Lydia didn’t make it to dinner on time.  As soon as she and her man had parted company, she’d dropped to the couch and reflected fondly on the day and night they’d shared.  At some point, she must’ve fallen asleep because before she knew, it was well after eight.

 

                She groaned and stumbled to her feet, locating her heels after some confusion and snagging her cell phone -- which boasted three missed calls -- and her purse.  She did a cursory look around her apartment before shutting the door behind her.  Without her keys.

 

                She was beyond fashionably late when she did show up and a deal poorer for having given the cabbie a fifty without waiting for change.  She knocked on Benjy’s door, tapping her toes on the floor when he didn’t immediately answer .

 

                She pulled out her phone and called.  It rang twice.  There was a stirring inside and she heard it as someone answered.

 

                “Hello.”

 

                “Mom!”  It was Ben.  He sounded so relieved that Lydia finally felt the guilt that had hidden itself so expertly since Friday night.  “Where are you? We’ve been looking for your since yesterday.  We were about to call the police.”

 

                She leaned against the wall, sighing.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I’m fine.”

 

                He sighed in response, saying something unintelligible to someone else.  “Where are you?”  She knocked on the door and waited.  “That’s  you, isn’t it?”

 

                “Come see.”  Ten seconds later, the door opened and she had to face all three of her children staring at her like she was both Glinda the Good Witch and Elphaba Thropp in one.

 

                “I really am fine.”  They stepped aside and she came in, feeling duly chastised.  “I know I should’ve called; I just got carried away last night.  It won’t happen again.”

 

                Ollie looked at her suspiciously.  “You got carried away?  Carried away doing what, Mom?”

 

                She was not about to be interrogated.  “Does it matter?”

 

                “It matters when we called you seven times between us, and dad called you four times, and the hospital called you twice.  You never answered, mom.  Not any of us.”  Now that she was done being scared out of her mind, Regina was pissed.

 

                “Honey, calm down.”

 

                “Don’t tell me to calm down…Mom.  I’ve spent every hour since eight o’clock last night imagining  all the horrible stuff that could’ve been happening to you.  You don’t even know what was going through my head.”

 

                “I have an idea, Regina.  I’ve spent every Friday night since you grew up feeling the same way.  I know it’s hell.  I would never wish it on my worst enemy, and certainly not any of you.  I’m sorry,” she looked at her two sons, who looked ready to move on and her daughter who seemed exactly the opposite.  “I really am.”

 

                The two women stared each other down until the younger threw up her hands in frustration and retreated to the farthest seat possible.  They would never be on the same page.

 

                Benjy sat down next to Lydia, who was still watching Regina with some apprehension.  “So, where were you?”

 

                She turned to look at him, absently.  “Where was I?  Oh, yes, I was at home.”

 

                “The whole time?  Because we called a lot.”

 

                She scoffed.  “I know.  I turned off the ringer.”

 

                Ollie perched on the armrest on her other side.  “What were you getting up to?”

 

                “I wasn’t getting up to anything, Oliver.  I was just…entertaining company.”

 

                He scooted down to sit beside her, sandwiching her between himself and his brother.  “Company?  Male company?”

 

                “Yes, as a matter of fact, it was.”

 

                Regina gave up on her sulking and sat forward, interested.  “Where’d ya meet him?”

 

                “In a bar.”

 

                She snorted in disbelief.  “And you took him home with you?  That’s so unlike you.”

 

                Lydia swept her hair back airily.  “There’s a first time for everything.  Besides, I like him.  He’s a gentleman.”

 

                “How much of one?”

 

                She looked around at each of them.  Slightly predatory, she thought.  “You are all very nosy.”

 

                “Just watching out for you,” Regina clasped her hands in front of her.  “Don’t want to have to beat him up.”

 

                “These two,” she gestured towards Ollie and Ben,” I don’t think.  You, I believe.”  She stood up and went to find a glass of wine.  This was proving to be a bit of an ordeal.

 

                Regina sauntered after her.  “So, how long did you entertain him?”

 

                Lydia filled her glass halfway, sipping cheerfully.  “How long?”  She thought about it fondly.  “Let’s see, we met yesterday evening and he gave me his card at around seven this evening…I have no idea.  It was a long time.”

 

                “Did you sleep with him?”

 

                Her mother shot her a warning look.  “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

 

                “It’s not, but you look so not neurotic that it just has to be sex.  It’s either that or you’re on drugs.  I’m not sure which of those images is less disturbing.”

 

                Benjy, who was listening from the couch, threw in, “They’re both pretty bad.”

 

                “Yeah.”

 

                Lydia shrugged again.  “I take it, you all have eaten already?”

 

                “No, we were waiting for you. “

 

                “The food must be ice cold by now.  You should’ve eaten.”

 

                Regina uncovered the dish in the center of the table, masking, just barely, a distasteful expression.  “Oh no, ma, we wanted to share this vegetarian lasagna with you.  A family that eats lean together, dies of starvation together.”

 

                Lydia smiled wanly.  “Well, that was very sweet of you, Regina, dear.  However, I’ve had dinner.  All three of you should fill your stomachs with this lovely dish that I’m sure Benjy slaved over for hours.”

 

                He came up behind her, hands stuffed proudly in his jean pockets.  “It did take a little work.”

 

                Ollie slapped him on the back.  “Way to go, baby brother.”

 

                “You might wanna stick that in the oven.”

 

                “Sure, mom.”  Ben picked up the casserole pan and carried it into the kitchen. 

 

                Oliver followed behind, mouthing, “500.”

 

                “550!”

 

                “What was that, mom?”  Ben peeked back through the kitchen door.

 

                “Nothing, sweetheart.”  She beamed innocently, dropping into one of the chair pulled up to the fully set table. 

 

                Regina looked at everything other than her as she took one of the seats farthest from Lydia’s.  Out of habit, they took up the same positions of three decades of awkward dealings between them.  Regina slumped, leaning disinterestedly on her arm and staring off into the distance.  Lydia pursed her lips and crossed her legs, playing absently with her phone and wondering if things would ever get better than this.

 

                “He was a nice guy, right?  You didn’t blow us off for some jackass who slept with you and then blew out of there like Flash Gordon?”  She did her best to look only somewhat invested in the answer to her query.  It was bothering her more than she expected it would.  She couldn’t decide why suddenly it mattered.

 

                Her mother nodded.  “He was.  I didn’t make that up.  I don’t even know him that well, but I like him.  I hope to see him again.”

 

                “If he makes you like this way all the time, I hope you do.”

 

                “You say that as though I’m horrendous to be around unless I’ve just had great sex.”

 

                “Could you quit saying sex, please,” Benjy shrieked, coming out of the kitchen, lasagna in hand.  “I have food here.  Do not talk about sex around my food.”

 

                “You are such a prude, Ben,” Regina smirked, pulling her chair up to the table.

               

                “Am not.  Is it prudish that I don’t want my mom talking about whatever great sex she had before I eat?”

 

                Ollie came out with the reheated breadsticks.  “Sounds reasonable to me.”  He sat the basket in the center of the table and took his seat.

 

                “Thank you, Ollie--”

 

                “If you’re a prude,” his older brother finished triumphantly, high-fiving Regina at Ben’s defeated expression.

 

                “Why do I do this to myself?  Every other guy I know that’s my age is estranged from his family.  I can’t seem to work that out. Is there a handbook I can get?”

 

                Lydia rolled her eyes.  “Sit, Benjy.  Eat, drink, be merry.”

 

                “For tomorrow we may die,” he completed the famous quote.

 

                “For you made your bed and you should lay in it.  Why waste a perfectly good vegetarian lasagna?”

 

                “That’s easy for you to say, mom.  You’ve eaten and don’t have to attempt to stuff this hearty treat into your stomach, which is already filled with wine and breadsticks that you ate out of anxiety as you waited to hear if your mother had been trampled by a herd of drag queens.  Don’t tell us about wasting food.”  Regina stabbed an ominously colored clump of cheese unhappily.

 

                Lydia held her hands up in surrender.  “Hey, hey, I’m done.  Enjoy.”

 

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