Afraid of Her Shadow

by Carol Maloney Scott

  The knot in my stomach clenches tighter. “Oh my God, how many bombs do you have up your sleeve today?”

  She reaches out her hand to cover mine, as she always does. “No, it’s not terrible. It’s just that my second husband was a widower. So I’ve been through this.”

  “Are you serious? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I have been dying for someone to understand what I’m going through.”

  “I know. When Claire blurted out your business at lunch that day, I was tempted to tell you.” She fiddles with her silver rings. “I just didn’t want to discourage you when every situation is different.”

  “So your ex was still in love with his dead wife, and it broke up your marriage?”

  She sighs and replies, “Basically. Well, not exactly. We had lots of problems. He wasn’t good with little Vinnie. He wasted money on nonsense. Bad in bed.” She winces, as if that last one was the kicker. “He was caught up in the past, and I don’t know if that was because we weren’t happy or it was just hard for him to move on. You see how this doesn’t really help you?”

  “I guess. Did you ever worry that his first wife would be waiting for him in heaven, and you would lose him?”

  “Absolutely. He actually told me she was waiting for him. So you see how fucked up he was?” She leans forward again with the hand holding. Thank God the door is closed because now she’s practically giving me a hand massage. Some people are very touchy. “But I think he said that just to punish me for other stuff. He was an asshole who happened to be a widower. Steve is a good man who happens to be a widower. There’s a big difference.”

  A soft knock on my door causes me to flinch. I yell “come in,” and Gina turns around to see what new drama could be unfolding.

  “Oh, hey Gina. Did you tell her about Frank?” Claire is wide-eyed and caught up in the intrigue.

  We rehash the whole Frank/Tim/open job discussion for Claire’s benefit, and Gina excuses herself. “I need to get back to fiction. Real life is getting too complicated. And Tony has been blowing up my phone, but that’s another whole story.”

  I tell Gina to call me later tonight. I won’t be long with Luke, and I want to support my friends in their messes as well. Perhaps we just need a fresh batch of men.

  Claire replaces Gina in my guest chair, as Gina closes the door behind her.

  Claire begins. “Brandon told me what he and Steve were talking about.”

  I cringe, but of course I am dying to know. I lean across my desk and say, “Do I even want to know?”

  Claire stares at her engagement ring for a second and continues. “It’s not bad, really. He was asking Brandon about his sister, Colleen. She’s a manager at an art gallery in DC. On the kayaking day, after the drama died down, they talked and Brandon told Steve about Colleen.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Brandon said Steve asked about his family. He’s like that, you know. Steve. He asked me about mine, too. Gina has even mentioned that he asked about her son.”

  I didn’t realize Steve was so family oriented. He doesn’t have much of one, but that’s not his fault. “So why did he ask about the art gallery?”

  “He said he has lots of Noreen’s paintings, and that he can’t display them anymore.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

  “What? I don’t want to live in a house surrounded by his wife’s art. Plus you haven’t seen any of it. It’s scary. It runs from creepy to violently shocking. And he says the most ‘edgy’ ones are not displayed on the walls.”

  “Where are they if they’re not on the walls?”

  “Rammed in her studio. It’s all a nightmare, and I don’t know what to do.” I rub my hands on my thighs and sigh. “So he wants to sell her art in a gallery? What about Megan? He must want her to have her mother’s paintings?”

  “Maybe he feels pressured to get rid of them.”

  I fidget in my seat. “I guess I am pressuring him. They should go to Megan, but she’s a kid and she has nowhere to store art, and her father is an asshole who will probably sell all of it and steal the money.”

  “Don’t tell Steve I told you any of this, but what are you going to do?”

  “He isn’t going to get rid of any of the art until Megan looks at it, but that seems fruitless at this point.” I tap my pen on the desk. “I know. There must be some other option for art storage. I’ll ask Tony at bowling tomorrow night.”

  Claire rises and teeters a bit on her shoes. I glance down and shake my head, as she says, “You better hurry, because he gave Steve Colleen’s contact information. I think Steve is getting ready to dump some art.” She moves towards the door. “Oh, Brandon also said Steve wants you to start painting again, and you’d be encouraged to do it if Noreen’s art was gone. You paint?”

  My head aches from this whole conversation. I don’t want to be pressured into painting, and I feel guilty for coercing Steve into eliminating Noreen’s art. I have a feeling that unless I can find an alternate solution, I will be looking at dead birds with bugs crawling out of their eyes, and creatures with spikes through their heads, for a long time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  On the way to my condo, I consider Claire’s question. Do I paint? I told her I didn’t want to talk about it because I am on stress overload. I don’t see how I could paint with all the tension in my body lately. I would probably snap the paintbrush from gripping it too hard, or flip out and throw paint at the walls.

  I didn’t call Luke to tell him I’m coming. Surprise is better. This way he can’t do anything to prepare. Plus who knows how long Luke will stay in town. If he doesn’t get me back, and he doesn’t find any other women of interest, he will hit the road. Wait. If he doesn’t get me back? My stomach does a cartwheel as I pull into the parking lot and see Luke’s shiny car in my spot.

  I swallow hard and approach the front door. It feels weird to knock on my own door, but if I want this to be a business transaction, I can’t be too familiar.

  I’m wearing a slate blue halter sundress with a small floral pattern, with a white cardigan over it for the office. It’s fun wearing more feminine clothes to work, and I don’t care what Claire says—it isn’t because of…

  “Hi, Luke.”

  He steps back and leans in the doorframe. He’s barefoot and wearing shorts and a V-neck t-shirt. Even in this outfit, he looks like he’s in a GQ spread. “What brings you here, minha querida?” His slow smile warms me from my toes, past dangerous places, on up to my face, which I touch to check for heat.

  “I just wanted to see if everything was okay. I’m on my way home from work.” I point to the parking lot, as if that’s where work or home are located.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. Why don’t you come in? That’s a pretty dress. You used to dress more corporate for work. This is very…soft.” He whispers the last word and lightly touches the sleeve of my sweater.

  On his way to the back of the condo, I follow at a safe distance. Of course the safest distance would be in my car. I can smell his scent a full several paces behind him. It isn’t cologne. It’s just the way he smells. I inhale deeply and get a big dose, negating the calming effect of the cleansing breath.

  He disappears into the kitchen and I decide to remain in the living room. Closer to the door.

  “Have some wine. I was just enjoying a glass before work.” He hands me the glass and his fingers graze mine, just enough to make me jump a little.

  “Thanks, so I see you haven’t changed the place much.” I avert his eyes and place the glass on the kitchen counter.

  “No, I didn’t bring a lot with me. I do have some furniture from my last place, but it’s in a storage unit. The woman there was a tough old chick. Not my type.” He laughs and continues to stare.

  For the love of God, is he using the same storage unit? I bet Mable wouldn’t give me any lectures if I told her I was giving up my home for Luke. She would send me off with a parade.

  “So are there any problems? Questions?” I lo
ok around as if I might spot a plumbing issue or a hole in the wall.

  “No, everything is great. I found one thing in the bedroom closet. I was wondering if you knew you left it behind. Your visit today is making me wonder more. You’re here right after work. Steve’s not around. You’re probably not due home any time soon? I do have to get to the studio, but I’m not opposed to…anyway, I’ll go get it.”

  My feet are rooted to the floor. What the hell did I leave behind? I was just here and cleaned out every personal item. I got all of the lingerie out of the chest. Uh oh…the closet. He just said it was in the closet.

  “Now, it was in the corner, and it actually fell on the floor, so perhaps it was not intentional, but I was thrilled to see this little item. Especially since I bought it for you when we went to Cabo.” He holds up a sheer lace red nightgown with a huge slit up the leg. This is revealing in every possible way. Low cut, see through, slit. It does bring back memories. Did I leave this here on purpose on some subliminal level? I don’t think I have ever worn this one for Steve.

  “I...I didn’t leave it on purpose. I didn’t even know it was here. I mean, that I still had it. I haven’t worn it in years.”

  “Do you want it? I could put it in a bag? Or you could try it on to see if it still fits?” He fingers the lace suggestively and I want to gauge his eyes out and jump on him at the same time. He is an evil, sexy man.

  I reach for the nightgown and say, “I’ll just put it in my purse. Wait, no never mind. I don’t really want it, Luke. It was from another time. Another life. You can get rid of it.”

  He lays it on the couch and says, “Are you sure? I think I will keep it then. It’s a nice memento, and it is always possible you will change your mind, and I’ll see you in it again.” He moves towards me, closing the distance and takes my hands. “How are things at home, Rebecca?”

  I pull my hands free. “Fine, just fine. I should be going. Let me know if there are any problems with the condo.”

  He smirks and touches my back, gently leading me to the foyer. I turn to face him as he opens the door.

  “I know you well and I know when you’re lying. I hope Steve figures out how to make you happy soon, but if he doesn’t I will be here with the gift you left behind.”

  I step outside and stare at the closed door for a moment. I see my face in the window pane next to the door, and a confused woman stares back.

  I shake my head and clutch my purse, glancing at Violet’s door. I decide to get in the car and go home. At least the animals aren’t going to question me about anything, or tell me I’m a terrible person. Plus I can’t talk to Violet about Luke anymore. Period.

  The next day, on the way to the bowling alley, I call Claire. I’m meeting Tony before everyone arrives to attempt to solve my art conundrum.

  “Did you know Gina’s second husband was a widower?” I forgot to bring this up when we were talking about Luke. Gee, I wonder why? It’s not like thinking about him is distracting or anything.

  “Yes, and I was hoping she would tell you.” Claire replies with a sigh.

  If we weren’t on the phone, I swear I would shake her. “So you have no problem telling her my business, but you didn’t want to tell me hers?”

  “I just thought if she knew about your situation, she could tell you her story. She actually tried that day at lunch, but you interrupted her, and it didn’t seem like you would be receptive. She also worried you would make a hasty decision about Steve if she told you how bad Andrew was.”

  “Can everyone stop treating me like a child? I am the stable one in this group! And why are there so many widows and widowers?”

  After a short silence, Claire clears her throat. “People die every day, Rebecca. You’ve somehow managed to block it out, like the way I’ve erased my Internet dating phase from my memory. So what are you going to do about Luke?”

  I had already told her some of what happened last night. “Nothing. When Steve came home he was sweet and I didn’t have the heart to bring up anything negative. We had a good night with the animals, watched a movie. We’re starting to talk about summer vacation.”

  “Okay, as long as you’re feeling better. Maybe talking to Tony tonight will help solve your art problem.”

  We hang up and I pull into Midtown Lanes’ parking lot and scurry inside to meet Tony before Steve shows up. He said he thought Steve would be late today, and Steve’s earlier text confirmed it.

  “Hey, Tony. Thanks for coming early.”

  He kisses me on the cheek and says “Fuggedaboutit,” using his stereotypical Italian gestures to make me laugh. We sit at the bar and he orders a beer and a glass of red wine for me.

  “So what’s going on with you and Steve-o?” He sips his beer, licks his lips, and sets the bottle on the bar.

  I twirl my wine glass stem and say, “I need to know about art galleries.” I continue to stare into the burgundy liquid in my glass. “And whether or not you think he’s in love with his dead wife.”

  Tony almost spits his next sip of beer, and I proceed to get him caught up on the house and my feelings about it, and Noreen’s art and the practical matter of what to do with all those paintings.

  “Becca, Steve’s a good, solid guy. He loves you, I know that for a fact. But the thing with the wife is a challenge. I get it.” He leans in closer. “You know my mother died when I was in high school, right?”

  I nod my head. I am just now remembering that Tony has a stepmother. Why is that? Do I just block out any thoughts of death and loss? Or am I becoming as self-absorbed as an inside out sponge.

  “When my father married Helen, I was not happy. At first. It was only a few years after Mom died, and she wasn’t even Italian. How was she going to make a good gravy?” He smiles and continues. “But she was good for Dad. He struggled with what to do with Mom’s things, but I was their child. Steve’s situation admittedly has more layers of complication.”

  “I had forgotten that you went through all of that. It’s too bad you can’t talk to Megan. I think part of the problem is that I haven’t even met her and I don’t know her mental state regarding her mother.”

  “Steve should know, but I bet a woman would be more intuitive about it. Steve-o is not the best communicator. He likes his bugs, and they don’t talk much.” Tony laughs and slaps my leg.

  I flinch, but not because Tony touched me. “I need help with a practical solution for the paintings. All of the pictures of Noreen in the house are another problem entirely, but I still haven’t properly addressed that.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you having sex with this guy in what is now your bedroom with pictures of his late wife, clutching her husband and staring down at you?” He winces and widens one eyeball.

  “When you put it like that, it actually makes me feel less guilty about wanting the pictures to go away. But yes, I am. I’m ashamed to say I have accepted that so far. It makes me feel like a mistress. Like she is away on a long business trip, or off to war, and one day she’s coming back to take her rightful place. My mind can’t process her being gone with the house looking as it did when she was alive.”

  “I’m an art professor, not a psychology one, but I think a garbage man would be able to comprehend that logic. Not that I’m dissing the garbage men. Mine are nice guys.”

  “One problem at a time, I guess. So the art?”

  “I got you covered there. I have a gallery at the college. We’ve decided to bring in some local artists’ work to showcase. Inspire the students. And art created by the deceased is doubly popular for some reason. That’s the oldest story in the book, right? I will approach Steve and tell him that we’d like to feature some of Noreen’s paintings in our upcoming show. The art department kids are organizing it as a summer project. Maybe bring Megan to the show? And then Steve can ask her how she feels about all of it. Any extra paintings you want out of the house you can store at my place. I have that huge room where I keep my art. Remember?” He leans back and says, “How’s that plan?
Better, Kiddo?”

  I jump off the barstool and hug him. “Yes, that’s a great plan. Thank you so much. I should have come to you sooner. You’re the best!” I hug him again and breathe a sigh of relief.

  Tony breaks our embrace and holds my wrists gently. “Yeah, tell that to your friend, Gina. She doesn’t seem to share your philosophy. We’ve already broken up twice in less than a month. I think we’re back on again, but who knows?” He throws up his hands in mock despair. He doesn’t look seriously upset, and that is part of the problem.

  I narrow my eyes and say, “Are you being your usual noncommittal self? Is it the kid?”

  “Hey, you had no problem with my lack of interest in commitment, if I recall. And by the way, Steve is all in. You better not break that guy’s heart like you did that hot stud muffin you were dating long ago.”

  The mention of Luke causes my heartbeat to kick up a notch…or five. “What? Luke wasn’t interested in commitment.” I don’t mention how domestic bliss was what sent me running from him in the end.

  “I’m just reminding you that you also have a little problem with the ‘c’ word. And the ‘m’ word.” He laughs and finishes his beer, standing up and stretching.

  “Well, that’s all changing now. I just need to work out a few kinks. Things are very kinky. And not in a good way!” I wag my finger at him as I know he’s formulating his obnoxious rebuttal to my pun.

  “I’m going to get another beer. You want anything?”

  “No, thanks. I’m going to join the group and look for Steve. Thanks again for everything, Tony. You’re a good friend. Gina will figure it out. You two are very compatible, but you do have to work on your issues with kids.”

  “I know, it’s hard when you’re a long term bachelor like me.” He smiles and says more seriously, “At least you and Steve don’t have to worry about any of that. He’s not that kid’s father, and eventually you will get the whole thing with the wife’s memory straightened out. This will all go away before you know it.” Making a sweeping gesture with his hand, he adds, “It’s just you and Steve all the way.”