A Widow Redefined (10 page)

I stopped myself. I was saying way too much. I was carrying on with her like she was Barb or Fatima.

Even though I’d trailed off, Sabrina politely ignored it. “So does your son enjoy his lessons?”

“Yes. He loves them. Actually, I think he has a crush on his teacher, Josephine.”

Sabrina grinned. “That’s cute.” Apparently she couldn’t get enough of hearing about him.

“I know. It’s his first crush, and he talks about her non-stop. He’s eating like her, telling us all her travel stories. Plus, she’s got a dog. Tyler’s always wanted a dog but—”

“But Justin was allergic,” she said, finishing my sentence. “I remember. He told me.”

It became uncomfortable again. And I wondered what else Justin had told her.

“Well, yeah… then you know,” I replied awkwardly.

“So Josephine, in addition to graduating from such a fine institution, has travelled extensively as well. What a nice thing to hear. Do you know where she’s been?”

Sabrina was a master at smoothing out ripples of tension. I was grateful she’d re-directed the conversation. I was only too happy to share. “I guess she’s been to most of Europe and part of South America. She hasn’t been to Tahiti, though. Tyler asked.”

Sabrina tilted her head and smiled. “Ah, Tahiti—that glorious place.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No,” she said. “My sister has been. She went for her honeymoon. I saw the pictures.”

I was surprised she hadn’t gone. If I was even half as rich as she was I’d have gone by now.

“Tell me about your sister,” I said.

“Oh, let’s see. She’s younger. She’s married and has a daughter. She lives in California with her husband, a film executive. They went to Bora Bora for their honeymoon, and all I got was a few pictures and a t-shirt.”

Her joke made me laugh, like we were on the same level. Of course, we weren’t. She could travel whenever she wanted, wherever she wanted. And all I ever wanted was to go to that special island with my husband.

“Justin talked a lot about Bora Bora,” Sabrina said.

“Yeah.”

“He planned to take you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“He said he wanted to renew your wedding vows there, for your fifteen-year anniversary.”

Suddenly, I lost all capacity to breathe. I hadn’t known that specific plan, and hearing it knocked the wind out of me. Then my eyes erupted into a waterfall.

Embarrassed, wiping tears from my face, I said, “Excuse me.” Then I ran off to the guest bathroom.

Once alone I sobbed freely. I leaned over the sink and cried harder than I had in a long time, eventually collapsing on the floor.

This is worse than the funeral, I thought. At least then, at the end of the day after everyone had gone, I’d been able to break down alone. My mom had taken Tyler for a walk in the park. Poor T., I thought. No father to play with, no counselor to talk to. He rarely spoke to me about his feelings, only danced around them, the way he did with Sally’s mom and her heart surgery. His response to getting sick and dying was simple: Eat right and exercise. Problem. Solution. I formed a half-smile at the thought. He was already on his way to becoming the action-oriented, logical man. His emotions went into his artwork.

I sat in a blubbering heap on the bathroom floor. I had been in here for too long. Worse yet, I’d have to face Sabrina, something I didn’t look forward to.

I managed to climb up and check my reflection in the mirror. My face was a red, swollen mess. My eyes glowed green. I turned on the faucet and splashed my skin with cold water, then took some deep breaths.

When I slipped into the hallway, Sabrina wasn’t there. Sheepishly, I walked back toward the kitchen. I wanted nothing more than to escape.

I poked my head into the room and saw Sabrina seated, looking frantic.

“I’m so sorry, Amy. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. Don’t apologize,” I said. “You did nothing wrong, really. It’s me. I didn’t know about the vow renewal, and it just took me by surprise.”

Sabrina looked uncomfortable. “I thought you knew. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was meant to be a surprise. I mean, he never said—”

“Please,” I said, interrupting her. “Don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. I mean it.”

She accepted this time and then got up and began straightening the dishes, an obvious attempt to distract herself from the awkwardness of the moment. I wanted to leave, but didn’t want to be rude, so I asked, “Can I help with anything?”

“Oh no,” she said. “I was just clearing these out of the way so I can serve dessert.”

I couldn’t eat another bite of food if I tried. My stomach was a knot. “Sabrina, I apologize, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have any.”

She turned, her expression softened, and she said in a low voice, “I understand.”

I looked at my watch, wondering if it was time for my mom to pick up Tyler. Sabrina noticed I was antsy, too.

“Let me get your things,” she said, then walked toward the closet by the front door.

I followed her and took my coat and gym bag. I saw the hanging bag with the clothes she’d given me. I felt terrible accepting them now. Sabrina handed them to me anyway.

“Here you go,” she said. “Enjoy.”

I stood in the foyer feeling horrible, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you,” I replied. “This was… fun.”

Sabrina broke into a nervous laugh. “Part of it was,” she said in a genuine tone. “See you next time.”

And there it was, that odd phrase she’d spoken after the first time we met. Those words haunted me. Because, unlike Justin, who was paid to come back again and again, I could no longer comprehend the real reason for my own visits.

Like the siren’s song to the sailor, her “see you next time” would continue to pull me, as the tides control the sea.

I
hopped into my car and started the engine, anxious to get home. After I checked my watch, I realized it would be perfect timing; I’d make it back just as Tyler and my mom were getting there. I hoped by then it wouldn’t look like I’d been crying.

When I walked in, no one was home. So I took the opportunity to hide the bag Sabrina had given me in the back of my closet. Then I took my swimsuit out and began rinsing it in the sink. I heard the garage door open.

“Hey Mom,” Tyler said, poking his head into the bathroom.

I waved, then dried my hands on a towel.

Later on, after dinner, I let my guard down. I felt compelled to talk, even if all I could share was a partial truth. “So I met this lady at the gym today, and she invited me to swim at her house.”

Mom’s curiosity peaked. She wasn’t accustomed to me hanging out with my old friends, let alone meeting someone new.

“What lady?” she asked.

I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, but I’d already begun. I felt a sudden pressure in my chest.

“Well it ends up—if you can believe it—that she was a customer of Justin’s. Somehow she recognized me and introduced herself.”

Mom looked confused. Tyler seemed interested. The inquiring looks on both their faces made me wish I hadn’t brought it up.

“How did she recognize you?” Mom asked.

I was weaving a tale now, and I didn’t have any idea where I was going with it. “Umm, that’s a good question,” I said. “I don’t know. She just came up to me and asked if I was Amy White. Then she introduced herself and we got to talking.”

My mom didn’t say anything, but I could tell she sensed the story was false. Her posture wasn’t relaxed enough to be buying it. And there was too much unevenness in my voice. She had a questioning look in her eyes that asked, “What really happened?”

I hated disappointing her, but I couldn’t provide an answer to that. I didn’t even know myself. But I had to say something about it all, to share this secret or I’d simply burst. It was becoming too much for me to hide.

“So,” Mom continued, “She invited you to her place to swim?”

“Yeah. She’s got a pool in her house. She lives on the North Shore. She was one of Justin’s best customer’s.”

My mom gave me a long, speculative glance. “Well I guess you were meant to make a new friend,” she said. It didn’t sound like she meant it.

She would be snide if I wasn’t going to be truthful. I felt terrible now that I’d brought it up.

“I think it’s nice you made a friend,” Tyler chimed in. “Sometimes the Universe is speaking to you.”

“What?” Mom barked.

“You know—The Universe,” Tyler repeated, this time with more emphasis. He looked at us both like we were clueless and should know these things.

“Honey, where did you get an idea like that?” I asked.

“Josephine.”

Of course—Josephine. The hippie, vegetarian art instructor. Now there was a stereotype if there ever was one.

“Tell me what she told you,” I said.

Tyler looked eager to discuss the topic. Anything Josephine-related held special interest for him.

He sat up straight and clasped his hands together, like a guest speaker at an event. “Well,” he began, “she said the Universe is always working its magic, always speaking to us, and that everything happens for a reason.”

His serious expression amused me. I spent a moment considering what he just said. It actually sounded acceptable, not too crazy.

I smiled at Tyler and put my hand on his shoulder. “That sounds good, honey. That sounds real good.”

Mom just walked out of the room, shaking her head, muttering inaudible words.

•••••

The next morning I woke up, showered, and dressed in one of my new designer outfits. I felt great, reborn almost.

When I got to the office and sat at my desk, Fatima came by. “Hey. Nice threads. Where’d you get them?”

Good question. And one I didn’t really want to answer. Fatima reached down the back of my blouse and pulled out the tag.

“Bergman Collection!” she shouted. “What’d you do, rob a bank?”

“No,” I said defensively. “It’s from Target.”

She gave me a surprised look. “I didn’t know they had a collection at Target.”

“I guess they do now,” I said, hoping she’d just let it go. I loved her—I did—but sometimes young people got on my nerves.

My day improved as we got busier. Everyone pretty much kept to themselves. We listened to the Spanish channel, the only station that seemed to come in lately.

When I clocked out at 5:00 p.m., the weather was wonderful. No more cold, rainy, gray skies. It was a fine spring day, so I rolled down the window and let the fresh air rush in.

I was happy. I hadn’t felt that emotion in a long time.

When I got home, I could tell Mom had noticed the shift in my mood, too. She didn’t comment on it, though. We shared that unspoken mother/daughter connection.

After dinner, Mom had plans with one of her friends, so Tyler and I decided to go for a walk outside. We both wore jackets, because it was still colder than it looked. Blue sky could be deceptive in Chicagoland.

“How was school today?” I asked.

“Good.”

“Any homework you could use help with?”

“No. I’m pretty caught up,” he said. “I did it in class.”

Sometimes I felt so unneeded. My son seemed to have everything in his life under control.

“How’s Sally’s mom doing? Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah. Sally said she’s doing good.”

Our feet hit the pavement while our arms swished back and forth in unison, the coat fabric making rubbing sounds. I was out of ideas on how to create conversation that went beyond mere question and answer. Usually my son talked more. I wasn’t sure what was up with him. But then I remembered Sabrina’s idea, about the counseling.

“Hey T.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you ever feel like you wish you had someone to talk to? Someone other than me?”

He kept walking. “I talk to all kinds of people.”

It was a general statement. One he made to avoid the topic at hand. I knew he discussed something about it with Josephine, but that wasn’t what I meant.

“No, honey. That’s not what I mean,” I articulated. “I mean maybe talking to someone about problems.”

Tyler halted. “What are you saying? That I should go to a psycho doctor?”

I paused, carefully choosing my next words. “No, honey. I’m not saying you need to go to a psychologist. I’m just asking if you would like to, to have someone to talk to.”

I had offended him. He took great pride in his child-like ability to hold everything together. I felt bad I’d mentioned it.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

He began walking again, and I did, too, striding at his side.

He was quiet for a while, then said, “I don’t need to see a doctor about Dad, if that’s what you mean.”

I let silence fill the air, hoping he might fill the space with more conversation about his dad.

We continued walking in silence for a while, then he finally spoke.

“Dad’s just gone,” he said. “That’s the way it is. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Honey. I understand those are the facts, but what I was suggesting is maybe you’d like to discuss your
feelings
with someone.”

Tyler stopped again. “I
am
discussing it with someone. I’m telling you—right now—it makes me sad.”

With that out, he turned and changed direction, heading back toward home. He’d stated the obvious. And right then, I realized my son was growing up. He was already becoming like most men, where the obvious is all there is. They didn’t see the need to go past it.

I still had a lot to learn about raising a boy. Luckily, he was such a good one, I didn’t mind.

Helping me out of an uncomfortable moment, Tyler spoke again. “Before Dad died, he told me I needed to be strong.” His face composed, he said, “He told me everything would be okay.”

“He told me it was normal to feel sad, and to cry. And he said if I wanted to talk to him, all I’d have to do is talk to him the way I’ve always done, and he’d be there, listening.”

“And do you?” I asked, somewhat surprised.

“Sure,” he said. “All the time. Not out loud, of course. In my head.”

We were approaching the house now, so I fished the keys out of my pocket.

“I told him about Josephine and my art lessons. I told him about her dog, Soleil, and how I’m hoping we could get a dog, too.”