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.
“So would I, sweetheart.” Paris was touched by her daughter's concern and enthusiasm. “But I can always fly out more often. I'd love to see more of you.” Meg was planning to come home for Thanksgiving, but they had no plans to see each other sooner, which was going to be hard for Paris. “Maybe I can fly out once a month for a weekend.” She had nothing else to do now, but the truth was that Meg was busy on weekends. She had her own life. And eventually, Paris would need one too, she just wasn't ready to deal with it yet.
They cooked dinner together that night in the small cheerful kitchen. And slept in the same bed. And the next day, Paris wandered up and down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, window shopping, and then went back to the apartment to wait for Meg. She sat in the last rays of sun on the deck, thinking about what Meg had said, and wondering what to do about her life. She couldn't even imagine what the rest of her life would be like now, and she wasn't even sure she cared. She really didn't want to find another man, or date. If she couldn't have Peter, she would rather be alone, and spend time with her children and friends. Just the health risks of dating someone these days, and sleeping with them, seemed far too terrifying to her. She had said as much to Anne Smythe. It was far simpler to be alone.
Meg had a problem on the set that night, and didn't get home till ten o'clock. Paris made dinner for her, and was grateful to climb into bed with her.
“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.
“So would I, sweetheart.” Paris was touched by her daughter's concern and enthusiasm. “But I can always fly out more often. I'd love to see more of you.” Meg was planning to come home for Thanksgiving, but they had no plans to see each other sooner, which was going to be hard for Paris. “Maybe I can fly out once a month for a weekend.” She had nothing else to do now, but the truth was that Meg was busy on weekends. She had her own life. And eventually, Paris would need one too, she just wasn't ready to deal with it yet.
They cooked dinner together that night in the small cheerful kitchen. And slept in the same bed. And the next day, Paris wandered up and down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, window shopping, and then went back to the apartment to wait for Meg. She sat in the last rays of sun on the deck, thinking about what Meg had said, and wondering what to do about her life. She couldn't even imagine what the rest of her life would be like now, and she wasn't even sure she cared. She really didn't want to find another man, or date. If she couldn't have Peter, she would rather be alone, and spend time with her children and friends. Just the health risks of dating someone these days, and sleeping with them, seemed far too terrifying to her. She had said as much to Anne Smythe. It was far simpler to be alone.
Meg had a problem on the set that night, and didn't get home till ten o'clock. Paris made dinner for her, and was grateful to climb into bed with her.
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