Things a Mother Hears

While we were in Montana, friends of the theatre hosted a party for the cast, crew and other hangers-on. My family and I were some of the hangers-on.

The location was a gorgeous suburban setting in a wooded valley, a lovely home with a large deck overlooking the river. Upon arrival, we were greeted at the door by the hostess who welcomed each of us individually. She was warm and friendly, asking about our relation to the theatre and where we were from. Turns out all three of her children were born in the same hospital where The Boy was born. Small world? Why yes, yes it is. We chatted briefly and I entered the house in search of a cold beverage.

I realized Wendy had not followed me in. I retraced my steps and found her still talking to the hostess, both of them looking puzzled. It only took a moment to understand Wendy was struggling with how to explain who she was. Yet another issue with a lesbian relationship. One never knows whether it will be taken in stride and, as we were there representing The Boy, she did not wish to just blurt it out. The three of us stood there awkwardly until the hostess said, "Oh, you are Suzanne's partner! I get it! Welcome!" Whew. As usual with a theatre crowd, acceptance of homosexuality is no big deal.

We ate, drank and socialized. I really enjoyed talking to the actors and techs as it brought back good memories of being part of things during The Boy's high school productions.

A large man with a shaggy gray beard, the theatre's producer, regaled me with his opinion of what a nice young man The Boy is. Oh yes yes yes, a mother can listen to that all day.

"He's quite talented and such a hard worker," he said.

I nodded and smiled.

"And punching that fellow in the bar! Well that's just not something actors are known to do! He was quite the gentleman looking out for the lady."

I nodded and smiled automatically but then what he had said sunk in. The Boy punched someone? In a bar? WTF? That's not something I could imagine him ever doing! All the worst case scenarios of bar fights, or what I imagine bar fights to be, scrolled through my head like a movie in fast forward. My baby!

At the next available opportunity, I pulled The Boy aside.

"That man," I said pointing, "just told me you punched someone in a bar?!?"

The Boy looked chagrined. "Yeah," he said. "The guy was being a real ass. This woman was there by herself and he wouldn't leave her alone. I punched him in the face and he left. I don't go to that bar anymore."

I just stood there shaking my head, but refrained from getting all maternal on him. What could I say? Don't defend a lady in distress? I wasn't there and did not know the circumstances. I know he had never punched someone in anger before. It could not have been his first choice to resolve the situation. I have to trust he did what needed to be done in that instant. But geez. I was torn between pride in him standing up for someone and fear over what could have happened. My baby!

My thoughts on him hanging out in bars will be the subject of a coming post. Yeah, I've got a few thoughts on that and they just might surprise you. Maybe as much as hearing The Boy punched a stranger surprised me.

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