern aspect of the office would lend a gravity to these proceedings, which she, alone, may not have been willing or able to impress upon the boy.

Grandma leaned back against the desk, arms crossed before her, looking at Ben as he stood before her in his underwear and flannel shirt, his head bowed. She noticed that his earlier excitement had by now been overcome, so she cleared her throat and proceeded.

"This is not easy for me, Benton." Reprimanding him never was. And the delicacy of this situation made it even more difficult.

"No, ma'am," he mumbled back.

"I wish your father was here. He should be the one to talk to you."

I wish he was home, too, Ben thought to himself. But, as usual, he wasn't. So he wished he could tell his grandmother all about what his father had already said to him about this very subject. He wished he could, but all he dared to say was "Yes, ma'am."

"Your behavior just now, in your bedroom, worries me. Anyone could have walked in."

Who does she mean by "anyone?" Ben wondered. No one else was around. "But, Grandma..." he tried to interject. Yes, he had been careless in neglecting to close the door. But he had assumed that after the last incident she would know better than to walk in on him, uninvited, without so much as a warning knock. However, he knew better than to contradict his elders, so he said nothing more.

She paused and softened her approach. "I understand it feels good..."

A blush of excruciating embarrassment began to wash over Ben's face, as he shifted nervously, continuing to look at the floor between himself and his grandmother.

"...but this is not a habit I should have to worry about finding you pursuing during your free time. If you need help in finding suitable diversions, I will be more than happy to assist you."

Ben made no reply to her offer. He knew, as well as she did, that whatever diversions she had in mind would provide no relief for what ailed him at those times.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, ma'am," he offered sincerely.

Grandma moved closer to him and spoke softly. "Yes, I'm sure you are. But this is not the first time I've had to speak to you about this. Do you recall our conversation earlier this week?"

Oh dear! He was surely in for it now. A first offense was almost always handled as a learning experience, an opportunity to establish the boundaries of expected behavior. But a second offense, and this one within the same week, would definitely be frowned upon most severely. "Yes, ma'am," he admitted penitently.

"And you know I do not brook repeat offenses."

Ben nodded silently. He knew what to expect. His grandmother was not particularly harsh with him, but she was firm. She had to be. She couldn't afford to spoil him as grandmothers were supposed to do, as it was also her job to be mother and, for all intents and purposes, father to the boy. But he did not totally understand what was so wrong in what he had done. Other boys would openly boast about their exploits with nary a hint of shame. And even his own father had advised him...

Without looking up he could see his grandmother walking around his father's desk and opening the drawer. Obviously, she had a very strong objection to his behavior. She came back around the desk brandishing the wooden spoon that was reserved for these very rare occasions. Punishment, in physical or other form, was seldom needed, as Ben was usually very good about heeding grandma's warnings. He learned quickly from those few instances when he had uncharacteristically acted with disrespect or downright disobedience that a breech of discipline would not be tolerated.

"I'm sorry, Ben, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to be stern with you since it appears our last talk made little impression on you."

Ben made no response, as he feared he'd lose the composure of his brave front. "Come here and bend over," he heard her say, as she put a hand on his shoulder and directed him over to the desk. He obeyed, and as he felt the first stinging whack on his behind, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes and endured his punishment like the man his father expected him to be.

Grandma dropped the wooden spoon onto the desktop with more force than she had used on Ben and, with her hand on his shoulder, stood him before her. "I realize I'm probably not the person you'd prefer to discuss this matter with, but I am here for you Ben, if you need to talk. Do you feel a need to talk about this?"

Ben shook his head, his stiff upper lip beginning to quiver. It was a lie, of course, but his grandmother understood his reluctance. He needed his father.

"Then you may return to your room and go to bed. There will be no dinner for you tonight." She was sure that was not the end of it, but she hoped he'd at least be more discreet from now on.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, stifling tears. That was just fine with him. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone in his grief and embarrassment.

"And leave your door open," she added as he left the office, anxious for his sanctuary.

Ben was half asleep, lying in bed on his stomach, when suddenly he was aware that someone had just sat down next to him.

"Are you asleep, Son?" Bob Fraser's timing was always nothing if not impeccable.

Ben's heart leapt at the sound of his father's voice, but he hid his emotion and continued to lie there, pretending for the moment to be asleep. He changed his mind when he felt his father starting to get up from the bed.

"No, Sir."

"Sorry, Ben. Didn't mean to wake you."

"No, you didn't. I wasn't really asleep yet," he confessed, remaining still. "I didn't know you were coming home, Sir."

Bob Fraser sat back down next to his son. "Just felt like the right thing to do. A little voice kept telling me 'Go home. Go home, you're needed at home.' So here I am."

"A voice?" Ben asked, fully aware whose voice it was, but loath to mention her name for fear of upsetting his father. They so rarely had an opportunity to talk like this. He didn't want to spoil it. But it lifted his spirits somewhat to know Mum was still watching over him.

"Sure. Don't you ever hear voices telling you what to do?"

"Just Grandma's."

Bob smiled at the innocently ironic statement. "Well, sometimes, you know, Son, sometimes you just have to do what feels right."

Ben wanted to tell his father about the trouble that very concept had gotten him into a few hours earlier, but he didn't get the chance.

"I hear your Grandmother's had occasion to take you to task tonight," Bob said as he began to lightly caress Ben's back.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Was he really going to make him tell the story? "Didn't Grandma tell you?" he hoped.

"She told me her side of the story. I'd like to hear yours."

Ben was silent, not sure how to start. How much did he really want to hear, he wondered?

"I mean, what happened, Ben? Couldn't you have been more careful?"

"Careful, Sir?"

"I suppose it's my fault, really. I should've warned you. I got a few good hidings in my day before I learned the finer points of keeping my, er, private pleasures hidden from Mum."

"You mean she...you...um," Ben began, relief showing in his voice.

"Oh, yes. Wouldn't be surprised if I still have the bruises to prove it. Grandma's Old School, you know. Born and bred Old School and stubborn as a...well...uh... She means well, of course. You know she loves you and would never want to hurt you."

"I've shamed her, Sir."

"Nonsense. She's just not ready to see you grow up, is all. Afraid you'll spend too much time in the devil's playground, I suspect," he whispered to Ben, confidentially. "But don't let it worry you, Son. It's nothing to do with you. You're my son. I'm proud of you. You've got no reason to feel ashamed."

"But if Grandma's so sure it's wrong, maybe it is. I mean, how do I know?"

"Rubbish! You know because I said so. Have I ever been wrong before?"

"I don't think so, Sir."

"Well, there you are then. And don't you ever let me hear you talk like that again!"

"But, Dad, Grandma..."

"Locks, Son, locks."

"Locks, Sir?"

"You have heard of locks now, haven't you? I'm sure there's one on your bedroom door. At least, there always was..."

"But won't she be suspicious if I start locking the door?"

"Suspicious, sure. But she'd have no proof, Son. No solid evidence. Remember that. Never leave evidence. Gotta think like a cop, Son. Or like a criminal, I suppose..."

"Suppose she forbids me to lock the door?"

"Oh, she'll try that, yes. But doors have a way of locking themselves if you think hard enough. Excuses can always be found. Just always remember to use your best poker face and look her straight in the eye. She'll be powerless."

"Um, Dad, I don't have a poker face."

"Even better. She'll never suspect you're lying to her."

"I couldn't lie to her, Sir. I mean, even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

Bob Fraser sighed, knowing the truth of that statement. "Tell you what, Son. I'll have a discreet word with her. Don't you worry. Everything'll be all right. By morning, this'll all be forgotten." Bob leaned closer to his son to ask, "You weren't contrary with your Grandmother, were you?"

"No, Sir."

"Good man. Now, tell me, is there a woman behind all this?"

"A woman?"

"You know, caught your fancy."

"Dad, I'm twelve years old." If you were home more often, perhaps you'd remember that, he thought, angrily.

"Oh, yes, of course. A girl, then, perhaps? Someone you've set your cap for?"

"My cap?"

"A pretty girl. Honestly, Benton, try to keep up!"

"No, there's no one. Grandma won't let me..."

"Right you are, right you are. She's right, of course. There'll be plenty of time for that. You go to sleep now."

"Yes, Sir."

Bob Fraser gave his son a loud slap on the buttocks as he got up from the bed, eliciting an "Ouch!" from Ben.

"Oh, sorry, Son," he apologized as he pulled a blanket over him and patted the back of his head.

As Bob was about to leave the room, he checked the door to make sure it had a lock. He then heard Ben say "Thanks, Dad" with genuine gratitude in his voice.

"Good night, Benton," Bob said as he closed the door on his way out. "Pleasant dreams," he smiled at the closed door.

"Did you set him straight," Grandma asked Bob as he took a seat in the living room of the small cabin.

"Yes, Mother. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with you. You had the poor boy thoroughly confused, you know..."

"I had him confused?"

"He's a good boy, Mother. A good, normal, healthy boy. I won't have you putting ideas into his head that he's anything else."

"Of course he's a good boy. And I want to see that he remains so. I worry about him, you know, with you away so much. He won't talk to me about these things. He needs his father's guidance at this age, but you don't seem to care about that."

Bob sighed guiltily in his chair. "Certainly I care. How can you say such a thing? I'm doing my best, Mother. Benton knows that. He knows I love him. That's the important thing."

"There's more to parenting than that. That boy spends his whole life trying to make you proud, and you're never here to see it."

"Well, then perhaps you should have saved the flogging for me," he replied, angrier with himself than he was with her.

"Perhaps I should have," she threatened, then paused. "Look, Son, I know I'm not perfect. But at least I'm here to give your son a good swift kick in the pants when he needs it. Or a hug and a kiss or a shoulder to cry on when that's what he needs. He wants more from you, Bob. He needs more from you. And if he can't get the attention he craves from you, how do I know he's not going to go out and get it from the first pretty girl who smiles in his direction?"

"He's not a Lothario. He's just discovering himself. Every boy does it. You have to expect he's going to..."

"I know, I know. But I don't have to encourage it when there are plenty of other activities more worthy of his attention. And I certainly will not abide his disregard for other people living in this house. I won't be subjected to..."

"Fear not, Mother, fear not. I've had a word with him about that. You won't have to worry about...chancing upon that scene again. At any rate, if you should, he'll be answering to me!"

"Oh, sure he will. Next time you deign to come home."

"Yes, if need be."

"Have you had 'the talk' with him yet?"

"Oh, God!"

"Have you?"

"Yes, ages ago. I'm not a totally inept father, you know."

Bob and Grandma sat silently for a moment, each reflecting on how to do better by Ben.

"I have to leave early in the morning," Bob finally broke the silence.

"Naturally."

"I think you should have a talk with Benton. Tell him how you feel, what you told me. If he knows you're concerned about his welfare and not ashamed of him, he'd feel much better."

"I never told him I was ashamed of him."

"Nevertheless, that's what he believes."

"Why don't I go take him a sandwich," Grandma said as she started to rise from her seat.

Bob panicked, certain that Ben was not prepared for visitors. He got up and guided his mother back to her seat. "No, no, no. He's fine. It's late. Let him sleep."

"Good morning, Grandmother," Ben said as he entered the kitchen the next morning. He was famished and eyed the pancakes and sausage on the griddle with eager anticipation.

"Good morning, Ben," Grandma greeted him sweetly with a kiss. "Before you sit down, I need to have a word with you. Perhaps we should go to your father's study."

Oh, dear! he panicked. She knows! She knows what happened in my room last night after Dad closed the door.

"Where is Dad?" he asked hopefully, standing as at attention before his grandmother.

"I'm afraid he had to leave early this morning. He didn't want to wake you." Her heart melted when she saw the dejection on Ben's face at this news.

"Understood." It was obvious he wanted to cry, but wouldn't allow it.

"Come sit down, Sweetie," she said as she led him to the table.

"I thought you wanted to..." he said, nodding in the direction of the study.

"We can talk here," she said, anxious to comfort him.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, his face brightening a little, hopeful that he was out of the woods...

"Now, about last night..."

...or maybe not. He looked at her and tried to muster up a poker face.

"Are you all right?" she asked, curious about his sudden strange expression.

"Yes, ma'am. Fine," he answered as he still struggled in vain.

"You look like you're in pain or afraid or something. Are you sure you're okay? You can tell me."

He dropped the useless struggle. "I'm fine, ma'am, honest."

"Okay, Honey, good. You're probably hungry, aren't you? I'll keep this short. I just wanted to try to explain my concerns to you. Your father thought perhaps you misunderstood me yesterday."

Grandma put her arm around Ben's shoulder, and he looked at her expectantly.

"You are a very special person, Ben. And someday, you will be ready to share that with someone who is very special to you. But, until that day, it's important that you respect yourself, and your body."

Ben was very uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. "Yes, ma'am. I do."

"Squandering your...energies...in such a manner is not showing yourself proper respect, Benton," she said softly.

Oh, dear, she's back to calling me Benton! Surely she doesn't expect me to resist until I'm married! I'd explode way before then!

"That's not what nature intended when she gave you, ahem, what she gave you. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Ben suddenly began to stiffen in his chair, and Grandma assumed it was due to his embarrassment at discussing this subject with her. The fact was, despite his embarrassment, the subject matter was causing things to stir inside him and he felt powerless to stop it.

"I think so, ma'am. Is that what Dad wanted you to tell me?" he asked, trying not to sound cheeky. He was confused. Dad had promised this would all be forgotten by morning.

"Not exactly." She paused. "I'm not ashamed of you, Ben. I have never been ashamed to call you my grandson. But I can't help being concerned."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll try not to cause you concern again," he spoke contritely.

"I'm sure you will. You're a good boy. Anyway, your father assures me you and he have the matter firmly in hand."

Oh, my, how he ached to take the matter firmly in hand at that very moment! "Yes, ma'am. I believe so." He looked down and said no more, praying the conversation would end there and he could make a hasty retreat before things grew out of control.

"Good. Then we'll say no more about it. Would you like some breakfast now? I imagined you'd be extra hungry, so I made a double batch."

"Yes, ma'am, please," he answered, although his hunger for food was now overshadowed by another, very insistent appetite. As Grandma got up to get his breakfast, he stood and began to make his way out of the room.

"Where are you going? Breakfast will be on the table in two ticks."

"Um, I need to use the bathroom first, Grandma," he said without turning to face her.

"Okay, Honey. But hurry. I'll keep it warm for you."

He left the kitchen with a sense of urgency.

Oh dear! The evidence was everywhere! On the floor, the wall, the tub, everywhere! Dad would be so disappointed in me, he thought. But the sudden, loud knock on the door had come at just the same instant as he had, startling him into losing control of the situation and inadvertently scattering his seed around the room.

"Ben, are you still in there?" she asked as she again knocked on the door.

He was too flustered to answer her right away, and he heard her attempting to turn the door knob. Oh, thank God! he said to himself when the door knob wouldn't budge, remembering that he had followed his father's good advice to lock the door. Maybe he wouldn't be too disappointed in me, after all.

"Yes, Grandmother, I am," he finally answered, as he came to his senses and began to clean up the mess he'd made, trying to be as quiet about it as possible.

"This door is locked."

Ben hoped she would go away if he pretended not to hear her. But, no such luck.

"Benton!" she yelled loud enough to make such pretense implausible.

Ben's mind raced as he hurried to finish his task. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Why is the door locked?"

"I guess I must have locked it, ma'am."

"Yes, I guess you must have. But my question is, why have you done so? Closing the door is usually sufficient, is it not?"

"Usually, yes, ma'am." Ben thought for a moment, then continued, "I'm just following orders, ma'am."

"Orders? Whose orders are you following?"

"Dad's."

"Your father ordered you to lock the bathroom door?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. Then, realizing that wasn't entirely true, he qualified his answer with "Well, he suggested very strongly that I do so, ma'am. He said a gentleman always does, that it's the polite thing to do. Am I a gentleman, Grandma?"

Grandma was suspicious, but she couldn't help smiling as she listened to her grandson's earnest replies. "Of course you are, Dear." In fact, he was the gentlest man she knew.

Ben smiled a faint but definite smile.

"Now, if you don't come eat your breakfast this instant, I will feed it to the dogs," she teased him.

"Coming, Grandma," he said as he gave the sponge one last thorough rinse and made a quick inspection of the room to ensure he hadn't missed anything.

Ben opened the bathroom door to find his grandmother waiting for him. Did she know? he wondered, and he felt sure it was written all over his face.

"Go and eat so we can get to your lessons."

"Yes, ma'am." And he ran off to the kitchen.

Ben sat at the kitchen table eating a huge breakfast. The sausage gave him pause as he pierced it with his fork and took a bite, but he managed to eat it anyway.

Bob Fraser had entered the cabin noiselessly, and snuck up behind his son. "Sleep well last night, Son?" Bob suddenly asked as he put a hand on Ben's shoulder.

Ben jumped a foot off his seat, and Bob saved him from falling to the floor.

"Sorry, Son. Couldn't resist."

"I could have choked to death!"

"Don't be ridiculous! I was watching. Your mouth was empty."

"It's cruel to sneak up on someone like that." Ben would have been pleased to see his father if he wasn't so angry with him at the moment.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did." Ben resumed eating, giving his father the cold shoulder.

Bob realized Ben's anger was due to more than the fright he had given him, and his countenance changed from playful joy to guilty regret. He squeezed Ben's shoulders in apology, but Ben ignored him and continued to eat.

"Ben, what were you doing in the..." Grandma started to ask as she came into the kitchen, shocked to find her son returned home. "What are you doing here, Bob? I thought you left hours ago."

"Yes. I forgot something."

Ben looked up from his plate, hoping he was the something.

"My notebook. Couldn't leave without my journal." Bob noticed Ben's disappointment.

"I see," Grandma said, almost as angry as Ben. "Ben, what did you do in the bathroom?"

"Do, ma'am? I don't know what you mean," he bluffed.

"Everything is sparkling clean. From the fixtures to the floor to the walls."

Bob Fraser looked at his son and figured it out. "Good boy. It's high time you started to pull your weight around here. No reason your grandmother should have to do all the work."

Ben looked at his father, who gave him a quick, knowing wink. "Yes, Sir," he answered thankfully.

"You locked yourself in the bathroom to clean it?" Grandma queried.

After a brief hesitation, Ben answered, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did." And she smiled and gave him a knowing wink.

The End maryspen@aol.com