A Widow Redefined (12 page)

“We’re talking to author Brittany Hyatt,” the interviewer said. “We’re so glad to have you with us today.”

“Glad to be here.”

“Your book is called
Dating Again, Life Goes on After Death
. Tell us a little bit about it and yourself.”

“The book addresses the topic of widows/widowers and their often different approaches to getting back into a relationship again. Often, after a spouse dies, a man will go through a grieving process, but within a few years will usually re-marry. Women, on the other hand, will often spend many years alone, not dating anyone.”

“What do you think is the cause of these differences between the sexes?”

“Well,” Brittany said, “My book isn’t a scientific study, per se. It’s coming from my own personal viewpoint, based on hundreds of interviews I’ve done throughout the country.”

“Go on.”

“It all has to do with one’s perception of love. Men viewed marriage in a healthier light. They enjoyed sharing their lives with someone.”

“I like this,” the interviewer said. “A book written by a woman who’s telling us were doing things right.”

They both giggled.

Brittany continued. “Women, on the other hand, tend to have higher expectations. They share a more idealistic view of love, mainly romantic love, and this, I suggest, is from their upbringing.” She cleared her throat and went on. “Young girls are told fairytales. There’s always some version of the Prince Charming character. Then when they grow up and become women, they watch lots of romantic comedies.”

“But how does that translate into women not dating after a spouse passes away?”

“Well, women tend to idealize a lost partner more than men do. And this causes them to get stuck.”

“So in your book you have suggestions to help both sexes, particularly women, to move forward and into a relationship again.”

“Yes,” Brittany replied.

Loud honking interrupted the interview and I realized I was stopped at a light that had already turned green. I looked in the rear view mirror at the person behind me honking and waving his hands. I couldn’t read lips, but it seemed like he was screaming obscenities. I hit the gas, the action of pressing the pedal knocking me back to the present moment.

The interviewer went on. “So Brittany, you yourself are not a widow. What got you interested in writing about this topic?”

“I noticed a trend in my own family’s life, and the lives of my friends. My grandmother’s husband died and she outlived him by 25 years, never going on a single date. My best friend’s aunt… “

I pressed the off button. I was sure I had a good CD somewhere in the glove box. While digging, I heard my phone beep. I took it out of my purse and was going to check voicemail when I realized I was barely paying attention to the road. I set it aside and decided it could wait until later.

I drove the rest of the way in numbing silence.

Once I got home and changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, I remembered the voicemail and checked it.

“Hi Amy. It’s Sabrina, returning your call. Thanks for the invite to the health club. Ordinarily, I’d say yes, but I have a facial appointment this Sunday at Northbrook Court. If you’re interested, we could meet afterward and spend the day at the Chicago Botanic Garden. I’m a member, so we’ll get in free, as long as we take my car with the member sticker. Give me a call if you’d like to go.”

I let out a sigh. Once again, I was not in control of the meeting place, which meant I was not in control of the situation. I desperately wanted control, the upper hand–something to give me the confidence to uncover the information I needed.

I dialed her number and was surprised when she answered.

“Hello Amy. How are you?”

“I’m… I didn’t expect to catch you. I’m doing well. I just got your message, and, yeah, that sounds good. I can meet you and we can drive in one car.”

“Wonderful,” she replied. “Can you meet me outside Red Door Spa at noon?”

“Sure,” I answered, having no idea where it was. Then I added, “I’ll bring lunch for us this time.”

“Sounds great,” she said.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Have a good evening.”

•••••

While clearing the table after dinner, I decided to mention the upcoming outing.

“I’m going to the Botanic Garden this Sunday with my new friend from the health club.”

Tension instantly filled the room. Was it real or only in my imagination? I turned to find my mom studying me.

“Justin’s old customer?” she asked, the look on her face suspicious.

“Yeah,” I replied. I looked away and set a dish in the sink.

“That sounds like fun Mom,” Tyler said, then he went on to tell me about a fight someone had gotten into at school. Over another little girl, no less.

I listened to his story and as I did, Mom gave me her “I feel left out” face, which I pretended not to see. I couldn’t tell her anything about Sabrina, not until the time was right.

“Should we walk to Redbox and rent a new release?” Tyler suggested, now done with his tale.

I wouldn’t mind skipping our workout. I wasn’t in the mood. But I noted the walking part, and realized we’d still be exercising. Somehow I’d gotten scammed. “Okay,” I agreed.

“You two go,” Mom said. “I’m too full.”

As I finished drying the dishes, I noticed Mom was pouting. Why did she have to act like this? Did she expect me to tell her every little detail of my life? I felt bad hiding this from her, but that was just how it had to be for now.

“Is there a particular movie you want to see?” I asked.

“No. I’m going to read my novel tonight. Pick out whatever you like.”

“Are you sure?” There was no budging her out of this mode. I knew that, but asked anyway.

“I’m sure,” she replied. “Oh, and I’m not busy Sunday if you want me to watch Tyler while you visit your friend.”

Now I felt even more awful. I hadn’t even asked her if she was free.

I was a terrible daughter.

I finished the last dish and watched my mom disappear to her room. Eventually I’d be honest with her. But not yet.

Tyler had to go to the bathroom before we went to rent the movie, so I plopped onto the couch to give my food a chance to digest. With my eyes closed, I began thinking about the author on the radio. Were men really healthier than women when it came to love? If I’d been the one who died, would Justin have been dating someone else by now? Or be re-married? The thought was so alien I could barely wrap my mind around it.

And what about Sabrina? Why didn’t she get hitched again? She was still young and beautiful. Wealthy, too. She could have anyone she wanted. What the hell was her problem? I continued analyzing her, because it was much easier than trying to analyze myself.

“Hey Mom,” Tyler said, interrupting my mental jabbering. “I’m ready to go.”

I wasn’t, but I pushed myself up and off the sofa. Then we both put on light jackets and headed to the store.

“So T., How was this week’s lesson with Josephine? You know, the one I slept through.”

He laughed. “It was good. I told her about us getting a dog soon, and she was excited for us. You know what? I think when I grow up, I might become a teacher.”

I liked this. He was more the normal Tyler today, chatting me up, jumping from topic to topic. I was surprised, though. I hadn’t realized he’d thought much about his future.

“Planning that far ahead already?”

“No,” he said. “But Josephine asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up, so I thought about it.”

“So is that your only interest?”

As we walked he gave it some thought. “No. I’d like to be an artist. That’s what I said first. Then I told her I’d like to be a teacher, like her.”

I looked down at him and grinned. He had charisma. “You’ve got plenty of time to do both,” I assured him.

Once we got to Redbox, Tyler picked out
Kung Fu Panda 2
. We watched it together when we got home. Mom stayed in her room, true to form. She was an expert martyr.

•••••

Saturday flew by. Tyler and I played Checkers and exercised. I even posed for a portrait. Then we looked through dog books, narrowing it down to his top three favorites: pug, boxer, and Pomeranian.

I knew we’d get a dog from animal control. I doubted he’d be purebred, but you never know. I figured a little research couldn’t hurt. And slowly, my mom became a little more involved in the process again, getting Tyler’s opinion on breeds and asking him questions.

Sunday morning I woke up and made breakfast for everyone. Tyler was going to spend the day with his friend, Sam. They were going to watch Sam’s older brother practice some new sport called parkour.

“It’s so cool, Mom,” Tyler said. “We saw him doing some of it. He runs, he flips, and you’re not going to believe it. He can climb walls like a ninja!”

“And you’re going to watch or participate?”

“I’m going to watch, but Sam said he could show us some beginner moves.”

His eyes pleaded with me not to shoot this down. I didn’t want to say no, and frankly, it made sense he’d eventually outgrow exercising with me and his grandma.

“Okay,” I said. “Just be careful.”

He looked at me like I was nuts, like he was born careful. “I will,” he replied.

Mom took Tyler to Sam’s, and I mapped out how to get to the mall in Northbrook. It was halfway between my house and Sabrina’s. After showering and getting ready, I realized it would be polite to wear one of the new outfits she had given me.

On the way to the mall I stopped and picked up sandwiches and bottled water. I had decided Corner Bakery would be much better than bologna and yellow mustard on white bread. I didn’t want Sabrina to find out I was a plain Jane in the kitchen too.

I found Red Door Spa and waited outside. Some very put together ladies were going in and out. Then, just after noon, I saw Sabrina.

“Hey Amy. You look fabulous.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I wore this to work last week, too. Lots of compliments. My co-worker looked at the tag and asked me about it. I don’t know why, but I told her it was from Target. Sorry about that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Why was I talking about this? I wondered. When I was nervous complete bumbling took me over.

“Actually, that’s not a bad thought. Lots of big name designers are partnering with them.”

Great. Now I was giving her ideas to add to her vast fortune. I had to stop blabbering and stay focused.

“Where did you park?” she asked.

“In the upper-level Macy’s lot.”

“I’m there too.”

We walked through the store and out to the cars. She pressed a button to turn off her alarm, then we got into her two door silver Mercedes. It wasn’t the same car I’d seen her in before, the one Henry drove her around in. I wondered what he was up to today. Then I stopped myself. Focus Amy.

Sabrina pulled out of the mall and we drove a few short blocks, arriving at our destination. We hadn’t even made meaningless small talk along the way. She slowed to greet the entrance attendant, who waved us through after seeing the member sticker on her windshield.

After we walked in, Sabrina eyed the Corner Bakery bag. “There are tables right here if you want to eat first.”

I nodded. We found a spot and I unpacked the sandwiches and handed one to her, along with a bottle of water. We sat in awkward silence, eating our food.

I was doing a lot of thinking, that was my deal. But I didn’t know what she was up to. It definitely felt like a mental showdown, though. Maybe she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have me lose it again. I was keeping quiet and chewing, trying to figure out the best way to maneuver our upcoming conversation to my advantage.

“We’re lucky,” she blurted out. “It’s a sunny day. My favorite way to see this place.”

The weather was a safe enough topic.

“I’ve never been here,” I admitted. This was a major Chicago attraction, and I’d lived here all my life. I wondered how Justin and I could’ve missed it.

“I come here often,” she said. “Every season it’s different. Sometimes it can even change from day to day.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“How can I describe it,” she said, mulling it over. “Well for example the same garden will transform from one look in the sunlight to a completely different place in the rain.”

Sabrina gazed around as she spoke, an intense expression coming over her face. She seemed to be remembering other visits here, memories that weren’t easily hidden behind a placid exterior.

So she wasn’t always one hundred percent poised and in control after all. She had little breaks from time to time, too. Or maybe our visits were wearing her down.

“Seems like the perfect place to spend a day,” I said.

I had decided I would remain calm and avoid rambling on about nonsense the way I often do. I wanted to get her to talk more. That was the only way to get somewhere in this odd situation.

We finished eating, then Sabrina got up and led the way, beginning our garden tour. I noticed other people were using maps to find their way around. She didn’t appear to need one.

“So you’re a member here, huh?” I asked.

A sly smile crossed her face as we walked. “Yeah. Me and the Botanic go way back.”

I kept pace next to her, wondering what she meant.

“My mom was on the board of directors here when I was a kid,” she explained. “My sister and I would come along when she had a meeting sometimes. We’d run and play hide and seek in the English Walled Garden.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said. I meant it, too. I was an only child and had often dreamed of what it might be like to have siblings to play with.

“It was more than fun,” Sabrina said. “It was magic, you know?”

As I looked to my right I noticed the way the sun glinted off the lake and cast a warm glow on the surrounding plants. A fountain in its center shot water into the air, sending spray out in a 360-degree radius. Ducks quacked happily in the background, and then, in the next moment Sabrina and I walked under a leafy trellis, emerging into another beautiful spot.

This place was magic.

She continued. “When you’re small, it’s larger than life here. It’s like a whole new world. My sister and I would really get into it. We’d talk with fake English accents. We’d pretend we were running from dragons.”