A Widow Redefined (22 page)

The emotion that coursed through me caused tears to spill down my face. I was shaken on so many levels, I wasn’t sure how to react. Then, the heat that had begun rising earlier turned into rage. It filled every cell of my being.

Sabrina took a step toward me.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, throwing my hands in the air and stepping back.

Sabrina looked confused. In her drunken stupor this must’ve seemed like a good idea. “I’m only telling you this because I am so sorry. I want to ask for your forgiveness. I want to be the friend you think I am.”

I stood there, shaking, with tears streaming down my face. What could I say to her now except the truth?

I exhaled deeply, and as I did, a hardened look came over my features. “There is no way in hell you could ever be that person to me. Not now. You were trying to steal my husband from me. I can’t forgive that.”

Sabrina let out a gasp.

She had gone and screwed it all up, beyond repair. How could she have been so stupid?

“I was hoping if I was honest with you, if I confessed, that maybe things would be better,” she said in a hysterical tone.

I shook my head and laughed like a cynic. “You know what? It’s obvious that you’re still having a difficult time dealing with your past actions. Still, I see no reason why you should throw all this on me.” Pointing at her I added, “This was yours to deal with, on your own. You could’ve suffered in silence and let it eat at you like a normal person, or you could’ve told it to a priest, or whatever people of your faith do. But laying this on me now, after I thought we were friends, after I even brought my son here… it’s too much.”

I could see she realized this wasn’t going how she thought it would. Yes, she was drunk. People said stupid things when they were drunk.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t wasted. I wasn’t even buzzed. I was sober and unbelievably pissed.

“I’m going to ask you one final time,” I said with unusual calm. “Did anything happen between you and Justin?”

“No,” she responded quietly.

Sabrina was broken, but I didn’t pity her. Instead, I gave her a look that was filled with disgust.

“Please,” she said. “Please say something. You’re just standing there looking at me like you despise me.”

I shook my head no. “I don’t despise you,” I said. “It’s not worth the effort.” I wanted nothing more to do with her, but this was my opportunity to find out the truth. The whole truth. “How about your cousin?” I asked. “Doctor Friedman?”

Sabrina looked down again. No doubt she realized she’d made a major mistake. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “I asked my cousin to help. He said he’d come down and assist me, as a favor, since he knew how important Justin was to me.”

Sabrina shifted from one foot to the other before continuing. “But I wouldn’t let him. I paid him—even though I told you I didn’t because I knew it would make you uncomfortable—I paid him his going rate. And I paid for his hotel stays, and all his meals.” Sabrina looked back into my eyes now as she spoke. “I would’ve given him every last cent I had if it could’ve helped.”

I would’ve given anything in the world if it could’ve saved him, too. But that was my line! My truth! She had no right talking that way. Knowing the dark truth behind the doctor’s help made me sick.

“I guess money can’t buy you everything,” I said. “Not even more time to try and steal another woman’s husband.”

Sabrina’s face crumpled, and she began sobbing heavily. “I’m so sorry Amy,” she cried. “I was selfish. I never thought of you. You were never real to me.”

I had had enough of this insanity. Truly enough.

“You want to know what’s real?” I said.

Sabrina looked back at me, eager and afraid.

“You
were
my friend. But now, after finding out all this, I hope to never lay eyes on you again!”

With that said, I pushed the book aside and grabbed my purse. I spun on my heel and stomped out of the room. Sabrina didn’t say another word. I heard her collapse into a stuffed leather chair and start sobbing again.

As I left the house, I slammed the front door, rattling the windows before driving off into the night.

W
hen I got home and walked in the door, I felt safety and comfort return. This is my family. People I know and can trust. I’d never been happier to see them. At the same time, I didn’t know what to say about what just happened.

Maybe it was nearing time for me to tell the whole truth, too.

“Honey, are you okay? You seem upset?” my mom asked.

“That’s an understatement,” I said, then stormed past her and into the kitchen.

I was starving, and as I rummaged through the leftovers, Tyler approached me. “How was your night with your friend?” he asked, looking innocent and adorable.

His face was like that of an angel. I didn’t know how to respond.

“We had a fight,” I said, simplifying the truth. “And we’re not friends anymore.”

Tyler stared back at me, surprised. In his short life he’d never experienced his mom in a fight with anyone. I doubted he’d ever seen me this angry before, either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to comfort me. “Do you want to come with us? Grandma and I were going to watch the rest of the movie?”

Watching television was the last thing I wanted to do. What I wanted was to punch something—anything—repeatedly. But how could I say no?

“Sure honey,” I replied. “Let me heat up some food and I’ll be right in.”

He walked out of the room and sat on the sofa. Maybe to a kid it’s that easy. If you’re not having fun, go do something else. If only adult life were that simple.

I found my mom’s famous spaghetti and meatballs in a plastic container. I nuked some and began attacking the noodles with my fork like a savage. The more I ate, the more relaxed I became.

Mom and Tyler were kind enough to pause whatever they were watching until I had finished. When I came in the family room, they filled me in on the story before pressing play. For Tyler’s sake, I feigned interest. But I couldn’t pay attention to the film. All I kept thinking about was Sabrina, and how angry and disappointed she had made me.

When the movie ended, I kissed Tyler goodnight. Mom looked my way to see if I wanted to talk.

I put my arms up and stretched. “Goodnight Mom. I’m exhausted.”

She had a concerned look on her face. “Goodnight,” was all she said back.

Once I got into my room and changed into pajamas, I realized I couldn’t sleep. I decided to go wash my face and brush my teeth. When I finished with that, I found I was still wide awake, so I got back up and flossed, then did an exfoliating facial treatment followed by a deep moisturizer.

I still wasn’t tired. I hated to run the water so late, but I figured a hot bath with aromatherapy salts might help. Once the tub was filled, I lowered the lights and sank in. Then I reached for the pumice stone and proceeded to scrub the heels of my feet, removing all the dry, flaked skin, and some healthy layers while I was at it. I shaved my legs. Then, after I finished all those tasks, I moisturized and dressed again in my pajamas.

And still I couldn’t sleep.

With nothing left to wash, I decided to head into the family room and read my novel. That lasted for about five minutes. I gave up when I found myself reading the same paragraph over and over. I cast the book aside and exhaled loudly. Across the room I noticed the yoga blocks lying near the DVD. I went over and picked up the case and read the cover for the first time.
PM Yoga
, it said. The older woman shown was named Patricia Walden. She was older than me. She had a kind face. I liked her. And I liked exercising with her.

She could be my friend, I thought.

I turned on the TV and muted the volume. I’d done this routine so many times I didn’t need to hear her voice. After twenty-five minutes I began to feel relaxed. I could always count on virtual pal, Patricia.

The next morning I slept in late again. This was becoming a familiar trend. Tyler woke me up with the news that breakfast was ready. After eating, he asked me a favor. “Hey Mom. Can I go with Sam and his older brother to watch a parkour event?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I can take you. No problem.”

Mom asked to join us, and after we dropped him off, she offered to take me out to lunch.

The hostess put us in a booth, far away from a group of screaming kids who were having a birthday party.

Mom and I sat down. After ordering our food, and without her prompting, I decided to tell her everything about Sabrina. The whole story.

I told her about the daffodils and the multiple visits to the cemetery to try and find her. I laughed a nervous laugh when I talked about how I’d played private detective that day, and how it had paid off since I was able to finally confront her. I told her about our unusual friendship, and what had occurred on our visits. I told her about meeting Dr. Friedman at the party, and even fessed up about being introduced to Sabrina’s friend, Miguel. Then I told her about the fight, and how everything had ended.

“That brings us to now,” I said, taking a sip of my Coke.

A moment later, the server arrived with our food. Mom was sitting across from me with visible shock on her face. It was a lot to take in all at once.

I let her absorb what I’d said while I took a bite of my salad.

“I’m not sure what to say,” she finally said. “That’s an incredible story. I’m surprised you were able to keep it from me for so long. And maybe a little sad, too.”

“You know Mom, I didn’t want to keep it from you. But it was complicated, and I didn’t know how it would turn out. Also, I didn’t want your opinion of Justin to change.”

We made eye contact and she nodded. She understood what I meant, but we weren’t going to go there. In all our years together we never did.

“Later on I figured it didn’t matter how Sabrina and I had met. We had become friends. Life had brought me something nice. But now, now that I’ve discovered the truth, I had to share it with you.”

Mom took a bite of her sandwich. She was my real best friend. Always had been.

“You know,” she began, once she’d finished chewing, “Justin was a wonderful man. He truly was. But for a person to become so obsessed like that… it’s just not healthy, you know.”

I nodded and took another bite of my salad.

“I’m really sorry this happened to you,” she continued. “But I’m glad you told me. I could tell how upset you were last night. But boy, never in a million years would I have guessed the reason.”

I cracked a smile. I was glad she wasn’t angry with me.

Mom grabbed a menu. “I’m stuffed,” she said. “But I think there may be room to split dessert. They have key lime pie. Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

The waitress came and took our order. Soon we both dug our forks into the delicious green concoction and the conversation led to other things like my mom’s book club and what was going on with her lady friend. It was a nice change of pace.

Before we knew it, it was time to pick up Tyler. Mom paid the bill. I thanked her for treating me, and we left for Sam’s house.

On the way there, Mom said, “It’s too bad about that Miguel fellow. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

I was wondering when she’d get around to mentioning him.

“I know he didn’t,” I said. “It doesn’t matter, though. I had no plans to call him anyway.”

She didn’t press the issue further. It was just like her to bring it up, though. She couldn’t help herself. I reached over and turned on the radio, and we drove the rest of the way listening to the oldies channel.

When we got to Sam’s, I didn’t see the minivan. Tyler and the others weren’t back yet. Mom and I reclined in our seats and closed our eyes. I was in a food coma. Mom must’ve been too, because she quickly fell asleep.

I didn’t hear the Caravan pull in, but I woke up when Tyler knocked on the driver’s side window. Right away, I noticed scrapes grazed his left elbow.

I opened the car door. “What happened?”

“Ah, not much. Just some road rash from a move that went wrong.”

That’s exactly how Justin spoke when he’d fall off his skateboard back in the day.

Tyler climbed into the back seat. “Well, when we get home I’ll clean it and put a bandage on it,” I said.

He shrugged. He didn’t care either way. He was having a good time. No doubt the minor injuries only added to his “cool” status.

•••••

Saturday night I sat down with the budget. The gym membership was expiring, and after crunching a list of numbers, I discovered we could indeed afford a dog. It was time.

I got up and walked down the hall to Tyler’s room, then knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

He was on the floor, organizing his art supplies.

“It’s time,” I stated.

“Time for what?” he asked, looking confused.

“Time to get a dog.”

Tyler shot to his feet. “Awesome! Can we go tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’m going to tell Grandma,” he said, then pushed past me.

The rest of the evening the three of us searched the Petfinder website. We were so excited sitting there, browsing for pooches. I let Tyler take the lead, picking his favorites, while I took notes. Mom sat on his other side, adding her opinion.

Tyler was all over the board with breed choice. It wasn’t like he was fond of one over the other. He liked them all. The list I was creating, with the dog’s name and locations, was growing way too long.

I stopped him. “Honey, here’s what we’ve got so far.” I showed him the notepad. “Maybe we should take another look and scratch a few off? Narrow the list a bit?”

Tyler reviewed the choices. He was having a hard time eliminating any of them.

Sensing we were getting nowhere, Mom said, “Maybe we should go there in person. Have a look at them and see what happens. Find out which one you like best. Or maybe which one likes you best!”

“Good idea,” Tyler agreed.

It was decided. Afterward, we each went our separate ways. I lay in my bed, thinking about our family, and how we were finally getting a pet. We would have had one years ago, but for Justin’s allergies. Then I thought of Sabrina. And I wondered how she’d fill her Sunday.