The Woman With Her

Reagan, Oct 6th 1960

Reagan, Oct 6th 1961

Reagan, Oct 6th 1962

Reagan, Oct 6th 1963

The photos went on and on, one taken every year on Grandma Beth's birthday, from the day she turned 20 all the way until her final 81st birthday. In the last photo, Allison could easily recognize her, those deep wrinkles around the eyes that showed a trace of every smile she had looked pretty with and the snow white hair Grandma had refused to dye from the very start,

"This is who I am honey. Grey hair, dentures and crackin old bones. If I don't like all that 'bout me, who will?". That's who Grandma Beth was, she knew exactly who she was, and she never denied it. When Grandma died, Allison was close enough to her to guess exactly what Grandma would've told her had they met on the day of her funeral. "I died honey. I lived a gorgeous life, and now I gotta go. That's okay, that ain't no problem. And you can cry, that's okay too honey. But you gotta move an alright? If you don't move on honey, then I ain't ever gonna be able to". So Allison cried, she sobbed, but slowly she started moving on.

7 months later she had come back to the nursing home where Grandma Beth had happily lived out her final days to collect everything she had left behind there. It was in the first drawer, the one Allison had supposed was closest to her Grandma's reach that the photos were stacked, oldest at the top, the most recent at the bottom, by the right hand corner. The nurse said that the drawer was locked by Grandma all the way till the end, apparently she had wanted the Home to give Allison the key when she came by.

The writing on the back was a familiar curvy looping handwriting that she knew very well was Grandma Beth's. Over the years, as the photos turned from black and white to color and then to HD photos, the writing on the back became neater and neater, and her Grandma in the photos grew older and older.

Allison wondered the happenings behind the second where the photos were clicked, in some, mostly her early 20s, she was laughing or grinning, her clothes were a little tomboyish and her face radiated a freshness Allison doubted her own would ever exhibit after her own 20th birthday coming in this year. In her 30s photos, she looked rather shy, like someone had just flirted with her. Someone could have, Allison supposed, she was beautiful. In her late 30s Grandma Beth was sporting her wedding ring. Around her 37th birthday she heavily pregnant, but still smiling, still beautiful. In her 40s, there were a number of photos where Grandma looked like she was telling someone off, but even there she looked lovely. There was only one photo, somewhere in her where 60s where she looked a bit teary, it was the only photo where she looked a bit sad.

Yes, Grandma Beth had definitely lived a gorgeous life. Perhaps not all of it was happy, but it was gorgeous nevertheless. It was wonderful to watch her grow up, but what was truly strange was how the woman next to her didn't seem to.

Even at first sight it was obvious that the woman was well put together. She looked like she had walked out of a fashion shoot, she seemed to be about 27, she seemed 27 when Grandma Beth looked 20, and she still seemed 27 when Grandma was 81.

The exact same pretty face, the exact same eye drawing body, and that aura of her's emanating in every picture. Like she could slow dance with someone and later stab them. She didn't have a single wrinkle even as Grandma Beth turned older. The same smile in every picture. Like there were a million secrets she could whisper, should she want to.

The woman, Allison guessed, was Reagan.

And yet despite all that, despite all her fierceness, she looked soft around her eyes. There was a kind sparkle in the way she glanced at the camera. Almost like she was going to ask someone if they were alright. Unlike her Grandma, Reagan looked a bit sad in more than a few of the shots. In one or two, there were tears on the verge of dripping down her cheeks. To Allison, Reagan appeared to be a person with a lot of stories to tell. Allison couldn't help but wonder what they were.

How curious, who was Reagan? did she truly not age? How did she know Grandma? Was she still around here somewhere?

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The woman's heels clicked on the floor as she walked down The Blue Valley Nursing Home's corridor. The nurse on the front desk had already directed her towards her old friend's room where her granddaughter was apparently packing her things up.

Another friend lost, another person who truly understood her gone. How many? How many more will she have to lose? how many more times would she have to have her heart break from the pain of always, always being the one left behind for this to stop? For this nightmare to end? Boon? what a joke, this was a curse.

She rounded around the corner and came to a standstill in front of room number 10, Bethany's room. Would her granddaughter have found their photos? Her old friend had often talked about the girl. Beth claimed her to be a sharp person. The woman hoped she was smart enough not to create a fuss. But though she strained her ears she couldn't hear anything from beyond the door. No screams, no gasps, just a silent rustling of thin card stock paper.

So the girl was sensible enough.

The woman didn't expect a comradeship much less a friendship with the girl like the one she had with Bethany. She just wanted this girl to keep those photos safe without leaking it anywhere.

She swung the door open.

The girl looked up.

"Hello there, you must be Bethany's granddaughter. I'm Reagan, a friend of hers. Nice to meet you". 'Yes,' Reagan thought, 'cool and upright'.

"Oh, Hi, I'm Allison. Its wonderful to meet you. You must be the woman in the photographs." Reagan felt her eyebrows quirk at this twit of a girl's easy answer. "You look beautiful, just like in the pictures."

She blinked, a memory of a summer night coming to her so very clearly, where another twit of a girl looking so very similar to this one had said something very similar to her.

Reagan couldn't help but let out a choked laugh, "Well, You're certainly Bethany's granddaughter."

"Thank you" the girl, no, Allison said "that means a lot to me, especially coming from someone who is such an old friend of hers."

"I believe you have a few questions you might want to ask me" she said as she walked up to the red loveseat opposite to the bed where Allison was seated. Her stride casual, and yet elegant, almost like she was floating, an art of walking she had learned in a bygone era.

"Yes, I believe I do. First off, who are you?"

Reagan smiled.