The Widow's Friend

by Dave Stone; Callii Wilson

  I’m sorry about your washer, or was it your dryer? I’ve had a few things go down this week too. The vacuum—fixed! The upstairs toilet—I’m still working on it. The DVD player—I bought a new one today and hooked it up. The computer—data retrieved and on a CD, but I’m having troubles rebuilding the system off the recovery disc. We’ll see how that plays out. It just never stops, does it?

  What kind of shopping did you do yesterday, may I ask? Did you shop for clothes with a friend, shop for some special item, or just shop for groceries? The stores I needed to go to were all closed for the holiday. I had a hankering to get my new book cover blown up and enlarged so I could frame it. The camera shop was closed all day and so was Hobby Knobby (Frames) so I did other things: lunch with the grandkids and the repairs that I’ve mentioned.

  You know I haven’t even thought about New Year’s resolutions yet, but I have kind of resolved lately to peddle my books a bit. The main thing I need to do is figure out how to get them listed on Amazon.com. I know how to buy ISBN numbers but I need to figure out how to register those numbers so they’re recognized nationally. I am also going to submit manuscripts to several publishers. I dread doing it; it’s like beating my head against a wall.

  One day, several years ago, I took a day off and literally worked from six thirty in the morning until after Midnight that night sending out queries, synopsis’s, or whatever the heck else they asked for. The problem is that every publisher or agent wants something different. Some want queries, some want a synopsis, some want outlines, some want combinations of each, some want the formatting to be specific in various ways, and on and on. It’s a pain in the neck. And the whole time you’re working on it, you know you won’t get anywhere with them. That’s what sucks the most.

  The reason I was up at four a.m. was not a very interesting story either. We had a quiet evening at home for the New Year. We didn’t even have Lexi with us. She spent the night in Rexburg with her cousins. Anyway, the steaks turned out tough, which was a major disappointment for Mary, and then we watched “You’ve Got Mail” together. We were really having a good time watching it, discussing every little detail. We both love that movie—we think it’s clever and fun. Anyway, half way through it, the DVD whacked out so we were done all of a sudden. Mary started reading a book (She loves to read.) and the next thing I know I wake up at three in the morning—alone. I go out to the family room and there she sits, tapping away on her laptop. (She was probably e-mailing her boyfriend or something. :^) She looks at me and says, “You went to sleep!” I nodded and acknowledged as much, and then we went back to the bedroom and inaugurated the New Year.

  Then I got back up for an hour because I wasn’t sleepy any more. I literally ordered a new “You’ve Got Mail” on Amazon.com before I sent this e-mail to you. It was just that simple. That was a long explanation for an uninteresting topic, but now you know. And I have to admit that inaugurating the new year is not nearly as exciting as planning an exotic vacation with Cheryl Bradford Smith and your other friends. We live a quiet life around here. Also, I try to avoid speaking of bedroom stuff with you, both for your sake and Mary’s.

  And you also mentioned, “Who said that being single isn’t fun and games?” I am of the firm opinion that life with Callii is continual fun and games, whether you’re single or not. You have a thirst for life and live it to the fullest. And that’s a compliment to you, thank you very much. That’s just one more thing that I admire about you. It’s not just your body you know, but let’s not discount that either.

  Well, it’s one nineteen in the morning and my eyes are beginning to sting. I’ll pick it up again tomorrow and send a little more.

  ***

  Okay, now it’s tomorrow and it’s seven thirty in the morning. Mary and Lexi are still asleep.

  Oh yes, I have to tell you that when I read your Facebook scribblings on Thursday night I kind of freaked out for awhile, simply because Cheryl Bradford Smith might be just as bad as Julie Davies Larsen at spreading gossip and innuendo. I got over it after awhile, but I dropped off an emotional cliff there for a time.

  Let me relate a little story to you: Ten or fifteen years ago, my very own mother called me and said something like, “Levi, Julie Davies has been talking and it’s all over Sugar City that you’re going to divorce Mary and go after Janae Spillane.” And that kind of freaked me out a bit, especially because none of it was true. I had just been hanging and talking and joking around with Julie some and she betrayed me a bit. Betrayed is probably too strong a word, but you know what I mean.

  Shortly after that I was talking with mom and she said, “My sisters were watching you at your cousin’s wedding and they said Mary was being quite angry with you and wasn’t treating you well at all!” (We had been sitting with a cousin and another friend.) I said, “Oh great, that’s just what I need, people putting me under a microscope and watching my every move.” So anyway, I got a little nervous about that whole Cheryl Bradford Smith thing, just so you know where I’m coming from.

  Mary seems to have been on her best behavior lately, which is good, but I have this theory. I told Bailey about last October time that I had reconnected with several old friends on Facebook. And she said immediately, “Dad, you be careful, there have been four different divorces in my neighborhood alone because of Facebook!” I played it down and assured her that there was nothing like that going on. But I wonder now if she had a heart to heart with Mary and advised her to treat me a little better. She knows that I’m treated badly—how could she not.

  I don’t know that I’ve mentioned it, but last Spring I moved upstairs into a separate bedroom. It lasted for about a month or so, and it almost killed me. I’m not set up emotionally for that kind of thing. Anyway, time will take its course. Leopards do not change their spots, especially after thirty five years.

  Having said all of this, I would like to drop in and see you sometime, but I don’t want to push it. I know you’re heading for Disneyland soon and you’ll have some packing to do. I don’t know if you’ll have time for me or not. I’ll leave it up to you. But I do have a surprise for you if I do come. I’m not trying to bait you, but I guess I really kind of am—LOL.

  So I’m gonna end it here, girl, and leave it in your beautiful hands. I sure like you, Calliijo, three dots in a row, and I would have liked to have met your mother.

  I’m still confused about us, frankly, but I’m thinking of you always.

  Your friend, Levi

  ***

  From Callii Wilson

  Jan 3rd

  Hello Bro. Stone, I am sorry to say there will be no Monday lesson tonight. I am feeling a bit under the weather. So get out your bible and read it from cover to cover before you go to bed tonight. I will try to write you tomorrow. I hope everything is peachy with you. My mom used to say that sometimes being peachy is the pits.

  Amen, Sister Wilson

  ***

  From Levi Stone (Twenty minutes later)

  Hi Callii, I’m sorry you don’t feel well tonight. Maybe a son could bring you over some soup, or maybe I could.

  Thanks for the e-mail, it was important to me. I think I’ll go upstairs to my desktop and send you a little story that I wrote about the bible, it’s just another little piece of my life. Rest up and get better for Disneyland. I feel bad for you.

  Love ya girlfriend. Your friend to the end, Levi

  ***

  From Callii Wilson Jan 4th

  Hello my friend, I think my computer caught what I had. I can’t get it to connect. I have tried everything I know, which isn’t much. I will try again later, but just know that I am thinking of you.

  Your friend, Callii

  ***

  From Callii Wilson

  Jan 5th

  Hello again friend. Well, all is well at the Wilson home. My computer is working for a minute, or at least I think it is. We’ll see when I try to send this. It wasn’t working this morning but now all of a sudden it is. Go figure. How are things going a
t your house? I am trying to get ready to leave on Friday. We are supposed to leave at one o’clock. We’ll see about that. I will write you on my phone while I’m gone. I hope you write to me too. You said all I had to do was say so and you would be here. How about you come on Friday and go with me. That would be fun—really!

  I have decided the last few days that I am getting old. I don’t know why but things seem different, somehow. I think I need to get some exercise or something. Maybe getting away will help a little. I am bored out of my head. Maybe I should get a job. That’s an interesting thought, but I’m glad it is only a thought. I am rambling, I know, but I haven’t done anything of note and I have nothing interesting to say. Sorry!

  Please write to me and tell me everything that is going on in your life. I need to live through someone way more interesting than I am, and that would be you.

  Your friendly friend, Jo

  ***

  From Levi Stone (Thirty minutes later)

  Hi Callii, It was nice of you to write, and I have plenty of ramblings to send you, but I’ve been wondering recently if you’re okay and if we’re still good friends. You seem to have gone cold on me since New Year’s Eve. Is that my imagination or have you really been dogging me? Write me right back and let me know if things are okay. I’m a little worried about you. This is just another one of those times that I wish I could call and talk, or just show up at your house. I’ll be glad to come down for an hour tonight if you want me to—or not!

  Thanks, Levi

  ***

  And then I sent her another music link: “You’ve Got a Friend” by James Taylor

  From Callii Wilson (One hour later)

  So Friend, you have let your imagination run overtime. I am not dogging you nor will I ever. You are my good friend and always will be. I have to remind myself of what part I play in all of this and have to cool myself down a bit sometimes. I’m just trying to protect myself. It is really hard to write and tell you how I feel. I’m scared for you and your marriage and I don’t want to be part of the problem. I know I have told you that before. I tell you that but then I keep flirting with you and that makes me exactly that—part of the problem. It’s because I really like you, and I like that you pay attention to me and make me feel like someone special. I would love to see you again and talk to you face to face. But don’t think, even for a minute, that I am trying to get rid of you. I am ready for bed so tonight is not so good. Write me and let’s see if we can figure out another time. I hope this makes you feel better about us. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Your friend forever, Callii

  ***

  From Levi Stone (25 minutes later)

  Hi Callii, Thanks for replying. I do feel better now. You’re so nice. But now I feel a little stupid for doubting you. And don’t worry about my marriage. It has nothing to do with you. It has been bad since about the time you were on your second husband, right around the Reagan years, I think. That’s why I’m a bit brazen about things. In reality I don’t have that much to lose, and after all, it’s only money.

  I went down and bought a new laptop last night. The folks at the Geek squad are my best friends. I think maybe I’ll buy you one too, Sister Wilson. It may save me a lot of stray imaginings.

  Goodnight Jo. I can’t believe the hold you have on me, Levi

  P.S. I have a long draft saved for you on Google. I’ll send it in a day or two. I’ll just keep writing for your viewing pleasure while you wander through southern California. But please, while you’re on vacation, just send me one-liners from that little gadget of yours. Save yourself the trouble. Besides, it’s like I’ve always said, “I don’t need a lot of affection, just a steady supply.”

  Goodnight sweet grandma, Levi

  ***

  From Callii Wilson (Thirty minutes later)

  Thanks for the song. I loved it. I love all of the songs that you send, and the e-mails too.

  Always thinking of you, Callii

  ***

  From Levi Stone

  Jan 6th

  Hi Callii, I’m gonna’ write you a long one tonight and then add to it over the next few days. It will be a monster.

  I’ve decided that I owe you an apology for the way I’ve talked about Tom Thompson. I stand by my statement that he’s a four and you’re a nine, (And only because there’s no such thing as a ten!) but Tom is a good guy and he’s been quite the comedian his entire life. You dated him in your younger years and got much more serious with him than you ever got with me. I’m sure he’s a great guy, and you obviously have good taste! I would never say anything like I have said to you to Tom’s face, and so—so much for all of that.

  I’m reminded of the rating system that Lon Moore and I put together when we were young. Let’s see if I can remember, from the top down: 1. Luscious. 2. Delicious. 3. Damn good looking. 4. Dog. 5. Pig. The difference between a dog and a pig is that a pig is also “overweight.” My memory’s not what it once was. I can only remember the top and the bottom of the list, and not what went in the middle, but no matter how we rank it, you’ll always be on the top. That’s just reality, little girl.

  So how much of this Disneyland trip do you have to cover financially? Is everyone on their own, or what? Just curious. Are all of your kids reasonably well off financially, or do some struggle?

  It’s none of my business, just a few more questions from your straightforward friend. And of course I find that you only answer what you want to, anyway. That’s what I’ve come to expect from my careful friend, Callii.

  You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you that at one point I thought my wife was maybe going to die. (I still wonder a bit.) A few weeks after I started talking to you, a couple of other “women from the past” popped up in various ways, nothing face to face or real, they just kind of surfaced. I pondered it and wondered if Mary was going to pass away, simply because the timing of it all was just so happenstance, circumstantial, or fateful—you know? I thought, maybe she’s going to have that sudden heart attack she’s always talking about. That all sounds kind of morbid, and I have never thought it in a hopeful kind of way, just a what’s-going-on-here kind of a way. Having said that, there was a time, shortly after my son passed, that I found her sitting in her car with the engine running, and it was in a closed garage. I asked her to turn the car off and she didn’t do it. She just kind of sat there, so I pushed the button and raised the garage door on the way in the house. I have no idea what was in her head.

  Anyway, as you know, there have always been women out there in this big old world, just as there have always been other men, but it’s important to me that you know that you’ve been my only rodeo over the many years, girlfriend. Everything else has been simply dreams and fairy dust as the years have passed by. You’re the only one I have ever snuggled with or held in my arms. I stroked your cheek and I smelled your hair. I kissed your hand, and I’ll always be glad that I did. Something got this old cowboy going on you and now here we are. I still don’t know why. My problem now is that I don’t want to stop.

  I sat in church on Sunday with the old men, and I looked around the room. There was about thirty of us in there. We sit at this long rectangular table. It’s kind of like the Knights of the Round Table kind of a thing. I tried to imagine any one of those guys leaving their wife, for any kind of a reason, and it was unimaginable—for any of them. I fit in comfortably with those guys and feel part of the group, but I do have my reasons for feeling the way that I do in my own life, as you well know. Maybe I’m just crazy, but the real problem is that I think young, and that could be dangerous for a guy like me.

  The guy giving the lesson was a friend of mine, a guy named Gary Gunther. I admire him, just like I admire many of the guys in that room. Anyway, his lesson had everything to do with me. It was based on a great talk on the three R’s of choice. The right to choose (agency), the responsibility to choose, and the results of what you choose. I paid close attention. One thing seemed to keep coming out at me
: You need to make a choice; sitting on the sideline does nothing good for anyone. You need to go one way or the other. I can’t restate to you all of the reasons that one needs to choose, they all made so much sense when others in the room were espousing them, but I was convinced that a choice needs to be made. And of course I talked too much. I really hate it when I do that—really. Anyway, I just thought that I’d share.

  You and I are similar in that we get a little carried away romantically and then back off and try to straighten out again, Sister Wilson. But I guess that’s only natural for two lonely people. That’s the reason I want to come down and have a heart to heart with you, literally. I want to hear you say a few things that will help me make a decision, one way or the other. You didn’t know you had so much power over me, did you?

  I was thinking today that my financial situation is just the same as yours. If I walk away I lose one half of everything I own, so I know how you feel. Only my next marriage is not guaranteed. I would lose one half and then have an opportunity to find someone to marry. In your case you would only lose half if the marriage was already signed, sealed, and delivered. There is more risk for me. I could walk away and then get “kicked to the curb”, as you say, in a week or two, and then proceed from there. This is really tricky business isn’t it? And I have to say, this old January already seems awfully cold.

  I’ve written all of this on Monday night, after you went to bed. I think of you now, asleep in your bedroom. I envision you curled up in some warm pajamas in an oversized bed, giving the appearance of a tiny child under those cozy and colorful covers. I don’t envision you any other way, just curled up and cozy. And if I had to guess, I guess that your bedroom colors are…gold! Or green! I have no idea, why don’t you tell me.