Why can’t I just be the kind of widow who idolizes her late husband and believes he was the best man in the world? But I’m not that kind of widow because that’s not the hand I’ve been dealt. I’m still angry with Alan, and if anything, I wish he were still here, if only so that I could tear a strip off him, tell him how badly he hurt me, and then kick him out of the house. Or at the very least banish him to the sofa until he comes groveling and begging for my forgiveness, telling me he made a terrible mistake with Paula and it’s over forever. Then I may or may not take him back.
But I probably would, because despite everything, I still love him, and I would do anything to have our life back.
The following day, I stare at my phone on my desk at work, and I can’t stop thinking about Nathan’s message: I’d love to see him play sometime.
That simply can’t happen. Not now. I’m doing well, so much better lately, but I’m not ready to bring another man into my life, even as a friend, because I need to respect these stages of grief. I need to get through it all, not just for my own sake but for Zack’s and for everyone else who loved Alan.
With a sigh, I pick up my phone and begin to type a long-winded message to Nathan:
Hi again. I have something to say, and I’m not sure how to say it. But first I want to thank you for being so kind to me, and especially for saving Winston’s life. You’ve become someone who lifts my spirits during the darkest moments, and I am grateful that you’ve been a part of my life these past few months. But I’m going to be honest. I have to confess that I feel uncomfortable with how much I like you. Sometimes I feel uneasy when we text each other because you make me feel happy, and that makes me feel guilty, because it’s only been a few months since I said goodbye to Alan, and I shouldn’t be feeling happy and excited when my phone chimes with a text message from a man I can’t help but care for. Is this making any sense? I guess you can probably tell that I’m still an emotional disaster, and I don’t want to screw up my friendship with you. I’m afraid that I will—that in a moment of weakness or insecurity or loneliness, I’ll cross a line and do something, or say something, that I’m not ready to do or say. I’m also terrified that Zack will see our messages and get the wrong idea. I need to think of him and put him first, so I can’t be forming friendships—however innocent they may be—with handsome new men. Zack wouldn’t understand it. And he’s leaving in the fall, so I don’t want to do anything that might cause upheaval in our relationship, or arguments during our last few months together. I want to help him get over the loss of his father, not create heartache or confusion for him. This is hard, because I like you so much and I enjoy talking to you. You’re like my secret happy place. But I have to think of Zack. I hope this is making sense and you don’t hate me.
I reread the message, edit a few words and phrases, and hit “Send” before I change my mind. Then I sit back and stare at my phone, wondering if Nathan has received it yet.
As I imagine him reading it, my stomach erupts into butterflies because I’ve just confessed that I like him more than I should and that I find him handsome. That was very bold, but it’s easier to be bold in a text message. I’m not sure I would have the courage to say all those things if I were standing in front of him in his office.
A little while later, my phone chimes, and my pulse quickens. I pick up my phone and begin to read.
Hi Abbie. Thanks for being so honest about how you are feeling, and don’t worry, it makes total sense and I don’t hate you. Since we’re being honest, I’ll confess that I like you too, so I can’t pretend that all our encounters have been innocent. I’ve found you attractive since the first moment I laid eyes on you sitting with Winston in my ICU. So there you have it. It’s out in the open. But I totally understand where you’re coming from and that you need to think of your son and that you’re still grieving. It’s like we said that day in my clinic—when you’re a parent, you can’t enjoy the luxury of putting your own needs first. But our kids are worth it, aren’t they? I sure do love my girls, more than life itself.
So I’ll say goodbye now. But please know that if you ever need to talk, I’m always here. Take care of yourself, and keep on hanging in there.
Nathan
When I finish reading his message, my eyes well up with tears because he has been so unbelievably kind and understanding, and I can’t deny that I feel a pulsing little thrill to hear that he finds me attractive. After everything I’ve learned about Alan and Paula, it’s nice to know I’m not a total loser. But what moves me most is the way Nathan ended his message, the same way he has ended so many others—with a door that continues to remain open.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
September
This is it—the moment I’ve been dreading for months. Zack gets on a plane today and will fly halfway across the country to start university. I won’t see him until Thanksgiving.
We’ve never been apart that long before, and he’ll no longer be my little boy. There will be no more school lunches or chauffeuring him to hockey games and parties on weekends. No more calling up the stairs to wake him on a Saturday morning, when he’d probably sleep until noon if I let him.
At least I’m not alone at the airport, saying goodbye to him. Maureen is with me because Zack and Jeremy are traveling together on the same flight to Ontario, and though they won’t be roommates, they’ll be living in the same residence at Western. Maureen and I have been consoling each other all week in anticipation of this moment.
“Do you have your wallet?” I ask Zack after we’ve checked his large suitcase and are walking toward security.
“Yes, Mom, I have everything. Don’t worry.”
“What about your toothbrush? Did you pack that?”
He stops dead in his tracks and gapes at me with horror. “Oh my God.”
Fire explodes in my stomach.
“I left it in the bathroom. What am I gonna do? We have to go back.” Then he smiles, and I realize he’s teasing me. It’s something Alan would have done.
I slap him playfully on the arm. “You’re a scalawag.”
“But you still love me.”
“Always.”
“And did you seriously just say scalawag?”
I laugh. “I think I might have.”
We reach the entrance to security before departures, and Maureen and I stop. Zack and Jeremy dig out their IDs and boarding passes to show the guard. Then they turn to hug us one last time.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” I say to Zack as I squeeze him tight and wish I didn’t have to let go, ever.
“I’ll miss you too,” he replies, “but don’t worry, Mom. We’re gonna be fine. You and me both.”
I step back and run my fingers over the collar of his jean jacket, noticing how tall he’s become. “I know. But I can’t promise I won’t worry about you. It’s my job as a mother.”
He begins to back away, and my breath catches in my throat. I feel like he’s slipping from my grasp. I want to dash forward, pull him into my arms again, and keep him close. Forever. But I know I can’t.
Then suddenly, I remember that I’d wanted to give him something special today.
“Wait!” I reach into my purse. “I meant to give this to you before we left the house.” I wrap my hand around Alan’s gold watch and hold it out to Zack. “This is for you. You should have it.”
He returns to me and takes hold of it, stares at the face. “This was Dad’s.”
“Yes. I gave it to him on our tenth wedding anniversary.”
Zack’s eyes lift. “He wore it every day. This means a lot to me, Mom. Thank you. I’ll wear it every day too.” He kisses me on the cheek one more time, then starts to back away. “I’ll text you when we board.”
“Okay. Safe travels. And text me when you land as well.”
Jeremy turns to enter the queue, but Zack doesn’t move. He stands for a few more seconds, his eyes fixed on mine. He looks at me with affection, and I know he doesn’t want to leave me. At the sam
e time, he can’t wait to start this new adventure.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too.”
“Bye.” He finally turns to go but glances over his shoulder to wave at me one last time before he disappears around the corner.
As soon as he’s gone, I burst into tears.
Maureen hugs me and rubs my back. “We’re going to be okay.”
“Yes.” I pull myself together and wipe my tears. “But now what do we do?”
She takes a deep breath and exhales. “We go home, look at their bedrooms, and cry our eyes out. Then we marvel at the fact that our houses are going to be so much easier to keep clean from now on.”
I laugh, but my eyes fill with fresh tears at the same time. Maureen and I hug each other again. Then we turn away and head back to her car.
When I arrive home a half hour later, I walk into my quiet house and don’t care that it’s going to be easier to keep clean. I would prefer the mess if it meant Zack could still be here, filling my world with laughter and conversation.
Maureen, you’re lucky. At least you have a husband at home and another child still in junior high school. My house is truly an empty nest now. It’s just Winston and me.
Just as I think that, Winston lumbers over to where I am standing in the kitchen, feeling lost and unsure about what to do with myself. He sits down and pants and stares at me with that intense look I know so well.
“You need to go outside, don’t you?”
He snaps his mouth shut, then opens it again.
“How about a walk?”
He rises to his feet and trots to the back door, tail wagging.
I follow and grab his leash, then catch myself smiling because it’s nice to know that someone very special still needs me. And it’s a beautiful day for a walk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
October
It’s a blissful, blue-skied Saturday. A day off. I’m wearing a long woolly sweater over a turtleneck and jeans, and I’m enjoying the autumn sunshine as I take Winston for another long walk around our neighborhood.
My medications have been a godsend, and I’ve had no problems staying awake in my new position at a large established family practice here in Halifax, where somehow, by word of mouth, I’ve become the most recommended family doctor in the city for patients with sleep disorders. I’ve also been working closely with the neurologists who run the sleep disorder clinic where I was initially tested for narcolepsy.
All this has led to other adventures as well. In the past four months, I’ve spoken about sleep disorders at Harvard, Stanford, and a few conferences, and I’ve appeared on three television news programs as an expert on the topic. I’m now an unofficial spokesperson for a narcolepsy organization, offering hope and inspiration to those who find themselves challenged with the affliction.
Professionally speaking, I feel as if I’ve found my true calling. The field of sleep medicine has become my passion, and it’s very exciting because it’s constantly evolving.
When it comes to my personal life, there are still moments of loneliness in that big house all alone, but I do my best to take life one day at a time. My sister, Carla, calls often, and sometimes we talk for hours about our jobs, our kids, and the world in general. Maureen and I meet regularly for coffee, and we see movies with Gwen and Kate, and I’m always socializing with people from work. As for Nathan, I’ve not heard from him since our last texts, and I’m glad about that. I know I did the right thing when I cut things off between us, because I was in no position to get close to anyone.
Yet I think of him still.
My cell phone rings. I adjust Winston’s leash in my hand, pause on the sidewalk, and reach into my sweater pocket to answer it. The call display tells me it’s Zack, and I step lightly, skipping over a patch of freshly fallen leaves.
“Hi,” I say, smiling in the autumn sunshine.
“I just got your message,” Zack says. “What’s up with Gram?”
“Oh, it’s nothing serious,” I assure him as I extend the length of Winston’s leash so that he can sniff the base of a telephone pole. “She has to have cataract surgery next Monday. I’m going to take a couple of weeks off and go stay with her because she won’t be able to drive for a while.”
“Poor Gram.” He pauses. “But wait a second. That’s right before Thanksgiving.”
“Yes, and that’s what I was calling about. I’ll be there for the long weekend. Are you still planning to fly home?”
“Of course. I already have my ticket. And we usually spend Thanksgiving at Gram’s house anyway.” He sounds confused.
“We do, so I’ll pick you up at the airport, and we’ll go straight to Lunenburg, if that’s okay.”
“It’s fine. Whatever works.”
As I stand there watching Winston lift his leg to pee on the pole, I remind myself that my son is no longer the little boy I used to cuddle at night when we read bedtime stories together. He’s a man now, living on his own. I’m proud of him and pleased that he’s independent, even though I miss him every day.
Winston sits down on the sidewalk, waiting patiently to continue our walk.
“Mom . . . ,” Zack says, hesitantly. “How are you doing? You’re not too lonely, I hope.”
I press my lips together and shut my eyes. “I’m great, Zack. Honestly. I’ve been incredibly busy with work, and I’m loving every minute of it. The change in focus has been good for me. And Winston keeps me company at home. So please don’t worry. Everything’s perfect.”
I want to kick myself for using that word, because nothing’s ever perfect. I should know that by now, but I want my son to know there’s no reason to worry about me. I’m amazed, actually, at how much I’ve been enjoying my life over these past few months. My work has been rewarding, and some days when I think of those terrifying moments when I plummeted into the ravine, I feel happier than ever and so blessed to be alive.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say to Zack, ending the call as I look forward to picking him up at Thanksgiving.
Secretly, I’m thrilled to spend the rest of the month of October in Lunenburg. It’s always been my favorite time of year. There’s nothing that compares to the sights and sounds of the busy Lunenburg harbor—fishing boats coming and going on crisp, sunny afternoons, familiar faces everywhere you go, the aroma of fish and chips from the waterfront restaurants, and a ship’s bell clanging in the distance at night.
My mother hugs me when I arrive at her door with Winston, and she helps me unpack for my three-week stay. For the first time, it feels strange to be back in my old room, knowing I’ll be staying for a while. I suppose everything is different now. I’m not here with my husband and son to enjoy a Sunday family dinner and return home before dark to tackle homework with Zack and make his lunch for the next day at school. I’m accustomed to being a widow now, just like my mother. So much of my life has come to an end. And yet, standing here, looking at my childhood bed, I feel as if I’ve begun a new chapter.
It’s definitely preferable to feeling as if my life is over.
On the Monday before Thanksgiving weekend, my mother is at home, taking a nap after her cataract surgery. It’s a gorgeous fall evening—warm like summer, without a breath of wind—so I take Winston out for a walk along the waterfront. We stroll down the boardwalk, past the red-painted Fisheries Museum and tall schooners and fishing boats moored at the docks. I breathe in the salty scents of the harbor and marvel at the beauty all around me.
Despite my condition, which still makes me sleepy sometimes, I feel more wakeful and alive than ever before. I’m enchanted by the simplest things—a dragonfly flitting by me, the wind in the treetops. I’m absolutely beguiled by the wonder of our existence.
Winston quickens his pace when he sees another golden retriever coming our way. He pulls me hard, so I start to jog. As we draw closer, I recognize the other dog’s owner. It’s Nathan, out for an evening stroll with his two young daughters, whom I’ve never had the pleasu
re of meeting before.
I feel a bright burst of happiness at the sight of him.
“Abbie,” he says with a dazzling smile as our retrievers greet each other with swishing tails and busy noses. “This is an unexpected surprise. How have you been?”
“Really good,” I reply, still marveling at the sweep of joy I’m feeling. “How about you?”
One of his daughters drops to her knees and strokes Winston’s sumptuous golden coat. “My gosh! They look so much alike! They could be brother and sister. What’s your dog’s name?”
“This is Winston,” I tell her. “He’s six. How old is your dog?”
“She’s twelve, and her name is Dorothy. We got her a few months ago.” By now both girls are spoiling Winston with attention. He sits down to bask in it blissfully.
Nathan gestures with a hand. “These are my daughters, Jen and Marie. Girls, this is Abbie MacIntyre. Her dog, Winston, was a patient of mine last year.”
“Cool,” Jen says, smiling up at me. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” I glance at the younger one, Marie, who looks to be about nine or ten. She wears a sparkly purple headband, and I think it’s the cutest thing ever.
Nathan pats their dog, Dorothy, who sits patiently at his side. “Dorothy is a senior dog who needed a home after her owner passed away, so we adopted her.”
“She’s lovely.”
He nods and meets my gaze. “Are you just visiting? Here for the long weekend?”
“I’m here for three weeks, actually. Mom had cataract surgery, so I’m keeping her company for a bit. And Zack’s coming home from Western on Saturday, so I’m excited about that. He’ll be here for dinner on Sunday.”
“Zack went to Western? I didn’t know that. Good for him. How’s he finding it?”
“He loves it, and I can’t wait to see him.”
“I’ll bet. I don’t know what I’m going to do when these two are ready to zip off to college. It’s hard to imagine.”
“All the more reason to appreciate the time you have with them now,” I say.
A Curve in the Road Page 20
