A Widow Redefined (14 page)

The garden had an overall coolness to it. A lot like my tour guide. It felt controlled and formal, yet peaceful. It was not a place for kids to run wild and play; the children I did see were walking politely, transformed by their environment. I stood a little straighter, too.

Sabrina said she often came here to think, and I could see why; it was the ultimate spot for quiet reflection. She hadn’t uttered a single word since we arrived. Maybe it was on purpose, to give me the full Zen-like experience.

“Look there,” she said, pointing across the lake. “It’s the Island of Everlasting Happiness.”

I looked across the water to see a small, peanut-shaped green island.

“How do we get there?” I asked. “There’s no bridge.”

Sabrina then pointed to a plaque that read: The Island of Everlasting Happiness cannot be reached by mortals. It is meant to be contemplated from a distance.

I broke into a fit of laughter–probably not the usual reaction—and Sabrina stared at me, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” I said, gasping for air. “I just found it funny to see it in writing, a declaration of how messed up a species we are.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I do,” I admitted. “I mean, we’re all given this life to enjoy, but we supposedly can’t find everlasting happiness until after were gone?”

“Maybe we find it in our next life,” she suggested.

“I’m not buying that,” I replied. “I’m Irish Catholic.”

“Me neither,” she agreed. “I’m Jewish.”

Now Sabrina burst into laughter, and I began giggling again, too. It felt nice to lighten the serious atmosphere, even if it wasn’t appropriate. An elderly woman who appeared to be meditating nearby got up and walked past, visually scolding us.

“We’d better lower our voices,” Sabrina said, while regaining composure.

I shut myself down like I was in a library trying to show some respect. I don’t know what had gotten into me. Most people would’ve read the plaque and sighed, appreciating its deeper meaning. For me, it was like one of Justin’s off the wall jokes. They’d come out of nowhere and knock you with their hilarity. That was some of the happiness I missed most.

“That lady was upset,” I said. “I think she was meditating.”

“She’ll get over it.”

I wasn’t used to this side of Sabrina. Her down-to-earth response made me comfortable somehow.

“Is that what you do when you come here?” I asked.

“No. Not really. I sit and think, but I don’t meditate.”

I followed her to an area near the waterfall where we took a seat on a smoothed rock.

“I sit here a lot and watch the ducks,” she said. “I read somewhere that they mate for life.”

“Really?” I replied. “I didn’t know that. Maybe if we were more like ducks we’d be able to get on that island.”

“Yeah. It said no mortals, it didn’t say anything about birds.”

Sabrina smiled at me, then returned to gazing at the lake. The sun was high in the sky and shining bright. Sabrina pulled a straw hat from her bag and put it on her head. I closed my eyes and let the repetitive splash of the waterfall relax me. I could have fallen asleep.

“Do you think we’re meant to find it?” she asked.

I opened my eyes and looked confused, then she added, “Everlasting happiness?”

I sat up straight and gave it some real thought. “No,” I decided. “I don’t think so. I mean, we have chances at happiness, but it comes and goes. It never stays.”

Sabrina continued gazing at the lake, at the little curved island sitting in the center.

“I wonder why we have to wait until we’re gone to experience it?” Sabrina asked out loud, but not directed at me.

I took a shot at answering. “I haven’t a clue, but I think I may have just gotten a migraine trying to find out.”

Sabrina laughed. Maybe Justin’s wacky sense of humor had rubbed off on me. Maybe that’s why she wanted to be my friend, because, in some small way, I was a link to him.

“You’ve probably got a headache because the sun is beating on your head,” she said while getting up. “Let’s go to the Rose Garden. It will be our final stop.”

I stood up and stretched my legs. I was beat. I looked forward to finishing our tour soon.

We both walked as slow as possible on the way there, conserving our last bit of energy. But once I saw the circular promenade with lush roses in the center and even more lining the outer path, I came alive again. Everywhere I looked, there were rose bushes, all bursting with color. The scent was intoxicating.

Sabrina and I began walking the rounded path. I was so engrossed with reading the signs and smelling the flowers, I forgot all about my headache. Then she excused herself to get a drink of water at a nearby fountain.

I came upon a bush of soft pink roses and paused. They looked just like the ones from my wedding bouquet. I remember that day like it just happened. It was summer, and it could’ve been too hot or humid, but it wasn’t. It was perfect. Even my blonde hair, which is usually limp and lifeless, cooperated, like it knew better.

My dress fit perfectly, and I didn’t stumble as I walked down the aisle. I could see Justin’s blue eyes getting closer with each step. I remember the flowers being unusually heavy. I hadn’t expected roses to weigh that much. As I inched closer to my future husband, I felt my arm muscles flex, trying not to lose hold of the bouquet.

“I see you’ve found your flower,” a voice said.

Cut short from my reverie, I looked up and saw Sabrina.

The pink rose held special meaning for Justin and me, always had. Even after he was gone, it was what I brought to his gravesite to tell him I loved him.

“Yeah,” I replied. “These are just like the ones from my wedding bouquet.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “I was thinking of the flower you leave for Justin at the cemetery.”

I suddenly felt like my privacy had been violated.

I wondered how she knew that, and why she was bringing this subject up now. Then it occurred to me that this was just the topic I’d wanted to discuss with her all this time, ever since I saw her standing in front of my husband’s grave.

I took a cautious look at Sabrina, unsure of what to say next. I never felt on even ground with this woman. I’d come with an agenda: to uncover her lies. Instead she’d shared information about my personal life that unhinged me. Then, after spending the day together, I’d decided she was all right. I had let my guard down.

“I saw you leave one of those roses at Justin’s grave, in case you’re confused.”

“I’m still confused,” I admitted.

Sabrina stepped back, then took a deep breath and continued. “The Christmas after Justin died, I went to the cemetery to wish a friend Happy Holidays.”

I listened, warily.

“And I saw you standing there, with a pink rose in your hand.”

Sabrina cleared her throat and continued. “I realized that it would be wrong for me to intrude on your private moment, that it wouldn’t look right, so I left.”

That explained how she knew who I was when I came to her house. Justin never carried a picture in his wallet. He wasn’t the type.

Now was my chance to launch into the questions I’d been holding inside. I wanted answers. I’d accept nothing less.

“So you’re saying you left and returned later so we can each have our own
private moment
?”

There was no mistaking the sarcasm in my voice.

“Yes and no,” she responded. “Let me explain.”

I felt the spark ignite on my Irish temper. Once it started, it was difficult to cool down. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to maintain self-control a second time. Whatever came out of her mouth next would be the deciding factor.

“I didn’t want to intrude on your time with your husband,” she said. “That would be rude and disrespectful.”

Yeah—you think?

“All the same,” she continued, “I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and I didn’t want to run into you for fear it would look all wrong, me being there.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, in an attempt to contain the breathing bull trying to bust out from within.

“And what’s with the daffodils?” I asked. “Why are you leaving my husband flowers?”

Sabrina looked alarmed. “The daffodils are because of my involvement with the American Cancer Society. But the flowers aren’t important. It’s what I’m trying to accomplish with them that has meaning.”

“What are you trying to accomplish by leaving Justin flowers? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Sabrina let out a heavy sigh. No doubt whatever madness she had tucked away in her skull was going to be difficult to put into words. My patience was growing thin.

“This is hard to explain,” she said. “But I visited Justin because he was my friend. The flowers were a symbol for a wish. I did the same ritual each time. I came to say hello, thanked him for being such a good friend. Then I requested his assistance.”

While staring at her, I realized just how eccentric she truly was, like the day she was hanging out at home in her burgundy formal gown.

Finding another ounce of patience, I managed to ask, “What kind of assistance?”

Sabrina locked eyes with me. The intensity I saw in them frightened me. She looked positively wired. “You may find this odd,” she said, “but I request Justin’s spiritual assistance in important matters in my life.”

Somehow, that made sense coming from her.

“I’m still listening.”

“All the time he was working on the house and we were talking, all I could see was what a wonderful husband he was, how much he truly loved you.”

I uncrossed my arms and let them hang at my side.

“Justin possessed all the qualities I was looking for in a partner but had never found for myself. And now that he’s gone, I request his help. I repeatedly ask him to send me someone like that to share my life with, a future husband.”

Her description of how good Justin was to me, and how she admired him, made me feel proud. Proud that he was mine, and sad that he was gone. I believe my husband would, if he could, send her the perfect partner if it was in his power to do so. Since she was still single and it hadn’t happened after a few years, I guessed he wasn’t able to help. Yet she continued to ask, her confidence in him unshaken.

I remembered back to the day I saw her at the cemetery, crying. And how I felt compelled to follow and confront her. Knowing what I know now, I realize there was no way she could’ve told me something like this. I wouldn’t have believed her. Maybe she said “see you next time” because she wanted to explain, she knew she would have to someday.

All at once, my fears and apprehension dissipated. The angry bull in my chest lay down and went to sleep. I looked over at Sabrina, and felt an overwhelming sadness fill my heart. There she stood, like an old-time movie star. Successful, intelligent, kind… but still alone. She’d lost her parents in an accident, and was married to a philandering imbecile whom she divorced. Then she met Justin, the perfect man. It would be so easy to fall in love with him.

I wondered how it would feel to live in her shoes. The unrequited love, the casual befriending, and then watching the man deteriorate right in front of you, unable to stop it.

I looked into Sabrina’s eyes. I wanted to cry, but didn’t. Instead, I watched her look at me, seeming anxious for my reaction.

“I’m sorry Justin couldn’t be of more help,” I said with sincerity. “He would do anything for a good friend.”

“I know,” she said.

The sun hung low in the sky and the garden began to clear out. Most of the people were probably heading to dinner. I was getting pretty hungry myself. But I still had one more question.

“When I saw you that day at the cemetery, you were crying. Why?”

Sabrina turned her head to the side, trying to recall the memory.

“I was crying because I was desperate. I felt so alone and was begging Justin to do something to help me. Then a half hour later you showed up at my door,” Sabrina said.

“Not exactly what you were looking for, huh?” I joked.

Sabrina smiled and threw her hands in the air. “Definitely not what I was expecting,” she said. “But there’s one thing I do know.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I know Justin is the one that sent you.”

D
riving back home I thought about Sabrina’s comment. Instinctively, I knew it was true. Justin was involved somehow. I could feel it.

When I walked in the door, Tyler was waiting there, super-psyched to see me.

“Hey T.” I said, then gave him a kiss. “You look like a water balloon that’s ready to burst. What gives?”

“Mom. Check this out.”

Tyler began running toward the patio and into the yard, so I followed him. Then he stopped, and seemed to be in some form of deep concentration. He took a few breaths and stretched from side to side. Then, without warning, he ran at full speed up to the side of the house, appeared to climb it somehow, then flipped over in mid air and landed back on his feet.

A reservoir of adrenalin I didn’t know I had rushed through me and I gasped. “Oh my God! Are you all right?”

Cracking up, Tyler replied, “Of course.”

“What just happened? What was that?”

Tyler was only too happy to provide the answer. “It’s that sport, parkour, that Sam’s older brother does. I told you he was going to show us some moves.”

I thought he said it was a sport, like basketball. This looked more like super hero stuff, like Spider-Man.

“Wow, honey. That was amazing! Did you learn all that in one day?”

“Kinda,” he said. “We did some easier stuff that led to that, but I’ve been really practicing that one.”

“Very impressive.” It looked like he’d been practicing for more than a day. That stunt didn’t look easy at all, but I didn’t call him out on it. I was too proud of him.

Tyler straightened his shoulders and stood a little taller. He wore a smirk on his face that reminded me of Justin’s, the same expression he used to make as a teenager when he pulled off a really cool skateboard stunt.

“Sam lent me a DVD so I could keep practicing,” he said.

“Sound good,” I replied, nodding. “Keep it up.”