John opened the camera app on his phone and held the camera up to his face. He pressed something that he thought would flip the camera to selfie mode, but that didn’t work. He hissed. He tried another button, and his face appeared on the screen. He was taken aback. He didn’t recognise the person looking back at him. Was he always this pale? And why did his camera have all these settings? What happened to just point-and-shoot? He sighed.

Finally, he propped the phone up, hit record and sat in front of it. His eyes widened as he saw himself on the screen. Something felt off. He opened his mouth, but no words would come out. His breathing became laboured. The lighting, of course. He’d heard people talk about it and how it was always better to face the sun when recording a video. Or, wait, was it away from the sun? A quick Google search revealed that it’s better to have the sun behind you or to the side when taking a picture or recording a video. Alright, that’s settled then. He adjusted so that the sun was coming in from the window at his side, took a deep breath, and sat in front of the camera.

He tried to smile as he saw himself on the screen again, and it was almost convincing. “Hey, babe. What’s up?… No, that’s stupid. Umm… Hi, babe. You’re looking lovely today,” he chuckled, “No, that’s not– I can’t say that. God, this is hard,” he started coughing. He tried to settle back, but there it was again – the laboured breathing, his chest feeling too heavy – and the words wouldn’t come out again. He looked at his image on the screen. The background. He looked at the shelf of books behind him. It’s usually better to have a clear background, right? Yeah, that’s what they usually do in the studios. He stood up again and stopped the recording. He knew there wasn’t a clear wall in the house, but he searched anyway. Then, he dragged himself to the sitting room where only one wall was bare, except for the pictures hanging on it.

As he looked at the pictures, his breath caught. He looked different in them, like someone who had breath to spare. He remembered the day they were taken. The only way John ever agreed to do a photoshoot was if she was with him. Even if she wasn’t going to feature in the photos – like his thirtieth birthday shoot – she still had to be present. But it was still a struggle, and that day, even though they had paid for the shoot to celebrate their second anniversary, John had decided to drag his feet that morning. He didn’t see the difference between just taking a selfie with her phone and them having to dress in different outfits in someone else’s studio to be charged an exorbitant amount. They had fought that morning, but you couldn’t see it in the way they smiled. And it wasn’t fake. It was one of the reasons he married her. No matter how mad they were, they could always find a reason to smile in each other’s presence. As he looked at them together, he started to smile, but it was interrupted by a cough so fierce that it shook his abdomen.

He snatched his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to plug his mouth as the coughing continued. His body wracked violently with each cough until he was on the floor. When it relented, he looked at the new red stain in stark contrast to the white of the handkerchief. He really needed to stop procrastinating and buy those red handkerchiefs. There were a lot of things he needed to stop procrastinating about. He looked at the time on his phone, and he knew his window was closing, so he dragged himself up. The wall with their pictures would have to do. She might even enjoy that little detail. He propped up the camera and hit record. “Okay, yeah, third time’s the charm.” He backed up, facing the camera and settled in front of it. He saw the pictures in the background and smiled.

“Hey, babe. How are you doing? Uhm… I thought about the different ways that I could’ve done this. At first, I thought maybe I’d write a letter, but I remembered you saying I write like a chicken,” he chuckled, “then I thought about typing the letter and printing it out, but that just felt too impersonal. I thought about recording a voice note, but… You always said you wish I would take more pictures and use my camera more in general. According to you, I have a face that’s too beautiful not to be captured at least once every day,” he swallows the tears that threaten to escape. “If you’re watching this, then I… I’m already, uhm…” he looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “You already know that… I don’t know what I’ll look like in the last moments, so I thought I’d record this so that version of me, however he looks, isn’t the last memory you have. I want you to remember me like this… maybe it will make it easier,” he smiles again.

“I’m not sure exactly when you’ll get this. According to the timeline the doctors gave us, I just have one month left, and I can feel it coming. So maybe I’ll schedule this to get to you two months from now.” The life in his face drained away, and he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He wiped his eyes. “The time just keeps flying by, and the reality of it is starting to dawn on me. If I’m being honest, all this while, I’ve been confused at how hard you’ve taken this situation. From that day in the doctor’s office when you lost your cool and changed it for the doctor. It seemed you’ve taken it a lot harder than I have, even though it’s me who’s dying,” he chuckled again, but it turned into a cough that seized him again, shaking his entire body. He blocked it with the handkerchief, which only caused the red stain to get bigger. He squeezed the handkerchief and continued.

“I realised something, though. I may be the one who’s leaving, but you’re the one who has to live without me. Then I started imagining how it would be if the roles were reversed – what life without you would be like for me. What would it be like to wake up and not have you be the first thing I see, or to call you or text you and, just… silence…” he swallowed. “I tried imagining how I would feel, and I felt a lot of different things… but above all else, it was just anger. Like, why would you leave me?  I understand now why you lash out at me when I make jokes at the hospital, or when I say I don’t feel like taking my drugs. I understand why you think I’m just letting my life slip away… why you think I’m not fighting,” he coughed again.

“The truth is that… You were right. I never wanted to admit it, but that day, in the doctor’s office, there was a part of me that felt… relieved. I just wanted it to be over. It just hurt so much. So much! And when he said that I had six months left, I knew that, in six months, it would be over. I would be free, and, in a way, so would you. I thought I was selfless to think that, but I know now how stupid that is.”

“I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise to grow old with you. If I could do things differently, I would. If I’d known, maybe I wouldn’t have talked to you at that party. I wouldn’t have asked for your number. Although I don’t know if I’d have the strength not to do it, knowing that the years that would follow that act would be, by far, the best years of my life,” he smiles, but only for a second. “Who knows, though? Maybe I could convince myself not to, so that I can spare you from this pain…” he put his head in his hands and sniffled.

He looked at the pictures. It had been a while since he had seen her smile like that. “I know I’ve told you before, but you still have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I love you so much, Lilian, and I hope you get to move on and still live a full life. Maybe even remarry. Anybody but Jide, sha,” he gave the camera his most serious expression. “I never liked that guy… I just hope you get to smile like that again.”

He heard the gate open. Time was up. Then he went to pick up the camera. “I have to go now, babe,” he managed a smile. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Luis Valdez on Unsplash