lunch with the neighbors (m)

It had been in the works for 13 years--lunch with my favorite neighbors.   However, I worked full-time and traveled frequently.  We all have kids who play sports which require lots of traveling.   Combined, we have 9 kids, spread over 9 different schools.  The logistics were against us.

After my mother died, E sent an email to the other two women, insisting we get together to take me out to lunch.  It was a nice gesture of sympathy and S and J dropped what they were doing and we found a date that worked for all of us.

E chose the place.  A nice, suburban restaurant.  J, the busy mother of three younger kids whose husband was going on a ski vacation the next day and whose oldest will be undergoing hip surgery in two weeks, was the first to arrive.  I arrived just as the clock turned 12 noon.  Right on time.  J and I looked at each other--"where are the other two?"  My cell phone rings.  It's S--she's running late.  She realized she should wash her hair first since she will be out all day and has an evening engagement at her daughter's school.  E, the one who planned this event (and confirmed it via email the night before), was nowhere to be found. 

Tick, tock.  Twenty minutes passed.  No E, no S.  The hostess would not seat us until everyone arrived.  J is getting stressed since she has to pick up 3 kids in 3 different places starting at 2:30.  I look around the restaurant.  75% blondes.  Despite the cold, they have broken out their happy, spring-colored clothes.  Lots of pinks.  J and I are in black, head-to-toe. 

Tick tock.  S blows in, looking every inch the former cheerleader captain that she was.  It was like watching Christie Brinkley in slow motion, hair gleaming in the sunlight.  Nice jewelry.  Nice new lavender-colored blouse.

J and I get up, greet S and tell the hostess "we're all here" even though E theoretically is coming. 

We get seated in a quiet room. 

I hear her before we see her.  E has arrived --in all her fabulousness.  White pants.  White and tan print blouse.  White shearling jacket.  White leather purse.  Gold jewelry.  She smiles broadly and apologizes half-heartedly for running late.  She was at the Flower Market buying flowers for a charity event.

I sit back and observe this motley crew.  Would I have been friends with any of these women in high school?  I decided that we would have run in four different circles....the wholesome girls, the smart girls, the pretty girls and the mean girls.  I will let you guess where everyone belongs.

I could have predicted what everyone would order.  Salad.  Salad.  Salad. And, Salad.  The bread basket was waved away as if it were kryptonite.  We each drank Iced Tea.  Unsweetened.  Lemon on the side.

The 90 minutes flew by as we caught up with each other's lives over the past 13 years.

My weight loss was noted by E ( I see J and S more frequently).  She even volunteered to take me to her spin cycle class to help me get the next batch of weight off my body.  E also suggested that S do Botox or Restylane for the "divet" in her forehead (S was mortified).   I told them about a home laser product I have (given to me by the company founder...I'll never use it).  E wants to try it.  J, who is much younger, asked me if I could see any wrinkles on her ( I assured her there were none).

We talked about colonoscopies, mammograms, knee surgeries.  That's when E said "we've become our mothers" meaning this self-absorption with our bodies and appearances.

I felt the heat rise in my face.  My mother would never stop for lunch, spend money on herself or entertain any cosmetic procedures. She never obsessed over her looks, deeming that unimportant.  She was all work, all the time.  I got a lump in my throat but didn't let on to the others.

When it was time to leave, we all hugged each other and agreed to meet again soon.

I got in my car and had a good cry.