On Second Thought(28)

It was before Mom's books were published, before she'd invested in a  face-lift and started coloring her hair white blond and taking karate.  Back then, she was just used up, like an old paper bag.

And then Michelle was gone, and Dad came knocking, and Mom took him back. Him, and the progeny of the other woman.

I knew my mother loved Ainsley...in her way. It was just that her way  wasn't the most demonstrative, not even with her biological children.  The fact that Ainsley looked so much like Michelle didn't help.

I was glad Ainsley was here, even if she kept putting her foot in her  mouth. She gave off a lot of energy, and while that often irritated me a  little, I welcomed it now. Without her, the house was very quiet.

I fed Hector, who ate his flakes with gusto. Funny, that this fish  pre-and postdated Nathan. A fish with a life span of what?-three  years?-bore witness to the beginning, middle and end of my time with  Nathan.

"That doesn't seem right to me," I told Hector. Considered flushing him  down the toilet to balance the (fish) scales of justice. "I'm just  kidding, buddy."

On the shelf above Hector's bowl was my everyday Nikon, the same one I'd been using the night Nathan died.

I hadn't looked at the pictures yet, terrified of what I'd see. Once  Nathan fell, my memory of that horrible night was sketchy. I hadn't  taken a picture of Nathan going down, had I? I mean, I did have  professional instincts. What if there was a picture on there of my  husband dying or...dead?

The clock ticked.

I actually had an appointment today. Jenny Tate, who owned the wedding  dress boutique around the corner from me, needed some pictures for her  website. I didn't realize just what a big deal she was in the wedding  dress world until I'd gone to her site. She'd made a dress for a member  of the Liechtenstein royal family, and one for an Emmy-award-winning  actress, and she'd been featured in all the big bridal magazines.

Time to start getting back to the land of the living.

I showered, not looking at Nathan's toothbrush, and got dressed in jeans  and a T-shirt, Converse sneakers and a peach-colored cardigan.

Outside, it was shockingly lovely. I'd almost forgotten it was spring;  the past few days had been gray and rainy. But today, the air was soft  and clean, and crab apple and pear trees were fluffy with blossoms. I  got my bike out of the garage-what was I going to do with Nathan's  car?-and got on.

I rode past the tasteful homes and tidy lawns. Nice porch on that house.  Pretty pansies there. Maybe I should do something like that. Then  again, pansies wouldn't look right at Nathan's place. Something more  stark and bold. A cactus, maybe. A statement tree, a phrase he'd used  without irony when he first showed me the courtyard.

It seemed like such a long time ago.

Are you there? I asked. Are you watching me? Are you okay, Nathan?

There was no answer, no sign. I didn't really expect there to be.

But I was out, and it was beautiful, and I had to keep going, keep moving, or be caught by the heavy, dark fog of grief.

I coasted up to the Blessed Bean with its green-and-white-striped awning  and wonderful smells. It was past the morning rush, so I didn't have to  wait in line, just ordered a large coffee and a larger muffin.  Seriously, the thing was the size of a human brain. I was suddenly  starving.

Without Nathan at my side-or his mother or Brooke-I was still a stranger  in Cambry-on-Hudson. Right now, I was grateful for that. I was just  nobody buying a muffin, not a mother with diamond studs in her ears, not  a Mercedes-driving businessperson. Just someone passing through, maybe.  Someone nobody knew.

"You're Nathan Coburn's widow, aren't you?" the barista asked, handing over my change.         

     



 

There went my mood. "Yep," I said. "Have a good day."

"His sister babysat me," she said. "Sometimes Nathan would come over and help me with my math homework, and he was always so-"

"Okay, bye," I said, walking out. Kept walking right down the street to my studio, passing Bliss and Cottage Confections.

It was pretty neat, three women who owned wedding-oriented businesses on  the same street. Kim and I did events other than weddings, but it made  up the bulk of our work. Nathan had been so pleased the one time we  three women had gone out for a glass of wine.

"See? I told you you'd make friends," he'd said when I got back, and it  irritated me, since I'd never said I wouldn't. It also seemed as if he'd  been implying that... I don't know. That my move from Brooklyn hadn't  been as difficult as it had been.

Because yes, I missed the most beautiful borough. Sometimes I'd mention  that, how I missed the smell of garlic at Porto's or Ronny, the homeless  guy we all bought food for, and Nathan would look a tiny bit peeved, as  if he was disappointed that I didn't say, "Gosh, Cambry-on-Hudson is  the best place ever! I hate Brooklyn!"

Now I was stuck here in Cambry-on-Hudson, husbandless in my husband's  town, where everyone knew him better and longer than I did.

I missed being alone by choice, not by a freak accident and a tiny venous malformation and granite countertops.

There was the rusty spike again.

"Hello," said an older man walking his little mutt.

"Hi." I gave him a fake smile and unlocked the door of my studio.  Mercifully, he didn't pull me aside for a tearful memory of my husband.  If he tried, I might've punched him.

And then I was inside, and safe. Kate O'Leary: Award-Winning  Photography, the sign proclaimed in tasteful letters. The space still  felt new to me. New, but clean and bright. Creaky old oak floors and a  little courtyard in the back, where Max and I ate lunch the day Nathan  died.

My office was its usual mess. I'd come back here for something after  Nathan died. Couldn't remember what now. Papers or something. There was a  picture of us on the shelf above my desk. I turned it facedown.

Why was I here again? Oh, right, a shoot in about ten minutes. Max  wouldn't be in for that; he helped only on outdoor shoots, when the  lighting was trickier, or at big events. I had plenty of time to eat  breakfast. Had to keep up my strength and all that. I took a big bite of  muffin. Cranberry-orange, and damn, it tasted so good. The coffee, too.  Crumbs rained down on my sweater, and I brushed them blithely into my  keyboard. I was glad it was as big as my head. I might have another one  later. Two head-sized muffins in one day.

My thoughts sounded a little crazy even to me.

Maybe tonight I'd go to that grief group Ainsley mentioned.

Three and a half weeks since he died. Almost a quarter of our married  life. Almost a month. I wondered if this would be how time was measured  now. The days and weeks, the minutes since.

I think I knew the answer.

Oh, and by the way, still no period. I was throwing caution to the wind.  See this huge wonking coffee? Damn right, I'm gonna drink it! Take  that, Two Lines! I'll be as surprised as anyone when you show up!

Yes. The group might be good.

I went into the other room, where the indoor portraits were done, and  started setting up, placing the kicker lights to cast shadows and light  on Jenny's face. Checked my portrait camera, made sure I had the mirror  angled so she could see herself.

The bell in the front jangled. "Kate? It's Jenny!" In she came, a big black bag over one shoulder, her dark hair shiny.

"Hey, girl!" I said, my cheery voice sounding odd. She wore a soft black  leather jacket that I wanted to marry. Oops. No jokes about marriage. I  was a widow now. She also had a bag of fabric; I'd asked her to bring  some different material to use in the background.

"This is such a great space!" she said, looking around like an eager  sparrow. "Oh, here, I brought coffee." She handed me a big cup. "One of  those mochaccino caramel things."

"Thanks." I probably shouldn't have more caffeine. You know. Just in case. My uterus snickered.

"You bet. And hey...about Nathan." Her dark eyes were painfully kind.  "I'm so sorry." She squeezed my shoulders. "I'm going to email you every  week and invite you out for dinner, and you can turn me down as much as  you want, but when you're ready, we'll go somewhere fabulous with huge  drinks, my treat. And you can tell me about him, or we can talk about  bridezillas or gossip or go to a movie. We can talk now if you want, or  we can just get down to work."         

     



 

I should type up what Jenny just said and send it to everyone who said I  just don't know what to say. This. This is what you say.

"Let's work," I said, my voice a little husky. "And thank you. I'll take you up on that."

"You better." She paused. "You know, Leo's a widower. My boyfriend."

Oh, God. "No, I didn't know that." He seemed so...normal the only time I met him.

"Yeah. It's an ongoing thing, you know? He goes to this grief group once in a while. Have you looked into anything like that?"

"Actually, my sister found one. It meets at the Lutheran church."

"That's the one he goes to. He says it helps." She smiled a little, such  a nice person. I tried to answer, but the spike wouldn't let me.