“What do you talk about? Other than his herbal enemas and his workout program?” Meg nearly collapsed in hysterics at her mother's expression. “Although, I'll admit, it's certainly a fascinating topic. For God's sake, Meg… who is he?”
“Just a nice guy I met. He's sweet to me. We talk about the film industry. He's wholesome, he's not into drugs, or an alcoholic in training, like most of the guys I met when I got here. You don't know what dating's like, Mom. There are a lot of weirdos out there, and a lot of losers.”
“It's not very reassuring, if he is what qualifies as a nonweirdo. Although he was polite, and he seems to be nice to you. Meg, can you imagine your father's face if he met him?”
“Don't even think about it. We haven't been going out for that long, and we probably won't for much longer. I need to get out more, and his diet keeps him pretty limited. He hates clubs and bars and restaurants. He goes to bed at eight-thirty.”
“That's not much fun,” Paris admitted. Meeting Peace Jones had been a whole new experience for her, and made her worry about what Meg was doing. But the fact that he didn't drink or do drugs was at least something, though in Paris's eyes, not enough.
“He's very religious too. He's a Buddhist.” Meg was lobbying for him to her mother.
“Because of his mother?”
“No, she's Jewish. She converted when she married some guy she met in New York. Because of his karate.”
“I'm not ready for this, Meg. If this is what it's like out here, I'm staying in Greenwich.”
“San Francisco is a lot more conservative. Besides, everyone's gay there.” Meg was teasing her, but it was certainly a large portion of the population, and famous for it. The girls Meg knew who lived there complained constantly that all they met were gay guys who were better looking than they were.
“That's comforting. And you want me to move there? At least I'll find a decent hairdresser, if I ever decide to cut my hair and get it done,” Paris said, and Meg wagged a finger at her.
“Shame on you, Mom. My hairdresser is straight. Gay guys run the world. I think you'd like San Francisco,” she said seriously. “You could live in Marin County, which is like Greenwich, with good weather.”
“I don't know, sweetheart. I have friends in Connecticut. I've been there forever.” It seemed too frightening to just uproot herself and move three thousand miles away because Peter had left her, although it was tempting to be closer to her children. But California seemed like a whole different culture, and even at her age, she felt too old to adjust to it. It was perfect for Meg, but didn't seem like the right move to her mother.
“How often do you see those friends now?” Meg challenged her.
“Not very often,” she confessed. “Okay. Never. At the moment. But when things settle down, and I get used to this, I'll go out again. I just haven't felt like it,” she said honestly.
“Are any of them single?” Meg cross-examined.
Paris thought for a moment. “I guess not. The single ones, if their wives die, or they get divorced, move to the city. It's a pretty married community, at least among the people we know.”
“Exactly. How do you expect to start your life over, among a lot of married people you've known forever? Who are you going to date, Mom?” It was a valid question, but Paris didn't want to hear it.
“I'm not. Besides, I'm still married.”
“For three more months. And then what? You can't stay alone forever.” Meg was firm, and Paris avoided her gaze.
“Yes, I can,” Paris said stubbornly. “If what's waiting for me out there is an older generation of Peace Joneses, I think I'd rather just stay single and forget it. I haven't dated since I was twenty, and I'm not going to start now, at my age. It would depress me profoundly.”
“You can't give up on life at forty-six, Mom. That's crazy.” But so was being single after twenty-four years of marriage. It was all crazy. And if sanity was going out with a grown-up version of Peace Jones, Paris would rather have been burned at the stake in the parking lot of a shopping mall, and said so to her daughter.
“Stop using him as an excuse. He's unusual, and you know it. There are plenty of grown-up respectable men out there who've gotten divorced or lost their wives, and would love to find a new relationship. They're as lonely as you are.”
Paris was heartbroken as much as lonely, that was the real problem. She hadn't gotten over Peter, and didn't expect to in this lifetime. “At least think about it. For the future. And think about moving to California. I'd love it,” Meg said warmly.
