Teenagers

                “It’s crazy, right?”

                “Hmm?” Darren was watching me. He was always trying to gauge my reactions, as if they impacted the importance of what he said. At my questioning look, he gave a loose smile. If I hadn’t heard, then he wouldn’t have to worry that my deadpan look had been in response to his remark. It was a welcome relief to him, I could tell. I took a sip of my tea again, although it was still scalding, and felt it burn down my throat. An uncomfortable feeling. I wasn’t thinking of paying attention to Darren’s obnoxious philosophical musings, I was thinking about what I would have to do tomorrow. There was the meeting with Google, which had my entire mind occupied, and also the blind date at seven. The biggest day for my little startup, hoping to sell, and my friend scheduled a date. I shook my head a little.

                “You weren’t paying attention,” he complained. He should have looked hurt, but instead his jaw tensed, as if he felt the fear of judgment seeping back into his system, anew, as he realized he had to propose his idea again. What a weirdo.

                “No, sorry. Thinking about work.”

                “I was talking about the teenagers.” He nodded his head at a couple of kids standing around outside, smoking. The boys were dressed in ill-fitting jeans with beanies on their heads and hoodies that wrapped their hands in their pockets like an ugly grey monster might, if one was perched on each of their backs. The girls wore glasses and had their long hair wrapped up in black hair ties. With painted nails and perfect winged eyeliner, they all looked the same to me these days.

                “You interested, Humbert?”

                “Ha ha,” he responded dryly. “I was just thinking of when I was a teenager.”

                “The glory years,” I replied sarcastically, taking another sip of my tea. Still scalding. At this rate, I would die before it ever cooled.

                “I used to think life was so terrible and that I was so right about emotions and feelings—”

                “—as did we all—”

                “—and when people would tell me that, I would glare and feel betrayed. Adults used to be teens once, I’d think. Shouldn’t they remember my pain and suffering and be able to relate?”

                “And now that you’re an old geezer…”

                He smiled a bright, knowing 25-year-old smile, that I knew in five years he wouldn’t understand anymore, and said, “Exactly. Now I get what my parents were saying and I don’t get teenagers anymore.”

                “It’s funny how that works.” I let my pinky touch the surface of my tea and it recoiled at the heat. Damn.

                “When you go from one stage to another, you think you’d still be able to understand the previous one you left. But now I look at these kids the way my parents looked at me. They’re all fools with heightened self-importance, a lack of humility, an overdose of emotion, and if I told them any of that they wouldn’t understand until ten years later. They’re at the point in their lives when they feel developed enough to be important entities, but the weight of the world that they now know is only a five-pounder in comparison to the twenty tons added with each decade. They cry about their problems, their non-issues, because right now those are the only level of problems they know. That’s why kids who deal with death and loss at a young age grow up faster—they get a little perspective.”

                I let the steam from my tea warm my hands and turned to take a look at Darren’s teens again, for his benefit, but found they were already gone. I tried to remember how I felt as a teenager, but the thought of the Google deal crept back into my head. If we sell, are we going to stick together? Or is Tiff going to branch off with her bogus closet app idea and split us up? And will Google take some of my people away? I can’t afford to lose my coders.

                “Teenagers think their lives are over every other second. And if you try to tell them they’re being ridiculous, they only feel more lost. They need more nurturing than babies to feel happy and love to defend themselves against empty insults. They’re so overflowing with emotion, so raw and stupid, but all we can do is wait for them to grow up and realize their mistakes. They’re so trapped in their own heads.”

                I resisted rolling my eyes. I didn’t come to tea for this. Not that it really matters what we talk about, I just need to keep him on my good side so if I need him later he’ll be there. I risked a glance at him. Shit. He’s waiting for a response. But on some level I didn’t really care, so I stroked the rim of my scalding tea cup and let him sweat a little first.

                Finally, I fed his hungry ears. “It doesn’t matter what age you are, in a decade you’ll always look back and think you were an idiot. Too depressed, too optimistic, too pessimistic, too rude, too entitled, too bitter, too stupid. As long as you learn, what does it matter? Complain less and let them figure it out on their own. We did. They will. We will.”

                He blinked at me, hesitant, then looked back out the window where the ghosts of the teens still lingered for him.

                I took a sip of my tea. It was still scalding hot, but this time when it burned down my throat, I found that I liked it.