The Widow's Friend

by Dave Stone; Callii Wilson

  I still felt somewhat in the dark, though. When I would ask her questions, she seemed to pick and choose which ones she answered. But the woman had me strung out. I had to admit that I was totally addicted to the lovely Callii Jo, but I still didn’t know which direction this whole thing was headed.

  From Callii Wilson

  Nov 8th

  Hello to you my friend, Wow, what a week! I got my new grand baby on Wednesday. He is a cutie: seven pounds and four ounces of cuteness. He has lots of hair which surprises me because his brother didn’t have any. Both mom and baby are doing well. Then, on Friday, my sister had her surgery. It has been tough not being there to be with her. Her in laws are there taking care of the family while she is in the hospital. They took her out of the intensive care unit today. She is doing much better than a day or two ago. Hopefully this will take care of things. How old did you say you were when you had heart problems? She is thirty nine. The Perry side of my family has had a lot of trouble with their hearts. I have had Aunts and Cousins who have died in their 30’s from heart problems. The things your family can pass on to you. It’s crazy!

  This week: I have my gift show. I set up for it on Thursday and the show is Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I think I am about ready for it. I just need to tie up a few loose ends. Are you coming to see me? I think we should trade dolls for books. What do you think?

  Next week I am tending my four grandchildren in Idaho Falls, for the entire week. My daughter is flying to Iowa to tend my sister and her family. Hopefully my sister will be out of the hospital by then. My daughter is an RN so she will be better help than me. Did I tell you that my sister has a three month old baby? She won’t be able to hold her for at least six weeks. That should keep my daughter busy. I think it was a good exchange.

  The week after that is Thanksgiving. Can you believe it? It seems like the holidays come and go so quickly.

  Okay, now some answers to a few of your questions—if I can remember them.

  1. What is a Wife? That is the person you married. She is usually the mother of your children. She is the chief cook and bottle washer. She nurtures and teaches your children. She keeps you in clean clothing and tells you if you need to shower. She is usually shorter than you, and last and most important—she is your best friend.

  2. What is my daughter’s name? It is Tacey. She is my oldest and you met her when she was about 1 1/2 years old.

  3. How many times have I been married? Enough times to know better than to do it again, that’s for sure.

  I can’t remember the rest of the questions, so it is my turn to ask you some.

  1. What is a wife and what is a husband?

  2. What is Santa bringing you?

  Sorry, but I am having a hard time coming up with any more questions. My brain has had it for the day.

  I want you to know that I respect the fact that you don’t want to talk about your marriage. When I asked about it I knew that it was none of my business, but my curiosity was getting to me. I wish I could give you some advice, but as you can see I am not so successful in that department. I hope things get better for you. What is that song? “If you’re not with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.”

  Well, I guess I had better get something done around here, so it is goodbye for now. Write soon, Callii

  P.S. I wish I could write like you. I can’t think and write at the same time. I think it is because I am so tall.

  From Levi Stone

  Nov 10th

  Hi, Callii, are you sure I met Tacey? I would think that I’d remember, but then again, maybe not. And my, but you had already “been around the block” a bit when we dated, and were so much more streetwise than I was. I’m amazed you even let me hang around. So I guess Tacey is roughly thirty five now, maybe a little younger? Daniel, my oldest, is thirty and Bailey is twenty-eight. Jace would have been twenty-six. He passed away four years ago.

  Dang it! The timing sucks again for me to run up and see you this weekend. We’re going to Twin Falls, probably leaving right after work on Friday and coming back Sunday evening. I mean, what are the odds? I’ll be gone all three days. But tell me where it is and what hours you will be there, just in case. Is it called the expo, and is it on Yellowstone Avenue?

  My daughter’s kids are having their Sunday school program this weekend. It’s the best Sunday of the year and that’s why we’re going.

  I can’t bring you the books yet anyway, the publisher told me that the new book won’t be ready until next week—but I’ll believe it when I see it. And you’ll be in Idaho Falls all of next week—so close and yet so far away! We’ll see each other soon, though. We’ll find a way. But you’ll probably get one look at me and it will turn you off like a light switch. Oh well, what will be, will be.

  Callii, I have to tell you that it is such fun reading your little e-mails. You told me once that you found me interesting and funny. I have to tell you that I find you to be exactly the same way. The last line of your e-mail made me laugh out loud, three different times. (The air must be thin up there.) And Callii you write just fine. I’m sure you don’t know how much I look forward to hearing from you—every time.

  It sounds like your sister has had major surgery, but to be honest with you, I don’t know too much about it. My dad died from congestive heart failure at age sixty-four, but he was born with a heart defect. I almost died five years ago. I was 95% blocked on one side, so they put a stent in there. But in reality I went in at three in the morning on a Monday and was released on Tuesday morning the following day. They just went in through the groin, through a vein, and did everything that way. They didn’t have to cut me open, which it sounds like is what they did to your sister. There’s a lot more trauma and healing when that happens. Your sister is a lot younger than you. Was it the same mother? I’ll bet she and Tacey had some good times growing up together.

  By the way, I’m fine, as far as the heart goes. I went in and did a stress test last year, but only because the division of motor vehicles forced me to. Anyway, the cardiologist told me to go away and not to come back for at least five years. Everything is fine. (Just so you know.)

  Anyway, I feel bad for you and I hope your little sister comes through in good shape. It sounds like you’re close to her. And not to make light of this, but you, my friend, have a great heart. It comes through in all of our conversations.

  I was impressed by your answer of what a wife is. You said it better than I ever could have. (And once more you impress me.) But now, I guess it’s my turn. So, I believe that a wife, from a man’s point of view, is simply two things, both a lover and a friend. If one of those two things is missing, then you have a weakened marriage, and if both are missing then your marriage is dead. It’s just that simple and it’s just that true. That’s what I think, anyway.

  And now—Oh no! I realize that you asked me what a husband is, and that throws me for a loop. You’d think that I’d have considered it a bit, but no, not at all, and that even surprises me! Hmmmhhhh? Off the top of my head, I think one big thing that “we men” think of ourselves as, is being a provider. I think it has been one of the world’s great problems, the last forty years or so, that women have been forced into the work force, which sometimes confuses roles and puts a lot of pressure on families generally. And let’s face it; we men usually don’t share the workload at home like we probably should. I admire women and have done so for many years. I openly admit to that, and often. Women come home from work and begin their second shift. We men come home and flop or play.

  I also think that a husband is a “protector” of sorts. It bugs me when a woman says, “I don’t want any guns in the house.” After all, she’s not the one that has to confront an intruder in the middle of the night. Do you have a gun?

  But putting it simply, I think a husband is the same thing as a wife should be—a lover and a friend. We should be “givers” as lovers and treat our wives with the respect they deserve. I think we both know couples that are just that
—couples. By that I mean couples that are totally devoted to one another, Harold and Ann, or Rick and Carol, people that come together in a nice little package holding hands. You just can’t think of them any other way. I have known several men over my lifetime that are completely devoted to their wives. I both admire them and am jealous of them at the same time. That is the ideal that I think we all strive for, and of course we should be great friends. (Sigh.)

  Where are you going to have Thanksgiving dinner this year? And what are you getting yourself for Christmas?

  For my Christmas, I may break down and buy a big screen TV, put it above the fireplace, and have the professionals make a cabinet of some kind for the electronic gadgetry that comes along with it, or maybe I’ll do it in January. We still watch a console twenty-five inch television that we bought twenty plus years ago. The damned thing won’t break! It’s kind of embarrassing but it works just fine. The best thing I ever got myself for Christmas was a snow blower. I almost enjoy clearing the walks, and trust me honey, I have plenty of walks. I live on Hell’s half acre on a corner lot with sidewalks running every which way. I also have a handicapped guy on the north of me and a feeble, eighty three year old across the street. Oh, the responsibility! :^) If I had a four wheeler with a blade on it I’d really be dangerous.

  As far as my marriage goes, I’m sure you’ll hear rumor and innuendos all along the way. Feel free to ask whatever you like. I’ll tell you everything, and I’m not sure why. It’s just “us”, you and me and how we intermesh. I hope you feel you can confide in me as well.

  And speaking of talking, one thing that makes it harder for a man in a cold marriage is the fact that women get on the phone and chat with other people: mothers, sisters, daughters, and friends. But you don’t see us men doing that. I don’t believe that Mary (and most other women) understand how much we rely on their friendship. Yes, we have our buddies, and yada, yada, yada, but you know what I mean. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.

  Congrats on your new little grandchild, and good luck the next few weeks with all the things that are going on, especially with your sister. And finally, you should try and get enough sleep. I got three hours last night and it affected me at work today. I got back late from a five year old birthday party, in Rexburg, of course, and then I stayed up late to watch a basketball game. Doh!

  Good night to you dear Callii. Your friend, Levi

  P.S. Let’s see, ten o’clock to six o’clock is eight hours of sleep. It will be enough for me to catch up tonight.

  Chapter 17

  “Get Together”

  We were going to my daughter’s house for the weekend—at least that was the plan. But Callii was having her fair at the expo and I really wanted to go see her, in fact I was compelled to. I had already missed her twice because of scheduling conflicts. Time was short, but I figured if I hurried I could drive to Pocatello and get back before anything was said. I got off work at three thirty and that gave me just enough time to hop on the freeway and fly down to Pokey, and then I could be back by about six. I had told Callii that I probably couldn’t make it, so if I didn’t show up there would be no lingering expectations.

  I raced down the freeway in my little truck. Time was of the essence. I knew where the expo was so that wasn’t a problem. I just hoped I could find her when I got there.

  They charged me ten bucks to get in, and that was annoying, but still worth the admission price to talk to my provocative little friend. Inside there was a maze of booths, aisle after aisle with merchandise of every kind. I stopped and asked one of the vendors if she knew where I could find a certain workstation. She inadvertently rolled her eyes, but recovered quickly and asked who I was looking for. It’s a booth called “Little Dolls” I muttered.

  “Oh yes, Callii’s place, it’s all the way to the end of this aisle on the far corner,” she said with a smile, pointing in that direction. I nodded, thanked her, and strode away, but then I slowed down. I could see the sign, “Little Dolls”, and a woman was working the booth. Would it be her, or some kind of a helper? I wasn’t sure that I’d know for sure, after all, it had been all of these years, and as much as I’d changed I was sure she must have changed some too.

  She, whoever she was, was busy with a customer and I was glad. I strolled by unnoticed. Was it Callii? I wasn’t sure. Maybe she had a cousin she was in business with, or maybe it was an employee or something. I dipped around the corner and peered back from behind a nearby booth. I could see her clearly, but I was glad she was occupied. As I pretended to shop for women’s purses, I took my time and studied her from across the aisle.

  She, whoever she was, looked lovely and I hoped it would be her. She certainly wasn’t twenty anymore, but a beautiful woman is a beautiful woman no matter what her age. I had been around long enough to know that, and this woman certainly was attractive. I filtered through the crowd and pretended to peruse Callii’s merchandise, but the merchandise I was interested in was not a little doll on the shelf in front of me, but a living doll—the one that was standing within ten feet of me.

  Yikes, her only customer had just wandered away. Now it was just the two of us. I pretended to shop. She walked towards me.

  “Are you who I think you are?” she asked quietly.

  “I think I’m who you think I am,” I said, finally looking up at her. She smiled, and then she reached out a hand. She gripped my shoulder and gave me half a hug. I drew her in and hugged her fully. This mild show of affection surprised even me, but I was glad to embrace this old friend who had been so fun to talk to over these last few months.

  “I wasn’t sure it was you,” I said. “It could have been your sister.”

  “Oh yes, my older sister,” she said with a laugh, and her humor was genuine.

  And then we talked. It was awkward at first, but after a few minutes we loosened up and the words flowed freely. She laughed several times during the course of the conversation, and her laughter was a song to my ears. Her conversation was as clever and funny as it was in her e-mails. I was glad that I’d come, and I wanted to stay and visit awhile.

  I put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. I gazed over her head.

  “See there,” I said. “I am taller than you. I can see over the top to the other side.”

  She didn’t answer but I could feel the softness of her shoulder and I could smell the perfume of her hair. And then I let her go.

  A customer interrupted us, so I stood back and watched from a ways away. Callii was lovely, just like the picture on my laptop. Her attire was a little on the wild side, with leather boots and jangly jewelry and such. It showed that she had a tinge of free spirit in her, and that seemed about right too.

  The customer finally bought something and wandered off, so I migrated over to the counter and we talked again. I made some off the cuff comment and she giggled, then she reached out her hand and touched my arm. This minor gesture sent a thrill through my entire being, because I knew that it meant something. It was a positive signal and I would think of it all the way home.

  “You look great,” I said flatly. She gazed at me with vacant eyes. I didn’t flinch. She smiled faintly.

  We talked a little longer and then we said goodbye. I backed off and then turned and walked away, but then I turned back and looked one more time. She was with a customer and too busy to notice. I gazed a little longer before stepping back and turning away again. I had to get home but I was glad that I’d come, and I hoped that she’d been glad too. It was obvious now that Callii was everything that I’d hoped she would be, but I was nervous of how she might have perceived me.

  She was lovely. I had hugged her, and she had reached out and touched me. I thought about her all the way home, but I was nervous this would make things just that much more evocative. Be careful grandpa, I thought to myself. After all, it was all too very true that I was still a married man.

  Chapter 18

  “Expo”

  I was exhausted. I had been making baby
dolls for the last several weeks, and now here I was at the craft fair—finally. The dolls were selling briskly, that was the good part, but I was worried about my sister and I was worried about the new baby. I was also worried about my son and his marital problems. All these things were coming at me from every which direction, and sometimes I didn’t know which way to turn.

  It was late in the day, maybe five o’clock, and I was waiting for this one to be over. I could use a good night’s rest.

  Kaching! One more customer had been waited on. Kaching, and then another. My stomach growled. In all the turmoil I’d forgotten to eat lunch, and that made getting through the day even all that much harder.

  And then I saw him, at least I thought it was him. My heart leapt, and then I caught myself. Was it really Levi? He’d told me he probably wouldn’t show up. I gathered my courage and approached him. There was only one way to find out.

  “Are you who I think you are?” I asked.

  “I think I’m who you think I am,” he responded. He raised his head and smiled at me.

  I was surprised, and pleasantly so. I don’t know exactly what I’d expected from an old boyfriend that was pushing sixty, but he looked good and I was glad.

  “I didn’t know if it was you,” he said. “I thought maybe it could have been your sister. It’s been a long time.”

  “Oh yes, my older sister,” I muttered with a smile. He laughed and it warmed me.

  We talked a bit.

  “I’ve been a bit nervous about all of this,” he said. “I’ve had no idea if you were engaged, living with someone, or had maybe three boyfriends.”

  “Oh yes, eight,” I said. This was unbelievable. He really didn’t know much about me.