The Silent Widow

Nikki stared at her wild-eyed but silent. It was almost as if she were having some sort of fit.

‘You told me – you told everyone – you knew nothing about her until the day Doug died!’

Nikki blinked and shook her head, like someone emerging from a trance.

‘But you knew? You saw pictures? Jesus Christ, Nikki.’

Now it was Gretchen’s turn to shake.

Did Nikki have something to do with that accident?

Gretchen hesitated, her hand on her purse, unsure whether to stay or go.

‘I loved Doug,’ said Nikki, sensing her unease and answering the unspoken question. ‘I still love him. I would never have done anything to hurt him, Gretch. He was the one who did all the hurting, believe me,’ she added, with more sadness than bitterness this time.

Gretchen put down her purse. ‘OK. But you did know about the girl?’

Nikki nodded, staring guiltily down at her lap.

‘Before?’

‘Yes.’ Nikki’s voice had dropped from a roar to a whisper. ‘About a month before. She sent him pictures.’

‘And she was pregnant?’

Nikki nodded again. Then she started to cry. Instinctively, Gretchen leaned across the table and hugged her.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked.

‘I was embarrassed,’ said Nikki. ‘I didn’t know what to do!’

‘Did you confront Doug?’

Nikki bit down hard on her lower lip. ‘No. I know, I know. Pathetic, right? I should have thrown him out of the house then and there. But I didn’t. I pretended I’d never seen the pictures. I thought – hoped – he’d come to his senses.’ She looked at Gretchen, willing her friend to believe her. ‘He was my whole life, Gretch!’

‘And the baby?’

‘I don’t know,’ Nikki admitted miserably. ‘I hadn’t thought that through. I don’t know what I hoped for, it was all so new and so devastating and then,’ she swallowed hard, ‘then he died. He died and it was too late.’

The two women sat and talked for another hour after that. Despite her shock at the revelation, Gretchen was glad Nikki had told her. Obviously, the truth had been eating away at her for the last year, poisoning her from the inside out, corroding whatever chance she had for recovery or moving on.

‘You have to go to therapy, Nik,’ Gretchen told her. ‘I mean it. You have to promise me.’

‘I promise,’ Nikki said meekly.

‘All this anger, and talk about people deserving to die. It’s not you, and I don’t mind telling you, it’s terrifying. You need help.’

Nikki nodded.

Later, before Gretchen left, they spoke about the future.

‘Have you ever thought about moving?’ Gretchen asked.

‘Moving? Moving where?’ replied Nikki, running an exhausted hand through her hair. Gretchen knew the truth now. She was the only person on earth who did. Nikki was still trying to figure out whether that was good or bad.

‘Anywhere,’ said Gretchen. ‘New York? You could make a completely fresh start, away from all of this. Sell the house. I mean, you have no money worries, no dependants, nothing to tie you to LA. You could leave all the painful memories behind and begin again.’

Nikki had to admit it was a tempting idea, at least the way Gretchen put it. But life was never that simple. Memories were no respecters of geography, in Nikki’s experience. And then there was her practice.