She finally said, “I’m a bit tired. Would you like to have lunch this weekend?”“I’d love it. May I walk you home?”She smiled, “Of course! It’s a beautiful evening for a chat.”We walked along slowly, arguing about whether William Byrd or Henry Purcell was the greater composer, and as I said that no, I hadn’t heard that motet, I saw Evelyn and her beau rush past us into a dark doorway. I breathed in deeply with a catch in my throat and felt Julie drag me by the arm, “Come on, this way.”Again embarrassed at paying obvious attention to another woman, and one clearly about to have yet more sex, probably very satisfying sex for both of them—get a grip, I thought, don’t torture yourself or your date, think of anything else—I said, “Of course.”As we walked into a belt of trees near the creek, Julie put my arm through hers and walked close so that her hip rubbed against mine and my elbow pressed deep into her breast. We walked silently, deep in our own thoughts, until she looked around and. She would be home now though, John knew, but she would be surprised to see him because he wasn't expected until next week.When he slipped in the house, Mom was at the stove making soup and humming some tune that John didn't know, probably one by Jerry Vale or Mario Lanza or some other guy John wasn't familiar with, and his heart skipped a beat when she saw her wearing one of her old house-dresses, one of the sleeveless ones that showcased her beautifully shaped arms, which were slightly plump but still nicely toned with the bronze tone of her skin reflecting her Italian heritage.John coughed, making his mother jump, but when she saw him she screamed out and ran to him, crying and carrying on like she always did when she got excited. After about 5 minutes she finally calmed down enough to sit at the table a talk to her son, grilling him about school and college, and even though the talked every week on the phone, she needed to hear it all again.As John looked as his mother carrying.
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