A Widow Redefined by Kim Cano

walked over and read the plaque. The piece was called “Day of the God.” It depicted a Polynesian beach scene with some kind of religious ceremony.
    “You’ve got expensive taste,” I joked. “Maybe they have a poster in the gift shop.”
    Tyler smiled back. He was having a great time.
    We walked until our feet throbbed. Then we stopped at the museum cafe for lunch. Once we sat down, it made getting back up almost impossible.
    Our last stop before leaving was the gift shop. They sold posters, even the one Tyler wanted, but he stumbled onto a sale section with last year’s Gauguin calendar. That was a better deal, because he got a bunch of pictures for the same price as a single poster.
    We took a cab to the train station, and once we boarded, we fell silent. On the ride home we all had our eyes closed, waiting for the conductor to call out our stop.

Chapter 9
    B ack at work Monday I was restless. I couldn’t concentrate. When I punched out at the end of the day, I checked voicemail and was excited to find a message from Henry. He was calling on behalf of Sabrina, inviting me to come this Sunday. I could return the book, have lunch, and go swimming.
    What irony. Finally I would be swimming after all. Just not at the gym. I wondered why I didn’t just tell the truth, at least to my own mother. Then I remembered the awful situation with my dad, and I decided I couldn’t do that. Not yet. Not until I was sure about everything.
    Throughout the week I put more focus on the family workout routine because I’d have to wear a bathing suit in front of Sabrina soon. I knew it was childish, but I felt every abdominal crunch was a tiny boost to my fragile ego.
    Once the time came to try on the swimwear, I was bummed. It was worn-looking and plain. I didn’t have the cash to buy another one, so I’d have to just deal with it. On a mission, I rummaged through my entire closet to see what else I had that made me look cute. After digging for twenty minutes I found nothing. I hadn’t bought new clothes in a long time. I guess I stopped trying once Justin was gone.
    I thought about what Barb had said to me, that I was depressed. I studied my reflection in the mirror and sighed. I used to look nice. Justin always complimented me. But I had let myself go.
    Saturday night, before bed, I thumbed through Sabrina’s John Waterhouse book again. I wondered what feelings these pieces evoked. As I turned the pages, I got a sense of them. Romantic, mysterious, and tragic. I closed the book and looked at the art in my room. They were Tyler’s drawings. Islands, bugs, pieces of fruit. He sure was coming along as an artist. It gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. I let that feeling usher me into a deep sleep.
    When I arrived at Sabrina’s on Sunday, she answered the door herself, and was dressed down, like a normal person. Maybe she’d realized how nutty she looked in the chiffon gown.
    I pulled her book out of my bag and handed it to her. “Thanks,” I said. “I really enjoyed it.”
    She took it from me and reached for my coat and bag. I looked around and wondered where Henry was. Maybe it was his day off. Surely servants got a day off. Then I realized I was being politically incorrect and made a mental note to switch the phrase to hired help.
    “Follow me,” Sabrina said, interrupting my inner dialogue. “I have a surprise for you.”
    She turned and I began walking behind her, down the hallway. I hesitated for a split second when I realized we were alone. I don’t know why, but I got a little frightened.
    We arrived in her bedroom, where I glimpsed a bouquet of yellow daffodils sitting in a vase on the dresser.
    A familiar ping gripped my gut. A reminder to stay alert, to remember why I was here.
    Sabrina reached into her closet and pulled out a hanging bag. “This is for you,” she said.
    I reached out and took the bag from her. When I unzipped it and revealed its contents I saw two brand new designer outfits.
    “I thought