A Different Kind of Forever(56)

“WHAT?” Diane leaned across the table as Sue reached over and took hold of her arm. Diane glared at Carol.

“Listen. Michael and I have tons in common. We both love Aretha and hate Prince, we both like Spanish films, we both read Eastern philosophy, and we hate pro football. We have a great time together, and I can’t believe you would think that.”

Carol blushed and looked closely at Diane. “Well, I guess I stand corrected. I didn’t think you actually, well, dated.”

Sharon had been looking at Carol critically. “What did you think, Carol? That she had him stashed in a motel room somewhere and just dropped in for servicing?”

The women all laughed as Diane rolled her eyes. “God, Carol. I mean, yeah, he’s younger, but so what? Would this be a big deal if he were twenty years older? No.”

Ginny waved a pretzel in the air. “If he were twenty years older, we probably wouldn’t be so interested in the sex part,” she said.

Sharon burst out laughing, burying her face in her hands. Sue looked at Ginny and patted her hand. “Well, Carol might still be interested,” she told Ginny soothingly.

“It’s just that dating is so different at our age,” Carol said. “Diane knows what I mean. In your twenties, you’ve got all the time in the world to date around, and you can spend time with a guy who may or may not be the one.” She shrugged. “In your forties, especially with kids, you don’t have time to f*ck around, unless you want to just f*ck around, you know? Come on, Diane,” she waved her glass. “Tell them. You know by the third or fourth date if a guy is going to be a wash-out. You can’t afford to waste time on a maybe. So, if you stick with a guy for any length of time, it’s either sex, or it must be pretty serious.” She tilted her head and leaned back in her chair. “So tell us, Diane,” she asked, smiling, “is it serious?”

Diane scrunched up her nose, making a face, and stared into her drink.

Sue explained. “Diane is having a hard time reconciling her two selves, the staid professor and respected mother by day, crazed groupie by night.”

“I am not a crazed groupie,” Diane said stoutly. “I’m the keyboard player’s hunny bunny.”

Ginny frowned. “Do musicians in rock bands have hunny bunnies?”

Sharon shuddered. “No. And that sound you hear is Jim Morrison rolling over in his grave. I can’t believe you still haven’t figured this out,” she said to Diane disapprovingly. “Jesus Christ, why are you so wishy-washy about this? Why don’t you just admit that you’re crazy about him?”

“Okay,” Diane said happily. “I am crazy about him.”

“Oh good,” Ginny chirped. “Can we get shots now?”

“Yes. We need to celebrate.” Sharon said as she looked around for the waiter.

“And is he crazy about you?” Carol asked.

“Shit, yes,” Sharon answered. “You should see them together. He’s a doll. He laughs at all her jokes.”

Diane looked at Sharon haughtily. “I happen to be a very funny person.”

“Not that funny, sweets. And he stares at her.”

Diane looked at her in surprise. “He does?”

Sue nodded in agreement. “Yep, he sure does. But you stare at him too, so it’s okay.”

“I do?”

Sharon was emphatic. “Oh, yeah, all the time. Face it kiddo, you’re in love.”

“Wait.” Diane felt panicked. “God, that’s what this is, right?” She chewed her lip as a shot glass of tequila was set down in front of her. “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you think? Maybe I’m in love?”

“It’s an age-old question,” Carol said sadly. “Is the sex great because you’re in love, or are you in love ‘cause the sex is so great?”

“I think the pheromones have spoken.” Ginny said, reaching for the salt shaker.

“Let’s just drink up in a hurry. The band is about to start again.”

It was after two in the morning when they left Maxwell’s. They walked back slowly, laughing and singing. They dropped off Ginny first, then back-tracked toward the street where Sue and Diane lived. As they approached Diane’s house, she could see Michael’s truck in the driveway.

“He’s here,” she said happily. “He drove down to see me.”

Sue squinted. “Does he have a key to your house?”