by Alden, Luke
Given enough time everything fades.
She’s faded, her memories and her scents and her touch and her feel. It’s gone.
And so I’m here reading a magazine article about her actions in hopes that it will cause me to flash back to a moment with her.
Fifteen minutes pass and reality starts to shift.
The walls bleed away and the colors and lights begin to move to the left of center. The first minute is like a bad acid trip. If you start to panic then you’ll go back to a bad memory.
I stay calm because there’s nothing left to get upset about.
Reality continues to peel away.
My chest feels tight.
And here I am with Evaline.
We’re on our first date.
4
We met through friends.
It’s the same stupid set up you always hear about
And so when we meet, she hates me. I’m not funny enough. Not, tall enough. Not smart enough. I’m not her type and most likely I’ll never be her type.
She’s gorgeous.
We talk. She feigns interest. She doesn’t make me think of the 100 other failed relationships I’ve had.
Maybe I finally know what I want. Maybe I’ll no longer have to be that lonely guy that everyone sends on blind dates.
Maybe after failing so many times I’ve finally learned what to look for.
Of course that’s not true.
Of course everything about her is only accentuated by the rush of blood to my dick.
She’s probably just pretending to listen.
Listening to me talk about my job.
About my portfolio’s.
About my holdings.
I talk and her thumb rubs the side of her martini glass. She has on dark red lipstick; the color of a ripe cherry.
She has a certain smell.
A certain way that she carries herself.
And some people say that when you find the person you’re going to love forever, when you find the person that you’re going to marry, you just know. It all becomes clear. It all makes sense. There is no doubt. When you meet the person that you’re going to marry, time stops. Unfortunately when you live forever the concept of time means very little.
And so I flirt.
And she rejects me.
‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Nice line.’
Evaline wants nothing to do with me. She looks away every thirty seconds.
Bored.
Hazy.
Not interested.
She’s annoyed with me after an hour. There’s no chance for us. This is a wreck. A mess. Somehow I just can’t shut my mouth.
She’s beautiful.
She’s bored.
I’m Awkward.
We’re both anxious. I try to talk to her but it’s as if we speak different languages.
I spill a drink.
She pulls away.
It’s on her dress.
She goes to the bathroom.
People dance.
People Push.
People Stumble.
It’s a drunken wave of people with nothing better to do than keep moving.
I’m sitting at my table.
Alone.
My friend, Dave, the person that Evaline knows, my anchor in this situation, he comes up to me from the dance floor.
‘You really fucked that one up.’
‘Yeah.’
Someone stumbles past me.
A new song comes on.
The lights hammer down.
My fingers start tapping on my thigh.
My eyes move anxiously.
My stomach burns like there’s a small gas fire. There’s a need for fresh air. There’s a need to escape. There’s a weakness in my feet that prevents me from moving.
Failure never becomes easy.
If failure were easy we’d all be dead.
Evaline comes back. Her eyes drain me. She’s the first to speak.
‘So…’
‘So?’
Dave moves away with a smirk on his face.
‘I just wanted to have a nice time. Meet a nice guy. You’re sitting here talking about the stock market and investment portfolio’s. You’re talking about things that don’t matter. I’m not interested in your financial securities. I just want to know you.’
She emphasizes ‘you’.
A pause. A breath. A nervous twisting of nervous fingers.
‘I’m sorry.’
She smiles a soft smile, and although she may understand my nervousness, it doesn’t matter. The pitter patter of shallow conversation drowns the evening and eventually she leaves.
I watch her walk out the door.
Later I jerk off to the image of her in my head.
I don’t see her again for 50 years.
5
Wake up.
Fucked up.
Head spinning; I feel as if I’m going to pass back out. My legs and hands and face are numb, my gut is growling for food.
I look around. The world is exactly where I left it. Unchanged. I don’t know how long I was gone. Maybe five hours, maybe ten. I never bother to time myself. Time doesn’t matter. Time is an antiquated notion. Time doesn’t move forward, moving forward is up to me. Currently I’m far too self involved to make any sort of forward movements.
My head aches as I sit up. Thinking of Evaline. I want to bury my face in the pillow and pass back out; instead I get up to piss.
I walk through the house.
It feels empty. It is empty.
Go to the bathroom.
Go to the kitchen.
Get food.
No one is around. The place seems deserted. My parents are most likely at work. Always working. Always trying to get by. Always trying to save money and make ends meet.
I’ll never get used to not working. I’ll never detach myself from that identity, the identity that tells me I’m nothing more than my job.
Who knows, perhaps I was never anything more than my job. Maybe people really are no better than the work we produce, and now without a job, without a girl, without a life; maybe I’m nothing at all.
And I’m out of the kitchen.
Back to my room.
Most of my possessions are gone.
Locked away or sent to the dump.
You’d be amazed at how much trash one man can accumulate in two thousand years. You’d be amazed at how much of your life gets filled by knick knacks and possessions that will be forgotten within a month. You’d be amazed.
And maybe if I’d accumulated a life that meant something, maybe then I wouldn’t be here today. Here at my parent’s, eating a sandwich and watching the clouds roll along the skyline.
Time allows us to take things for granted.
I take far too much for granted.
Perhaps it’s just part of being human.
Outside I hear a noise. The sound of something breaking. I get up. Step outside. Nothing is there except for a faint smell in the air. I breathe in, it’s familiar but I can’t place it.
Back inside I finish eating. Get up. Start to pace. Pick up the phone. Dial. It rings. I pause. Wait. Breathe in. Bite my thumbnail. Breathe out. Someone picks up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey Alicia, it’s Ellis.’
‘Hey, baby.’
And this is my secret.
6
People say you can’t replace love with a cheap fuck.
Alicia smells like vanilla and screws like she’s off her medication.
And it’s me and Alicia and memories of Evaline that dance in this bed with a floral print comforter. I don’t know what I’m doing and I know it’s wrong, but still I keep going.
Sometimes all anyone wants is to feel a little less empty.
I take pills. I fuck.
I’m not sure if this is the right way to get rid of the excess loneliness, but for the moment it makes me feel ok.
When we’re done we both sweat and heave and
breathe deep. It’s the most sex I’ve had in one thousand years.
It doesn’t feel like it used to. I don’t get the same rush and my teeth don’t clench in the same fashion.
It’s strange. The touch of a new body; new smells and sights and sounds that you never would have conceived on your own.
I’m sucking air.
I tell her it was good.
I haven’t been to a gym in decades. It was once part of my routine, and like everything else it slipped away.
Why do I let everything slip away?
I’m out of shape. Wheezing. It’s embarrassing. I’m supposed to be tone and trim and fit and ready to run a mile and fuck all night. I’m supposed to be someone that I can only dream of being. Someone I’ve never been in my two millennia of life.
‘You’re getting better.’
Alicia is a bitch and I don’t mind it. Alicia treats me like shit because I don’t tell her to stop. Alicia is just some girl who I met on the sidewalk a few years back. Just some girl who I stumbled through awkward conversation with. Just some girl who, for a few minutes of formulaic fucking, can make me forget what I’m trying so hard to remember.
Love and infatuation are the worst drugs of all.
You kick one and move to the other, but in the end, you want them both.
Alicia gets out of bed and smiles. Her skin is pulled tight, she’s draped in a blanket, she’s tan with brown hair and blonde streaks and all the other homogenized affects that so many people tend to parade around.
She’s also got a tattoo of a butterfly on her lower back.
She goes to the bathroom.
I lay in bed. Think of Evaline. Wonder what she’s doing right now. I’ll never know. She could be dead for all I know.
And Alicia comes out of the bathroom and gets back in bed with me. She presses her face into my chest.
She smells like vanilla.
I’m sweaty.
What’s left of her makeup is about to rub off onto me.
I’m ok with that.
And Alicia is a different type of girl. Single. She says that’ she’s been married 22 times. Maybe she’s finally given up. Maybe she can see through the bullshit. I doubt it.
There are moments when I wonder if we’re doing more than just fucking.
Maybe we’re creating a bond. Maybe this is the development of a relationship. I can’t even tell. Everything is clouded in a decay of grief and loss and drugs. For all I know we could be on our way to getting married.
I’m still married to Evaline.
I squeeze Alicia tight. She smiles. I smile. It feels good. Above me the ceiling fan is spinning.
After a few minutes I finally get out of bed. My legs feel weak. I’m not dizzy but my heart is beating fast.
I put on my clothes. One pant leg at a time.
‘So what are you up to for the rest of the week?’ This is me trying to make small talk. I’ve never been too good at it. Maybe that’s why I can’t hold onto my friends.
‘I’m just working for the most part. Going to the movies with some of my girlfriends this weekend. Maybe I’ll hit the bar. I’m not too sure.’
I smile and nod and try to think of something witty to say, but I can’t. I don’t know Alicia all that well. It’s been a few years but she still feels like a stranger when I talk to her. It’s just her body that I know so well.
‘That sounds fun.’ This is me wincing at how fake I sound. I could care less about what she’s doing.
‘Yeah I know! There’s this really funny movie coming out on Friday, ugh, I can’t remember what it’s called… But I think it’ll probably be pretty good. Plus we’re going to a bar in town that serves the BEST appletini’s. It’s really going to be great.’
I miss the conversations that I used to have with Evaline.
And now I’m dressed. Sitting at the edge of Alicia’s bed. She smiles. The comforter is wrapped over her shoulders as she sits up next to me. We smile at each other, but it’s not a genuine smile, more like a smile that you’d give to a passing stranger as to let them know you’re not a complete asshole.
Then Alicia does something that makes me flinch. She grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. There’s a connection that’s missing on my end.
She’s genuine.
I’m just trying to fill a void.
I might as well be jerking off into a toilet.
We hug.
I leave.
I hit the pavement and walk to the bus stop. The weather is nice like it always is. The wind is moving and the sun is shining and it’s early morning.
There’s hardly any traffic.
For a moment I stop.
Stand.
Watch as everything passes me by; the cars and kids and insects and pets.
Everything keeps on moving.
Nothing seems to stop and nothing seems to go anywhere.
And I think back to yesterday, the way I felt when remembering the first time I met Evaline. The tastes and sights and sounds and…
My whole body freezes.
The smell in the air from yesterday. Outside my house. That was the smell of Evaline’s perfume.
7
For some reason I can’t let go.
Her smell and her very being still bleed from my veins.
So I’m at my parent’s house. They’re gone. Gone like they always are. I sometimes wonder if they ever even see each other. In the end I guess they’re no different than anyone else.
I’m wandering around outside and looking for any trace of Evaline that I can find. Something to tell me that she really was here. Something to let me know that I’m not just another crazy man. Something to let me know that the perfume I smelled really was hers.
And most likely I am crazy.
No job.
No wife.
Living with my parents.
To any outsider it’s obvious that I have issues.
We’re defined by our independence. We’re celebrated for our autonomy.
So here I am, standing outside in my parent’s garden. Barefoot and broke; a mess that smells like yesterdays fuck. I need a shower. I need to get my life together. I need some sort of closure.
I think that in the end I’ve found the concept of closure to be nothing more than a human invention, something we’ve created to give us purpose. Another thing for us to strive towards.
When you live forever you tend to think that closure will happen later than sooner.
The truth is that we’re just lazy.
Nothing is hard and nothing gets too messed up. We live forever and we don’t have to worry about not getting a chance to make things right, we have forever to get things right.
I had 2000 years to get love right.
I’m still failing.
I wanted it to read like the perfect poem.
I wanted to build something beautiful.
I always assumed I’d have more time to get it done. More time to perfect the concept of love. I was promised eternity and now I’ve got a gun with a slow trigger up against my head..
And so I feel a sinking in my gut and in my head and in my heart. The force of gravity pushes my soul to my feet as I walk back into my parent’s house.
Here I am.
Ellis Jackson.
Jobless.
Loveless
Void of all the things that I’m supposed to rely on in defining me as an adult.
Somewhere along the way I messed up.
And now I’m feeling nostalgic.
I couldn’t find Evaline outside, so I’ll now find her however I can.
I go to my room. Get out my pills. Grab a magazine.
It’s: Bottle, hand, mouth and then my head spins.
My heart beats a lonely beat.
I’m reading.
Thinking.
Deliberating on the faint smell of Evaline that drifted past me yesterday.
Time falls away.
Things feels cold…
8
&n
bsp; Soft song on the radio. Cold fingers. She’s drunk again. My lips are dry. I lean in to kiss her. She pulls away. She doesn’t like me that way. I try to kiss her again. Her lips are puckered tight. She tells me to stop. My heart sinks.
We watch a movie. She keeps drinking. The night wanders aimlessly. I want to tangle the sheets with her. She wants me to be her friend. My thoughts are drifting away.
It’s past midnight.
She’s still drinking. I’m getting sober.
I finally get up to leave. One last hug for the night. It’s long and we pause and I look her in the eyes and my body shakes and my lips quiver and my heart is thunder and lightning. I know better than to go in for a third time.
I leave. We’ve been friends for 3 years now. I blew my chance. Maybe I never had a chance. In the car I’m listening to the saddest songs.
Maybe she’ll love me tomorrow.
9
I wake up in my own vomit.
I’m wearing nothing but a blanket and I’m covered by the blackness of the room I’m in.
I can’t tell what time it is.
I can’t tell where I am.
It seems no different from any other day.
So I get up. Go to the bathroom. Clean up. Look in the mirror. Curse the sight of my own face.
I haven’t moved forward in life since I hit puberty.
I’m getting desperate and I can’t seem to realize it.
The phone rings.
I pick it up.
It’s Alicia.
I don’t know what day it is. Not that the day matters to me.
She wants to grind her hips to mine.
I’m too far gone to argue.
‘I’ll be over there in an hour or so.’
I shower and then I go outside.
The smell of Evaline. It hits me again. I cock my head. Look around. There’s nothing and no one. No movement or sound or anything. I walk around the house. Try and act like I’m not looking for her. She has to be here, she has to be near me.
I search the bushes and the garden and the driveway and every other part of my parent’s property.
Maybe she already left.
Maybe I’m imagining things.
I begin to leave. Walking down the driveway. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a movement. I spin around. There’s nothing. No family or friends. No Evaline.
