SPENCE WAS AT THE DOOR and Chiyo greeted him with eyes brimming. She didn’t have to explain. He knew she would share when she was ready. If ever.

She grabbed a thick wrap to throw over her shoulders, and they drove off in Spence’s car. Heading for Pina. Heading into art. Chiyo wanted to lose herself in a landscape of wonder and desire, of sensuality and surprise. All of that along with the almost haughty dignity of the dancers, a dignity that paralleled the equal representation of abandonment and indignity. And of course, the flat-out absurd.

Irresolutus

HAZZLEY

In the final months of his life, Lew had become far too thin. Changes progressed quickly, transformation taking place before Hazzley’s eyes. The disease began to ravage his body as if intent on leaving permanent marks. All of those marks now stored in Hazzley’s memory, even though Lew had been dead three years.

There had been little outside activity in her own life during the last six months of his illness. Hazzley continued to go to the gym, but infrequently. She walked the streets of the neighbourhood, bought groceries, saw Cass occasionally, accepted a few articles for editing but also turned some down. She stopped inviting friends to visit and spent much of her time alone in her study. It was as if she were the person consumed by illness. Sal arrived for a short visit, and both parents were happy to see her. Sal was as concerned as Hazzley. Lew could still get around, but he was unable to reverse direction and wanted no interference. When he went out, it was to buy what he needed to drink. Much of the time, he was silent. He made no attempt to return the bottles. That effort seemed beyond him.

One of the low points during this period came when the Greenley Orchestra made its annual visit to the Belle Theatre in town. Hazzley and Lew had always enjoyed the yearly concert, especially as Wilna Creek didn’t have an orchestra of its own. Hazzley purchased tickets weeks ahead, unsure if Lew would be able to attend. One way or another, she was looking forward to surrendering to music in a darkened theatre. She wanted to be at one with her thoughts. She wanted to forget about illness and about watching over Lew, whether he was beside her or not.

Every year, a group of women who called themselves Widows Rallying attended the concert, dining out at a local restaurant before arriving at the theatre. Hazzley knew two of the women. A dozen or more widows made up the group, and they met weekly at some restaurant or other, or at a gallery or museum, at openings or exhibitions. They took bus trips together and did charitable work and rotated shifts at the hospital, wheeling carts of books around to wards or helping in other ways as volunteers.

The night of the concert, Lew was unable to attend and Hazzley had to make her way to the Belle alone. When she took her seat, she immediately realized that she was four rows behind the widows, who took up an entire row of their own. In the ten or fifteen minutes before the curtains opened, there was a good deal of chatter and laughter coming from their row. Hazzley tried to ignore them, tried to ignore the fact that they were having a great time. She knew that if she were honest with herself, she would like to be sitting in that row, surrounded by women who were taking pleasure in being together. A part of her longed to give over to laughter and communal spirit, if only for one evening.