Empty Pictures

Garner didn’t need to see the old, worn address label or be told who the box was from, he remembered it clearly, even after 75 years. The young woman at his door also barely needed to introduce herself. After all, she looked just like Helene, pretty, almond shaped, hazel eyes, shiny, auburn hair that pooled in curls at her shoulders, and a delicate physique that masked a surprising musculature and strength. She made him gasp, just as Helene had always made him gasp, and the air took time to return to his lungs, enough time that the young woman noticed.

“Hi, my name is Helene,” she said in a voice that carried into his ears like birdsong. And her name, the same as every memory that birdsong conjured, was he dreaming? Had he died? The box in her hands was a clear indication that it was neither. “My grandmother wanted you to have this. She says she mailed it to you a long time ago, but it came back with “return to sender” on it.”

“I sent it back. I don’t want it,” Garner said gruffly.

“She said you might say that,” she smirked as Garner made a loud exhale, “but she said this was the last chance you have to accept it.”

“I don’t care, why should I care after all these years?”

Helene’s face twisted into sadness. Garner had seen this same face, with this same sadness, before, when he was young, and his Helene was young, and she had told him he had waited too long to declare his love for her, and that she had found another. She had stood in front of him for a moment, and he had seen this face, and then she turned from him with a tear on her cheek and walked away. A lifetime for him at that point, spent loving her, spent dreaming of their future together, walking on the beach like they loved to do. They had been children, poor and fantasizing about a life of riches and travel. He had watched her walk away that day and get into a brand-new silver Mercedes Benz. Driving it was a handsome, tan skinned, blond-haired man, a few years older than the two of them, and he smiled at her as she got into his car with the same smile he had always felt when he saw Helene’s face.

“She has terminal cancer. I know you are both the same age, which is remarkable, at 104 years old. Due to her age the doctors refuse to continue with aggressive treatments, despite her otherwise surprisingly good health,” the young Helene said solemnly.

Garner’s demeanor was unchanged by the young Helene’s announcement. He had spent 75 long years in solitude, with only his house servants to distract him in the beginning. Four years after Helene had driven away Garner’s own grandfather had died. He had unexpectedly inherited an unknown fortune, and he bought a Mercedes of his own. He had driven to Helene’s house to speak with her, and show her his new car, but she wouldn’t see him, and told him to leave right through the door. Helene was married by then and living in a massive Tudor style house. He had seen her with a baby in town, and she glowed as always. He had already received the box, wrapped perfectly in brown shipping paper, and had left it unopened in the study of his new Tudor style home. When she rejected his attempts to communicate with her that day he had gone home and written “return to sender” on it and mailed it back.

“You said she is your grandmother, but you are too young for that to be true. Who are you really?”

“Great grandmother, she is my great grandmother.”

“Just leave the box on the ground.”

“How about I bring it inside for you?” young Helene said sweetly and started forward towards him.

“No,” Garner said briskly, “just give it to me. I will take it in now.”

“Here you go.” Helene handed him the box and turned to walk away. She got to the first step and looked back and said, “She is at the Bayfront Medical Center.”

Garner looked directly at young Helene and released his grip on the box. It fell between them on the hard stone porch landing and made a sound like cracking ceramic. Young Helene glared at him.

“Why did you do that? You know what, I don’t want to know. It’s no wonder you lived in this huge house alone for all these years. And I’m sure all the stories about the Bayside Hermit are true. You are 104 years old, it’s never too late to stop being an asshole you know,” Young Helene spat at him.

The Bayside Hermit, Garner knew the townspeople had called him this. It just fueled his disgust in society. Money, pretty faces, fast cars, that’s all anyone cared about. He spent countless hours in his study reading and watching the world change through his television. Watching the empty picture frames that had haunted him for so many of those years. The empty picture frames were his curse. He refused to leave them for long, cataloging them, observing them, waiting for them to move. Even now they called back to him, but only two remained.

As young Helene turned again to leave her face softened into to a look of regret. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. My grandmother never spoke poorly of you. She was… the only one.” She quickly fled down the steps, looking back only when she got to her car. She paused briefly as he stared, in his mind seeing his Helene standing there saying goodbye for the last time, and then she started her car and drove away.

Garner looked down at the brown paper wrapped box. He didn’t want to open it. He debated taking it to the garbage at the end of the drive, but the empty picture frames called to him. The news of Helene’s illness made it all that more important he go back inside and wait in his study where they sat on his fireplace mantel. He had to watch them, he had to see.

The picture frames had appeared suddenly. He was sure he knew why, and he was sure it was his curse. Bill Trane had come to his house to fix the air conditioning. Bill had always been a bully in high school. It had been 10 years since then, but Garner never forgot. Bill had come at a time that only the gardener was there. Marsha, the house maid, was at the store and his butler, Paul was getting the car serviced.

Garner had led Bill to the maintenance shed where the A/C unit was located. Bill had said thank you and Garner had curtly said, “Just do the job and leave out the side gate.” He heard Bill mutter, “Sure thing hermit boy,” as he walked away. Garner had watched Bill work on the A/C through the window for an hour, all the memories of high school and the torment of people like Bill, whose father owned a large air conditioning franchise, aimed at him for being poor and wearing out of style clothes from the thrift shop. In the height of his anger, he had walked into the breaker room and flipped the electricity to the air conditioner back on. He had heard a muffled series of gargling sounds and could smell the horrid stench of burning human flesh. Then the breaker tripped, and the sounds ended.

Garner had gone back to his study that day and pretended nothing happened. Paul had found the body and called the Police. They had immediately passed off the death as a workplace accident. The only person that had ever questioned it was Bill’s father, but he had gone away reluctantly when the Police dismissed his theory that his son would never make that kind of mistake.

The day after Bill died Garner entered his study to find the fireplace mantel covered in empty picture frames. Every single available space was used to contain them. Each one was different, not two the same. He had gotten angry and demanded an answer from Paul and Marsha. They denied knowing anything about it. He made them throw the frames away but the next day they were back. He fired Paul and Marsha that day, convinced they were lying, but not before he made them take the picture frames to the trash as he watched. The next day the frames all returned.

A few months after the frames appeared Garner was sitting quietly in his study when one frame began to shimmy and shake on the mantle. It made a little scraping sound as it slid off the edge. Garner turned to see it just as it was falling, and in its glass he saw a reflection of an image, but he could not make it out. It had crashed to the ground and shattered. He had cleaned it up immediately, crying in sobs the entire time for no reason. The frames had all pushed themselves off the mantel, one by one, over the years, until now when there were only two. Each time as Garner cleaned the mess he cried, but he wasn’t sure why at first. It wasn’t until one day that he read in the paper about Melaine Fletcher dying in a tragic accident that he began to understand. The day before the article came out a frame had dropped and broken. It was green, just like the dress Melaine wore in her best yearbook picture, the one that she wore when she had told Garner that he was a great guy, and that anyone he loved would be so lucky. Garner liked Melaine, but she was no Helene, and he had literally waited his whole life to be with her, so he just smiled and pretended he didn’t realize she was speaking about herself. After Melaine, Garner searched the obituaries for a week after a frame dropped. Every time it was someone from his past. Every time he remembered a kind word they had said.

Garner entered the study with the box and carefully ran his letter opener across the tape. The tape was brown like the paper, and old and peeling in places, so it just caught on the letter opener and fell off in one piece. He opened the box and saw inside a conch shell. It was the same conch shell he had found on the beach weeks before Helene had gotten into that Mercedes. He had given it to her as a gift, and he had suspected all these years that was what was in the box, but he didn’t want to know for sure. He picked it up and it fell into two halves, and a small, yellowed piece of paper fell out of one side and floated to the ground. Garner picked up the small paper and saw that it was a note, written in pretty, cursive loops. It read,

~I will always love you, -Helene~

Garner plopped down into his chair and stared at the mantel place. The two empty picture frames remaining were dangerously close to the edge. He stood and went to the door, thought for a moment, and hailed a cab to the hospital.

Helene was as beautiful as he remembered her. She had aged with him, but she had aged with happiness. He sat with her for days, talking ang laughing about old times, until one day she was silent. He kissed her on the lips, and he placed half of the shell in her bed before he left.

When Garner got home he rushed into the study to inspect the mantel. On it were two frames. In those frames were two pictures, both smiling. He saw his own face in one, and the other was Helene, radiant as ever.