The White Canvas Operation

PROLOGUE

Picture: Mademoiselle de Demidoff by Giovanni Boldini. 1908.

A white canvas has limitless potential. 

It's hard to breathe and I'm so tired... I open my eyes and look around; light is dim here, someone has pulled the curtains, but I'm still able to see the painting over the fireplace in front of my bed. I'm very lucky, my money has enabled me to have nurses and doctors at home and I don't have to spend my final days in a hospital smelling the disinfectant surrounded by strangers wearing white coats. I've been visiting clinics and hospitals for more than two years and I'm sick of them: I'm going to die in my bedroom, with my memories and all the things I love around me. All but one...

I can't help smiling, it happens every time I see the painting: a young and beautiful girl painted it for me in Montmartre. Paris... if only I could go back there, laughing and dancing again, taking pictures with the Eiffel tower, posing for a talented artist and falling in love with her, being young and healthy again... "Stella..." I move my lips saying her name quietly while I remember her in that square, under the late spring sunlight, winking at me and making me blush hard... My cheeks have a beautiful rosy colour in the portrait and it's because of her, because of her naughty blue-green eyes and her plump lips flashing a smirk. They say that the Universe builds on balance and happiness and sadness are part of the life on a cyclical basis, alternating in long or short periods... I was so happy those months that sometimes I feel all the misfortunes that happened to me later were my payment to compensate karma.

I'm not afraid to die anyway. I've accepted long time ago that it's going to happen whether I want it to or not so, why should I worry? Besides, I'm so tired that sleeping during an eternity sounds really good to me. I fought against cancer for a year with all my strength, much more than I expected being a person of weak character: in fact, most of the things that happened in my life were a consequence of my feebleness and stupidity. But when the time has come to face the ultimate challenge I became a warrior and I'm very proud of it, despite I realized soon that there was no point in fighting: I was going to die so why not get it over with? After resigning to my fate I devoted time and energy to a new goal, a very important one, and I've spent more than a year drawing a plan and visiting lawyers keeping my mind focused and occupied in other things forgetting about pain, treatments and nausea. I kept fighting in a different way in order to have more time to achieve my goal: leave everything arranged before my death, what is more, leave everything arranged for the life to go on... with a little help from me.

I smile amused, it's true that I'm not going to be here to see it but I'm going to be ultimately responsible for lots of happy situations. I'm pretty sure it'll happen because I planned it right, I've said that I'm a person of weak character but I'm not stupid. A chair creaks by my side and I turn my head slightly. There she's, my wife, reading calmly under the bedside lamp like she usually does when she's not in her studio. I'm worried about the dark circles under her eyes, despite I have a horde of nurses to take care of me she insisted on being at my bedside every night, but there's little time left and we'll both be able to rest finally. She'll have a hard time at the beginning, I know it, but she's way stronger than I've ever been and she'll have lots of things to do soon, she'll be very busy... I've made sure of it.

I think I made the right choice, she looks a little like me but not too much because that would be creepy: she has light brown hair with some touches of dark gold while mine is dark brown, my eyes are green and she has chocolate coloured eyes, her skin is slightly tanned while I'm very pale but the shape of our faces and our high cheek bones are very similar, the same happens with our height and slim build but we both show curves where a woman has to have them. She'll like her, she's her kind of woman undoubtedly... In addition to this she's generous, funny, kind but with a temper when she's angry... however she's very patient to make up for it, smart and sarcastic when she wants and of course she's extraordinarily talented. She'll fall in love with her artistic soul, I'm pretty sure of that. Her style is a little different, softer and more academic but not boring, the perfect contrast for the colourful paintings with violent brush strokes that Stella loved when I met her. Yes, I've made a good choice...

"Sunny..." I whisper because my voice has lost its strength. She looks up and gets closer quickly. "Water... please." She places her arm on my back with great care and helps me to take a sip of fresh water... delicious... there're lots of things that people take for granted but they're actually little miracles: drinking a sip of fresh water when you're thirsty is one of the greatest pleasures of this world but we don't pay attention to it usually. I look at her with a smile on my lips and she smiles back even if I can see the sadness in her eyes. "Sunny... remember..."

"I'll do it, Cassie. I'll follow the instructions of your will to the letter whatever they're. I've already promised it to you... now please, you need to rest." Yes, I know she'll do it, my wife is a woman of her word, brave and extraordinarily loyal unlike me... a good point in her favour. She can't help but fall in love with her...

"Sun..." I swallow hard, I can barely breathe... my wife puts her ear closer to my lips. "Sun... I love you... in a different way... but I love you, honestly."

"I love you too Cassandra," she answers while a single tear runs down her cheek.

It's time to launch my plan. The first phase of the White Canvas Operation starts with... my death.