A Widow Redefined (4 page)

•••••

Monday morning I was surprised to see Barb in such a bubbly mood.

“You’re extra perky today,” I commented.

There was a swagger to her step as she walked past. She wore a silly smirk.

“What gives?” I asked. “You’re not yourself.”

After she sat down at her desk, I turned to face her. She couldn’t hold out on me for too long.

“I went to dinner last night with a man I met at church.”

“And?” Fatima asked, raising both eyebrows.

I blushed as if I had been the one on a dinner date, but Barb wasn’t the least bit flustered.

“Oh, it was no big deal,” she said. “I think he’s just looking for a friend. We had a nice time.” And then a big smile trickled out—one that she’d obviously been keeping to herself.

“Good for you,” I said. And I meant it. But somehow it made me feel a little sad.

After I turned and began working, I remembered the story of that other young man she’d mentioned.

I dismissed the thought as soon as I had it.

The rest of the day flew by. The only gossip was when I’d overheard Dave on the phone with his wife. From what I could make out, she wanted him to take time off so they could go somewhere for their anniversary, and he was making the “next year” promise. I felt bad for her. Dave never unplugged from his business. He lived and breathed the place.

Later on, when I got home from work, I found Mom standing in the kitchen. “You know what happened to Sally’s mom?” she asked.

I shook my head no.

“She had a heart attack. That’s why she was in the hospital.”

“My God!” I gasped. “Mrs. Pembroke is so young.”

“Yeah,” Mom replied, nodding her head. “Tyler is taking it very seriously. He spoke to Sally about it at school today. I guess the doctors said she’s got to change her diet and start exercising. I think he took the advice to heart, too, because he’s been asking me what foods are healthy.”

Oh no. This was bad. Not just for Sally’s mom, but for us. I knew my son all too well. Once an idea took hold of him, he’d never let it go. I decided I would try to downplay the whole thing.

As soon as I had the thought, Tyler walked into the kitchen.

“Hey honey. How was your day?”

He reached for an apple and said, “It was fine.” After taking a loud bite, he added, “I’ve been thinking though… “

Mom and I simultaneously glanced at each other.

“… You know how you’ve been going to the health club, working out and stuff?”

Oh that, I thought. Sure, I remembered it clearly.

“Uh huh,” I nodded, feeling awkward.

“Well I’ve been thinking. I want to come with you and exercise too. Sally said it would be smart to start now.”

I wasn’t working out at the gym because I was hanging around dead people in my free time. But I needed a reasonable response. And fast. Luckily, I remembered they didn’t allow children to exercise there.

“You know what honey. I think that’s a great idea, but the fitness center is only for adults.”

Tyler looked genuinely confused. “Well where am I supposed to get in shape at?”

“I don’t know. I think since you’re a kid you’re supposed to just run and play outside and climb trees and stuff.”

Mom giggled.

Tyler let that soak in, then spun on his heel and pushed the curtain aside, gazing out the window. He didn’t need to make his case. I could see it. It was freezing cold out there.

“In better weather, perhaps,” I told him.

Knowing I’d need to find an alternative, I made a suggestion. “How about we buy some jump ropes and start a routine at home?”

Mom shot me a look that could kill. It was like I had lost my mind.

“Can we Mom? That sounds awesome.”

“Sure,” I replied, with reluctance, knowing I couldn’t take it back. “We’ll stop at the store after we eat and get some ropes.”

Throughout dinner, Mom didn’t look up from her meal. I felt bad, because I knew she despised exercising, but what was I to do? I couldn’t just leave him hanging. This was important to him.

After dishes Tyler and I went to the store and bought three red jump ropes. One for each of us. “Grandma,” Tyler called out as we walked in. “Look what we got you.” He reached into the shopping bag and handed her one of the ropes.

Mom gave me a dirty look, which quickly morphed into a fake smile as she looked down at Tyler. “Thanks honey,” she said in a sugary tone as she accepted his gift.

I think even Tyler knew it was forced, but he didn’t care. He wanted us all to be healthy. He wouldn’t take a chance on losing anyone else.

That night, while doing the new workout routine together, I remembered that Justin’s birthday was right around the corner. As we did sit ups and pushups and skipped rope to all Tyler’s favorite songs, I thought about the mystery person. They’d show up for that. I’d bet money on it.

•••••

Wednesday night I had a headache, so Mom offered to take Tyler to his art class. I think she wanted to meet Josephine anyway, so I accepted.

While they were gone, I laid in bed, staring at the calendar. Justin’s birthday. He would’ve been thirty-three. We would’ve taken the day off work to do something special, maybe visit the Museum of Science and Industry or check out antique stores. He loved seeing how old furniture was constructed and frequently reminded me they didn’t make it like that anymore.

Justin used to say it was a sin to work on your birthday, so he never did. I didn’t either… until after he died. The last couple of years I just visited him at the cemetery.

This year, his birthday fell on a weekday. I’d have to call in sick. Use a personal day. As I lay there plotting, I heard the front door open.

A few minutes later, Tyler, mindful of my headache, whispered through the bedroom door. “Mom. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I said.

He opened it and began walking toward me. He had some books under his arm.

“Look what Josephine lent us,” he said, showing me the stack. “She knows all about eating healthy. They’re vegetarian cookbooks.”

I sat up, took the pile from him and began looking at the covers. I could almost hear the verbal lashing I would take from Mom. She was a true red meat lover.

“That’s great honey,” I replied, patting his shoulder. “We’ll give some of the recipes a try.”

Tyler left my room psyched. He couldn’t wait to get started. I forced myself up and out of the covers. I had to go and find my mom.

She sat curled in a wing chair reading her book from the club.

“Hey… thanks for taking Tyler,” I interrupted. I rubbed my scalp and groaned. “My head still hurts.”

She set her book down. “Sorry to hear that.”

“So how was your visit to Josephine’s? Did you like her?”

“I guess she’s nice, for a new-age hippie,” she said, an edge of sarcasm coloring her tone.

I was prepared for her to go on and on complaining, but she didn’t. Maybe she could see that Josephine was only trying to help. And, of course, she was just being herself.

During the week we tried two of the recipes and were surprised to find they were pretty decent. We didn’t plan to alter everything about our lifestyle for Tyler, but we did just enough to make him feel good.

•••••

A few days before Justin’s birthday, I started planting little hints at work. I began coughing and mentioning my throat felt sore. The night before I planned to call in, I checked the next day’s weather forecast. Cold, rainy, gray.

I’d need an umbrella. After everyone went to bed, I rummaged through the closet. While digging, I noticed an old pair of binoculars stashed on top a box of shoes. I pulled them out and dusted them off. I decided it couldn’t hurt to bring them along. I’d add them to my bag, along with lunch.

That evening, I couldn’t sleep. I thought of Tyler drawing in his room, and the three of us laughing and jumping rope, trying to get in shape. Then I thought of my mom. I loved her so much, and it was getting difficult to keep these things from her. I prayed to God if I found out something, that it would be a mistake, a miscommunication of some kind. Then I could write the whole thing off to my own personal craziness, and she’d be immune to it all.

It would be awful for my mom to doubt Justin’s integrity.

I felt awful doubting him too.

•••••

The next morning I got ready for work and gathered my lunch, umbrella, and binoculars. After breakfast I waved goodbye to Mom and dropped Tyler off at school.

Before starting on my journey, I called my boss and got voicemail. “Hey Dave. It’s Amy,” I said in a scratchy voice. “I’m not going to be able to make it in today. I’ve got the flu.” Then I hung up, and began driving the familiar route to the cemetery.

On the way there, my senses were heightened again. Only this time there was one I didn’t want to be on high alert. My abdomen began to twist, but I willed myself to ignore it and keep driving. I couldn’t deal with something like that—not today. I whistled to take my mind off the pressure, but I only made it a few more miles, then had to give in and pull into a McDonald’s parking lot. I raced to the restroom, where I lost my breakfast. Shaking with the chills, I gave myself a moment to take some deep breaths and relax before starting out again.

The closer I got to my destination, the more I managed to calm myself. I was focused. Then I pulled into the cemetery, parked the car, and looked around.

I didn’t see anyone.

I put on my hat and gloves, then stepped outside and landed right in a soggy mud puddle, remnants of yesterday’s rain. (This time I was smart enough to wear boots.)

I trekked over to Justin’s grave, looking over my shoulder from time to time on the way there, making sure I was still alone. His space looked even lonelier today. No flowers, just dirty ground.

I stood in front of his headstone and sighed. “Happy Birthday,” I said out loud. It came out sounding forced, awkward.

As I continued standing there, I felt anger slowly brewing inside me. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. Now it was ruined. I almost launched into a whole list of complaints, detailing my aggravation and sleepless nights, but then I realized that was not what I came here for. Paranoid, I looked over my shoulder to make sure I was still alone. Then I headed back to my car.

I had parked it in such a way that I could easily see anyone coming or going. The first hour staring across the parking lot wasn’t bad. I had my iPod and at least managed to listen to some decent songs. Other than that, there was no movement.

The second hour someone pulled in and a man and woman got out. I was crouched down in my seat, hidden from view. As they started to walk away, I slid back up to watch them. They were heading in the other direction, but I decided to watch them anyway. They stood close to each other and talked. Then the man held the woman, who was visibly upset. Within a short time they came back toward their car. I don’t know why, but I slid back down in my seat again so they wouldn’t see me.

After they left, I got out and stretched my legs, moved around a bit. Then it was back in the car for more surveillance. Another hour passed, and I realized the very definition of boredom. Worse still, I felt I might have to go to the bathroom soon. I tried to block it out of my mind, but then it began to drizzle outside. I’d have to focus on forgetting about it.

Another hour passed. I was sick of listening to music, my butt hurt from sitting in one spot for too long, and I really had to pee. Since I’d lost my breakfast, I was also beginning to get really hungry.

Just as I was deciding between eating lunch and heading to the restroom, a car pulled in. I slid back down in my seat and looked out the bottom of the window. It was a limousine or luxury car of some kind. They parked, and then an older, well-dressed man stepped out and opened the rear passenger door. A woman appeared, and before I could get a good look at her, an umbrella popped open, covering her face from view.

I fumbled for my binoculars and adjusted the focus. The woman was tall with long, dark hair, and wore a black coat. Her gait was oddly graceful. As she got closer and closer to Justin’s grave, I felt my stomach clench. Then I saw her bend down and set a bunch of yellow flowers on the ground.

Holy Shit! I thought. This is it!

My car was turned off and the windows had fogged up. I scrambled to wipe the inside of the window with the sleeve of my jacket. Trying to hold the binoculars steady while crouched in my seat, I continued to watch her.

She stood alone, facing his headstone. The old man had returned to the car. With her back to me, I noticed her shoulders moving up and down. She was crying.

Once she turned, I tried to get a good look at her, but I couldn’t because her umbrella again blocked her face. As she walked back to her car, it began to downpour.

Panicked, I wasn’t sure what to do; I hadn’t planned this far. I started my car and turned on the heat and defroster. I watched as the older man stepped out, opened the back door for her, and the woman got back in.

Before I knew it, I was following them.

I tailed them from a respectable distance, but almost lost them as a light changed to red and I had to race though it. My heart pounded as I drove faster through the pouring rain, no longer caring if I was detectable. I made sharp lefts and rights and drove close enough so as not to lose them.

Eventually, we arrived in a wealthy North Shore neighborhood. As they turned onto a residential street, I slowed down so I could follow from further away. Within a few minutes, the car turned into a long driveway that led to a house that couldn’t be seen from the road.

I stopped and turned off the engine. I sat there–stunned–for a full ten minutes, and then I began to cry. I wanted to think the best of Justin, but instead I assumed the worst. I became furious with him. He’d disappointed me. He’d let me down. Dripping with sweat and nearly hysterical, I struggled with what to do next. Then I realized the best thing to do was to confront her.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. I looked like a monster. My face was puffy and red with black drippings of mascara running down it. I took a few deep breaths, then cleaned up my face with McDonald’s napkins from the glove box. I brushed my hair, patted on some pressed powder, and re-applied my lip gloss. I looked a little better, but not much. Then I took a few more deep breaths while adjusting my clothing.