TEN MINUTES LATER, RICHARD was back with the cat’s tray and a large manila envelope tucked under his arm. He turned it towards her and she saw their names in Mealie’s handwriting.
“Sitting on the kitchen table,” he said. He opened it, turned it over and two envelopes dropped out, one for each of them. “All her papers are here, in mine,” he said. “She was ready, Flossy.” He slid the other envelope across to her. “I’m just going to check on the kids for a minute.” He poured her a little more tea before turning and walking out the kitchen door. He closed it softly behind himself, leaving Flossy alone.
She opened the envelope and unfolded two pieces of paper in Mealie’s fine handwriting.
1994
Dear Flo,
There are no regrets, for either of us.
I learned of this scourge in May of 92 but it wasn’t a breast lump then, though it likely started out there. It was a bump beneath my arm. After more tests and prodding than a camel should have to endure, Doctor Morrow offered no guarantees, whether I took treatment or not. In her opinion, the cancer that was in the breast had likely already spread.
You’ll remember that both my parents went out with cancer, in their sixties, each endured the horrors of operations and chemo and both died within a year of diagnosis. I don’t know how this is going to end but my hope is that I won’t need to spend much time in hospital. I’m not one for people fussing over me. Until now I’ve been perfectly comfortable and Richard has offered that he can find someone on campus to supply me with marijuana if I should need it, though he doesn’t know why. We all, in the end, have the occasional secret.
That is not to say that these haven’t been the best years of my life and almost all of that has had to do with you, the comfort of your open door every morning, your sanity, love of a turned phrase, those Woolfisms you saved to read to me every day that brightened mine. I’ve always known that whichever of us has to go first, the other will suffer terribly. It’s the bald-faced consequence of love. The living of a good life, as we’ve always said, has nothing to do with the number of years we clock. It has everything to do with the care we take with what we’re given, the care we give to perhaps just one other human being along the way. You have been my rock, from which I could come and go, be fed each day and return to the studio to create. There has been nothing finer in my life, pure magenta, and it is all the reason why I returned to Nova Scotia and made it home.
I have asked Richard to help you with the disposal of all my things and the house. They are yours, if any of the paintings should delight you, keep them and let the others go. There is nothing I would have wanted more than to offer you the same care and comfort you have given me in my life, until the last day of yours. That I cannot, I leave you, instead, my work, the better part of me and, I hope, an enduring memento of the life we shared together every day of every year.
Ever yours,
Mealie
FLOSSY STOOD, BLOWING HER nose and looking across at Mealie’s studio. The rain had stopped; the sun was warm again. She could see Richard talking to the young people in the backyard. She was grateful he was here.
She was just about to shoo them off to the Bishop meeting when another vehicle flew up the lane. Jimmy. He’d heard. The truck rolled to a stop and he got out. He pulled the gate down and from the box picked up a large bag of dog food and a bowl. Logie danced around his feet.
“Onomatopoeia,” Flossy whispered, shaking her head.
Jimmy pushed through the door, dropping the bag of dog food and propping it up against the wall. “I heard, Flo, I’m real sorry about Mealie.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose before putting a big arm around her. “I brought Logie to stay with you a few weeks, to see you through the worst.”
“Oh Jimmy,” she shook her head, “bless you. Thank you, I know what that means to you. You’re a good brother, but I’ve Oscar Wilde to take care of now. He’ll keep me company. I couldn’t have the two of them in the house. I’d break my neck in the middle of the night.” Jimmy located the handkerchief he’d just put away and blew his nose again loudly.