The Mandela Effect

Ch. 14

 "I don't understand it," Jon says a few minutes later,.

He's sitting on his grandmother's couch in the living room. He's still staring at the picture in the white porcelain frame. His grandmother is standing across the room, in the kitchen, sipping from a second cup of tea.

"Well, imagine how I feel," she says, "I've had that picture for who knows how long. I thought you had forgotten about home, forgotten to send me pictures of a house and kids, of a whole life. There was just that one picture."

Jon looks up at her, "Of course not, Ugogo," he says, "just not much to take pictures of. My classrooms full of students? My offices? My ever bigger apartments?"

"Any pictures would be nice," his grandmother clucks, "I could only imagine what you look like as a man."

"I'll try to be better at sending pictures," Jon says, "I'll send them to Uncle and he can print them out for you."

"It's not a guilt trip, Jongikaya," his grandmother laughs, "I'm just saying."

Jon goes back to the picture. His grandmother sips her tea.

"It's strange," his grandmother finally says.

"You aren't kidding," Jon chuckles.

"Not just that," she corrects him, "I can't explain the picture but beyond that."

Jon looks up at her again.

"What's strange is to imagine," his grandmother continues.

"Imagine what?" Jon asks.

"Imagine that," she says, gesturing at the picture, "a whole different life."

"What do you mean?" Jon asks confused.

"Well," his grandmother continues, "I've lived a very full life. I like to think I have no regrets."

Jon smiles at her.

"But," his grandmother turns and looks into the distance at nothing, "I do have a few 'what ifs'. What if I had gone there or done that. How would things have been different."

Jon looks back at the picture. His grandmother turns to him.

"If you didn't take that picture," she continues, "if you were never married, then that is a picture of a whole different life. A version of you that was married, that maybe had children and a house. A version of you that lived entirely differently than you actually have. The end result of a 'what if'."

"Not exactly," Jon says.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"It wasn't a choice," Jon says, rubbing the picture with his thumb, "the decision was made for me. She was taken from me."

"Just the same," his grandmother says.

Another silence falls over the room. Jon seems to remember that he is on a schedule and looks at his watch.

"You can take the picture if you want," his grandmother finally says.

"That's alright Ugogo," Jon says pulling out his phone "I don't want to take your picture."

Jon opens up his phone's camera application. He snaps a few pictures from a few different angles.

His grandmother laughs, "I always forget about your smart phones and internets."

Jon flips through the pictures he's taken to assure he has a few good ones. He stops and looks back at the picture frame.

"Can I take this picture out for a second?" Jon asks his grandmother.

"Of course," she smilsd.

Jon puts his phone on the couch beside him and turns over the picture frame. Popping out the locks on the back, he pulls off the backing, releasing it from the glass front and frame. He pops the back off and turns it back over. Years of being pressed between the glass and the backing left the polaroid stuck to the cardboard.

Jon places the porcelain frame on the couch next to his phone and examines the picture closer. He pics up his phone to snap a few more pictures, now unencumbered by the glass fronting and decorative frame. He puts the phone back down and gently pulls the polaroid away from the backing.

He turns it over and finds some writing on the back.

'Jon and Lucy – 23 July 1996'

The writing is familiar. Vague memories pull at him. He remembers a thousand hand written notes, meaningless when they were written, but that he saved in a box for years and years. He remembered post it notes, stuck up on the mirror in the morning as reminders, and even checks for bills each month. The handwriting is Lucy's.

"I thought it would be back luck for you," his grandmother says, "not like this of course."

"Bad luck?" Jon asks.

"Yea," his grandmother insists, "to be married on the 23rd of July."

Jon doesn't understand.

"23rd of July?" his grandmother says, "of 1996?"

Jon still doesn't get it.

"The fifth anniversary!" his grandmother exclaims.

Jon just stares at her. Now, his grandmother seems to be getting angry.

"I know you have been away for a long time, but I would think that you'd still remember Madiba," his grandmother gasps.

"Mandela?" Jon chuckles, "of course I remember him. But what anniversary?"

Jon's grandmother holds her hand over her heart.

"Jongikaya," she says, "how can you not remember the day that Tata died!?"

"Wait," Jon interjects, "the five year anniversary? So 1991?"

"Yes," his grandmother says, "that's right."

"Ugogo," Jon corrects her, "Madiba died in 2013."

"2013?" she asks, "No, no that can't be right. I moved into the city in 2010. He'd been long dead since then."

Jon is confused but he doesn't try to correct her further. Instead, he takes some pictures of the back of the polaroid and puts the frame back together. Once its back in one piece, he checks his watch.

"Oh, Ugogo," he says, "I'm running late. I need to go."

"Alright, Jon," his grandmother smiles, "I wish we had more time."

Jon stands, with the frame in his hand, and crosses over to her. He places the frame on the counter next to the cup and saucer. He wraps his arms around his grandmother.

"Promise me you'll come back and visit again soon," she says into his shoulder.

"I promise you I will," Jon says.

"Seriously," she says looking up at him, "I may not have much time left. I want to see you back here."

"I said I promise I will," Jon chuckles.

"Alright," his grandmother pats him on the arm, "we'll see."

"And, I promise I'll send some pictures," Jon says, "of America, of Chicago, and of me."

"That would be nice," his grandmother smiles.

Jon tries to check his watch again without his grandmother noticing, but she does.

"Go already!" his grandmother chuckles.

Jon gives her another hug and moves towards the door.

"I love you Jongikhaya," his grandmother calls to him.

Jon reaches for the handle, turning it and opening the door before turning back to her.

"I love you too, Ugogo," Jon says before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.