Meabh, Queen of Connaught--and Evan
EVAN
Meabh had me hooked from the first time I saw her, in spite of an awkward beginning; she had to tell me how to say her name! It's Celtic--Irish in that spelling. In the States, we'd spell (and pronounce it) "Maeve," but I didn't have the foggiest idea at the time.
Her parents emigrated from County Mayo when she was two so she didn't have a trace of an accent. When they named her for the most powerful woman in ancient Connaught, they did it with the comfort that everyone in Ireland knew how to say Meabh. Not so much the case after they moved to Chicago, but they were too stubborn about her heritage to change the spelling.
She was used to it, of course. She'd dealt with it for decades! Later, after she forgave me, I watched as she gracefully led people through this small glimpse of Irish culture. But she made no effort gently to lead
me
, not then. I'd been a grumpy ass all morning, fretting over my presentation. She'd been close enough to notice. To top off a spate of grousing, I'd complained about her name on the roster!
"What in the world kind of name was M-e-a-b-h!" I'd huffed, to no one in particular.
She let me struggle with the roster before shaking her head, arching a scornful eyebrow and saying: "Think Maeve. Rhymes with wave." Then I finally noticed her nametag. Oops.
Her red ponytail flipped as she turned and walked to the far side of the conference room.
"
Smooth move, ex-lax
," I silently chided myself.
Well, at least she didn't flip me off.
I took a breath and pushed away the things that were making me so churlish. I'd be working with her, along with everyone else in the room, and I was getting off on the wrong foot.
I found myself beginning to unconsciously size up women as potential dates again, too. Not that I thought it would ever happen, not successfully anyway, so I worked to suppress that instinct. It had been 2 years since cancer claimed my wife. My libido had vacillated between sub-zero and off the charts for most of that span. Recently, it was beginning to recover its old consistency--always on! Intimate self-knowledge, my secret, sometimes took a back seat to horniness but I hadn't made a fool of myself. Yet. I had re-established an intimate relationship with my right hand. Sigh.
You'd think I'd have figured it out by now.
After 4+ decades of dealing with it, I should have found some way of being at peace with my "problem." It was OK while I was married, at least while I was married to my 2nd wife. We found ways to deal. But she'd been gone almost two years and my old anxieties were in full bloom. Meabh kicked the gut-wrenching angst into overdrive.
So back to Meabh--she definitely rang my chimes! I was kicking myself.
She was my age, I guessed, and didn't wear a ring. She was fit, rather plain in appearance save for her red hair and spattering of freckles. Not much makeup and her hair was in an informal pony tail. She wasn't dressed to present power and dominance, but she had presence, you know? She had substance. There seemed to be depth to her.
That was a lot to unpack from a few seconds of chilly conversation, I know, but that impression felt rock solid. She didn't overreact to my faux pas, but she didn't knuckle under to it either. I knew she was bright and good at her job or she wouldn't have been there that day. I had just an inkling she might be the kind of woman who, in the work world, could be a manager without getting mean or arrogant about it. Maybe in a private way she could be what I needed too. I worked to pry my eyes away from her ass as she walked away. It was a very nice ass.
"
STOP it, you fucking idiot,
" I chided myself again. "
You don't get to chase pussy--what if you catch it!
"
MEABH
The day had all sorts of bad omens at the start. My kids were home alone while I drove over a hundred miles away to a business conference. I'd tried to beg off, but attendance was mandatory--big merger, lots of changes. The twins were high school sophomores, and good kids--most of the time. They were perfectly able to get themselves off to school, fix dinner, and handle emergencies. There were good friends--neighbors--on each side of the house. They were on call for emergencies, but I wanted to stay in touch, closely!! An un-parented house could invite experiments in being more grown up than they were.
My evening call sounded like things were OK. This morning, there was no answer. Nothing on the land line or either kid's cell. With my mom sense tingling, I phoned the neighbor only to learn their dad picked them up late last night after all.
I took so long getting through to him I was going to be late to the conference. Bastard. He'd refused to take them this week! So now he reverses course and doesn't bother to tell me?!? Just the kind of crap he loved to pull.
First my anger was burning, then my thigh. In my angry rush I knocked over my coffee and splashed my slacks. Had to change, made me even later and much madder. I yanked on yesterday's travel slacks, pulled my hair into a ponytail and hit the door running.
I managed to sneak into the back of the room, credentials hastily shoved toward me by the registrar, grabbed up the handouts, and settled in just before the CEO's rah-rah session started. The registrar was my Admin Assistant from home, and she liked me, thank God. She'd already signed me in on time.
After the CEO told us what swell folks we all were and how the future was limitless, bright and wonderful, there was a session I was actually interested in. The speaker was my counterpart at the other company. My Admin had scoped him out--an old college classmate in his firm. He'd been widowed for a couple of years--that always piqued my interest. He was supposed to be bright, good at his job, and even a decent human.
You couldn't have proved it by me. As I was picking up the handouts, I saw him scowling and snapping at people. Then he made fun of my name. Jerk!
EVAN
I wanted to know her. Not "biblically," I convinced myself, but certainly to be friendly. I hoped she would let me patch up the bad start. I just had to be careful about letting my libido drag my imagination over toward romance.
My presentation went well! I began with an apology for being in a foul mood earlier, and hinted at a string of calamities that began my morning. I talked for a half-hour, sprinkling in brief bits of humor, and enjoyed seeing nods around the room as I made key points. I fielded questions for another half-hour before we took a scheduled break. The really good questions, the ones that showed both understanding and insight, came from Meabh. Her first one had an edge to it. The follow-ups, thank God, softened. Finally, the Q&A session timed out and I moved with the crowd toward the refreshment table.
"I owe you an apology as well," a woman's voice announced from behind me as I was fixing a cup of tea. "I had a challenging morning and a worse evening. No one knows how to pronounce my name from its written form."
I turned, relieved.
