I am sitting in our meadow again. My white dress is splayed out around me, and my bare legs are catching the delicious rays of the ever-present sun. I am waiting for him. It’s all I do, each day. I look around at the tall purple flowers all around me, the thick grass that never makes my skin itch, and the sweet-smelling pine forest that lines the edge of our meadow. And I wait.
The moment he appears, I know it. The air ripples and changes; the very fabric of my reality shifts. With a thundering heart, I leap up and run to greet him. He holds his arms out to me, and I crash into him, knocking us both to the ground. Jason is laughing as I kiss him, planting a million kisses all over his face. Gosh, he always looks so handsome. Always wearing the same black suit and white shirt, his red necktie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar, and the boutonniere stuck to his lapel sitting slightly skew, he makes for a very handsome picture. My delicate white lace dress is a perfect match for him.
Side by side, we lie on the soft carpet of grass, talking about everything and nothing, laughing about the heap of junk that was our first car. Funny how you never realise how important the little things will become as time passes. I used to complain about how that car smelled like feet… now I would give anything to experience that smell again.
I love Jason’s laugh. I love everything about him, and I can feel myself falling for him all over again every time we meet. I lean back on my elbows, enjoying the heat of the sun on my face. Taking a deep breath, I say, “So, no rainbow today?”
“Oh yeah… I almost forgot!” he grins.
As I look up at the piercing blue sky, a beautiful, broad rainbow appears right across our meadow. I am always amazed at how he can do that. He knows I like rainbows, and he always makes sure that one is present during our visits. He knows it makes me happy.
The days we spend here in our meadow are magical. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we sit together in silence, and sometimes he picks the purple flowers and winds them through my braided hair. Then there are days when he is closed off, and he stares at me with haunted eyes. These days are my least favourite, so during the time in between our visits, I choose to put these days out of my mind. Instead, I cling to the happy, laughing ones while I wait for his return.
During some of our visits, time moves slowly, lazily, and it feels like we will sit here in our meadow forever. Other days, time moves way too quickly, and it always makes me so sad when our short time together comes to an end.
Today seems to be one of the short ones. Jason gets up. “Time for me to go,” he announces.
“Oh no! Already?” I pout.
He smiles his gorgeous smile—the smile that makes the skin around his eyes crinkle—and holds out his hand to help me to my feet. As I stand, I feel his arms snake around my waist as he pulls me into him. He places a kiss on the top of my head and says, “See you later.”
***
Today, there is a little stream flowing through our meadow, the sapphire water emptying into a pond. I have been waiting for him, and at the sight of the new feature in our meeting place, my heart skips a beat. This must mean he is coming today!
Time moves differently here in the meadow. I have a vague concept of time passing, but there is no night-time, there are no seasons, there are no other people, and I never sleep. Jason comes, and when he leaves, I cannot tell how long I am waiting for him to come again. Could be a few minutes, could be forever. My life is made up of my visits with Jason and wandering around the meadow where the sun never sets, waiting for him to return. Always waiting.
When he appears, he looks exactly the same as he always does, as do I, and when we hug, he lifts me off my feet and spins me around. I laugh, watching a rainbow stretch across the sky, and an overwhelming feeling of love for him rushes through me. This is it, I think to myself. This is worth the wait.
We walk down to the pond and sit with our feet dangling in the water. I am thankful that my pretty lace dress won’t get wet. That is part of the magic of this place—nothing ever gets dirty, the bugs never bite, and the weather is always perfect.
My eyes roam over him and I touch the skew-hanging boutonniere on his lapel, trying to straighten it. "I remember pinning this to your jacket..." I muse, remembering that day fondly. He smiles, "Yeah, even though it wasn't your job. But my brother tried to do it and ended up pricking his own finger. You remember how skittish he was around blood?" he finishes in a chuckle. I can't help the laugh that escapes from my belly: "Haha! Yeah... and then he came running up to me in a sheer panic, holding his finger like he'd chopped it off!"
Jason's smile fades away as he says: "I still have it, you know. I still have this boutonniere. It's in my nightstand."
I stop fiddling with his lapel and drop my hand. "I hate what happened to us." I say morosely.
"So do I. But at least we still have this." he says, gesturing at the meadow around us. I lean in and kiss him. "At least we still have this." I echo.
Our visit can't last forever, and it is obvious that Jason wants to leave sour thoughts and heartache in the world outside of our meadow. This is not the place for such things. So he splashes some water on me and laughs at my look of surprise. I splash him back, and before long, we are rolling around on the grass in a play-fight. When I finally surrender before this can inevitably turn into a tickle-fight that I will definitely lose, we lie side by side and I look over at him.
“How long has it been?” I ask.
He sighs, not wanting to broach the subject.
When he doesn’t answer, I say, “That long, huh?”
He rolls onto his side to face me. “It hasn’t been that long. A couple of weeks, maybe,” he admits.
He knows that I don't experience time the way he does, and he can easily lie to me every time I ask. But Jason would never lie to me. He is just not that type of person, and I have always trusted him completely.
I consider his answer. “More and more time is passing between visits. I used to see you every day. Then it became only a few times a week. Now you’re saying a couple of weeks have passed since the last time you came here.”
He looks crestfallen, guilt warping his handsome features and making him look like he’s in pain.
“I don’t want you to worry about it. I’m sorry,” he says.
“Of course I worry. I’m scared it’s all going to disappear.”
“I’m trying not to let that happen,” he promises.
“I know, but that’s not fair to you, either.”
We continue to lie here, staring up at the rainbow he made for me, each of us wrapped up in our own concerns. When the time comes for him to go, he has to leave me behind in the sunny meadow, and I don’t know how much time will pass before I see him again.
***
I’m not wearing my white dress today. This is different. I look down at myself and see that I am wearing a swimsuit. He must be here, so I look around and see him standing at the far side of our meadow, peering into the pine forest that surrounds us. I run over to him, calling his name, and when he hears me, he spins around to catch me in his arms. We are smiling, kissing each other and laughing our hellos.
He finally lets me go and I step out of his embrace, gesturing to the swimsuit I am wearing. “Well? What is the meaning of this?” I ask jokingly, although genuinely curious about this change in wardrobe.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I thought we needed a beach day. Don’t you like it? If memory serves, that used to be your favourite bikini.”
I laugh. “It is! But you usually prefer seeing me in my wedding dress when you visit…”
“Just because you were the most stunning bride that there ever was, and our wedding day was the happiest I’d ever been,” he replies sweetly.
“Aww, Jason, you always know just what to say.” I smile and kiss him.
Our lips part and I sweep my eyes over the edge of our meadow. Suddenly, the usual pine forest is replaced by a beach, waves crashing on the shore and palm trees swaying in a breeze.
I widen my eyes as I recognise the scenery. “Oh my! Is this…? Are we where I think we are?”
He laughs and takes my hand, and as we walk across the warm sand, he says, “Yup. We’re in Hawaii, baby!”
I can’t help myself; I squeal with delight. “It looks exactly like I remember! Exactly the way it was on our honeymoon!”
He leads me to the spot where we spent many of our honeymoon nights—a large hammock hung between two palms. I am the first one to climb into it, and he follows closely behind.
As we swing gently from side to side and I lay my head on his chest, I notice for the first time that he is not wearing his wedding suit today either. No skew boutonniere for me to fiddle with. He is wearing the godawful Hawaiian shirt that he actually bought as a joke, but that turned out to be one of his favourite things. I always hated the thing, but I did like how much he liked it, though. I found it kind of sweet and kind of funny.
We are silent for a while. I draw in a breath to speak, but before I can, he says, “Don’t.”
“What?” I frown.
“I know you want to ask me how long it’s been. But don’t.”
I sigh. “But I want to know… it feels like it’s been much longer this time.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not asking to make you feel bad. It’s a good thing, Jason. It scares me, yes, but it’s good for you.”
He seems reluctant when he answers, “It’s been about two months, more or less.”
I swallow hard. Two months. That’s a long time. For two months I’ve been wandering this meadow, waiting for him, while he is busy moving on. It isn’t fair of me to expect him not to, I know that. But it still hurts.
At my lack of reply, he says, “Look, I’m sorry. I really, really am. But I just got a new job and they’ve got me doing all these training courses… I’m hardly getting any sleep.”
I am upset. I am disappointed. But I don’t want him to know it. Instead, I try to focus on what is happening in his life. “A new job? What happened to your job at Mr Delaware’s dealership?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does! Wait… oh no. Did you lose your job because of me? Because of what happened?”
He gets up out of the hammock and paces a few steps away from me. With his back to me, over his shoulder, he says, “None of it is your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself, you hear me?”
I exhale a shaky breath. “It really is my fault though. If it wasn’t for—” but I can’t finish the sentence when he cuts me off. “Don’t go there. It was nobody’s fault. Things were just rough for me for a while and I started drinking and self-medicating, stopped going to work. I was a mess. Mr Delaware had to let me go. I didn’t give him much of a choice. But I got through it. Things are getting better now.”
At his words, realisation dawns on me. “That’s why your visits are becoming less frequent.”
He turns around to look at me, pleading with his eyes. “No! Absolutely not. I still need you. I still want to see you…”
“It’s okay,” I coo, but I can’t help the sadness that laces my words. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I really am. You can’t stay stuck here with me forever, it’s not healthy.”
“But I don’t want to let go…”
“Maybe not yet. But eventually you will need to.”
He stares at me a while longer, and then he shakes his body as if visibly trying to shake off the conversation. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s go for a swim.”
He takes my hand and I can feel the sombre mood dropping away from us. We run across the beach and dive into the water, laughing as the waves crash over our heads.
***
A never-ending day. How do you measure a never-ending day? It feels like Jason's visit is well overdue, but I can't be sure. The last time he came here could be yesterday, could be months ago. I have no way of knowing, other than a feeling deep in my gut telling me that it has been much longer than that. So I wait.
***
Jason came to visit at last, but he seemed different. When he left, it left me feeling uneasy. I know that something is changing in him. Maybe he is finally able to let me go, and I don't know how I feel about that. On the one hand, I am happy for him. But on the other, where does that leave me? The answer bursts through my consciousness: it leaves me right here. Waiting.
*** Something feels very different this time. Over the numerous visits we’ve had since our beach day, Jason has been changing little by little each time. I stopped asking him to tell me how much time passes between visits, because I saw how much pain it caused him and how guilty it made him feel. But I can sense that the time between the days we spend in our meeting place has been growing longer and longer. It feels as if the time I spend waiting for him doubles each time he leaves. Today, though, there is a very big change in Jason. He looks very, very old, but it is as if his image keeps shifting between the Jason I know and this much older version of him. It is shocking to see.
As usual, I am wearing my white lace wedding dress, but the dress seems faded around the edges… almost like the paint ran out before the artist could finish the portrait. Our meadow looks the same, though, only there is no rainbow in the sky. Jason is sitting next to me, his image constantly shifting between young and old.
“So, no rainbow today?” I ask, trying to take my mind off this terrifying change in him.
Jason always looked the same age during all of our visits—always the exact way he looked on our wedding day. This is the first time he doesn’t, and that must mean something big.
Upon my question, he looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time, and his eyes widen. “Oh yeah… I remember… you loved rainbows!”
I look up and I see a beautiful, glittering rainbow appear, filling the sky. “Wow…” I whisper in awe.
As I am staring up at the rainbow, suddenly a flash of bright pink at the edge of the meadow catches my attention. I snap my head in the direction of the sudden appearance, and there, standing majestically on long, muscular legs, is a stark white unicorn with a bright pink mane.
I gasp. “A unicorn?!”
“You used to love unicorns…” Jason says, frowning in confusion at me.
“Me? Hmmm… nope, I’ve never really been that into unicorns,” I say, and I wonder what has made him think that.
Jason chews his lip as he thinks, and after a moment, he smacks his palm to his forehead and says, “Oh, that’s right! Charlie’s the one who loved rainbows and unicorns. You only ever loved the rainbows. Sorry, I got the two mixed up.” He laughs. I don’t laugh with him.
“Who’s Charlie?” I ask, looking down at my feet. My toenails are changing from pink to red and back to pink again.
It feels like a long time passes before he answers. “Charlie is my daughter. She was obsessed with unicorns when she was a kid.” He smiles.
That hits me hard. Jason has a daughter. A grown daughter. He's never mentioned having children, so how long has it been since I last saw him? Long enough for him to raise a child, apparently.
The colour of my toenails changes continuously from red to pink to red to pink. My hands are shaking as I tell Jason, “I prefer red polish on my toenails, not pink.”
His smile fades and he looks away from me. As he does, my toenails change from pink to red and stay that way.
With a heart that is beginning to break, I realise that Jason is forgetting. I try to keep my voice steady as I ask the question that I haven’t allowed myself to ask over our last couple of visits: “How long has it been?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Look, I know a lot of time has been passing. I could tell that you’ve been coming here less often. Just tell me how long it’s been since the last time you came.”
Jason is silent for so long that I don’t think he is going to answer me. He finally whispers, “About twenty years.”
I feel the shock of his admission hit me square in the chest—like someone has just knocked the wind out of me. I’m trying my best not to show it. I always knew that this would happen in the end.
“So how long has it been since I died?” I utter, not sure I want to hear the answer.
He refuses to look at me. “It will be thirty-five years tomorrow.”
I nod my understanding. “So that’s why you’re back here with me now.”
“Guess so. I tried to move on, I really did. But I found our old wedding photo in a drawer yesterday and it brought me right back to you. I suppose you’ll always be with me, no matter how much time passes.”
I glance down at my faded wedding dress, and he sees me looking. He chuckles apologetically. “The details have gone from my memory a little. All I have to go on is that old, faded photo I found. How do I look to you? I’m trying to show myself the way I was on our wedding day, but my mind keeps jumping between my face from the photo and the face I saw in the mirror this morning.”
I smile. “You’re shifting between the two. You must be about eighty years old now?”
“Eighty-five!” he admits, laughing.
I take his hand. “Well, you’re still as handsome as the twenty-five-year-old I married.”
I don’t want to show him how much this conversation is devastating me. It isn’t fair to him. He needed to live his own life over these last twenty years. After all, he still has a life, and I don't. Mine was cut short by my horrific car accident thirty-five years ago. And I know that I am not his real wife who died then; I know that I am just a mirage pieced together by his memories of her, living only in his dreams. At first, he would dream of me every night, and he would come visit me in this dreamscape that his mind built for us. This dreamscape where he could make rainbows appear, just for me. And I was always waiting in my wedding dress to receive him, just the way he preferred to remember me. But as time healed him and he started to move on and let go of his grief, he dreamt of me less and less. Instead of visiting me in our meadow where he kept me safely tucked away, he visited different meadows with new loves, his children, his ambitions, his future plans. It was only every so often that he would still dream of me, and we would meet in our meeting place.
Now, sitting here in our meadow, I am well aware that this could be the last time we will ever meet. As his memories fade, so will I. And eventually, when his dreams stop, I will cease to exist.
I place a kiss on the back of his hand and look up at him. A lone tear makes its way down his cheek.
“Hey, don’t be sad,” I say as I wipe the tear away.
“I feel like I’m losing you all over again. You’re fading away. I’m forgetting.”
“No, hon. I will always be here. I am a part of you. All you need to do is dream, and I will be here, waiting for you.”
It is the truth. I will be right here waiting. Always waiting. Until an old man draws his last breath, and dreams no more.
