A Widow Redefined (13 page)

Sabrina laughed out loud, reliving a memory, then clapped her hands together.

“Sounds like good times,” I said.

“Yeah. They were some of the best.”

I had wanted her to talk more, and she was doing just that. She was even sharing personal things about herself. But somehow, I felt guilty. While I was listening to her and enjoying it, I had this ugly interior motive, and it felt wrong. Could I just let go of my worry? My fears about her relationship with Justin? I wanted to, I really did. It would have been so nice to just enjoy her friendship. But something continued to nag at me, and I couldn’t let it go. Just because she was interesting didn’t mean she was good. Still it was difficult to reconcile the two conflicting feelings.

“We’re coming up on the Enabling Garden,” she said. “It’s one of the nicest.”

So far she’d been a great guide. She let us walk and talk and take it all in without going on and on about every single flower. I was thankful she wasn’t spewing their Latin names.

“Isn’t it great?” she said. “Notice the layout.”

I looked around. It was pretty, but I didn’t see anything unique in its design.

“It’s laid out so anyone can work and plant in it, even if they’re confined to a wheelchair.”

I took a second, closer look. Now I could see what she meant. The flowers and plants were at hip level. There were pots hanging from the wall, all within reach.

“It’s amazing,” I said.

“It’s a lot of work, but what I love about it is how it shows anything is possible despite one’s limitations.”

I listened to the way she spoke. It was how successful people talked. I remember Justin always saying things like that. From attempting a stunt on his skateboard as a teenager, until he was in the hospital fighting cancer, telling me not to worry, he had this beat. He never let doctors quote him outcomes in percentages based on past success. He just knew his surgeries and treatments would work. I had a hard time understanding how he could be so positive.

“So far this is my favorite garden,” I told her. “Which one is your favorite?”

Sabrina’s pace slowed while she considered my question.

“I don’t know,” she responded, looking perplexed. “Each one has its own special meaning for me. The whole place reminds me of my mom. I still really miss her.” She paused then said, “The English Garden takes me back to simpler times, to being a kid. But I think right now I enjoy the Japanese Garden most. I use it as a place of quiet reflection.”

We continued walking, taking in the contrasting yet complimentary colors in the landscape around us. Part of me wished I could get inside that brain of hers and see what she was thinking, remembering, but part of me was just enjoying her company. And who couldn’t help but fall in love with this place? I felt like I had been transported to another country. Everywhere I looked there was one display of flowers more beautiful than the last.

Sabrina stopped walking. “Here’s another spot that has meaning for me,” she said.

I looked around. All I saw was a lake surrounded by a concrete area with tables and chairs. It seemed like no big deal so I glanced back at her for an explanation.

“This is where I got married,” she said.

Just one sentence. That was all it took for me to give the area a closer look. As we strolled together in silence, the spot gained new significance. I could almost feel regret hanging in the air, like a rain-filled cloud before a storm.

“We could move on, if you’d like,” I said. “I don’t need to see this one.”

Unlike me Sabrina didn’t break down crying in front of people when upset. She appeared cool and controlled.

“No. It’s fine,” she said. “I told you I’d show you the place. I wouldn’t want you to miss any of it.”

She turned to me and smiled. I couldn’t tell if she was reigning in her emotion… or if she’d simply moved on. If it was me, though, I’d never want to visit that garden again. And if I had to come back, I’d probably do something terrible, like take it out on the plants and then run away before getting arrested.

“I’m sure it was a beautiful wedding,” I said.

“It was.” There was a long pause, then she added, “I guess we all hope it will last forever.”

I walked beside her, unsure of what to say.

Sabrina continued. “I think I even knew at the wedding that it wouldn’t last. I didn’t admit it to myself out loud, but I knew on an unconscious level.”

“How?”

“I wish I could tell you. It was just a gut feeling, you know? That he didn’t love me enough.”

I felt terrible hearing Sabrina say that. Everyone deserved to be loved completely by their spouse.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

Sabrina was still cool and composed. I don’t know what came over me, but right then, I wanted to puncture that exterior.

“Do you think you’ll ever re-marry?” I asked.

The question super-charged the air around us. She didn’t have an immediate response.

“I think I’d like to,” she finally replied.

Much smarter than saying, “Yes. I wanted to steal your spouse from you and marry him.”

“How about you?” she asked. “Do you think you’ll re-marry?”

I was so busy thinking poisonous thoughts of her I hadn’t seen that one coming. I was blindsided. How dare she even have the nerve to ask?

“I haven’t given any thought to the matter.” My voice sounded even, but I was enraged. I know I didn’t really have a right to be–I’d asked her the very same question. But it made me angry. She seemed to sense it, too, and we continued strolling for a long time in silence.

“Here’s the English Walled Garden,” she announced, with a renewed sense of enthusiasm.

I didn’t know why I was so pissed. I guess I was one of those people who could dish it out but not take it. I had no one to blame but myself.

Exhaling and tucking the emotion away, I saw the entrance to the English Garden. A high wall of reddish-colored bricks formed a large square, hiding what lay inside. The way in was through a doorway held open by a blue wooden gate, which provided a glimpse of the beauty within.

As we walked in I was taken by the wildness of the flowers; which seemed to have a mind of their own, growing in all directions yet coming together somehow. To my right, there were two white benches, placed on opposite sides of a trickling fountain, the perfect spot to contemplate or have a photograph taken.

This was by far the best garden I’d ever seen. I could visualize Sabrina as a child, running around here, playing with her little sister.

Some of my inner fury dissipated.

“There are six walled rooms,” she said. “I’ll show you.”

I followed her, in awe at the beauty that surrounded me. I was enclosed in a real secret garden, right out of a Jane Austen novel. There were more than just wild flowers, though. Vines twisted and crawled up lattices. Manicured hedges separated areas and created order where there seemed to be none. Unique sculptures popped up in the most unexpected locations, adding to the enchantment.

Sabrina found a black wrought-iron bench and took a seat. I sat opposite her in a matching chair. I felt like a child at a tea party. I used to love playing with those plastic tea sets as a kid. I filled the cups with Kool-Aid and served crackers on plates to my mom and stuffed animals.

“Amy,” Sabrina said. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

I looked at over at her, wondering if it could really be this easy.

“I’m not sure how to word this,” she said.

This was the moment I’d been waiting for. I was sure.

“What I’m trying to say is,” she continued, “that toward the end, when Justin was really sick, well… he made a point of telling me that he hoped someday you would re-marry.”

I stared at Sabrina, unable to comprehend what she had said.

I continued staring, like someone who had undergone a lobotomy, unable to speak. Some petals fell off a tree overhead and landed on my lap. I didn’t brush them away. A couple strolled past, hand in hand, and still I stared at her, transfixed.

“Amy,” Sabrina asked. “Are you all right?”

I heard her call out my name, but she sounded far away. I knew I should speak, that I should say something, but my mouth didn’t want to move; it wouldn’t listen to my brain. I saw her get up and come toward me. Then she kneeled in front of me and reached out.

“Are you okay?” she asked, now holding my hand in hers.

The physical contact worked. I could feel myself returning to my body. I was able to blink a few times and clear my throat.

“I’m okay,” I said, while slowly pulling my hand free and then clasping both of them together in my lap.

How could I respond to such a statement? A concept so foreign to my mind I couldn’t comprehend it. I couldn’t believe it was true; I wouldn’t let myself. There must have been some kind of mistake.

“I’m sorry, but is it possible for you to repeat what you just said?” I asked, still disoriented.

Sabrina got up from her kneeling position and sat in the chair next to me. She no longer appeared cool and collected. Her expression showed genuine concern.

I listened as she repeated the same phrase she had said before. Then I swallowed the lump that had begun to form in my throat.

There was no mistake. I had heard her right the first time. I didn’t cry, though. I couldn’t. I was too stunned.

“I’m sorry that didn’t come out well,” Sabrina said. “We were on the subject, and since I had spoken to Justin about it, it just felt right to say. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Sabrina’s face was a mix of compassion and terror. I responded, to my surprise, a little more like her. I remained calm.

“I guess I’m just in a state of shock,” I said. “Justin and I never discussed that, not once.”

I wondered how the two of them had. Why he would tell her something like that? Something that’s meant for a friend. I stared at her, and all at once comprehension sunk in. Sabrina and Justin were friends.

I barely had a moment to get used to the idea before she began talking again.

“He said he’d never tell you, that he didn’t want to diminish what you two had, but that he hoped, in time, you would find someone else to share your life with.”

I listened, wide-eyed and present, taking in every word. As the phrases made sense, my brain began clicking, making new connections. I realized if they had these types of conversations, that Justin must’ve accepted the possibility of death, had been getting his mind around the idea.

He’d never shown this side to me. All I’d heard was never-ending positivity. “Gonna get chemo today, take a few days off, then I’m back on the Vibbert kitchen remodel.” And, “After recovering from this surgery, we should take a weekend family trip. Where does my kitten want to go?”

He’d always make it seem like he was stopping off at the dentist to have a filling done. He never acted like cancer was serious. Half the time he’d have the doctors and nurses wailing with laughter at one of his off-color jokes. I’d arrive to find them leaning over, wiping tears from their eyes, telling me I’d married a comedian.

I only saw Justin smiling and laughing. He hid his pain from me. He continued to make plans for our future, like we had one. I guess a big part of me believed we did. His optimism was contagious, especially when it was something I so desperately wanted to catch.

“This is a bit overwhelming,” I said. “I’m still trying to take it all in. I mean, he never… we never talked like that. He acted like every procedure was routine, that he’d be home in no time.”

She listened as I rambled on, nodding her head in understanding.

“Justin wanted to have a life with you,” she said. “That’s why he still made plans. It makes sense to act in accordance with one’s wishes.”

I looked at Sabrina, still confused about their friendship. “I don’t understand why he would make plans with me, then discuss alternate futures for my life with someone else, with you?”

A look of careful consideration crossed her face.

“I think, and, obviously I cannot speak for him, but I think he just wanted someone to talk to. A person he could confide in and didn’t have to be strong for. Someone he didn’t have to worry about hurting.”

Was my Justin foolish enough to think he had found that person in Sabrina? Did he think his client-turned-friend, this odd, otherworldly woman could be a buddy to confide in and not hurt? Could he not see the light shining in her eyes, the glow on her face when she spoke of him?

Justin was strong for me, not showing fear while being eaten from within by a vicious monster that plotted his death. And Sabrina, this porcelain lady sitting next to me, had listened to his plans for our future–his plans for my future, all while pretending to be a casual friend who couldn’t be hurt.

I studied her carefully, wondering why she had done it. Why she put herself through all that. Maybe she felt she had no choice, that it was her fate or her destiny. Her expression answered none of those questions.

The only thing I knew for sure is that she loved him. She hadn’t told me, of course, but this I was certain of. I couldn’t imagine how it must’ve felt to be in her position, what kind of exquisite pain that might be.

The cool woman at my side suddenly appeared very fragile.

“Sabrina,” I said, carefully phrasing my words. “I appreciate you telling me all of this. We were on the subject and it
was
right of you to say. I’m just trying to digest it all, you know?”

She nodded, then I stood up and brushed the flower petals off my pants. She got up too, and we began strolling again, continuing the tour.

As we headed toward the Japanese Garden, I found myself wondering why she would want to spend any time with me.

Our first visit was not her choice. I had shown up unannounced to confront her. She had answered my questions and that should have been enough. Why would she say “See you next time?” Why would she want there to be a next time?

I knew my own motives, but couldn’t understand hers.

When we arrived in the Japanese Garden, I could see why it was Sabrina’s favorite. Acres of brilliant green sprawled between waterways connected by bridges, one in the shape of a zigzag. Waterfalls spilled down from rocks creating a tranquil, constant hum. The air smelled fresh, a byproduct of the pruned pine trees throughout.