Watercolor

Before the journey’s start, Julia gathered those items most necessary for her survival: a waterproof Crayola chalk set, some barrettes, a tatty pink bathrobe, and a plushie dog. This was typical of every other day she spent on land and nothing could stop it from continuing on the water.

The boat was small, only slightly longer than her bed, and had a thin, uneven bottom despite all appearances. A hole had formed sometime since she’d set out and it was impossible to say whether or not it had always been there.

In any case, the SS Julia was taking on water.

The old woman giggled to herself. "That one, I like that one. He’s gonna have a little—shiny blew." She gestured with her fingers curled back, next to her cheeks, and made a cooing shape with her lips. She smiled. It was never to no one that she talked. Her family was always on her mind, old friends, and her dead husband.

Every few minutes or so, she’d talk to one of these, who was not there.

On the floor of the boat, at her feet, a chalk drawing of a misshapen animal face seemed to be resting on a pile of leaves. The eyes had zig zags across them, as though a mandala artist had briefly considered adding intricate patterns to an otherwise simple pet cat, but then thought better of it. The result was one that resembled neither intricacy nor cat.

Julia loved to draw. She called it ‘painting,’ a long-remembered insecurity wrapped up in a fading skill. On land, her walls had been full of numerous watercolors, all her own, painted with regularity since she turned 60.

“I sold that one,” she said years ago, pointing to a striking canvas of deep blue sky and the tip of a sailboat’s sail. “Prep—p-pey—peppers. She loved mine.” She had always been very proud of the pepper watercolor and the fact that she’d sold it. A true artist. The biggest compliment anyone could pay her, yet she forgot it as soon as she’d smiled at it.

River gurgled through the hole. A couple inches of water was clearly visible on the boat’s floor, and while it wasn’t by definition a pressing problem, it continued to grow, quietly and marginally by the quarter-hour. The chalk drawing began to look less like color and more like water, but Julia just smiled at the picture with a disconnected sense of pride.

No winds pushed her onward. The day was serene. Invisible currents kept her moving. The water itself, while clear in the hand, had decided to obscure its body and bed. It raised a hazy blue light to the darkened sky, and dissolved toward the horizon into its own existence as a creek, pond, sea, and ocean, all at once. Shorelines loomed and never existed. Other boats passed, some sank, and still others skimmed along the underside of the water as though inverted. These were reflected in the sky above.

Julia saw none of this.

"Did I already show you?" she asked of the plush golden retriever, who stared slightly off center from the old woman’s face. "This was yesterday—some time again—" She pointed to the prow. "He’s saying 'Look at me, I’m gonna die—fly!’ Isn’t it sweet?”

She giggled again, and sighed, folding her hands in her lap.

The hole let in more and more water. It soaked Julia’s white slippers but she didn’t complain. She knew, somewhere, that to leave the boat would be to commit a deadly act. She’d always listened to her daughters when they took care of her, told her where to go and when to do what. She’d not fought on such big things. No, the fight in her had been directed elsewhere, to things like ice cream sandwiches, permed hair, and nails being cut in a certain way.

After a time, a light-colored speck appeared in the sky, between the apparition of an inverted ship and the prow of the little boat. By the second, the speck grew and grew until a large, white bird took form.

“You don’t…You…” said Julia, squinting at it. Creases formed on her forehead. “You should–don’t—I don’t like you!”

The bird was close enough for her to hear his wings cut the air. He was gliding directly toward the slowly sinking boat.

“Go away! Go away!” called Julia. Her voice had risen in fleeting confidence. “Go!” She gestured awkwardly. Then she stood up, wobbly. One foot shuffled forward and collapsed on bended knee.

“Ow.”

The boat rocked and the floodwaters rippled, cloudy as the mind that now rested, drenched in a soup of her own chalky creation. Yet as soon as it had started, the little boat grew still. The bird had landed on the prow.

He was white and had smooth, porcelain-like eyes and a long, orange beak. His dark gray wings, outstretched, were nearly twelve feet wide. He folded them neatly behind him and eyed the hole in the boat. Julia hunched above it, panting. Her drawing, crafted from waterproof chalk, had nearly faded, and the animal’s zig-zagged eyes stared back up at her.

What caused that, dear? asked the bird.

Julia glared across the length of the little boat. “Pissy,” she said. “Off!”

No, not the fall. I saw it with my own eyes. The hole, dear, the hole.

“Hail,” said Julia, scrunching up her eyebrows. “Hall…hole.” She pointed to her feet. “I’m freezing.”

The bird alighted, grabbed Julia, and carried her back to her seat. She gasped shortly, hands up around her chin. “Wha–!”

He peered at the perforated floor. This is quite ancient.

“What’s your name?” asked Julia.

Whatever you like. I call myself Albatross.

She grunted.

Dear, I can’t plug the hole for you. Didn’t you notice how your knee didn’t pause the flood? See, the problem isn’t that the hole is in the boat, per se… But it can’t be fixed and that’s all there is to it.

Julia looked, bewildered, at Albatross.

It’s quite alright. I’ll just be your company until the next part. There’s no escaping it, you know, much as I’d like to promise you a reversal.

The old woman picked up her plushie dog and cuddled him close. She still eyed Albatross as though he’d ruined a perfectly pleasant outing. Something about him reminded her of somebody… But it was no use.

Sailboats. I love the look of sailboats from on high. Albatross looked at her expectantly.

“My…guy,” she said. She pointed to her left hand, the fourth finger. “You know? Windjammer. We went one times! Three–t-tames… Well…” Julia gestured helplessly at the water.

The water is so clear. I see many people sailing down there, looking up at us. Can you see them too? Albatross' eyes gleamed at the cloudy expanse of the river.

Creek. Pond, sea, and ocean. All at once.

Julia couldn’t see past the ripples. If she could, perhaps she’d marvel at the beauty. But beauty was a forgotten sense now, something she could only access in the form of cute baby animals.

“You and the tall one,” she said, completely serious. “You are my favorites.”

Albatross patrolled the boat for a while, in and out of the flooded vessel and the expanse around it. He spoke of sailing and the gulls, the fish down below, and so many other wonderful things. Julia just stared out, rarely tracking the large bird with her eyes.

After a time, he hopped off the side of the boat and back into it, splashing as he went. The flood was long beyond the point of retrieval. Only a couple inches of the wooden vessel could be seen in the air. Albatross looked as though he was bobbing around in a bathtub.

Julia shivered. Her neck looked adorned with a thin choker necklace.

I’ll stay with you, dear, said Albatross. He moved closer to her head and rested on top of a wispy halo wreathed in barrettes.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes. Just a few minutes. Nearer now to the opaque water, the drowning passengers could do little else save look up. The apparitions in the sky began to swirl more fervently and with more light. The river had opened up, and the air hummed in reply. Gold, magenta, glitter.

The river was letting Julia see.

“Oh!” she said, and turned to the glow around her. Boats of all kinds sailed past, inverted so that she saw the bottoms first and people last. They smiled up at her, some waving. Some she reached out to touch, those she recognized. Her unborn grandson, her parents, her childhood best friend. They seemed elated to see her face and the light in her eye, something, she suspected, that had been missing for quite some time. As she looked closer, she could see a land beyond, one of black and white puppies and songbirds, trees, spring. It smelled like the coast of the Caribbean; a smell she could remember.

Albatross moved back a touch, looking at her out the side of his porcelain eye. Hello, dear.

She broke into a girlish grin, one she hadn’t remembered since before her husband had that stroke. She grinned at Albatross and pecked a kiss to his beak.

“I love you,” she said.

Yes, said Albatross softly. You do.

"I don't know how you're here," she said.

Magic. Where do you think all your tears for me went?

"But I wanted you again. So many days..." Her eyes blurred over, mist.

I couldn't have come sooner. You know that.

She nodded. She turned away, back out to the river.

Creek, pond, sea. Ocean. All at once.

Above them, the sky had turned deep blue, a shade darker than her painting of the sail. Swaths of purple slow-rolled against fluffy clouds, and outlines of boats, dinghies, sailboats, and ships rose and fell beside. Red and green auroras mixed their way throughout.

But, turned to the side, Julia saw none of this.

Albatross braced himself, arching his wings back. He took flight, gently causing the boat to rock, an almost-cradle. He rose up and up, then began to circle the SS Julia, indistinguishable at such height from the river it once cut through. Julia looked into the crystalline waters, touching people who were not there, but were. The world of sunshine, warmth, and puppies.

Her eyes spilled over.

Above, Albatross angled himself down and sped for the side of the boat. Had the old woman been looking, she might have noticed a bright gleam in his eye. A promise.

Crash!

The boat tipped over, a half-circle, submerging Julia and all her wordly possessions into a cold and shiny water.

I’ll stay with you, whispered the bird.