It was a Thursday when they said goodbye.
Merida felt her body being shaken roughly. The sleep had been futile; her head was throbbing even more painfully than before. She forced her eyes to open and saw a blurry outline of Elsa. When her vision cleared, the frightened look on her daughter's face slowly registered in her mind. A sense of panic washed over her.
"Mom, something happened," Elsa mumbled. "We have to go. We have to get to the hospital."
"What are you talking about?" Merida asked, still trying to make sense of what was happening.
Elsa breathed one word—"Dad."
They received a phone call just a few minutes before, Elsa would later explain, but Merida was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to understand everything. She and Jack were supposed to meet up with a client that day, but she was suffering from a terrible headache. Though reluctant to leave his sick wife, Jack opted to go the meeting on Merida's insistence. However, just before he was about to leave, the client decided to postpone it.
"Why?" Merida had asked when Jack told her.
He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Says he has a few things to take care of. Personally, I don't mind. I know I have my own wife to take care of." Jack then jumped on the bed, suit and all, before gathering a peeved Merida in his arms.
"Jack! You're making my headache worse," she exclaimed.
"Don't worry. I'll fix it for you, too," he said and kisses her temple.
"I don't understand. The meeting was cancelled," Merida thought aloud as they were nearing the hospital.
It was Anna who answered. "After you fell asleep, Dad said Mr. Macintosh called again. It turned out that he would be even busier tomorrow and decided to meet up with Dad today again. He left just a few hours ago," she explained, trying her best to remember despite her increasing panic.
Once they reached the hospital, Merida and her daughters rushed to where the woman at the front desk said Jack was. Their feet led them to the third floor—where the intensive care unit was located.
Having been there only a few months before, Merida did not have much trouble finding the way. She buzzed the intercom, and indicated her identity.
"I'm here for my husband, Jack Overland," she added.
Fortunately, they waited only a second before the doors were opened, leading them to a wide corridor with another set of double doors. Merida cleaned her hands with the provided sanitizing gel and instructed Elsa and Anna to do the same before they proceeded to the main unit. Since they did not know for sure where Jack was, Merida went to the nurses' station. He was in the fifth bed space.
When they arrived there, a doctor and two nurses greeted them. Merida moved to get a better look at Jack; her heart immediately sunk at the sight of him. The top of his head was wrapped in bandages. Scrapes and bruises were distributed at different parts of his flesh. A large tube was dangling from his mouth, connected to a large machine. Despite his physical injuries, he seemed fine. Almost sleeping. But he was in the ICU, and Merida knew that being there never meant well.
"Are you a relative of Mr. Overland?" the doctor asked.
"He's my husband," Merida answered. All she wanted was to go to Jack's side and hold his hand. But first, she had to know what exactly happened.
"Mr. Overland lost control over his car when it skidded on an icy road," he began. "He hit his head badly. We've done some tests on him. I'm sorry."
There was a loud ringing in Merida's ears. No. He could not have said it. "I'm sorry" was only meant to be said when the patient was dead. Jack was alive. He was breathing for heaven's sake! And when Merida came closer, he was warm to the touch. He could not have been dead. But then, the doctor repeated the cursed words, and she finally caught fragments of his speech.
No responses.
Apnea testing.
Lack of oxygen.
Brain dead.
Merida felt the floor crumble beneath her feet as the world fell apart.
Jack had been declared brain dead for a week, but every day since the accident, Merida sat by his bedside, her hand entwined in his. Merida's gaze was fixed at his chest, slowly rising and falling. She laughed bitterly—it seemed like a cruel joke. He was breathing, yet he was dead. Jack was always one to make jokes.
But never that cruel.
"Jack, for goodness' sake, wake up already, will you?" she muttered for the hundredth time that day alone, shaking him softly.
"Merida," she heard someone say. She tore her gaze away from Jack to see her father standing at the opposite side of the bed.
"No, Dad. I already know what you're going to say," Merida said tiredly. "I can't do it. Not yet. Elsa and Anna need their father. And you'll see; he's going to wake up."
Fergus tried a different approach. "I only wanted to know if you'd like to come home. I know your children need their mother as much as they need their father."
Merida glanced at Jack. "What if he wakes up?" she asked.
"Then the doctor will let us know," he answered, not having the heart to tell his daughter that it was highly unlikely.
Merida kissed her husband's forehead and caressed his hair lovingly before joining her father. She did not want to leave Jack behind, but Fergus was right; her daughters needed her.
Elsa and Anna embraced their mother when she and their grandfather came home. The past week had not been easy for either of them, too, and Merida's absence made things harder. Nevertheless, the siblings were able to pull themselves together for the sake of their mother. They let her rest while they prepared her dinner.
After taking a long warm bath, Merida heard a knock on the door. It swung open, and Elsa and Anna brought in a tray of food. Merida managed a smile, grateful to have such caring children. They left her again to let her eat. She hardly touched the food, however, despite its mouthwatering smell. She was too busy eating her grief until it was enough to fill her.
When the girls returned to get the tray, Anna frowned at the still-filled plate. On the other hand, it was all Elsa needed to finally speak out what she had wanted to tell Merida.
"Mom, it's time," Elsa said softly.
"What?" Merida asked, looking at her.
Elsa bit her lip as she braved a step towards her mother. "Dad needs rest. It's okay Mom. We understand now."
"No," Merida said, and she repeated it over and over, each one louder than the first. She shook her head as she stood up from her perch on the bed. Her anger was rapidly building in her chest. "Don't you dare say that, Elsa Overland! You don't understand."
"No! I do. Anna and I both do. Dad's not going to wake up," she exclaimed.
"Elsa," Anna quietly cautioned, but her sister paid no heed to her.
"Even if we wait a thousand years, he's never going to wake up again," Elsa finished. Her voice was loud, and although she struggled to keep her tone respectful, her words whipped her mother harshly. Merida's anger spilled, and before she could control herself, she slapped Elsa on the face.
The exchange had been witnessed by Fergus who stood at the doorway, looking worriedly at one face to another. "Merida!" he scolded.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Elsa mumbled before quickly running out of the room. Anna paused, considering who she should go to, but ultimately followed Elsa to leave her mother and grandfather the privacy they needed.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I don't know what came over me," Merida said, burying her face in her hands as she sat back on the bed.
It was Fergus's first time helping Merida cope with a problem, and he was not in the least bit prepared for it. It had never been his job. Elinor made sure of that. How he wished she was there now.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to say this, Merida. But by keeping Jack on that life support, you're only making it harder for the both of you," he began.
Merida turned away from him. "No—"
"This is not about Anna and Elsa anymore. I know you know that. You have to let him go. You have to say goodbye."
"How?" Merida cried, whipping back to face her father. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she had not the strength left to fight them.
Fergus felt his mouth run dry.
How do you say goodbye to someone you love?
"It's not fair, dad!" Merida continued. "Mum got to say goodbye to you, to me. She was surrounded by everyone she loved when she died. Jack left without even saying goodbye to me!"
Merida did not wait for her father's reply and went out of the room. She needed desperately to be alone. Without thinking, she opened the nearest door and dragged herself inside. Merida fell on the velvet settee, and there she cried for a long time.
When there were no more tears left to shed, Merida sat up. She opened the lamp nearby and a fuzzy orange light chased away the darkness. This was her and Jack's study, where they would spend many hours of the day working. She had wanted an office of her own, afraid that Jack's presence would be a distraction to her. But he had convinced her that it was better if they were together. And as always, he had been right.
Merida wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling more alone than ever. She aimlessly scanned the entirety of the room—from the tall bookshelves to the wide oak desks positioned side by side. Her eyes fell on the small television in front of her. For the first time, she noticed something luminous at the edge of the table. Merida leaned forward and reached for the object. It was Anna's camcorder.
"What's this doing here?" she asked to no one in particular. Ever since Anna took filmmaking classes last summer, she had decided to pursue a career as a director. She had been asking for a camcorder for months before her parents gave in and bought it for her birthday just two weeks before.
Merida found wires connected from the camcorder to the television. She turned both on and pressed play.
"Hullo there. This is Anna Overland, and you're about to watch my very first documentary," Anna said, smiling at the camera before turning serious. "This is A Day in the Life of an Overland."
The scene changed, and the camera began moving through the hallway, then stopped in front of a blue door.
"This is Elsa's room. Let's see what she's up to," Merida heard Anna say before rapping her knuckles on the door with her special knock. A faint "Come in" was heard from the other side, and Anna made her way in.
Elsa was sitting on the bed, a book in her hand. She glanced up when Anna entered.
"What are you reading?" her little sister asked. Elsa raised the book so that its cover could be seen. The Great Gatsby was printed on it in big yellow letters.
"Do you plan on doing anything else today?"
Elsa shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the book. "Sorry Anna. Try bothering Dad. I hear he's finished it." And with that, she spared a second to wink at her sister.
The next scene showed Anna navigating the last steps of the stairs. She turned the camera, focusing it at her father who sat in front of the piano.
"Dad," Anna called in her singsong voice, saying the word as if it had two syllables. "What are you doing? A little bird told me that you finally finished the song."
Jack turned his head towards the camera, and Merida caught her breath. He smiled with his eyes. "As a matter of fact, I have, Fishface," he said.
"How long did it take you to make?"
He scrunched his nose as he looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. "Three years, give or take."
"Why did it take so long? You slacked off, didn't you?"
"Slacked off? Me? You try making your own composition. See how hard it is." Anna's laughter was heard in the background, and it blended musically with Jack's. Merida felt her heart breaking.
When he calmed down, Jack added with a smile, "Difficult but definitely worth it. If it's for her, for your mother, it's always worth it."
"Well, can we hear it then?"
Her father waggled a finger in front of the camera. "Not before your mother does."
"Come on, Dad. I promise I won't spoil it for Mom. Cross my heart."
Jack sighed, hanging his head for effect. "Fine," he muttered. "You know I can't say no to your adorable fish face, Anna."
Anna turned the camcorder so that she was facing the lens. "We are about to hear the master play," she whispered dramatically. She focused the camera back to Jack who was sniggering at his daughter's eccentricity.
Jack's fingers danced over the gleaming ivory keys, his eyes closed. It was always only whenever he played the piano that Merida would see him so solemn, his face stripped off of his playful mask. The song sounded familiar as she heard more of it, and she realized that it was the same tune he played the first time she heard him. Merida shut her eyes tightly, and her mind took her back to a faraway memory. She felt fresh, warm tears running down her cheeks. The song was coming to an end, and she slowly began to understand. Jack had made the song for her. Not to ward off the nightmares. But to give her the strength she needed to face them.
Merida opened her eyes just in time to see Jack press the final keys. He let his hands linger over them for a moment or two before withdrawing them back to his lap. He turned his head to the camera and beamed.
"Merida's Song," he said, and then added as an afterthought, "by Jack Overland."
The video stopped, and the screen turned black. Merida saw her reflection in the television, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She laughed, and this time, it was not bitter. The moment she heard the doctor's verdict, she knew that it was only Jack who could console her. As days went by, she began to lose hope. She thought it impossible, but even then, he continued to prove her wrong. Merida found comfort in the fact that Jack could never leave her without saying goodbye. And this time, she was right.
Outside, it had begun to snow.