"You are joking. Please tell me you're joking?" I doubted my mother understood the desperation in my voice, but I was disgusted and disappointed. How could she do this?
"I'm not joking Chris." My Mom was still calm, oblivious to reality as usual. "I told Megan to call you. She'll be in town next week and I thought it would be wonderful if you could take her to dinner. It's not like you have this busy social life and you can't fit her in. You're always telling me that you don't get out enough."
She was right, but the reason I never got out was because I was always working, not because I didn't have any friends. Being a first-year attorney was like that -- 60 hours a-week, at least. And taking an old lady out to dinner? That didn't count as "getting out". Not to me anyway.
Megan Davis was my mother's best friend, had been for as long as I'd known her, and though it had been years since I'd seen her, I couldn't imagine a worse fate than spending the evening with someone on my mother's wavelength. My spare time was precious and I had work to do.
"Look," mom continued, "I know you don't have a lot of cash to spare. Take Megan somewhere nice. I'll pay. Just make her feel at home. Please?"
"It's not the money mom, "I objected, "I just have a ton of work to do next week. I..."
"I gave her your number. I expect she'll call you early next week."
****
Megan called Monday. She was in town for just a couple of days, at a horticultural convention I'd never heard of. I shook my head as she spoke enthusiastically about getting together, thinking, "This is not real."
I thought about telling her I just couldn't get away, but she was so enthusiastic about meeting I lost heart for that tactic. We agreed on meeting Wednesday evening, at a high-end steakhouse a few blocks from my office. I hit the button on my cell phone and shook my head again, still not quite believing that this was happening.
My memories of Megan were fairly dim. She had been around a lot when I was growing up, but had moved away about 10 years earlier, when her husband died unexpectedly and she wanted to be closer to her sister. My mother and Megan had kept up their friendship by calling each other, seemingly every day, and my mother visiting her at least once a year. Megan had always been kind and friendly to me, but ten years was almost half my age and she couldn't possibly relate to my life now.
Predictably, I got to Callan's steakhouse, where I'd booked a table, almost twenty minutes late. I did have a lot of work on, but it was entirely possible that subconsciously I was trying to make this evening as short as possible. Megan was waiting at the bar when I got there, nonplussed by my lateness.
"Chris, my dear boy." She opened her arms effusively to hug me. "I'd say you haven't changed, but that would be a complete lie. What a handsome young man you've turned out to be."
Her dialogue might have been straight from a bad movie, but her appearance almost shocked me. I recognized her easily from memories and pictures, but she looked younger in person than I'd expected, by at least fifteen years.
I'd expected Megan to portray my mother's age and to a certain extent, her image, but I was dead wrong. I'd forgotten that Megan was 8 years younger than my mother and at 42, she was in great shape, trim, tight and full of life. Megan wore a yellow, red and orange summer dress, a one-piece with a flowery pattern. She had on white casual shoes and big white earrings. Other than that, all she had was a white purse. Her face was tanned but smooth. Wrinkles at the edges of her eyes gave away that she wasn't thirty any longer, but not much else about her body did. As I cast an eye over Megan's dress I noticed her trim waist, full hips and beautifully formed breasts. As we were lead to our table I followed her and noticed her wonderfully rounded bottom. This was my mom's best friend? I shook those thoughts from my head and sat down.
"So," she immediately reached across the table and grabbed my right hand in both of hers, "tell me all about your first job."
Over appetizers I told her about my first few months in the law firm I'd been taken on by. She seemed genuinely interested and my mother had obviously been providing at least some details of my life over the last ten years, especially that my social life had all but disappeared lately.
Megan's hair was jet black, shoulder length and wavy, and her eyes a kind of sea blue. Her face was full of expression as we talked and when her eyes opened wide the contrast against her hair was startling, but I liked that she was engaged in the conversation. This was far better than the lost evening I'd figured was coming my way.
"So, no girlfriend then?" Somehow I knew that one was coming. What is it about that question that all friends and family ask, and everyone who gets asked hates?
"No." I brushed it off. "Not right now."
"But you are seeing girls, aren't you." Her face was earnest and almost concerned. "You young boys need some of that... companionship. Am I right?"
I nodded, embarrassed, not sure what else I could do. It wasn't like I was going to admit not having had a good fuck for almost six months!
Fortunately she changed the subject quickly and we got onto the more comfortable territory of my mother's obsession with daytime TV shows. We ordered steaks and shared sides and the evening fell into a more comfortable rhythm than I had expected, by a long way.
Megan talked about current movies, books and music in a way I hadn't expected. All because I'd figured she was my mom's friend and only had similar interests. As each minute went on I realized that preconception was fading fast. I also realized that I'd better quit drinking the wine before Megan caught me looking at her cleavage.
