The Painting

One

We were trapped in a bleak season that refused to die, when you stepped through the frame. You didn't give any warning, left no note. I knew something was wrong when the hours drew to the early evening, and I had not seen you escape the comfort of your room once. Jeremy called around the same time, worry gripping his voice as he claimed he couldn't get a hold of you. You have shut yourself off to the world before, but this was different. You loved Jeremy. You would never ignore his calls, and you always came out to make your favorite banana sandwich when hunger found you.

I immediately went to your room, didn't bother knocking until I had already opened the door, the way nurses do while entering a hospital room. I felt that way sometimes, like your personal nurse coming in to check your vitals. But you weren't there.

"Jerms," I said over the phone. "Get over here. Cait's gone."

"Like, she's...?"

"No, she's not here." My eyes darted down to the door at the end of the hallway. My heart dropped to my gut. The door was cracked open. "I know where she is, though."

I didn't wait for Jeremy to arrive before entering mom's parlor. The dust had accumulated profoundly since I last stepped foot in there. The paintings hung perfectly straight along the walls, just as mom left them before she stepped through to the unknown, which I feared you had also done. And yes; the drapes were torn down in a dark heap at the base of the frame. You did it. You left us all behind. Me. Dad. Jeremy. He was the best thing to ever happen to you. How could you do this to him? How could I bring myself to tell dad?

I was setting on my knees in disbelief when Jeremy came in. He stopped, looked around in awe and bewilderment. "So, this is your mother's old parlor," he said quietly.

I nodded, although I knew he wasn't looking to see me. I felt itchy tears scraping down my cheeks as I continued to stare at the painting in disbelief, the black and maroon colors bleeding into the dark purple swirling formations with the flakes of shimmering gold at the heart. It almost seemed to be moving, wavering, beckoning me to step through, to join them. Reunited at last.

"So, why are we in here? I mean, it definitely needs cleaned and all but, where's Cait?" Jeremy brushed his arms as if cobwebs were floating through the thick air and sticking to his jacket. He was uncomfortable.

I nodded again, this time toward the painting. "She went after my mom. In there."

Jeremy blinked at me in confusion. "I thought your mom had died. What do you mean?" He glanced then at the painting.

That's when I told him. The old family secret that Cait and I swore to dad we would never tell a soul. The story of how mom left us.