A Widow Redefined (19 page)

When I got to the pool area, Sabrina had already gotten in, so I climbed in, too.

“It’s funny,” I said. “My son went swimming at the community pool with his grandma today.”

Sabrina frowned. “You should’ve brought him here. He’s welcome to come.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Maybe I’ll bring him another time.”

Sabrina began doing laps, taking her pool time a bit more seriously. I did the same. And as I listened to the sound of the water splash in my ears, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of bringing Tyler here before. She’d mentioned wanting to have a kid to play with, and he would get a real kick out of this place. I guess I was just too protective. I never let anyone into our world until I was sure.

Sabrina veered off course and swam up to me. I saw her coming and stopped, then began treading water to stay afloat. “Do you remember my friend, Miguel? The lawyer you met at the party?”

“Oh yeah, I think I do,” I replied, trying to appear calm.

Sabrina wasn’t buying it. She knew I was nervous, but because she was polite, pretended not to notice.

“Well, he’s helping me solve a major problem next week. He stopped by earlier so we could discuss it. I feel confident we can get it fixed. Oh, and he dropped off a CD and asked me to give it to you.” She raised her eyebrow in a question.

I wanted to sink to the bottom of the pool.

“That was thoughtful of him. So what kind of problem do you have?” I asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Well, it’s complicated, but if I were to sum it up, it would come down to knock-offs.”

“Like copying your designs?”

“Yes,” she said, then leaned forward and began swimming again, “except at a highly-reduced price.”

I began swimming again too, and hoped the conversation would stay focused on business.

“We can’t allow people to copy us,” she said from across the pool. “We lose money and it puts us in a bad position, especially if we want to do a lower-priced line of our own someday, with a store like Target, for example.”

I couldn’t believe she had taken my idea seriously. I felt proud.

“So I have question. Kind of on the same topic,” I said. “Last week my mom was a hand model for Tyler’s art project. And it got me wondering, how come a magazine like
Vogue
doesn’t have a senior edition?”

Sabrina stopped swimming. This got her full attention. I wasn’t sure if she was offended or intrigued.

“It’s interesting that you’d ask because
Vogue
has many editions—international ones, a
Teen Vogue
, but they haven’t ventured into the market for older individuals.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Aren’t they the group with the largest population growth? And with the most money to spend?”

Sabrina climbed out of the pool and grabbed her towel. I followed.

“You want to know the truth?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, while grabbing my own towel and drying off.

“In the fashion world youth is valued above everything else, worshipped even. No one wants to embrace women aging gracefully, losing their beauty, so they ignore it. They continue to sell the same proven concept. And indeed, they may shun the older, wiser woman with money to spend.”

“Well, I’m not too into fashion myself—no offense—but I think they should have a
Vogue Senior
or something like that, something older women can connect with, so they can feel good about themselves.”

Sabrina nodded rapidly. “Yet they don’t. It’s because they don’t place value on that type of beauty. They can’t sell the dream of reality.”

She must be right, otherwise they would’ve done it already. If they could’ve made money on it, it would exist.

“Getting hungry yet?” Sabrina asked.

“Yeah.”

I finished drying off and changed in the bathroom. When I got to the kitchen, I saw Henry had put together some good-looking sandwiches.

Sabrina sat down and handed me a plate. “You have a head for business,” she said.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a napkin. “I doubt that. All I do at my present job is data entry. I helped some with Justin’s business, but mostly little things… like depositing the checks.”

“You sell yourself short,” she said, before taking a bite of food.

She meant it as a compliment. But I thought my ideas were as ordinary as the next person’s. I was feeling a little embarrassed, so I decided it was time to steer the conversation toward Dr. Friedman.

“So, how did the party go after I left? Anything exciting happen?”

“No. Not really,” she said.

“Were you surprised to see your cousin?” I asked.

The room instantly tensed up. Then Sabrina said, “I was very surprised… and happy. It had been a long time.”

Sabrina got up and went to the refrigerator. She pulled out two healthy-looking fruit and yogurt desserts. “My cousin would approve of these,” she grinned.

I took mine and set it next to my drink. “I was wondering,” I said, “if Dr. Friedman has an office in the Illinois area?”

Sabrina shook her head no.

She obviously didn’t seem to want to talk about him. I didn’t care, though. I was going to continue.

“You know what was odd,” I said. “I never received a bill from him, or any bills from the insurance company showing he’d submitted anything.”

I reached for my dessert and sat staring at her.

She kept her eyes down and replied, “I know.”

She was acting weird. Evasive.

“Sabrina,” I said.

She finally looked up.

“Did you pay those bills for us? Or did your cousin do it as a favor?”

“Does it matter?” she asked.

I thought about it for a minute and said, “It does to me.”

Sabrina sighed. She paused for a while before responding. “Okay, if you must know… it was a favor.”

I couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth, but what was done was done. What I did know was that I felt immense gratitude swelling in my heart. I didn’t think I could find the words to express how thankful I was.

“Sabrina,” I said.

She made eye contact with me again, reluctantly.

“I want you to know how truly grateful I am, that we both are. I mean, if Justin could speak he would’ve been so thankful had he known. I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t think I could have asked for a better friend. Not in my whole life.”

Sabrina managed a half-smile. Had I made her uncomfortable?

“You’ve become a good friend, too,” she said.

As usual, time moved fast while away from home.

“Well, I guess it’s about time for me to get going soon. My mom could probably use a break by now.”

Sabrina’s expression seemed to brighten. “Don’t forget to bring your son next time. He’s always welcome here.”

I decided I would do that. Then I stood up and excused myself for one last bathroom break before leaving. When I returned, I grabbed my car keys out of my purse and thanked Sabrina for lending me the dress.

“Good luck with your business problem,” I said. “I hope you get it fixed.”

Sabrina’s eyes widened and she darted from the room. She returned holding a CD. “I almost forgot,” she said. “Your music.”

She handed it to me.

I played it cool and said, “Thanks. And, more importantly, thanks again—for everything.”

We walked to the foyer and she opened the front door. “See you next time,” she said.

I smiled and waved goodbye.

I drove home listening to talk radio. Occasionally, I glanced at the CD lying next to my purse. The news was a broken record. Hot weather with high humidity, falling stock prices, and another murder on the south side of Chicago. I listened to traffic and weather updates every eight minutes all the way home.

When I pulled into the driveway, I stared at the CD again. Then I stashed it in my purse and went inside.

T
he house was unusually quiet when I got home. I went in search of Tyler and found him in his room. He had a weird expression on his face. “Hey Mom,” he said. “We just got home.”

He had gotten five shades tanner. He’d only been out a few short hours.

“Where’s Grandma?” I asked.

His expression worsened. “She’s resting. I don’t think she feels too good.”

I set my purse down and decided to check on her. When I knocked on her bedroom door, there was no answer. I opened it a crack to peek inside. My mom heard the sound and moved. She was awake.

“Mom. Are you okay? You’re as red as a lobster!”

She sighed. “I know. I forgot my 30 SPF and it was overcast—”

“Do you want me to run out and get you something?” I asked.

“No. I’ll be fine. I put some aloe on. I just need rest.”

“Do you want something to eat or drink? A glass of lemonade?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just going to sleep.”

I got up and gently closed the door. I felt terrible. Then I began making dinner while Tyler did his homework.

When the food was ready, I offered my mom some, but she couldn’t eat. She said she was too nauseous. Tyler and I ate dinner, then skipped our workout since we both swam all day. After the heavy meal and the heat, we were both tired and went to bed early.

The next morning, before work, I checked in on my mom. She still looked horrible, like she’d been roasted alive.

“I feel a bit better, really,” she said, trying to reassure me.

Once again, she wouldn’t let me take care of her. Since Tyler was out of school, he promised to keep an eye on her while I went to work.

It was a hectic day. There were computer problems, clients with issues, the phone rang off the hook. Yet I still managed to find time to worry about my mom in between.

When I punched out for lunch, I noticed the Spanish channel was playing in the office.

I sat in the cafeteria alone with my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As I pulled out my bag of chips and milk, it reminded me of being a kid at school again. I chewed my food and began zoning out. My relaxing moment was interrupted when Dave came in, looking frantic while listening to a voicemail. Once he hung up, he noticed me sitting nearby.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He looked to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but he smiled and said, “Yep. Just family stuff.”

I felt bad for him. It made me think of my mom, so I gave her a call after I finished eating.

“Hello,” she answered, her voice sounding raspy.

“Mom. It’s me. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “I took a cool bath and put on more aloe. I’m gonna be fine. I just hope it doesn’t peel.”

“Okay, well take it easy. I’ll make dinner when I get home. Just relax.”

Around 3:00 p.m., I stretched and took a break. Fatima got up and walked over to the radio, then turned it up.

“What are you doing that for?” I asked.

Fatima spun around and began dancing, some salsa-type moves. “Because I like this song.”

I cracked up laughing. “You don’t even know what they’re saying.”

“Don’t have to,” she said, while smiling and shaking her butt.

It was pretty funny until Barb spotted Dave coming down the hall. She flagged Fatima to turn it down, then she returned to her desk.

At 5:00 p.m., I punched out and began digging through my purse for my car keys. It was becoming an annoying habit, searching through this dark, endless cavern of a bag. I didn’t know why I carried such a large purse. Finally, I found them, right next to the CD from Miguel.

I got in the car and, out of habit, turned on the radio. A small voice in my head suggested listening to the music I had in my purse, but I quickly dismissed it. I didn’t have time for that. I needed to focus on helping my family.

Once I got home, I went to check on my mom. “Knock knock, permission to enter,” I joked.

“Come in,” she replied.

I opened the door and saw my poor mother. She sat on the bed in her pajamas. Her hair was a tangled mess, like a bird’s nest. Her red skin had blistered. She would peel for sure. Just what she wanted to avoid.

“Oh no,” I said.

She frowned. “At least I’m feeling better. You know what? I could go for a cheeseburger and fries from McDonald’s.”

It wasn’t what I’d planned for dinner, but I didn’t mind the change in plans.

I smiled. “Whatever you want. Let me just see what Tyler wants and I’ll be back.”

When I returned, we sat together and ate. Mom seemed to be enjoying her fries.

“Hey T.,” I said, glancing in his direction.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if you’d be interested, but my friend invited you to come over and swim at her house next time I go.”

Tyler’s eyes lit up. I guess he was more interested than I’d imagined.

“Cool,” he said. “Can we go next weekend?”

“No honey. She’s out of town next weekend. Her pool is indoor, though, so we can go anytime.”

He took a drink of his soda and set it back down. “Nice,” he said.

While I cleaned up the paper plates and wiped down the table, I thought about Sabrina travelling with Miguel. Maybe they’d hit it off. Maybe she’d open her eyes and see the catch Justin had deposited right in front of her. If Justin were here he’d point to him and say, “Look woman. There.”

I laughed to myself thinking about it. My husband… how I missed him.

Tuesday night Mom insisted on going to her book club, even though her skin was peeling and she thought she looked silly. Tyler and I hung out together while he worked on his art project.

“You’re getting really good, you know,” I told him.

He continued concentrating on his piece. “Thanks.”

“So how come you’re painting this week instead of drawing?”

Keeping his eye on the canvas he replied, “Josephine suggested moving on to another medium. She asked me to create a painting of whatever I wanted, so she could figure out what level I’m at, where I need help.”

“Smart,” I replied. “Looks like you’re doing something tropical.”

“Yeah. I’m painting the beach in Bora Bora, with Mt. Otemanu in the background.”

So that was the name of the mountain. Justin and I had looked at it so many times.

The rest of the evening I stayed at his side, opening paint containers, handing him brushes, providing critique.