The Notorious R(uth) B(arakat) G(rimaldi)

Chapter 23: The Next Step

AN: Usual disclaimer--if you don't like smut, skip the second part, the part that's under the flames, peaches, and honey pots 😉

❄️☃️❄️☃️❄️☃️❄️☃️❄️

It was a fun evening, full of laughing and food and games. Elliott had some nice memories of spending time with both his parents, but not like this, not in an intellectual and nearly equal, adult to adult way.

They sat around the cozy kitchen table as the snow continued to fall, drinking wine (he and Ruthie consumed in moderation; permissive or no, there was just nothing to be gained by getting stupid pissed in front of your parents, or in his case, his girl's parents) and playing board games as they ate their way through three pizzas.

He learned some new games; one was called "Taboo," in which the object was to get your teammate to say a particular word without using certain other words commonly used to indicate that word. For example, if the word was "Christmas," the list of word you couldn't say would probably include "Santa," "mistletoe," "presents," "December," and "holiday."

In one hilarious turn, Ruthie, who was paired up with her Pop, Phil, was trying to guess a word and Pop was having the devil of a time coming up with words he could say. What he finally came up with was, "What did your dad and I just not ever, ever, want you to become in high school?"

Without missing a beat, Ruthie yelled out "Pregnant!" which, while true, was not the word Pop was looking for. He snarfed wine up his nose at her exclamation, and choked so hard they had to tip the sand-filled time keeper and pause the game while Todd whacked his husband on the back as he slid to the floor laughing.

"Not 'pregnant'?" Ruthie asked, disappointed. "I was sure the word was 'pregnant.'"

"No, Rosebud," her father gasped. "The word I was looking for was 'cheerleader,' which I think we can all agree is a much more benign thing to be in high school than 'pregnant.' Jesus," he added, shaking his head.

"But I thought you were a cheerleader?" Elliott asked Ruthie. "Until last year?"

Ruthie nodded. "I was."

"She was the youngest head cheerleader Warren High's ever had," Todd said.

"It's nothing to be proud of," Phil said darkly. "It's a disgusting, sexist institution that sexualizes and infantilizes teenaged girls at the same time."

Todd held his hands up. "Okay, okay, let's not get into this again. She didn't want to do it anymore and she quit all on her own, so all's well, right?"

"I'm just curious, sir, why you let her do it if you felt so strongly about it?" Elliott asked Phil.

Phil sighed. "I have my opinions about it, obviously, but as my daughter pointed out, there's something to be said for admiring something, anything, being done at a high level of skill, to the very best of one's ability. Ruthie was amazing. She was a dancer, with a bit of gymnastics thrown in, and she was petite, so they could lift her and throw her around and all that, so they really wanted her. And they did have their own competitions, it wasn't all just shaking their asses and pompoms for the guys, which was the part I objected to.

"I didn't put in all the hours and effort raising the smartest, most amazing person I could so she could become a sex object for a high school neanderthal, that's all I'm saying," he concluded, and it was obvious from his tone that he'd said these words before.

"Pop doesn't like sports or activities that don't have equal status teams for both boys and girls," Ruthie explained. "And since there were no guys shaking their booties for me at my swim meets, he didn't want me to do it. And I eventually agreed with him. I noticed that even the best teachers didn't take my opinions as seriously when I was wearing my outfit, and it bothered me."