An Unfinished Story(58)
Instead of dwelling too much in the thought, Whitaker left the kitchen and went to find his running shoes, the only way to exorcise these demons.
Chapter 23
THE SUPPORT GROUP
Claire was back in the circle of widows in the support group, eager to speak this time. She’d just caught them up with her progress in getting David’s book finished.
“I’m . . . finally feeling hope,” she said, reaching for her lemonade and taking a sip. “I’ve been taking life far too seriously, taking myself too seriously. And I guess what Didi has been teaching me is that it’s not about me. It’s about living for those who don’t have the option to anymore. It’s about dancing for those who don’t have legs. It’s our duty to whomever we call the creator and to our husbands whom we’ve lost.” Claire shrugged. “I guess that’s what I’m finally seeing. All of you have talked about it before, but it took me a little while to grasp.”
Feeling much more comfortable under the microscope, Claire looked up through the ceiling to the sky. “I want David to be happy for me, and I want him to be proud. I want him to see that I can get through my struggles. If there’s one thing he would have left me with, I know he would’ve told me to find happiness again. Whatever that looked like. I will get this book out there, and hopefully that can be a way of honoring his life. I won’t stop there, though. I can’t sit around wasting time anymore. I love him so much, and, dammit, I’m going to live my life to the fullest. For both of us.”
Claire looked at the other widows, whose bottom lips were turned out—women who’d also had their lives flipped upside down. She smacked a determined fist against her thigh. “For all of us.”
Claire swallowed a rising tide of emotions and paused to collect herself. She felt her shoulders drop and let out a sigh that could have blown up an oversize pool float in one breath.
One woman clapped, and then the rest followed. Claire met each of their eyes and saw their nodding heads and wet faces. In all the meetings she’d attended, the group had only broken into applause a few times, and their reaction meant everything to her. Claire knew that she was finally breaking out of the cocoon of grief. This was her moment. She’d done it. She’d found the other side of life after David.
Still clapping, a woman stood up and then another. Within moments, the entire circle of women were standing and clapping and cheering her on. Didi offered Claire a hand and lifted her to her feet. Her friend hugged her and then others followed, and for several minutes all of them stood in a circling embrace, the power and hope of thirteen widows—from all walks of life—overcoming the nightmares of losing their soul mates.
It was unquestionably the most touching moment in Claire’s life.
Once they’d all returned to their seats, Lashonda, who was sitting across from Claire, reclaimed the floor. “Thank you for sharing.” She looked at everyone. “As Claire said so eloquently, we must find a way to live a life full enough to count for the ones we’ve lost. We owe that to our husbands.”
Claire was on a roll now and didn’t want to stop until it was all out. “Do you mind if I add one thing?”
“Please,” Lashonda said.
Here I go. “It’s a big deal, at least to me.” She put her hand to her mouth for a moment. “I kissed another man a few days ago. It was the first time I’ve kissed someone other than my husband since before I married him. More than a decade ago.” She let the words settle. “I feel so torn up over it. Like I’m cheating, but I know I’m not.”
The admission came loaded with a closet full of feelings. Sure, there was guilt, so much guilt. The rings around her finger tightened as she confessed. But at the same time, there was an unabashed freedom in saying it out loud. What she’d mulled over for several days now, ever since she had left Whitaker’s house, was that she was not a cheater. She had not cheated on David, and no one would argue otherwise. As obvious as that fact was, she had to keep reminding herself.
Between bouts of guilt, she had also realized how much she’d enjoyed kissing Whitaker. She’d loved the feel of being in his arms and couldn’t deny the attraction she felt toward him. And she was reminded of what it was like to share intimacy with a partner, to not be alone.
After Claire thanked everyone for listening, Lashonda said, “My first husband’s been dead for nine years, and I’m still sad about it. But you know what I’ve realized? I believe we can have more than one soul mate.” She shook her head. “We’re all raised to want to find ‘the one.’ We’re all raised to think that there’s one man out there waiting for us, a magical person we’re meant to spend our lives with. And it’s only a matter of time until we find him.” She raised her hands. “The love of our life. How about the loves of our life?”
A round of nods.
Lashonda waved her hand in the air, shaking her shoulders with it. “It’s a hard concept to grapple with, but it’s true. I’ve been blessed with two soul mates. When I met my first husband, he was it. I never needed anyone else the rest of my life. We had a great marriage.” She frowned. “But then he was gone. When I fell in love for a second time, I felt guilty, but I concluded that loving another man doesn’t mean that you have to stop loving the first one. I love both of my men equally. In different ways, but equally.” She patted her chest. “I have room inside here for both of them.”