Coupling Couples, Two mother son couples get together, Roberta didn’t like these annual regional conferences, but being a member of her professional association made her attendance at them pretty much obligatory. She almost never made any useful contacts at them, the lectures and seminars rarely introduced her to new and interesting research findings, and the social benefits of mingling with others who had similar titles on their business cards were over-rated.
But here she was for yet another year, in yet another basic black cocktail dress that showed enough of her mature curves to get the attention of men who were treating the conference as a vacation from their wives. She stood at the edge of yet another noisy crowd in yet another hotel meeting room, sipped yet another mediocre white wine, and pretended to be listening to the sales pitch of a man in an ill-fitting tuxedo who was, at the moment, trying to pick her up. He was doing all the talking.
The business card which she had just handed to the man, in hopes of bringing their one-sided conversation to an end before she actually fainted from sheer boredom, gave her name as Dr. Roberta E. Williams and confirmed her accreditation as a Clinical Psychologist. She dutifully accepted the other man’s card, slipping it into her purse as if she might actually want to look at it one day. The man finally grasped the fact that he was wasting his time. He gracelessly excused himself, and moved off in search of some other attractive woman to work his magic on.
Roberta had finished her drink, and wanted nothing so much as another one. She worked her way through the crowd toward one of the room’s temporary bars, pretending not to notice the not-so-accidental brushings of hands and other body parts against her lower body as she squeezed through the press of men who had skillfully positioned themselves to achieve the maximum number of such contacts. A couple of them had very good hands, she noticed.
Her cellphone chirped, and she paused to answer it, cupping one hand over an ear to try to block out the crowd noise.
“Hello? … Oh hi, darling!” she said. ” Yes, I’m in the middle of a noisy … sorry about … I miss you too, sweetheart … If you were here I’d be up in my room alone with you instead of here in this crazy mob scene … Yes, I’m wearing the black one with the slit up the left leg … I know you like it … I’ll model it for you again when I get back … think of me later when you jerk off … good night, darling … I love you … Bye.”
Roberta reached the bar and refuelled. She started to turn away, heading for a quiet corner where she could be left relatively alone, and promptly collided with another woman who was as much in a hurry to get to the bar as Roberta was to move away from it. Hasty apologies were exchanged. Fortunately no beverages had been spilled. Something about the woman caught Roberta’s interest and, without knowing quite why, she stayed where she was until the woman had gotten her drink and was headed back her way. Roberta had no idea why this particular woman might be someone she should get to know, but she knew better than to ignore these kinds of serendipitous moments. Serendipity was Roberta’s favorite word.
She smiled at the woman, transferring her glass from her right hand to her left so that they could shake hands. Roberta knew that her interest in this woman wasn’t like that of a man on the mating hunt, but she certainly noticed the other woman’s sparkling eyes, charming smile, well-looked-after figure, and sense of classic elegance in her attire that matched her own. Personal introductions were exchanged, confirming to Roberta what she’d always known, that the simplest of verbal greetings made much more sense than did the business card thing. The woman’s name was Helen. Roberta liked her instantly.
Roberta and Helen hit it off from the get-go. They had so much in common that it seemed a little freaky to Roberta, even though she’d intuitively guessed such a thing when she first saw Helen. Both of them had Psychology practices in the same city, both were divorced mothers, both had sons still living at home while going to college, and both were delighted to find an oasis of friendship in the wasteland of insincerity which surrounded them.
Ten minutes later they left the ridiculously overcrowded meeting room, together. The man in the dreadful tuxedo, who had tried unsuccessfully to pick up Roberta earlier, saw them leave and felt a rush of relief in knowing that his failure with Roberta was clearly due to the fact that the bitch was a goddamn dyke. He was wrong about Roberta, but then he’d been badly misjudging women for most of his life.
* * * * *
Roberta and Helen found a small table in one of the hotel’s lounges. They sat and talked and laughed and took turns signalling the waitress for more rounds. They talked about movies they’d seen, restaurants they’d been to, books they’d read, clothes, and the challenges of raising their sons. Roberta realized that it had been too long since she’d last had a fun talk about ‘girl’ things with anyone.
Their conversation was light and casual and wonderfully comforting to both women. It made both of them feel totally relaxed and very much at ease with one another, almost as if they’d known each other for years. When their hands accidentally touched on the tabletop, or their legs accidentally brushed together underneath it, the contact was strangely exciting even though neither of them consciously felt any romantic or sexual bond with the other. It felt strange, but strangely nice, too.
Helen’s cell phone sounded its musical phrase. Helen took the phone from her purse and, after glancing at it, told Roberta apologetically that it was a call she had to take.
“Hi, hon,” said Helen to the caller. “I’m fine … I should get away from here tomorrow afternoon … I’ll see you tomorrow night … I love you too … Kiss … Bye.”
“That was my son,” Helen explained, as if some explanation was necessary. “He’s over at a friend’s house watching a late movie and he didn’t want me to panic if I tried to reach him at home and couldn’t.”
“Mine called me earlier,” said Roberta. “I don’t know how they survive without us,” she added with a laugh.
“I’d tell you about mine, but that would be too much like talking shop,” said Helen.
“I know what you mean, Helen. I feel the same way.”
“I doubt it, Roberta,” said Helen, her voice very slightly slurred by the drink. “I’ll let you in on a secret, and you’ll know why I need my professional training to help me deal with matters at home.” There was a long pause before she went on. “My son is bonded to me more than is healthy for either of us.”
Roberta looked at Helen for a moment before speaking. “So is mine, Helen. So is mine.” Coincidence after coincidence, she thought.
“I may have had too much to drink, but I’m going to tell you this anyway,” said Helen. “Frank – that’s my son’s name – is far more, uh, far closer to me than my ex ever was. So I doubt that your home situation is anything like mine.”
“My situation may be very much like yours,” said Roberta. “Have you ever wanted to have sex with your son? I have.”
Helen stared wide-eyed at her new friend. “I’ve wanted that too. In fact …” Her voice trailed off as she thought better about finishing her thought.
“I know what you were going to say,” said Roberta. “I’ve slept with my son, too.”
“Oh my God,” said Helen softly. “And I thought I was the only one…”
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