The Picture

"I don’t want to watch TV."

I’m in too much pain to focus, even if I did want to spend my last days watching banal soap operas, which I don't.

Jonah is holding my hand tightly in both of his as I explain this to him.

“I just wish there was something I could bring you to help,” he says. He looks at me with melancholy eyes that reflect many months of hospital visits and bad news.

We are only in our late forties but it feels like the last 18 months have aged us both by decades. Now the doctor’s appointments are long over and so is any hope that I might recover. I’ve gotten significantly worse the past week and am in so much pain I can hardly stand. Jonah has been doing his best to make our bedroom-turned-hospice as comfortable for me as possible, but at this stage in my disease, there’s no such thing as comfort.

Still, I’d much rather die here within the familiar lilac walls of my home than in a cold, grey hospital. Considering the extra burden this arrangement has placed on my husband, I want to show him I appreciate his efforts.

“There is something,” I say finally. “Can you bring up the picture?”

He doesn’t have to ask which picture I mean.

“Of course, I’ll go get it,” he says, his misty eyes recovering a glimmer of purpose as he releases my hand and heads out of the room.

Moments later, he returns with the 24 x 30 frame, but as he’s holding it with the photo facing him, I can only see the brown backing and bent hanging wire.

“Where should I hang it?” Jonah asks.

I point to the far wall beyond the foot of the bed where our dresser is. “Take the mirror down and hang it there.”

Jonah does as I ask and takes a step back from the wall. My eyes tear up as soon as I see it.

The photo is of a glittering turquoise sea and clear cerulean sky framed by puffy white clouds that make the scene look more like a dreamy painting than a photo. I had snapped it myself during our honeymoon in the Bahamas. I loved it so much I had it blown up and framed as soon as we got home, and it had been hanging in our kitchen ever since.

Each time I look at it, I feel like I’m standing right back on that pier next to Jonah. I can smell the saltwater, and feel the spray of the waves on my arms, legs, and face. It’s like traveling back in time to that exact, absurdly happy moment when we had our whole lives ahead of us and it felt like anything was possible.

The photo’s beauty and accompanying memories are so hypnotizing that for one millisecond I almost forget about the pain.

Almost.

“Honey, can you please get my pills, the meds are wearing off,” I say, trying to keep the pain out of my voice.

Within moments, I’m downing a painkiller that’s strong enough to sedate an elephant. As the medication lifts the pain and clouds my mind, I drift off to sleep thinking about the sea.

*****

I awake in the early afternoon and notice the picture looks different. I can’t put my finger on it at first. It’s almost as though the waves had broken free from their frozen state only to refreeze a few seconds later.

Then I notice something else: a tiny speck of white amongst the ultramarine backdrop, right in the middle of the picture.

I stare at it intently, wondering how I never noticed it before. I am so mystified that I force myself out of bed - something I haven’t done in over a week - and make my way towards the picture. It’s no small effort and I feel dizzy with pain. Nevertheless, I keep going until my nose is an inch from the picture.

There’s no mistaking it: a tiny white sail.

“Meri!” Jonah’s sudden exclamation causes me to jump and lose my balance.

He catches me. By this point, I must weigh little more than a sack of potatoes, so he has no trouble scooping me up into his arms and carrying me back to bed.

“You know you’re not supposed to get up! What were you doing?” he asks as he deposits me back under the covers.

“The picture. Did you ever notice that ship before?”

“What ship?”

“Right in the center of the photo. There’s a tiny white ship on the horizon. I never noticed it before.”

Jonah scrutinizes the seascape and shakes his head. “I don’t see anything there, darling.”

“It’s right there!”

Jonah casts me a vaguely nervous glance then, and I can tell he thinks the cancer is affecting my sensibilities.

He decides to change the subject. “Callie called, she’s going to stop in tonight after work. Why don’t you get some more sleep? You might feel more up to a visit later.”

I can’t help but think that it’s unusual for our daughter to visit on a weekday, but perhaps she’s worried I won’t last until the weekend.

She’s probably right.

I do want to see her so I probably should get some rest so that I’m at least semi-coherent by the time she gets here. As I drift off for the second time today, I pretend that it’s the power of his suggestion that’s causing my fatigue and not the immovable weight of my illness.

*****

“Mom? Are you awake?” a familiar voice asks softly.

“Katie?” My eyes snap open, full of hope. I see her figure standing at the foot of my bed and tears spring to my eyes with a love that aches.

“No, it’s Callie, Mom,” the figure replies, and there’s a hint of hurt in her voice.

As I force my eyes to focus, Katie morphs into Callie, like an illusion emerging from a Magic Eye picture.

Although they were identical twins, they never looked the same to me. They both had the same almond hair and their father’s deep blue eyes, but aside from that, their features were as different as night and day. I could never understand how people mixed them up, yet now I, their own mother, had done just that.

But what really makes this blunder disturbing is the fact that Katie has been dead for years.

“Sorry, Callie. Is it evening already?” I’m alarmed that my voice doesn’t carry the same strength it had earlier in the day.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, I got stuck in traffic,” Callie replied, sounding a little bashful.

“It’s okay, dear. You could have waited until Saturday to visit.”

“I know.”

There is a heavy pause as we contemplate the likelihood of there even being a Saturday for me.

It dawns on me that this may very well be the last time I will see Callie. I shouldn’t waste the moment, especially since our relationship hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing since Katie’s accident.

“Honey, come here for a minute.” I hold out my hand to her.

Callie’s eyes well up as though she realizes that this is going to be our moment of closure. She moves around the bed and takes my hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I whisper. “I know things haven’t been right between us since Katie passed, and that’s entirely my fault.”

“No, no it isn’t, Mom.”

“Yes, it is. You needed your mother, and I wasn’t there for you.”

“You were grieving too.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for how I acted towards you in the months that followed the accident. I’m so, so sorry, Callie. I love you very much. I need you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened.”

Callie is crying and I’m flooded with gratitude that we are having this moment of catharsis. She bends over to hug me, and we hold each other for a long time.

After some time, Jonah appears in the doorway.

Our eyes meet and he says, “Callie, let your mother rest now, okay? Come downstairs and I’ll heat up some dinner for you.”

Callie reluctantly releases me from her embrace and nods as she gets up to follow her father downstairs. “I’ll be right back, okay Mama?”

She hasn’t called me that since she was ten.

“Take your time honey,” I smile at her.

My eyes follow her but stop dead when they fall upon the picture.

The white ship. It’s bigger. Closer.

“Wait, do you see that?” I say, mustering more volume than I’ve managed the whole day.

“See what?” Callie asks, looking around.

“The ship! There was never a ship in the picture before and now there is.”

Callie stares at the picture. She had grown up with the photograph and was just as familiar with it as Jonah or I.

“I’m pretty sure that ship was always there, Mum.” The sentence is followed by the same worried look that Jonah wore earlier. “Just get some rest, okay?”

I try to protest but I don't have the strength. She turns off the light and I drift out of consciousness again.

*****

Pain wakes me up. It’s unbearable. I open my mouth to call for Jonah, but for some reason, I can’t make a sound. It's dark in the room and I have no idea what time it is.

I look at the picture, which is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through my window. My heart starts pounding with fear as I realize it's moving. The white ship now takes up the entire frame, her bow pointing straight at me as she surges forward. The waves are crashing against her hull and splashing out of the frame.

Peering over the edge of my bed, I gasp when I realize the floor is covered in water.

Powered by sheer adrenaline, I push myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I find I am able to stand up if I use the bed for support. The water is up to my ankles as I start making my way towards the door.

I make it to the foot of the bed before the ship's bow pierces the frame, flooding the room with water and sunlight. Instantly submerged, I try to swim towards the doorway, but with each kick, I feel myself being pulled back and up towards the surface. I watch helplessly as the bedroom door disappears into shadow.

My head bursts through the water’s surface and suddenly, I’m not afraid anymore.

The pain is gone, as are the walls of my bedroom. There is just the white ship and the sparkling open sea around me. I swim to the ship and find a rope ladder hanging over the side, which I climb with incredible ease.

Aboard the ship, I find Katie at the helm. My heart explodes with joy. As soon as our eyes meet, she drops the ship’s wheel and runs towards me, embracing me tightly for what seems like years. When she finally pulls back her blue eyes are smiling.

“Are you ready to go, Mom?”

I turn around, and suspended in midair against the backdrop of the bright sky is a framed picture of my bedroom. The image has regressed into little more than a diluted shadow and I have no desire to go back.

“Yes, Katie, I’m ready!”

Katie returns to the helm of the ship and turns us about. As we sail away, I smile and watch the picture shrink into a dark speck on the horizon before disappearing altogether.

Author’s Note

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