I guess I'm not unlike Bender from Futurama, when he was copying himself ad infinitum. Eventually his creations took over the world. But *cough* you know... that's not what I'm trying to do... *cough*.
The most blatant example of this is THE LEFTOVER CLUB, which has my fingerprints all over it. It was a pet project, granted, inspired by READY PLAYER ONE, a sci-fi book heavily influenced by 80s pop culture. I decided I wanted to play around in the past a little bit, so I crafted a sexy romantic romp through the decades where I'd get to stroll down my own memory lane.
Roni, the lead character, channeled me in so many ways it was like she became a Mini-Me. She met her first crush when she was six years old, like me. He would later give her her first kiss on a dare, like me. Her best friend was a gay boy who became her saving grace through the perils of high school and young adulthood, like me. She and her mother moved in with another single mom, which is exactly what happened to me. I got an instant brother who wasn't a brother, a good looking kid that all the girls at our school wanted to claim, and usually befriended me to do it.
From the music she liked to the movies she watched to her thoughts, mannerisms and a few key scenes lifted right from my life or the lives of my friends, this book is a virtual time capsule, for good or bad.
Present-day Roni has a contentious relationship with her teenage daughter, who resents her for the breakup of the family. The funny thing about Meghan is that she usually served as a walking, talking Chatterbox - that's the annoying voice in our head that makes us second-guess everything and doubt or degrade ourselves. I have a loud, obnoxious one that constantly tries to undermine my worth and make me feel like I don't deserve to be happy - and Meghan was that *in spades.*
Imagine my surprise when even she began to take on some of my traits, like passionately following a movement that she thinks can positively impact the world. In that way, she really is my kid. Our kids are reflections of ourselves, only tweaked with the best qualities, to be better than we are. An upgraded version, if you will.
So even if she was a snot on a regular occasion, this was the first scene where she showed me how much promise she had, where she peaked out around the pain and resentment and gave us a hint of who she going to be. She was fearless and passionate for a cause, which anyone can tell you is *totally* me.
Meet Meghan, as she explains why #MeatlessMonday is important.
I stopped at the store on my way home. Whole wheat pasta, check. Garden fresh pasta sauce, check. Parmesan cheese and the makings for a light salad, check-check. I stopped short of the wine, simply because the last thing I needed around Dylan was an intoxicant that suppressed any inhibitions.
Inhibitions were good. They were my friends. I was the sexless, dateless, saintly Madonna, after all. And we all knew I could go to Whore in two seconds flat if alcohol or weed was involved. If Meghan was a no-show for the evening, this could prove problematic.
The problem with the Madonna/Whore scenario? The whore part sounded way more fun.
I was flushed with excitement that a man was coming to my home. And not just any man, the man I had dreamed of and lusted after for three-quarters of my life. My tummy jumped with anticipation every time I thought about it. If I closed my eyes, I saw his face, which only got more handsome every damn year.
And maybe it was all because of the trips down memory lane I had taken recently that made everything that had happened between us years and years ago felt as recent to me as yesterday. The temptation loomed large in front of me, like giant red signs proclaiming DANGER! HAZARDOUS CONDITIONS AHEAD! TURN BACK NOW!
This only fueled the devilish excitement even more.
It was six-thirty by the time I got to the house. I dumped everything in the kitchen and raced to my room to change and freshen up my makeup, which is to say I actually put some on.
Thankfully Meghan wasn’t at home or she would have likely looked for an alien pod to explain this new and puzzling behavior.
I was chopping vegetables for my salad when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and Dylan stood on the doorstep, holding yellow roses in one arm and a brown bag with fresh garlic bread and wine(!) in the other.
I smiled shyly at him as I took his generous offerings. “This is sweet, thank you.”
“At last!” he exclaimed dramatically. “She learns how to simply accept a gift. There’s hope for you yet, Ms. Lawless,” he winked.
I laughed and led him toward the kitchen. “I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
The sauce bubbled away while the rigatoni boiled. I preheated the oven for the bread before I pulled some glasses from the cupboard to pour the wine(!). He dipped a wooden spoon in the sauce for a taste. “It’s meatless,” I warned. “I hope that’s okay.”
“I’m the guest,” he grinned. “I’m in your hands.”
His eyes sparkled into mine and I had to look away. “Yeah, do me a favor and don’t say things like that around the kid, okay?”
He chuckled. “Scout’s honor. Will I need my wine before or after the introduction?”
“Both,” I quipped. “In fact, I recommend an I.V. drip.”
“Next time,” he shrugged, as if it was a possibility.
My stomach leapt with stupid excitement, as if I wanted it to be. “Well, you’re in luck tonight. She’s not home yet. Maybe if you’re lucky, she’ll stay out till curfew.”
He leaned against the counter. “You make parenthood seem like a true joy, you know that?”
I laughed. “Parenthood is wonderful. Parenting, that’s a different story. That’s where the hard work comes in. Thankless, grueling work where you really don’t see the fruits of your labor until years later. It’s like waiting for a tree to grow.”
He followed me as I set the table. I put out a place for Meghan, even though I had no guarantee she’d even show up. I could have texted her, but I decided not to. If she showed, she showed. We’d deal with it then.
“Wonder how our moms got through it.”
“They had each other,” I said. “Now I understand why.”
“Who do you have?” he asked softly.
“Me, myself and I,” I answered. He wore a compassionate smile, so I expounded. “It sounds like a pity party but it’s not. This is my life. These were my choices. It’s kind of easier this way, you know? No one to answer to. No one to depend on.”
“No one to control you,” he filled in and I nodded.
“It’s just me. For better or worse.”
“Sounds lonely,” he said.
“No lonelier than a string of one-night-stands that never go anywhere,” I shot back.
“Touché,” he conceded. “I guess we’re more alike than I knew.”
His sentiment was punctuated with a slamming door. I groaned inwardly. Now the fun was truly about to begin. I held up my hand to keep him silent as we listened to Meghan stomp down the hall and slam into her bedroom. I motioned for Dylan to wait in the living room while I went to prepare my daughter for this unprecedented turn of events.
From all the slamming, I could already tell she wasn’t in a particularly receptive mood. I knocked gently on her door.
“What?” I heard her holler from the other side.
“Meghan, we have company,” I said, ripping the bandage right off.
She swung the door open to face me. “Who?”
“An old friend,” I said. “He’s here for dinner.”
“He?” she scoffed. “You invited a man for dinner?”
I shrugged helplessly. There was no way to explain it. “Dinner’s in ten,” I said before I returned to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the meal.
Surprisingly, Meghan followed. She spotted the wine glasses on the counter and the roses I was putting into a vase for the table. I could almost smell the smoke as her brain struggled to compute all this new data. She followed me into the dining room and then finally into the living room. Dylan stood to face my daughter, who was looking him up and down like he was some foreign contaminant.
“Meghan, this is Dylan Fenn. He’s an old childhood friend.”
“I know who he is,” she snapped. She glanced down at the hand he offered in greeting. She tipped her chin defiantly as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Dad told me all about you.”
“We met once,” he reminded her. “When you were little. You probably don’t remember.”
“It mustn’t have been very memorable,” she sneered. “You’re not as good looking as I might have thought.”
“Meghan!” I hissed under my breath.
Dylan just laughed. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he added with that charming wink and cockeyed grin.
Meghan seemed perplexed by his reaction. She had landed that barb to wound, but he shrugged it off. Meghan was clearly unsettled by this new development. The teenager shields went up with a roll of her eyes and a bored, “Whatever.”
But rather than squirrel away in her room, she plopped down on the recliner. She wasn’t looking at us directly, but I knew she was keeping track of everything in her peripheral vision.
He turned to me. “I forgot. I also brought something for after dinner.” He reached into his jacket for yet another gift. It was a DVD of Grease, which he handed to me with yet another wink and a knowing smile. “It’s the sing-along version.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Perfect,” I said.
Meghan glanced our direction and I held up the case. “We were in the high school production a gazillion years ago,” he explained. “Your mom would have made one hell of a Rizzo.”
There was yet another roll of her eyes as she glanced away, seemingly bored and annoyed with us, but surprisingly not going anywhere.
Dylan followed me into the kitchen once the timer went off on the oven for the bread. He carried our wine glasses to the table, where Meghan had already made herself at home in the seat in the middle of the other two place settings. He sat at one, I sat at the other.
I passed him the bowl with the pasta, which was now smothered in a sauce rich with vegetables. “So are you a vegetarian?” he asked Meghan. He already knew I wasn’t the herbivore in the family.
“It’s Meatless Monday,” she said, as if he should have been aware.
“Oh,” he said. “What’s that?”
She sighed dramatically. “It’s only, like, a major global movement.”
He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to explain.
“A lot of people won’t commit to a full vegetarian lifestyle. This helps everyone go veggie for a day, which helps the planet and their own personal health.”
“Ah,” he said. It was clear he didn’t buy into the propaganda, so Meghan forged ahead.
“A plant-based diet wards off diseases like cancer, heart disease and diabetes. It’s one of the easiest ways for you to improve your health and live longer.”
He suppressed a smile. “I see.”
His attitude only made her argument more vehement. “Did you know that it takes approximately two thousand gallons of water to produce one pound of meat? If everyone gave up meat for one day a week, we could not only lower our water usage, but reduce our carbon footprint and cut the demand for fossil fuels.”
“So why Monday?” he asked. I knew he was goading her now.
She glared at him. “Why not?”
He toasted me with his glass and that trademark smirk. “Why not?”
I watched as Meghan visibly stewed. He shoveled a spoonful of pasta into his mouth before he gave her a wink and said, “Yummy,” with his mouth full. Again, though her contempt was palpable, she didn’t go anywhere. It was as if she herself wanted to see how it would all play out.
I wondered why I hadn’t invited him over sooner.
Meghan's passion for #MeatlessMonday, the global movement to reduce our carnivorous ways by just one day to improve our health and our planet, comes from my own research on dietary health. I've actually gone Vegan for a bit in the past, although with my family, that is impossible to for long periods of time. Which is a shame, because I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I got to experiment with foods in ways I hadn't before. It stretched my creativity and I had a blast. The rest of my family, aside from my younger son, Jeremiah, isn't quite as adventurous. Everyone has their "thing" they don't eat, but most of them live by their meat. My oldest son recently started dating a girl that he took out for movie and dinner. Not knowing if she was a California girl who preferred to go meatless, he asked if she wanted a veggie burger. She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. In her culture, eating meat is a given. Everyone in my family, except maybe for me or possibly Jer, would find it unthinkable to give up meat entirely. For Mondays, though, it's totally doable, even if the fam isn't all that crazy about it. Dylan, in this scene, channels my meat-loving husband, Steven, who hates most vegetables and all fruits. (Yeah, I know. I don't get it either.) Dylan couches his skepticism of #MeatlessMonday with snark and humor, which is absolutely, positively, totally Steven.
To find out more about #MeatlessMonday, click on the official website. Also check out the documentary, FORKS OVER KNIVES, available now on Netflix. (I'll probably be showing this to one of my son's girlfriends tonight. She's a southern girl who loves her food, and she's also the unofficial cook of the family. I figure that we'd get on the same foodie page for health reasons, me for being overweight and her for being underweight.) Also check out my brand-spanking-new #MeatlessMonday Pinterest board, where I've bookmarked several yummy veggie dishes you can consider for #MeatlessMondays of your own.
It's one small change... but sometimes those small changes are all you need.
Happy Monday, everybody. :)
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