A Widow Redefined (8 page)

My thoughts drifted to Justin. I couldn’t believe all the things he’d told her about us. Yet, it was nice to hear her describe how he lit up when he talked about me. Something about the way she had said that, it was like… I don’t know. I had to hear more, and soon. As I lay there, I realized she didn’t have my phone number, only Justin’s old one, which had been long since disconnected. I decided I’d call her tomorrow to make plans to return.

I waited until my way home from work to give her a buzz. After I dialed her number, I got voicemail.

“Hi Sabrina. It’s Amy,” I told her I’d finished with her book and left my number, asking her to call back and let me know if I should drop it by or mail it.

I didn’t want to mail it, but I thought it appropriate to offer, just in case she was being polite by having me over in the first place.

All of a sudden the lunacy of the moment hit me and I began laughing. The whole situation was odd. Me hanging around her trying to see if she was hiding something, if she really had an affair with my late husband. I decided if I didn’t hear from her soon I’d just mail the book back and be done with it. End of story.

•••••

The next day, on my way home from work, I checked voicemail. There were two messages. The first one was from my mom. Josephine was stopping by. She’d called and offered to make us dinner. This blindsided me. I appreciated her enthusiasm, but wasn’t sure I liked another woman in my kitchen telling me what to eat.

The second message was a bit more interesting. “Hello Amy. This is Henry, Sabrina’s assistant. Sabrina is in Europe right now and will return in a week. She asked that you not mail the book back, that you bring it in person. She will contact you when she comes home to make plans.”

She hadn’t mentioned going overseas. But why should she? I wasn’t her keeper, and we weren’t friends. I suspect we were curiosities to each other at best.

I wanted to see her again, that was true. And she wanted me to come back in person as well. I knew my reasons, but didn’t know hers.

More than ever, I couldn’t wait to discover what secrets Sabrina held from me. I was like my son; nothing could stop me once I’d focused on something. And I had no one to monitor which direction my passions went—good or bad—because no one in my world knew Sabrina existed but me.

W
hen I walked in the door I was greeted by the sound of rapid chopping and the smell of onions and garlic and some other spice I couldn’t quite place.

Josephine was in my kitchen. She was wearing an apron and in the middle of creating something surprisingly colorful for us to eat.

“Hi there,” I said, smiling.

“Hi,” Josephine said back. Then she threw some raw vegetables into the skillet and I heard them sizzle.

“How nice of you to come by and cook for us. It’s so unexpected. A wonderful surprise.”

Josephine looked confused. “Well Tyler was nice enough to invite me.”

I stole a glance at my son, who sat reading a book at the kitchen table.

He looked up at me and grinned.

Josephine was in on it. His mission of better health for us. And she seemed like she couldn’t be happier. She pushed the vegetarian lifestyle like a bible-banger pushed Jesus Christ.

I’d have to find a polite way to put the brakes on this.

Mom walked in and began setting the table. I grabbed everyone something to drink.

“Coke?” I asked.

I already knew my mom’s answer—yes.

“I’ll have water,” Josephine said.

I looked at Tyler. “Water for me too.”

My son never drank water. But I poured him a glass and set it in front of him. Then Josephine served us dinner and we sat down to eat.

I took a bite and puzzled over the strange texture and odd flavor. I felt Josephine’s expectant eyes waiting on me. “Different,” I said.

“Good different?” she asked.

Tyler cut in. “I love it.”

Josephine smiled at Tyler. She’d found herself a little convert.

Mom took a big swig of her soda to wash her food down. I couldn’t chance eye contact with her though, because she’d probably say something embarrassing.

“I’m glad to be here,” Josephine said. “I love that Tyler is so focused on health at such a young age.”

I smiled, but inside I wondered if she knew the reason why. I hadn’t told her. And I didn’t know if Tyler had. I decided I wouldn’t say anything. It would be up to Tyler if he wanted to bring up his dad and share that experience with her.

“Tell us about yourself?” Mom chimed in, putting the poor girl on the spot.

“What would you like to know?”

“Tell us about your family,” she said.

Josephine nodded. “Okay. Let’s see. My mom is a registered dietician. My dad’s a Philosophy professor, and I used to have a little brother, but he died when we were kids, of cancer.”

Josephine and Tyler made eye contact, sharing an unspoken connection, and it was then I knew they’d talked.

Josephine cut into her food and continued. “My parents are what normal people call weird. You can’t imagine the kinds of debates I witnessed in our living room as a child. My dad loved talking with others about their spiritual beliefs, sometimes a little too loudly.”

My mom and I laughed, then I glanced over at my son. He sat glued to her every word. I’d never seen him so enchanted by another adult. It was sweet, and at the same time it saddened me somehow.

I wondered what Tyler had said to Josephine about Justin. I wondered if he shared his feelings more freely with her than he did with me. Then I laughed at myself for even having such a silly thought. I was glad he had someone to talk to. I don’t think we could’ve asked for a better person.

As our meal drew to a close, I stretched and rubbed my belly. “I’m stuffed. Thank you so much for stopping by and doing this.”

“My pleasure,” Josephine said.

After we finished cleaning up, she said, “Well I should get going. I don’t want to take up your whole night. One more thing though… “ Josephine reached into her bag and pulled out an index card. “Here’s the recipe for what we just ate, in case you’d like to have it again.”

I smiled at her and said, “Thank you.” Then I walked her to the front door to say goodbye. Tyler was right behind me.

“See you at class,” she told him, then winked.

Tyler nodded and wore that big, dopey smile he’d had on before.

I giggled as she walked away.

•••••

Friday night Tyler acted even weirder. “I’ve got a lot of homework this weekend,” he blurted out. “Maybe I can work on it tonight and you and Grandma can watch a grown-up movie.”

This sent up my mom antennae. It wasn’t like my son to blow off movie night.

After Mom and I watched a scary movie, I went in to check on my son. He was in his room, drawing, all done with his homework.

“Hey Mom. What are we doing this weekend?” he asked in his voice that always preceded a favor.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Well, last time I was at Josephine’s she was talking about the Art Institute downtown, asking me if I’d ever gone.”

He didn’t have to butter me up with my own movie night to go on an excursion. “Do you want to go there this weekend?”

“Can we?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. “We can all go down on the train, make a day of it.”

Tyler sprung to his feet. “Cool!”

With plans made and everyone off to bed, I decided to go online and map our route and find out what the museum entrance fees were. I spent a little time on the site and was ecstatic to discover they had nine paintings by Gauguin on display. Tyler will be psyched.

I browsed the web mindlessly for a few more minutes. Then, just because, I Googled Sabrina Bergman.

I was surprised by how much information came up. The majority was connected to her family’s fashion business: The Bergman Collection. I checked a few links, but most were reviews of what someone of importance in the industry thought about the clothing. Then I clicked a link to the company website. There were pictures of skinny models wearing outfits, shots of them walking down the runway. If I hit the right arrow button, I could see photos of the show for the current season, which I did.

Each outfit was beautiful. There weren’t any prices listed, but I guess if you have to ask… Heck, what did I know, I shopped at Target. I checked the link on where to buy. Boutiques I’d never heard of popped up, and Neiman Marcus. Yikes! I knew that one, the most expensive department store in the mall.

I noticed an “about us” button. I clicked on it, and there was a picture of Sabrina. I let out a sigh. She looked better than ever.

I thought of Justin. Why had he never mentioned her name? Not even once? He often talked about his other clients.

I read what was written in the “about us” section. Instead of providing juicy details about Sabrina, it was a statement describing the company’s artistic vision. Boring.

I scanned down to the end of the page. There was one interesting nugget. It said Sabrina was carrying on where her parents, Don and Monique, left off.

Out of morbid curiosity, I Googled their names. Again, a bunch of links popped up. The one that caught my eye was “Fashion Industry’s Tragic Loss.” The article went on to describe the untimely death of Don and Monique Bergman. While vacationing in Indonesia, their privately rented plane went down after leaving Bali. The wreckage was found between Bali and Java. The cause of the crash was unknown.

After reading the article, I felt sad. And a little ashamed. I was behaving like a nosy old lady. Disgusted with myself, I logged off the computer and went to bed.

•••••

Sunday morning we got up early, ate breakfast and headed to the train station. On the ride there, Tyler talked non-stop about Josephine.

“Did I tell you she went to a special college for art?” he said.

My mom and I glanced at each other and smirked. Of course we knew that.

“No honey,” I replied with interest, “you didn’t.”

I let him rattle on as we bounced around in our seats. The benches weren’t very comfortable on Metra. And, of course, our train hit every single stop.

“Did I tell you she went on vacation with her friends for a whole summer to Europe?”

“Nope.” I figured he was going to tell me, though, and that story would cover the rest of the trip downtown. I sat there nodding and responding in all the right spots as he spilled the details.

As I listened, I felt bad we’d never taken Tyler on a vacation. I know he heard Justin and I dream out loud about our travel plans, but they never materialized. I hoped travel would be in my son’s future. Justin would like that.

I heard them call the final stop. Then we gathered our belongings and caught a cab to the Art Institute. Tyler loved the big stone lions out front, so we took some pictures there, before heading inside.

We wandered aimlessly for a while. Then we found ourselves in the modern art section. Mom liked the paintings, but I didn’t. I know they’re supposed to evoke a feeling instead of be about something, but I didn’t care. I thought they were ugly. All I could think was how could paint be randomly splattered around and end up in a museum?

“What do you think T?” Mom asked Tyler.

He gave it some thought. “I like it,” he said. “It makes me feel happy.”

“See, he gets it,” Mom ribbed me.

“It must be me,” I said. “I’m not in touch with my emotions.”

After I spoke the words I realized they were true. I hardly felt anything anymore.

“Where to next?” I asked, switching the subject.

“The restrooms,” Mom replied.

After hitting the bathroom we located the Gauguin section. It was filled with pieces bursting with vivid colors and tranquil scenes. Tyler was in Heaven. He walked around slowly, taking them all in.

“These are my favorites,” he said.

“I thought you might say that,” I replied.

Tyler kept going back to one painting. “I think this is the best one.”

I walked over and read the plaque. The piece was called “Day of the God.” It depicted a Polynesian beach scene with some kind of religious ceremony.

“You’ve got expensive taste,” I joked. “Maybe they have a poster in the gift shop.”

Tyler smiled back. He was having a great time.

We walked until our feet throbbed. Then we stopped at the museum cafe for lunch. Once we sat down, it made getting back up almost impossible.

Our last stop before leaving was the gift shop. They sold posters, even the one Tyler wanted, but he stumbled onto a sale section with last year’s Gauguin calendar. That was a better deal, because he got a bunch of pictures for the same price as a single poster.

We took a cab to the train station, and once we boarded, we fell silent. On the ride home we all had our eyes closed, waiting for the conductor to call out our stop.

B
ack at work Monday I was restless. I couldn’t concentrate. When I punched out at the end of the day, I checked voicemail and was excited to find a message from Henry. He was calling on behalf of Sabrina, inviting me to come this Sunday. I could return the book, have lunch, and go swimming.

What irony. Finally I would be swimming after all. Just not at the gym. I wondered why I didn’t just tell the truth, at least to my own mother. Then I remembered the awful situation with my dad, and I decided I couldn’t do that. Not yet. Not until I was sure about everything.

Throughout the week I put more focus on the family workout routine because I’d have to wear a bathing suit in front of Sabrina soon. I knew it was childish, but I felt every abdominal crunch was a tiny boost to my fragile ego.

Once the time came to try on the swimwear, I was bummed. It was worn-looking and plain. I didn’t have the cash to buy another one, so I’d have to just deal with it. On a mission, I rummaged through my entire closet to see what else I had that made me look cute. After digging for twenty minutes I found nothing. I hadn’t bought new clothes in a long time. I guess I stopped trying once Justin was gone.

I thought about what Barb had said to me, that I was depressed. I studied my reflection in the mirror and sighed. I used to look nice. Justin always complimented me. But I had let myself go.