by Kim Cano
“Hey Mom, how’s it going?”
“It’s good,” she said. “I didn’t feel like cooking so I picked up pizza for dinner.”
“Yeah, it smells delicious.” There was nothing like Chicago pizza. I set the table and poured each of us a glass of water.
Tyler came into the kitchen. “Hey Mom,” he said. “We’re eating vegetarian tonight. It’s healthy.”
Mom and I eyed each other. Neither of us wanted to be the one to tell him.
“Well, honey, it’s not technically considered a health food even though it’s vegetarian.”
For a moment Tyler looked upset. Then he asked, “What is eating healthy, then?”
“One way,” I suggested, laughing inwardly at my own genius, “is to eat a lot of vegetables and hardly any candy, cookies, or ice cream.”
I got him now.
Tyler kept quiet while chewing his food. When he’d finished, he took a large gulp of water, wiped his mouth with his napkin and announced, “I don’t think I’ll have dessert tonight.”
“Me neither,” I agreed. I wanted him to know I was on his side, that we were in this together.
Mom looked at both of us, clearly outnumbered. I could tell she was growing tired of this.
An hour after dinner Tyler appeared in the family room with his jump rope. He was right on time, like clockwork. That was our cue to get ours and begin working out.
“Mom, you already went to the gym today. Grandma and I could do our routine alone if you want?”
I wanted nothing more than to collapse on the sofa and watch mindless television, but I felt guilty, so I went and put my gym shoes back on and joined them. Afterward, I was exhausted. And my poor mom looked haggard. So much for her supposed relaxing day.
When Tyler left the room to get ready for bed, Mom spoke up. “Jesus! I thought I was going to have a heart attack!” she complained.
“You don’t have to do all the reps. Just take it slow.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll remember that for next time. I’m going to hit the sack, honey. I’m pooped.”
“Good night,” I said.
Before Tyler went to bed, I checked in on him.
“Brush your teeth?”
“Yep.”
“Get all your homework done?”
“Yep.”
I grinned at him, “I think we’re going to save some money not buying all those desserty items.”
He looked serious. “I’m glad,” he replied. “Because I don’t plan to eat them anymore.”
He meant it, too. Once he set his mind to something, it was done. I was thankful he’d only decided to focus on positive things so far. I’d hate to have to fight that passion in the opposite direction.
After leaving Tyler I went to my bedroom. I began rummaging through the closet to find something to wear to work the next day. Then I noticed the gym bag lying on the floor.
Sabrina’s book.
After getting ready for bed, I got the John Waterhouse book out and lay down. As I thumbed through the pages, I saw a brief description next to each photo.
The first one I recognized from the wall at Sabrina’s house. It was of a woman—a tortured-looking soul—sitting in a boat. It was called “The Lady of Shallot.” The side note said the painting was inspired by a poem written by Lord Tennyson. I stared for a long time into the woman’s eyes, then read the caption. It described a lady who lived in a castle surrounded by a river. She had been cursed and couldn’t look out at the outside world. She could only see people reflected in a mirror. When a man named Lancelot passed by, she chanced a look at him, leaving her tower. She climbed in a boat and floated down the river, hoping to find him, but died before she could.
Wow. How depressing.
I glanced at the picture again. The woman was beautiful, haunting. This particular painting wasn’t in the hands of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber; it was at the Tate Gallery in London.
London, I thought. Another place on our list.
I flipped through a few more pages and found the next painting that I recognized from Sabrina’s house. It was called “La Belle Dame sans Merci.” It was another pretty one, with a lady with long, flowing hair next to a knight. The description said the painting was inspired by a ballad written by the poet, John Keats.
John Waterhouse clearly had a thing for poetry.
I read it, trying to decipher its meaning. Poetry was definitely not my strong point. But from what I could gather, it seemed like this knight met an enchanting fairy woman, and he fell for her, hard. I don’t think things ended well, though. It appeared she’d tricked him somehow and really screwed him over—poor guy.
I was beginning to feel drowsy, but as I flipped to one of the last pages, I saw another familiar picture. I had just enough energy to read one more.
The final painting was called “The Danaïdes.” It was a scene of several women all pouring bowls of water into a much larger, center bowl, which had holes in it and constantly leaked. I checked the side note for an explanation. The piece was inspired by Greek mythology. It was about women who were forced to wed men they didn’t want to marry. Their father instructed them to kill their husbands on their wedding night, and for their crimes, they all end up in Hell, having to pour endless bowls of water into a larger one that will never stay full. They must do hard labor forever.
Enough of this craziness. If I continued reading anymore I was bound to have nightmares. And I didn’t need any help in that department. I’d had it with fairies, Greek mythology, tragedy. I had to get up for work in the morning.
•••••
I was surprised to have slept well, dream-free, in fact. I was glad because Mondays were usually busy. I’d need the energy to make it through the day.
Fatima caught me first thing in the morning. “Hey girl. I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which do you wanna hear first?”
“Start with the good,” I said.
“Okay,” she replied, barely able to contain her excitement. “You’re not going to believe this, but I auditioned to be an extra in a Johnny Depp movie and I got picked!”
“Oh my God—That’s awesome!”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just for a few crowd scenes, but he’s in them,” she said. Now she was jumping up and down, and clapping, too.
“So are you going to call in sick? How’s that gonna work?”
“Oh, I almost forgot about that,” she frowned. But within seconds her smile returned and she said, “I’ll just make something up.”
I didn’t think that was a good idea, but I didn’t want to preach. I was guilty of making up a whole bunch of things myself lately, so I didn’t have room to speak.
“So what’s the bad news?” I asked.
Fatima frowned. “Oh, it’s Barb.” She paused as if she felt bad telling me. “You know that man she met, the one she was seeing?”
I nodded.
“Well, I guess he broke up with her. She doesn’t want to talk about it, though.”
I glanced over at Barb, who was returning from the restroom. I felt sorry for her, still playing the game and getting hurt in her sixties. I was lucky, I guessed, that I never even had to play. Justin and I met in high school and we’d always been together. It was easy. I decided not to ask Barb about it. Instead I delved into my work and minded my own business.
The next few days I did more of the same. Barb didn’t mention her situation to me. She kept to herself, but occasionally one of her famous, warm smiles managed to escape.
I wondered who could ever hurt a person as sweet as her?
•••••
Wednesday night, I just made it back on time after running an errand to pick up Tyler from his art lesson.
“Mrs. White,” Josephine said. “Tyler says you’re doing well, enjoying the cookbooks I lent you guys.”
“Yeah, we’re trying.”
She could tell I was just being polite. She’d found a loyal subject in Tyler, though, and she wasn’t going to disappoint him.
“If you keep at it, you’re gonna feel wonderful,” she claimed.
I smiled, then reached into my pocket to pull out her check. “Here you go.”
She took it from me. “You know, if you like, I could come by and cook something vegan that isn’t in the book. Just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”
I nodded. “Thanks. We’ll keep that in mind.”
When we got in the car, Tyler wore a silly grin.
“How was class this time?” I asked him.
“Good.”
He was definitely hiding something.
“What’s the big smile for?”
Tyler just shrugged his shoulders and laughed. It wasn’t like him to be so silly. Whatever it was, he wasn’t sharing. Maybe it was an artist thing. I probably wouldn’t understand.
Later on, after homework and our workout routine, Tyler said something that surprised Mom and me.
“I drank some green juice at Josephine’s,” he said. “It’s made of grass.”
“Grass!” Mom shouted. “What kind of grass?”
Tyler got spooked by her reaction. “Wheat grass,” he answered.
I’d heard of it, and there was no way it was making an appearance in our home. At least, I had no intention of drinking it. Not a single drop.
“What did it taste like?” I asked him.
Tyler’s face contorted. “It was gross.”
“But did you tell Josephine you liked it?”
He shook his head no.
Good, I thought. At least my son was honest, not like me lately—queen of the white lie.
I really liked Josephine. She had a good heart and I knew she was just trying to help. I’m sure she knows all about Tyler’s quest for long life and his desire to not lose anyone else. In the end, I thought it was kind of sweet.
That night I had trouble falling asleep. I lay in bed, thinking about my visit with Sabrina. I thought about how she had honeymooned in Paris, and how she had gotten a divorce. I felt sad for her that the marriage hadn’t worked out. “It wasn’t true love,” she had said.
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.
Chapter 8
When 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 st
opping 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.