A Widow Redefined (20 page)

He was my little Gauguin.

Wednesday night, I took Tyler to his art lesson. There was no way Mom was running him around again. She needed her rest. After I dropped him off and said hi to Josephine, I ran to the bank and managed to return early. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I decided to hang out in the car and relax.

I turned on the radio and tried to find a good song, but every station was stuck on commercials. I closed my eyes to take a nap instead. As I relaxed and got comfy, that little voice in my head suggested once again that I should listen to the CD in my purse.

“All right already,” I cursed out loud. “Give it a rest.”

Was I yelling at myself?
Out loud?
Wasn’t that how mental illness started?

I sighed heavily, hoping I wasn’t losing it. Then I gave in and reached into that black hole of a purse and pulled out the CD. I took a closer look at it. The cover was a photograph of an acoustic guitar.

I opened the case. Inside was a picture of a fat black and white cat. “Gordito,” I mused, still talking out loud to myself.

He was a cute cat, a black and white short hair with big green eyes. Everything about him seemed larger than life. That cat needs to go on a diet, I thought.

I slid the CD into the car stereo. The music started right away, a gentle picking and strumming of what sounded like a classical guitar. I was surprised by the clear sound quality. It had a studio feel, not home-made at all. Within a short time, the melody grew more intricate, and decidedly romantic. I felt my muscles tighten as I listened. At the same time, I couldn’t help but notice what an accomplished player he was.

Then the singing began.

Beautiful lady in a borrowed gown, I never thought I’d meet someone like you.

I laughed, but still felt tense.

There was a pause in the singing, then the cat began meowing loudly, over and over, in sync with the guitar strums. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe how hysterical it was.

It has been such a long time since I have felt this way.

The strumming accelerated, quickening its pace, and Miguel continued.

But if you would like to meet with me, even just for a coffee, it would make my heart skip a beat.

Gordito howled in the background while he sang. It sounded like a cat fight, and I lost it. I began laughing so hard I started crying.

Toward the end of the song, it slowed down again, and Miguel sang his phone number, requesting that I call him.

I sighed. Then I wiped tears of laughter off my cheeks. I pressed the eject button and put the disc back in its protective case. Before closing it, I took one last look at Gordito. Then I put the CD back inside my purse and out of my mind.

Tyler came out of the house and I got out to meet him.

“What did she think of your painting?” I asked as he got closer.

He smiled a goofy smile. “She liked it,” he replied. “She made suggestions on how I could improve it, and that’s what I’m working on this week, and probably the next few weeks.”

“Sounds good,” I said, full of pride.

That evening Tyler and I did the yoga workout. Afterward, he worked on his parkour moves in the backyard. I checked in on my mom. She looked less crispy as she sat in her room reading.

Later on, as I lay in the dark, I thought about Miguel’s song and started giggling all over again.

Then I felt a strange feeling. I was lying in my bed—mine and Justin’s bed—thinking about another man.

It unsettled me.

I jumped up and turned on the light, then flew across the room and grabbed my purse. I rummaged through it and dug out the CD. Then I opened my bottom dresser drawer and stashed it beneath a pile of chunky sweaters.

I wanted it to go away.

T
he weekend Sabrina was out of town turned out to be a fun one. Tyler and his friend, Sam, invited my mom and I to watch a group of their friends perform parkour outdoors. They both participated, and we had a blast watching them. I knew without a doubt Justin would have loved this sport. It was funny how much Tyler was like his dad.

Sunday night, when I logged onto the computer, there was an email from Sabrina. “Amy, I’m in New York with Miguel. We’re gaining some positive ground in the legal matter. Thought you might like to know since we discussed the topic. And, not sure if this is too repetitive, but if you’d like to swim next Sunday and bring your son this time, let me know. Or we could do something else and bring him along? I’ll leave it up to you. Of course, all provided you are free that day. Sabrina.”

I looked down the page and saw there was more. “P.S. Miguel asked if you had a chance to listen to his CD?”

I read through her email a second time before replying. I couldn’t believe she mentioned the CD. Had he told her about the song? I hoped not. I wrote back. “Sabrina, Swimming this Sunday with Tyler sounds good. He can’t wait to come and see your house. You said you’d like to have a kid to hang out with, right? Well, be warned, he’s a talker! Oh, and the CD. I haven’t gotten around to listening to it yet. Amy.”

I hit send and logged out. I didn’t want her to know I’d listened to Miguel’s CD. I didn’t want him to know, either.

During the week I sat with Tyler while he began his second island painting. Mom’s skin condition improved. And I started doing more research on dog adoption. It was getting close to being time for us to afford it.

•••••

When Sunday morning arrived Tyler was amped up, psyched about his adventure to Sabrina’s indoor pool.

On the drive, he listened to songs on the radio and sang along, tapping his feet. He was unusually wired, almost as if he’d drank a bunch of coffee. I hoped he would behave. He usually did, of course, but I didn’t want to go and ruin Sabrina’s idyllic vision of having kids.

As we pulled into her driveway, Tyler looked around. “Holy cow! This is the place?” he asked.

“Yep.”

I winked at him and put the car in park. Then we got out and gathered our things from the trunk.

“Oh, and just so you know, my friend may answer the door or an older gentleman may. If he does, just act normal. He’s her employee.”

The way Tyler looked at me, I could tell he didn’t understand. He nodded, though, then we began walking toward the house.

Before I could even ring the buzzer, the door opened. It was Sabrina.

“Hello,” I said. “This is my son, Tyler.”

Tyler stepped forward and offered his hand. Sabrina leaned down and shook it.

“Pleased to meet you,” Sabrina said.

The look on her face was unlike any I had seen her make before. It was an expression unfolding. First there was surprise. No doubt the resemblance to Justin shocked her. Then I saw joy. Maybe seeing him, a miniature version of someone she cared so much for, was like having a part of him come back. Then I saw something I couldn’t quite place. Was it envy? It was hard to tell. Each nuance lasted only a fleeting moment.

“Pleased to meet you too,” Tyler replied, sounding three times his age.

We stepped into the foyer, and as we did, Tyler studied the room with a careful eye. Sabrina noticed.

“Would you like to see the whole house before we go swimming?” she asked.

“Okay,” he replied.

Sabrina spoke to him as if he were an adult. She hadn’t adopted the little kid voice people so often use. I wondered if that was how her parents spoke to her while she was growing up.

“Excuse me,” Tyler said, interrupting my thought. “While we’re looking at your house, can you show me the stuff my dad did?”

My eyes met Sabrina’s, then we smiled in understanding.

“Of course I can,” she said. “How about we start right here.”

A renewed sense of enthusiasm filled Sabrina’s voice. It didn’t bother me anymore, her being so thrilled to talk about Justin. I was more excited to see Tyler being proud of his dad’s accomplishments.

As we stood in the foyer, Sabrina began. “Under our feet you’ll notice a beautiful Italian tile, something your dad suggested for its wow factor.”

The three of us looked down. It looked expensive. And if anyone could talk someone into spending more than they planned to, it was Justin. He was quite the salesman. Tyler didn’t say anything. He merely observed and nodded. Then we moved on.

While we walked, Sabrina described the details of each room, and what Justin had done to improve it. I was only half-listening, though, as the projects themselves didn’t really interest me. Instead, I was fascinated by the way Tyler and Sabrina interacted. Tyler seemed more behaved and grown-up than usual. Sabrina seemed softer, a bit animated.

When the house tour finished, Sabrina showed Tyler and me to the guest bathroom.

“See you at the pool,” she said, before walking away.

Tyler opened his bag and pulled out his swimsuit. Before closing the bathroom door he asked, “Is your friend a movie star?”

I smiled. A month ago that would’ve annoyed me. “No honey, remember, she owns a fashion design company.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a sign that he could care less, then closed the door. In a few minutes he came out and I went in and changed. When I finished, I noticed he’d made his way down the hall.

“Come back here,” I hissed.

Tyler spun around and ran back.

“Don’t wander off. It’s not our house. And it’s rude.”

He looked down. “Sorry.”

Tyler and I walked to the pool area, where Sabrina was waiting. I noticed a few kid-friendly toys floating in the water. I couldn’t believe she went through all that trouble, but I was thankful.

Before we even got in, Tyler started with the questions.

“Sabrina?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, while laying her towel out on a chaise.

“Do you live here all by yourself?”

“Yes.”

I glared at him, hoping he would stop, but he was looking the other way.

“Is it scary?”

Sabrina laughed. No doubt she realized this could go on indefinitely.

“No. It’s not scary,” she replied, then went to sit by the edge of the pool, putting her toes in the water.

Tyler jumped in but was careful not to splash. I sat near Sabrina, with my legs dangling further in than hers.

“Is the lady in all the paintings a relative of yours?” Tyler asked her.

“No.” Sabrina said, “The woman in the paintings was a model from long ago, for an artist called John Waterhouse.”

“I think I’ve heard of him,” Tyler replied.

I jumped into the deep end and flashed her a “you asked for it” look, then began swimming laps.

Sabrina didn’t seem to mind. She kept it going. “I hear you’re an artist too.”

Through the splashing water I heard Tyler reply, “Yeah. I’m a beginner.”

“Well we all have to start somewhere, don’t we?”

“Do you have a painting of yourself?” Tyler asked her.

Sabrina, who had now gotten into the pool, tilted her head and said, “No.”

“How come?”

If Sabrina was losing patience, she didn’t show it. “Umm, I don’t know. I guess I like to collect other artists’ work. I’ve never thought of having one of me done. Maybe someday you could paint my portrait. Once you’re experienced enough to take on the task. What do you think?”

I stopped swimming and watched Tyler’s face light up. “Like a real artist?” he asked.

Sabrina and I made eye contact.

“Exactly,” she said to him.

Tyler, thrilled beyond words, swam over to an orange floating noodle and hung onto it.

“He just did a drawing of his grandma’s hand the other day,” I added. “He’s working his way up.”

I grabbed a floating beach ball, thinking Tyler might like to play catch, but he began chatting again.

“I’m doing a painting this week. My teacher had me create one (whatever I wanted) and then she’s showing me how to improve it.”

“Wonderful,” Sabrina replied. “What did you choose?”

Tyler leaned forward to answer, then slipped off his noodle and fell into the water. He reemerged laughing.

Unfazed by his accidental dunking, he answered, “It’s a tropical scene. Of Bora Bora, with Mt. Otemanu in the background.”

Sabrina must’ve decided she didn’t want to go there. She changed the subject.

“So Tyler,” she said, herself now leaning on a purple noodle. “How do you like school? Do you have any other hobbies?”

They both seemed equally interested in talking to each other. And I was glad it didn’t make Sabrina uncomfortable. I abandoned the ball and swam toward the last available green noodle.

“I’m off for summer now,” Tyler said. “But there’s a sport I’m learning called parkour.”

Sabrina’s face looked blank.

“What kind of sport is that?” she asked.

Tyler loved this. It wasn’t often an adult he didn’t know gave him this much undivided attention.

“It’s kind of hard to describe. It’s better to see it. I can show you later if you want?”

Sabrina smiled. “I’d love to see it.”

While in Tyler’s company, Sabrina seemed to glow. I wondered if it was because she wanted to have kids of her own, or if it was just because he was Justin’s child. Someone like her ought to have a child of her own. She certainly had the space and the means to afford it. And she had plenty of love to give.

Interrupting my mental banter Sabrina said, “Anyone getting hungry yet?”

“I am,” said Tyler, throwing his noodle aside.

“Honey, did you want to eat and then jump around like that? Or do you want to show her the moves first?”

Tyler thought about what I said. “Yeah, I should show you first, then eat.”

Sabrina climbed out of the pool and wrapped a towel around herself. “Whichever order you prefer.”

Tyler and I got out of the pool and dried off enough so we could walk back through the house and change. Afterward, Sabrina met us in the hallway. I was surprised when I saw her. She’d changed into capri jeans and a t-shirt. She looked normal.

“So where do we go to see the parkour?” Sabrina asked.

“I usually do it in the backyard at home. I need to be able to run around and jump off things, like the side of the house.”

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. Then she led us to her backyard. “You can use the side of the house and any unbreakable objects that are out there,” she said.