Sometimes, Things Just Happen

"You feel betrayed, I understand."

"Ya think? And from what I see, you don't seem to feel an ounce worth of shame."

"I'm not proud of what happened, Eddy, far from it. You should also know that Henry isn't either. He left because he couldn't face you."

"That was mighty sensitive and thoughtful of him. Too bad he didn't think of that when his pants were down and your skirt was pushed up to your waist."

"Like I said, it just happened. Maybe if—" I cover my eyes and shake my head.

"Maybe if what?"

I resist saying more until his plodding all but forces me to speak up. Then: "Maybe if you, you know, were as active sexually as you say Henry is, you'd better understand."

"Mom, you know damn well I'm no hunk of a lady killer. But even if I was in Henry's league, I wouldn't be sleeping with my friends' moms." He gives me the once over. "Even if they looked like you."

I can't help but feel flattered. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He rebuffs me when I reach out to him. "Not now, mom, this is going take a while to process. Right now, I just need to be alone. See you later."

I tear up watching him rush out the front door. He's wrong, I do feel shame, but only because I've hurt my son, not for screwing around with Henry.

Stepping into the den, I focus on the two wine glasses and the tennis match just concluded. I told Edward that it would never happen again, and it won't. At least not in this house and not the way Edward probably thinks, or perhaps even the way Henry thinks. The loving, tender way Henry held and kissed me when I came to touched me in a special way, drudged up feelings that go beyond pure sex. This might be the start of something wonderful, something I never expected in my middle-age. Could Edward deal with that?

Jesus, listen to me, fantasizing, getting too far afield. Henry might not be able to reciprocate. And right now, feeling the way I do, that would devastate me.