For Emma

Chapter 6

Dear, my love,

I’ve been painting lately. Yesterday I even got out the old oil paint. Do you remember those ugly colors; all grey and murky blue? I strode into my studio as if I had some big purpose. It was noon and golden light was illuminating the small room. You were still off at work. I started with a dark grey making long thick streaks across the canvas. As I did this someone knocked on the door and Mary, my sister, came in with her son Jeff. We talked for a bit and she said she’d let me continue working, but Jeff said he’d stay so she left without him. I continued with the dark grey, while Jeff sat on the floor next to me. He’s gotten so tall. Even sitting in my chair he’s almost as tall as me. If only you could have been there. Why don’t you come home? As I switched to a light blue to make thin clouds Jeff grabbed the old Polaroid camera. He filled the camera with new paper he found in a cabinet. I watched him bring it to his eyes and take picture after picture. Each time a picture printed he’d shake it out and set it on the counter. I finished the dark grey/ blue painting then found a bottle of black paint. Taking my thinnest brush I painted a silhouette of Jeff holding up his camera towards a flock of dark birds. He came over and smiled at the painting. When he had to leave I gave him the Polaroid camera and all the paper for it; he thanked me and handed me the pictures he took. When he was gone I looked through the pictures and waited for you. Each picture was beautiful even though the ancient camera had blurry edges it just added to the affect. Soon after that you came home. You said the boats have been selling well, and that a boats engine stopped working which is why you got home so late. You said sorry and I forgave you as you gave me a kiss. I still couldn’t ignore the EMPTINESS I felt that night. Forgive me my love.

Love,

Dearest Annabeth

Behind that page is five 3 inches by 3 inches Polaroid pictures, I wipe away my tears and I know what Annabeth meant when she saw these photos. One is of an old wooden chair upside down leaning against a wall. Sunlight is streaming in front of the chair in rays. The edges are really blurry making the chair the only thing visible. I take that picture and put the rest back. Jeff gave me the journal for a little to read it, so I read one entry every day.

It’s Thursday, three days before Christmas. I used to get so excited about counting down the days with Sam. She’d have the tree ready and we’d stay up late every night drinking coffee next to the golden lights. We’d laugh, cry, but mostly sit in silence. Her favorite thing was to make a list of all our friends and wrap presents for each of them. She had me take personalized pictures for each of them, and she’d attach goody bags with a tiny stuffed snowman and some candy canes. On Christmas morning we’d stop at all of our friends houses and leave their present at the door. Last year she gave the people who were most important to her their songs. I remember when we went to all our friends houses she made one last stop. We pulled up to the Black Water Cemetery, and walked up to dad’s grave with a box wrapped in shiny red paper.

“Dad, merry Christmas. Your song is “Blindsided” by Bon Iver. Would you really rush out for me now?” Sam sang the first line to the chorus in her perfect voice. We both began to cry silently as we returned to her car.

That was last Christmas, but this year we don’t even have a tree.

***

Jeff and I are lying on his living room floor while has strums random cords on his guitar. I close my and focus on the sound of his mother and father buys at work making dinner. I imagine what Annabeth looked like. Jeff’s mother, Mary, has long black hair, tan skin, and almond shaped eyes. I picture Annabeth with wavy hair instead of strait, darker skin, and larger eyes.

Mary is probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met. The second I walked in she gave me a hug saying how great it was to finally meet me. Her husband, Paul gave me a hug too. The way they laughed and teased each other would make you think that Annabeth had never died.

“What’s your favorite band?” Jeff asks randomly.

“Bon—um… I don’t have one.” I don’t have a favorite band. Sam and I had a favorite band not just me.

“You were going to say something; don’t lie to me.” He teased.

No way in hiding it from him. “Bon Iver.” I say and kind of hate myself for not making up a random band.

“Come on skinny love just last year, pour a little salt we were never here, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my.” Jeff sings as he strums the cords to “Skinny Love”, Sam’s song.

“Jeff, Emma, Dinners ready!” Mary calls and we walk into the kitchen.