That Other Place
by Beth Mathison

Nathan slipped the photograph out of the envelope, holding it carefully by the edges. Cupping it in his hands, he set it on the desk.

It was stupid, he thought. Stupid to be so reverent towards a piece of paper. But there it was. Nothing else mattered on his desk – the bills, the checks, the random bits of flotsam that now made up his life.

Centering the photo in the middle of his desk with his fingertips, Nathan leaned in.

It was as if he could reach out and touch them. His memories were so strong of that day at the beach, Marie laughing at Dylan, who was holding up a wriggling crab with his two little fingers.

Nathan knew, somewhere deep within himself that he could make as if a reality if he tried hard enough. He searched the photo, seeking out new details. The ocean swell just breaking behind them. A sunspot high in the right hand corner. A dark half-moon in the left hand corner, which he thought to be his own thumb in front of the lens. A lock of hair falling in front of Marie’s eyes.

She hated that, he remembered. She had an arsenal of clips and things to keep her bangs out of her face. Nathan had tried to see what clip she had on that day, but all he could see was the blond tilt of her head, the one golden lock of hair escaping its confines.

There were other pictures in the drawer. Each in a separate envelope, so not to risk the chance of sticking together. But this photograph was his favorite. It was the photo that made as if so much more was possible than the others.

Nathan lost track of time, absorbed in that other place.

After a time, the light low in the window, he carefully picked up the photograph and placed it gingerly back in its envelope, then in the drawer. That was always the hardest part, putting it away in its dark confined space. He knew that’s where it belonged. It was just the nature of things, whether he liked it or not.

He would join them, at some unknown point in his future. He was sure of it. The two of them had moved on to a new place, and waited for him there. The desk drawer made a rasping sound as he closed it, cutting off the sweet laughter and warmth from the beach. But, as always, leaving him with an image of the sun, high and bright in the summer sky. Two faces smiling at him from that other place.