The Ladies That Lunch

Thursday was my mother-in-law's best friend’s birthday, and I was graciously invited to a ‘lunch party’ at Trish’s home. Now, as much as I like Trish (and I really do) I knew better than to accept such an invitation. I have attended one or two of these ‘lunches’ and it never ends well. I start out feeling like a loser for being the only person there that’s under sixty, so I drink wine until I no longer feel like a loser, but then the effects of the wine wear off, and by seven o’clock at night I feel not only like a loser, but a loser with a hangover.

So I tell the M-I-L (mother-in-law) that I need to be at the office on Thursday, but she insists that I must stop by after work. Now, the ‘lunch’ starts at twelve, but as it turns out, Roger and Bryan have to attend a work function that evening so there is no need for us to rush home. Lucky us.

After work, I stop by the florist to get Trish some roses and a card (a Southern girl never arrives empty-handed). I make my way to the neighborhood, and Trish welcomes me with a bear hug.

“Sooo, glad you could make it, Dahling!” she says in her posh English accent.

I tell her happy birthday and present the flowers.

“Oooh, Dahling, you shouldn’t have!” she says as she takes the flowers from me and hands them off to the maid. I smile at Liza sympathetically. I’m sure she loves these lunches even less than I do.

I awkwardly stand in the door of the lounge while Trish goes to get me a glass of wine. I say hello, but either no one remembers who I am or they are too drunk to notice me. I’m wondering if I should go back to the kitchen and try to make conversation with Liza when I spot Maureen through the sliding glass door. Maureen is one of the oldest in the group, but she’s a funny lady and we seem to have formed a bond.

I go outside and Maureen throws her arms open; I bend down to give her a hug. “Oh, my lovely girl, now tell me how ya are?”

I chit-chat with Maureen for a few minutes before wandering back inside to track down my wine. Trish’s boyfriend, Lindsay, hands me a glass and I take a seat on the couch next to my mother-in-law.

“Oh, you’re here!” she says, noticing me for the first time. She seems genuinely delighted to see me – after all, I’m one of her favorite people when she’s been drinking. Her face goes somber quickly though, and she tells me to give her friend, Dee, a big hug. I do as I’m told and Dee says nothing, but I can tell she’s been crying. She’s going through a rough time at the moment, Sally says. I sit back down and Sally and Dee resume their conversation while I survey the room.

I take a long sip of white wine. I’m about to go for a second gulp when Di plops down beside me.

“Hello, Di.”

“Lovely to see you again, Robyn.” Di’s son was in town a few weeks ago, and Roger and I attended a party at her house. “Now tell me, did you enjoy meeting my little Timmy the other night?”

I smile and say of course I did and what a lovely party and so-on. She proceeds to tell me that she and her husband are so hopeful that Tim will find a girl as nice as me and finally settle down. She then launches into far too many details about his previous girlfriends – all nice girls, but none of them good enough for little Timmy. Right.

I am saved from the conversation when Trish twirls into the room. She’s singing and dancing with a bottle of wine in each hand, pausing only to refill glasses and kiss Felix, the one eyed cat. When she has emptied the wine bottles, she laughs; then snorts as she collapses into the chair beside me. “Right then,” she announces, “That’s all the wine there is. So, finish your drinks and then you must all f#$% off!” She laughs hysterically and Sally throws a pillow at her.

“I’m very sorry Trish, but I’ll sit here all bloody night if I want to, you stupid cow!” Sally says, smiling and holding her glass in the air as if she’s making a toast.

Trish ignores the comment and rises to switch on the television. She adjusts the dial (yes, dial, it’s that old), and sits back down beside me. “I’m sorry, Robs, but it’s my birthday, and now I’m tired. I’ve fed them, I’ve drunk them, and now I’d like them all to leave so I can watch The Weakest Link with my feet up.”

“I think you may have a tough time with that, Trish,” I say, as I observe the still lively party.

“And what the f#$% is this?” my mother-in-law asks when she notices the television. Trish ignores her. “Who turns on the television in the middle of a party?”

I quietly suggest that perhaps the party is over, but my mother-in-law will have none of it. Di uncharacteristically takes the not-so-subtle hint and rises to say her goodbyes before waddling out the door in her bare feet (I don’t ask!). A few others follow her. I anxiously look to Sally to see if she might be wrapping things up, but she and Dee are still involved in a rather intense conversation.

Trish is engrossed in the Weakest Link when Maureen toddles into the lounge singing “So Long, Farewell” as she digs through her handbag looking for…keys? Maureen lives in the neighborhood, and I assumed that she had walked over (despite her 79 years, she’s a pretty sprightly old lady).

“Are you sure you’re alright to drive?” I say timidly. Maureen scoffs and turns to go but with her first step she tumbles to the floor. I rush to her side, terrified, but she seems okay. In fact, she’s laughing.

“I’m so old,” she groans. “It’s just these old knees of mine. And my hip.” And the fact that you are completely lit, I think. I take her arms and try to help her up (the others haven’t seemed to notice the tumble, or perhaps they’re just not too concerned). I intertwine my arms with Maureen’s and tug, but I only manage to drag her a few feet along the carpet. She laughs again, and I smile. I kick my wedges off for more stability. I try again, but I only succeed in dragging her a few more feet. For the love, woman, work with me!

Lindsay enters the room just in time to offer a little assistance. When we finally get her back on her feet, she reaches once more for her keys and announces she’ll be seeing us. I desperately look around to see if anyone will stop her.

“Perhaps you should wait a bit,” Lindsay suggests. But Maureen refuses, so I offer to drive her home. It’s just around the corner anyway. Yes, yes. Everyone else agrees. I should drive Maureen’s car home. But how will I get home? Maureen asks me. Oh, she’ll just walk, Trish declares. Huh? Have you seen these wedges? Adorable, yes. Practical, no. But I smile and say of course, no problem. I mean, how far can it be? The neighborhood seems pretty small…I think.

On the short drive to Maureen’s house she again tells me how lovely I am (I do like Maureen), but then she gets a bit weepy about how much she misses her daughter, who passed away five years ago. I pull into Maureen’s garage and lean over to give her a hug. She squeezes me and I wait for her to let go before I pull away. I go around to the other side of the car to help her out. Once she’s on her feet she takes my face in her hands. This woman is a little crazy, I’m sure of it, but I like her. So, I tell her so.

“I like you Maureen.”
She pulls me to her and kisses me. “Why?” she asks.
“I like your spirit.”
“And I like yours’.”
I walk her to the door but I sense that she’d rather her husband not know that she needed an escort home. So I leave her waiting on the step. I make my way down the driveway in the dark, my feet already aching.

As I make my way back to Trish’s house, I can’t help but think about my girlfriends and wonder what we’ll be like in 40 years. Who will be the one falling over? Who will be the one kicking us out? The one in tears? The one wetting her pants (out of respect for the elderly, I have left out those details)? The one watching a game show in the middle of a party? The one whose husband has to drag her home?

These women are nuts, and more than a few of them might be alcoholics, but I do admire their friendships. In fact, some part of me is a bit envious I think. I want what they have. No, not hip replacements and mild incontinence. I want a circle of women to celebrate with...to be silly with...to cry with. I sigh, knowing that I do have just such a circle, but they are currently ten thousand miles away.

I reach Trish’s house and take a deep breath before going back inside. I do like these women, and despite my protests to the contrary, perhaps I enjoy these ‘lunches’ a little more than I let on. Maybe it’s because for just a few hours, I feel part of something bigger; I feel part of a circle. No, it’s definitely not my circle, but it reminds me that mine is out there.

And even ten thousand miles away, I can still feel its power.