A Green Flash

No one in my family has ever met Dad's father. Jade only has one picture of him, weathered, worn, and in black and white. It's a picture of when she first met him, in Burbank, California. They both worked at an aircraft factory in WWII. She was a Rosie the Riveter of sorts, and he was an aircraft engineer. Some sort of chronic illness, Grandma Jade would say, the government wouldn't dare put him in combat. He flew into her life like a storm at sea, and left just as quick. But he knew her long enough to father my dad.

Jade took his last name, as a sort of token, and took to wearing a ring he gave her on her left hand. She would never say if he married her, and we never found any wedding photos. Grandma didn't seem to mind, as she never sought out anyone else.

Grandma Jade never strayed too far from the coast. Sure, we could coax her away, closer to family, for a few years, but within a decade she'd be back by the ocean. She could get by in any coastal town, but she preferred ports, no matter what size. Jade even moved from Santa Monica, saying it was too expensive, but she just moved up the coast  town by town, until she found Coos Bay. Less crowded, she said.

She'd spend nearly day at the beach, or on the docks. We knew not to check her house when we came to visit. Instead we combed the coastline until we found her.Every so often we'd see her gaze at the waves longingly, as if she was looking for someone. Our visits usually ended up being sandy picnics, crabbing, fishing, but Jade never took us shopping at the tourist traps. "I'd never find anything worth paying for." She would say when asked.

Over the years the family visited less and less, until Grandma got sick in the spring. At first, we took turns, dropping by each weekend to check up on her, or if we could, we'd take days off work and school. Then summer hit, and Grandma Jade still hadn't healed. Even then she refused to go to the hospital. So I packed a suitcase and moved to her place for however long it took.

We spent nearly all our time at the beach, only going home at night. No matter how late it was, we could always find our way home. Long after everyone had turned off their lights and went to bed, her house always had one light on. I knew she had a window facing the water in her bedroom. The candle that sat on her window sill never went out. Fishermen would always joke that they could see the light from the ocean.

Then she got too sick to go outside. I did everything I could, from opening the windows to let the draft in, to bringing her seashells I found every morning at the shore. Grandma Jade would smile at me tiredly, then toy with the seashell as if she wanted something else.

It took three days of her favorite meal (salmon on mash potatoes) to get the truth out of her.

"I don't think I'm going to make it, hon' " Jade glanced up at me, as young as ever.

I helped her bring another bite to her lips."Oh, don't say that Grandma. You'll be fine. You're a toughie."

"I'm sorry hon.'" She chewed it thoughtfully, then glanced up at me, her eyes sparkling like streams in the sunlight. "You want to know a secret?"

"Sure." Wondering what on earth Grandma Jade had left to tell.

"Set that fork down and open that drawer next to you. Yeah, that one. The picture should be underneath all those scarves."

I pulled it and held up for both our eyes. It was the picture of Grandpa Jones, the only picture she had.

"Did you know Grandpa knew more than just planes?"

I set her plate aside. She never never had an appetite when she had a story to tell.

"He also liked ships. Big ones. Historic ones."

"You mean, sailing?"

Jade smiled, seeming younger already. "Yeah. He loved to go and rescue men lost at sea." She sighed wistfully.

"Like the coast guard?"

She frowned slightly, as if I was missing something important. "Sort of, except none of them ever wanted to come back. So they would join his crew."

"Wait, he was a captain?"

Jade smiled again, proud. "One of the best. No one could ever catch him."

"But he left you years ago, right? Soon after the war?"

She spoke softer, squeezing my hand weakly. "He came back once every ten years."

My eyes widened farther than the portholes in her kitchen. "Wait...Grandpa Jones is--"

Jade whispered fiercely, grinning. "Davy Jones." She thumbed my hand. "Just between us though, alright?"

I nodded. "So...you're going to meet him."

"Oh, I suppose I'll go and join his crew." She uttered softly.

"And you're not coming back." I swallowed.

"Just promise you'll bury me at sea."

"Of course, Grandma, of course."