Falling for My Son's Best Friend(2)

By: Cassandra Dee


I had to giggle at the flowery phrases, exchanging a glance with my friend. Was this guy Sir Lancelot, courting a lovely lady in waiting? Maybe I hadn’t dated in a long time, but still, I knew cheesy when I saw it. And thankfully, Ang agreed.

“Thank you kind sir,” said my friend, shooting him a smile. “We’re gonna get ourselves drinks, we’ll catch up with you later.”

And with a quick smile, we moved on, losing ourselves in the crowd.

“Ang,” I said, shaking my head, grabbing her elbow for a moment. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, that wasn’t exactly what I expected.”

But my blonde friend was unperturbed.

“No worries, you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs before you get to a prince, and besides, that wasn’t exactly frog-like,” she said. “He was nice in his own way, you know, old at all.”

I snorted.

“Old? That’s it? More like he was super-cheesy and super-old. Please Ang,” I said. “I haven’t dated in a while, but I’m only thirty-nine. Like you said, I’m not dead and I’d still love someone who has a heartbeat and lives in this century.”

“Oh you!” pshawed Angela. “So picky, and it’s only your first night out! No worries, a heartbeat it is then,” she smiled wickedly. “But let me get you a drink, mojito okay?” she asked before turning away. And just like that, my friend started burrowing into the crowd at the bar, pushing her way through reams of well-dressed people, determined to get to the front.

I sighed. Ang was always going to be Ang, the good and the bad mixed into one. On the one hand, my friend was a lifesaver. She was the one who’d convinced me to come out, who’d harangued me during multiple phone calls, cajoled me into this outfit, and built up my confidence so that I could wear something sexy, something revealing, giving up my nurse’s scrubs. But on the other, Ang was so bold, so brave and socially confident that she’d left me alone at the party. She was now deep into the thicket, her blonde head shining amid a sea of others, authoritatively ordering drinks, clasping her purse tight as elbows jostled, drinks sloshed, and talk rang out, loud and raucous.

I could never do that. I’ve always been shy and parties have never been my thing, even when I was young. Besides, it’s always been Rob for me. Or was, past tense. We’d met when I was fifteen and he was sixteen, getting married as soon as we were legal. Back then, I thought it’d be a forever thing, that the handsome boy would morph the man of my dreams, that he’d be everything and anything I needed. But after fifteen years together and one beautiful baby boy, it all went to shit. Rob found his teenage slut, and over the course of one year, managed to divorce me, marry her, and get her pregnant, three for three.

So I snorted a little. Life hasn’t been easy, and yeah, it’d taken five years for me to recover. I’d thrown myself into work, into being a mother, and fortunately my son Robbie has turned out okay despite his parents’ acrimonious divorce. In fact, Robbie was at State now, doing a double major in Environmental Science and Economics and I was never more proud of him. My handsome boy had grown up and was ten times the man his father was, responsible, hardworking, and a stellar athlete at that, it was his soccer scholarship paying his tuition. I’d gotten off light given that school fees now topped thirty thousand a year.

But still, there was something missing in my life. Maybe it was the fact that Robbie was gone, maybe it was the fact that the house was empty without him, dark and silent when I came home at night, maybe it was the fact that I was hitting forty soon. But what would make me happy again, what would make me buzz with excitement and life, was another child. Yes, it was time for a second baby, and now at thirty-nine, my timeline was short, biological clock thumping like the beat of congo drums.

So yeah, I was here hoping to meet a man, but realistically, was my baby daddy going to be here tonight, at this party? Probably not. What with meeting someone, dating for years, getting engaged, being engaged for years, and then finally a wedding, getting to baby the traditional way took forever and then some. So yeah, it was unlikely that Mr. Dad was milling about tonight, sipping a cocktail, making small talk.

But no worries, modern technology is wonderful because it almost doesn’t take a man anymore. There’s a thing called sperm donation, guys who sell their swimmers to a bank and then you can literally buy the goods. It’s crazy if you think about it, a man selling his DNA, what makes him him. But I guess it makes sense given that there are so many reasons why a woman might need sperm. Maybe they’re a lesbian couple who wants to conceive, maybe they’re an infertile hetero couple who need a little juice. Or maybe you’re like me, hitting forty with no man in sight but determined to have a baby, a cooing infant in my arms.

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