Walsh Family Universe V2

Ash woke slowly, aware of several things simultaneously.

First: he'd been dreaming. Something vague and pleasant that was already slipping away, leaving only a sense of... warmth.

Second: his sheets felt wrong. Damp. Sticky.

Third: his body felt—

"Noam, time to wake up! You'll be late for—oh."

Mom's voice stopped abruptly.

Ash's eyes snapped open. Mom was in his doorway, hand still on the doorknob, her expression frozen somewhere between surprise and understanding.

And Ash was very, very aware of the morning erection tenting his sheets. And the wet spot near his hips that he could now feel distinctly.

Time stopped.

Mom's face went red. "I'll—I'll give you a few minutes. Come down for breakfast when you're ready."

She retreated quickly, closing the door.

Ash lay there, mortification burning through every cell in his body.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.

He'd had a wet dream. His first one. And woken up with an erection that his mother had definitely noticed. And she'd seen the evidence on his sheets.

He wanted to die. To simply cease existing. To dissolve into the mattress and never face another human being again.

His erection, indifferent to his emotional state, remained stubbornly present.

Ash waited, staring at the ceiling, until it finally subsided. Then he got out of bed and assessed the damage.

His pajama pants were damp. The sheets had a wet spot. And he had absolutely no idea how to handle this situation.

He stripped the bed mechanically, bundled the sheets and his pajamas together, and stood there holding them. Was he supposed to... wash them himself? Put them in the laundry? Pretend this hadn't happened?

He went to the bathroom, showered for longer than necessary, got dressed in fresh clothes. Stalled as long as possible before finally having to go downstairs.

Mom was at the stove, making scrambled eggs. Dad was reading the paper at the table. Both looked up when Ash appeared in the doorway.

"Morning," Dad said, his tone carefully normal.

"Morning," Ash mumbled.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Mom said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Do you want orange juice?"

"Sure."

Ash sat at the table. The silence was suffocating. He knew that Mom had told Dad what happened. The carefully normal tone, the way they weren't looking at him directly—all evidence of A Conversation having occurred.

He wanted to crawl under the table and live there forever.

"So," Dad said eventually, folding his paper. "Big game this afternoon, right? Against the Riverside team?"

"Yeah."

"They're tough. But I think you guys can take them."

"Probably."

More silence. Mom brought over plates of eggs and toast. They ate without speaking, the only sounds the clink of forks on plates.

When Dad stood to rinse his plate, he said, "Noam, after breakfast, come find me in my office for a minute."

Great. Another talk. As if this morning hadn't been mortifying enough.

Dad's office was small, lined with law books and file folders. He gestured for Ash to sit in the chair across from his desk.

"So," Dad said, closing the door. "This morning was probably pretty embarrassing for you."

Ash stared at his hands. "Yeah."

"Your mom feels terrible about walking in. She should have knocked. That's on us—you're getting older, we need to respect your privacy better."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. You deserve privacy, especially for... personal moments." Dad leaned back in his chair. "But since it happened, let's talk about it briefly."

"Do we have to?"

"We don't have to. But I think it might help." Dad's voice was gentle. "What happened this morning is completely normal. Remember our talk a few months ago? I mentioned wet dreams would probably start happening."

"I remember."

"Well, now they have. It's your body doing what it's designed to do. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Mom saw."

"I know. And she's embarrassed too, believe it or not. She didn't mean to invade your privacy. But Noam—this is normal. Every man goes through this. Your body is developing exactly as it should."

Ash finally looked up. "It's just... weird. And embarrassing."

"It is weird. Puberty is weird. Your body doing things without your conscious control is weird." Dad smiled slightly. "And yes, it's embarrassing when your mom accidentally sees evidence of it. But it's also just... biology. Nothing shameful about it."

"What am I supposed to do with the sheets?"

"Put them in the laundry. Your mom will wash them, no questions asked. This is going to happen again—it's part of puberty. Just strip your bed, put the sheets in the laundry, and we'll handle it. That's all."

"It's going to keep happening?"

"For the next few years, yes. Maybe once a week, maybe more, maybe less. Everyone's different. But it's normal and expected."

Ash slumped in his chair. "This is awful."

"Puberty is awful," Dad agreed. "But it's also necessary. Your body is becoming an adult body. That's what you wanted, right? The right puberty?"

"Yeah."

"Then this is part of it. The awkward, embarrassing, weird parts are part of the package." Dad stood, came around the desk. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry your mom walked in. We'll knock from now on. You deserve privacy as you're going through these changes."

"Thanks."

"Now go get ready for school. And try not to spend all day thinking about this morning. It happened, it's over, life goes on."

The drive to school was quiet. Mom turned on the radio, filling the silence with music. Ash stared out the window, his face still hot.

"Honey," Mom finally said as they pulled up to the school. "I'm really sorry about this morning. I should have knocked. I will knock from now on. I promise."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. You're growing up. You deserve privacy." Mom touched his shoulder. "And for the record, what happened is completely normal and healthy. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"Because it's true." Mom smiled, though she still looked uncomfortable. "I know this is mortifying. But I promise, in a few weeks, you'll barely remember how embarrassed you felt."

"I doubt that."

"Trust me. Embarrassing moments fade faster than you think." She squeezed his shoulder. "Have a good day. I'll pick you up after practice."

Ash got out of the car, grateful to escape. At least at school, no one knew what had happened. At least here, he could just be normal.

Practice that afternoon was a welcome distraction. Running drills, fielding grounders, batting practice—all things that made sense, that had clear rules and measurable success.

"You're quiet today," Marcus observed between drills.

"Just tired."

"Big game tomorrow. You ready?"

"Yeah. Ready."

He wasn't thinking about the game. He was thinking about waking up tomorrow morning and the possibility of it happening again. About having to strip his bed and put the sheets in the laundry and pretend everything was normal.

About his body doing things without his permission, changing in ways that were right but also deeply awkward.

The right puberty. The right changes. The right body.

But god, it was still embarrassing.

That evening, after dinner, Dad suggested they watch a movie together—the three of them, family time. They settled on the couch, some action movie Ash had seen before but didn't mind watching again.

Partway through, during a quiet scene, Mom said, "You know, when I was your age—well, when I was going through puberty—I had so many embarrassing moments. The first time I got my period, I was at school and didn't realize until it was too late. I had to tie my jacket around my waist and call my mom to bring me new clothes."

Ash glanced at her. She was looking at the TV, not at him.

"I was mortified. Thought I'd never live it down. But by the next week, I'd basically forgotten about it."

"And when I was about your age," Dad added, his voice casual, "I was at a friend's house for a sleepover. Woke up to... similar circumstances as this morning. Had to ask my friend's mom for clean sheets. Most embarrassing moment of my eleven-year-old life."

Ash felt something loosen in his chest. "Really?"

"Really. I wanted to die. But looking back now, it's just... a thing that happened. Part of growing up." Dad stretched, put his arm across the back of the couch. "The point is, everyone has embarrassing puberty moments. Everyone. You're not alone in this."

"And," Mom added, "we're your parents. We've changed your diapers, cleaned up your messes, helped you through sick days. This is just one more thing. Nothing we haven't handled before, just in a different form."

"It's still embarrassing."

"Of course it is. But it's also normal. And it's going to keep happening, so we might as well all be comfortable with it." Mom finally looked at him. "From now on, just put your sheets in the laundry when you need to. I'll wash them, no comments, no questions. And we'll knock before coming into your room. Deal?"

"Deal."

They went back to watching the movie. The awkwardness didn't completely disappear, but it eased. Became more bearable. Just another weird thing in a life full of weird things.

After the movie ended and Ash went up to his room, he found a new lock on his door. The kind with a push-button that locked from the inside.

Dad appeared in the doorway. "Installed it while you were at practice. For privacy. You can lock it at night if you want. We'll always knock, but now you have the option of extra security."

"Thanks, Dad."

"No problem. Goodnight, buddy."

"Night."

After Dad left, Ash tested the lock. Clicked it into place, clicked it open. Such a small thing. But it meant something. Meant his parents recognized he needed privacy. Meant they were trying to make this easier.

He got ready for bed—showered, changed into clean pajamas, made sure his sheets were fresh. Tomorrow morning might bring the same situation. Or it might not. Either way, he'd handle it.

Strip the bed, put the sheets in the laundry, shower, move on.

Like Dad said: biology. Nothing shameful about it.

"My name is Ash," he whispered to the dark. "I'm thirty-two years old. I'm ten years old. This morning I had my first wet dream and my mom walked in and it was the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. But apparently that's normal. Apparently everyone survives this."

Four thousand, eight hundred and forty-seven days to go.

But tonight, he had a lock on his door. Tonight, his parents had shared their own embarrassing stories. Tonight, the mortification had eased from unbearable to merely uncomfortable.

Tomorrow morning, he'd either wake up normal or wake up to evidence of more nocturnal biology. Either way, he'd survive it.

One embarrassing morning at a time.

Because this was puberty. The right puberty. The one he'd always wanted.

Even if it came with wet dreams and morning erections and the mortification of his mother accidentally witnessing both.

The right body.

The right changes.

The right life.

Even the embarrassing parts.

He fell asleep with the door locked, knowing that tomorrow might bring more awkwardness but would also bring baseball practice and art with Sophie and homework and all the normal parts of being ten.

Growing up.

Finally, correctly, awkwardly growing up.