Happy Birthday Eternity

by Alden, Luke

  17

  My legs hurt.

  The world is a blur.

  I want to be safe.

  I want to be sound.

  I can’t seem to get anywhere. I can’t seem to get away from the screaming sirens that chase me though this endless city. They whisper through the alleys and they dance down the streets.

  People crane their necks and watch as I fall apart with each footfall. People point. They laugh. They stare. Some take pictures. Some people don’t notice me at all.

  I run and the word runs around me.

  I move past the restaurant where I had my first date with Evaline. I see her inside. I see her drinking. I see her waiting for me.

  It’s not real.

  Franklin drives by me in the car that I had borrowed from him.

  It’s not real.

  If lungs could pop, I’m sure that mine would. Instead they just ache. Instead they just tell me that no matter how good you make yourself look, it doesn’t mean that you’re actually in shape.

  I’m false advertising.

  And then I trip.

  Stumble.

  Prepare for the pavement.

  When my face hits the ground I find myself laughing. Because this is insanity. Because this can’t be real. Because I’ve most assuredly lost my mind.

  I flash back to the doctor.

  He told me that things were going to get worse.

  And I wish I would have prepared myself, although I know that I never could have.

  The sirens keep coming.

  I pick myself up.

  Start to move.

  I feel fear. Is this fear? It feels familiar. Maybe I’ve known it all along. Maybe this is how I’ve gotten this far.

  I dodge into an alley and then realize that was a horrible idea. A dead end that smells like garbage. I turn around and hit the sidewalk.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be running.

  Maybe I should slow down and walk. Act normal. Blend in. Get lost.

  I’m always lost.

  And I see my parents. They walk past me holding hands.

  I stop.

  ‘Mom! Dad!’

  I’ve got a whirlwind tempo to my voice. It’s how I imagine dizziness might sound.

  They both look at me. They smile. Their fingers are locked tight. They’re locked together. They’ve become the same person. Figuratively speaking, of course.

  ‘You’ve got to help me. I don’t know what’s wrong. My head. It’s fucked up. I can’t seem to get anything straight anymore. I can’t seem to make sense of anything.’

  They smile and disappear.

  Yesterday becomes today and back again.

  I see Alicia. I know she’s not real. I haven’t seen her in years. Or have I? When was the last time I saw her.

  I’m not sure anymore.

  I ask her what to do.

  She tells me the same thing she told me before I took off on this stupid adventure to try and excavate and reclaim my past.

  She tells me to find Evaline.

  She’s probably right.

  I need an anchor. I need something to tie me down. I need something.

  The sirens scream.

  I thank Alicia.

  She disappears.

  I start to run.

  Pick up the pace.

  I don’t know where to find Evaline. I still want to find her. I’m still trying. It’s all that I’m holding onto at this point.

  Evaline is running next to me. Her memory, it smiles. I smile back.

  There’s a loneliness that pushes me.

  But there are times where I wonder if I’m not as lonely as I thought I was.

  And I cut through several side streets. The good thing about being ageless is that you get to know the city fairly well throughout your life.

  I climb a fence.

  My feet make a clapping sound as they hit the sidewalk. I pause and check myself. I’m pushing my body too hard. It feels like it’s going to fall apart.

  I keep running and I start to wonder what is holding me together.

  The sirens begin to grow distant.

  I begin to slow.

  The stars are out. Burning up the night sky. I’m at a jog and I look up to the night above. It reminds me of a thousand other nights.

  It’s peaceful.

  And then the sirens disappear. Perhaps they’re still looking for me. Perhaps they’re not. I don’t know. I doubt they even know who I am. I doubt they even care by this point.

  And the couple who were living in my old place, they’ve probably already moved on. They probably don’t care that I’ve come and gone. And why would they? I’m the smallest of speed bumps in an endless life.

  I get to my parent’s house. Walk inside. It’s dark and dusty and I don’t care.

  I walk to my room and sit down.

  18

  For all the years I have lived, I’ve accumulated so little.

  A scattered few pictures that sit in a box and beg to be reminisced upon. Candid moments sealed in my memory. A hazy recognition of times that were once important.

  Time may have little meaning, but it takes its toll.

  The past is a mish-mash of what I can manage to untangle from my knotted brain. It’s a kaleidoscope of pieces that pretend to be a whole.

  And I’m sitting in my room.

  Thumbing through memories.

  Holding onto Evaline.

  And she sits down next to me. But it’s not really her. A memory. Although at this point I’m no longer sure if that’s any less real.

  My fingers touch her fingers.

  Why do I always come back here?

  To these memories.

  To my parent’s place.

  Everything in my life seems centered on what was.

  My eyes meet her eyes and it’s a shy sort of greeting that betrays feelings which were thought to be forgotten.

  And the stars outside creep through the windows and into our laps.

  ‘You know, I miss you.’

  It’s not a profound statement. It’s just what I feel. And the words come out in a slow crawl that tells me I’m giving up hope.

  I hold her hand tightly because I can’t let go.

  And Evaline, or at least her memory, pauses with a thoughtful look.

  She asks:

  ‘Do you remember the last time we went camping?’

  And the memory, it’s faded and washed out. There are moments I can recall. I remember it was a good time.

  We kissed.

  I remember the shuffling sound of our sleeping bags as they rubbed against the tent; as we thrust our hips together like maybe it was our last time.

  I remember the crackling of fire.

  ‘I think I remember’

  She smiles. Puts her head on my shoulder.

  ‘Where did you go?’

  She doesn’t answer.

  And it’s a soft kiss on the cheek that makes my body remember what it never forgot.

  ‘I told you where to meet me. You just don’t know it yet.’

  And I feel my body tense up.

  She’s right. I think.

  But my mind, it doesn’t work how I want it to.

  I put my arm around her and look out the window. I’m watching the stars.

  Thoughts wander.

  I hear a door open and shut.

  My parents are home. They’re talking to each other. Laughing. They’re in the kitchen.

  My Dad:

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘Oh stop it, you’re drunk!’

  ‘Baby!’

  ‘Is Ellis here?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s been so in and out anymore. Probably not.’

  ‘I wish he could get over her.’

  ‘Babe, I don’t know what I’d do if you left me.’

  ‘Yes you do, you’d move on!’

  ‘Maybe I wouldn’t want to.’

  And I look over to Evaline.

  I need to remember.

  19
r />   It feels like my past is chasing me.

  I can feel it breathing down my neck; and the hairs stand on end like they’re trying to escape my body.

  So I ask my mom for pictures.

  For reminders.

  For something that will allow me to give myself to the past. So I can remember what was. So I can remember the moments in my life that have meaning.

  So I can remember what I already know.

  Because I know there are answers.

  And I know I’ve said that time has little meaning to me, the reality is that it’s taken everything from me.

  The things I cherish.

  The things I want.

  The things I didn’t know I wanted.

  And when I ask my mom for these photographs, she gives me a strange look. A look filled with pity. A look that tells me that she no longer knows me.

  I’ve changed.

  My face is sunken with a desperation that is reminiscent of hope.

  For once in my life; I need something instead of simply wanting.

  And my mom, with her warm eyes and distant words; she tells me that she doesn’t have any.

  And my face doesn’t change, but inside I am lost.

  ‘Why would we have those pictures?’

  I stammer.

  ‘We lost those ages ago.’

  The word still won’t come.

  I look at the floor and try to think of something to say. Something that will make me feel as if I’m not completely lost.

  ‘Ellis,are you ok?’

  And I look up. My cheeks are flush and my body is warm.

  My mom, she wraps her arms around me. I feel my body go limp as I start to relax.

  And I may have forgotten how to love Evaline, but I still remember that I love her.

  I tell my mom thanks.

  I walk back to my room.

  I’m feeling like a child. Thousands of years old and aimless.

  My brain is rotting in my head. I know this because a doctor told me so. I know this because I see Evaline even when she’s not around.

  And I got to my room.

  I want to speak to her.

  And she’s sitting on my bed.

  ‘I can’t find a picture.’

  ‘We never took pictures all that much.’

  ‘I know. I guess I just wish we had.’

  And she doesn’t reply.

  ‘You know I’m scared to lose you.’

  ‘You lost me years ago.’

  ‘I know, I guess I took you for granted.’

  I pause.

  The words keep coming: ‘Just like every other fucking thing in my life. My job, my family… I didn’t care and I’m still not sure if I do care. But I think this is what it feels like. To give a shit about something other than the motions I’ve always gone through.’

  ‘You always cared in your own sort of way.’

  ‘And by this you mean my own self absorbed sort of way.’

  ‘Well, it’s not like I wasn’t guilty.’

  ‘We were pretty comfortable with things.’

  ‘How could we not have been?’

  ‘I still don’t know what caused you to run away. I still don’t know what it was that caused you to change.’

  ‘I don’t know either.’

  ‘…’

  And we pause.

  Hold hands.

  Her head is on my shoulder as we sit on the edge of my bed.

  ‘I wish you could just tell me where to find you.’

  ‘It’s never gonna be that simple.’

  It’s a pause.

  A breath.

  A nervous twisting of nervous fingers.

  Because I know she’s right.

  Because I know whatever messed up part of my head that controls what this imaginary Evaline says, it’s right.

  And I’m scared to lose her even if I’ve already lost her.

  And I keep telling that to myself.

  For ten long years I’ve told this to myself..

  I’ve already lost her.

  And though my head and heart want to make sense of it, my body and my being won’t let me.

  At least I think that’s how it is.

  Anymore, I don’t know.

  And the sun creeps in and warms me.

  I close my eyes and feel it on my body.

  And the sun creeps out.

  I open my eyes as my body shivers.

  I turn to Evaline.

  ‘Now what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  And my eyes go to pill bottle on my dresser.

  20

  My life has been a constant series of unmet expectations and this is no different.

  I keep waiting as if something will happen. The walls don’t slide away. The world doesn’t shift. Nothing seems to happen.

  And I sit in my bed. Evaline sleeps next to me.

  Rays of light illuminate the particles of dust that fill the room.

  I can’t tell you the last time I dusted.

  I can’t tell anyone much of anything these days.

  I close my eyes and concentrate hard. I try to make things happen.

  My body feels tense as I try to force yesterday into claiming me.

  And yesterday doesn’t want me, not today.

  I stand up with a nervous shake that rattles around in my gut.

  Something should be happening. Something should have happened.

  I need yesterday. It’s how I live out my today’s. It’s how I remember who I am. It’s how I define my purpose and my place in this world. My memory provides the context and reason for my existence.

  I’m not interested in making new memories without Evaline.

  I’m hoping that the pills will take me to the answers that I need.

  I’m hoping that they will make me remember where Evaline may have gone.

  But everything is jumbled and tangled. I feel as if my brain has threaded everything into a giant knot.

  I stand up and walk around.

  Out my room and into the hall.

  My parents are watching television.

  The evening is here and the day has gone.

  I smell a familiar smell and realize that there is food cooking. It makes me hungry. It makes me comfortable.

  I peak into the kitchen.

  It’s some sort of pasta dish and it makes me remember Evaline, just like everything else seems to make me remember her.

  I feel a pain in my chest and in my brain. It’s a pain that I can’t quite figure out. It’s a pain that is becoming more and more familiar. It’s a pain that grows sharper and sharper.

  I walk away from the food.

  I don’t want to smell it.

  Don’t want to be reminded of the things I can’t control.

  I sit down with my parents.

  My father has his arm around my mother. They sit on the couch. They watch television. There’s a slight smile on his face as she pushes herself close to him.

  I look at my parents and realize how accustomed to each other they have become. They may even be in love, but I can’t tell. I know that I couldn’t tell when I was in love.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  And this is my Dad asking me the questions. I feel as if I haven’t spoken with him in years. His voice is soft and gentle and it makes me think of times where we would hang out.

  The moments are faded and fractured in my head, but there was a time where we were close. There was a time where he and I would talk about life. We used to go and do things together. He’d complain about my mom and I’d complain about Evaline. But much like the continents; we drifted.

  And we care about each other, but it’s a different sort of caring.

  A different sort of affection.

  Because time will take everything in the end. It’s something I’ve slowly begun to realize.

  And though I am his son and he is my father, we have forgotten the roles that we once had.

  ‘I’m ok. Feeling a little wei
rd I guess.’

  My parents both look at me.

  My mom speaks up: ‘What’s going on?’

  I’m not sure how to answer. Nor do I really want to.

  ‘I’m just having an off night is all.’

  I let the brevity of my statement provide the majority of my communication. She looks at me. Soft eyes and tight skin. She’s concerned but doesn’t know what to say.

  I change the subject.

  ‘When’s dinner?’

  ‘We already ate.’

  The lingering smells aren’t lingering quite as much.

  I pause.

  I’m not sure what to say or do or think.

  My mom looks at me: ‘Do you remember when you were young? When you and your friend Jim would go on all those adventures? You would always go camping for days at a time. You seemed so happy with him. He brought something out of you that I haven’t seen in a long time. Whatever happened to him?’

  Then Evaline, the imaginary one, walks in to the room. She’s smiling and wearing a new outfit and she looks beautiful. I look at her. I look at her wedding ring. My heart skips a beat and my head starts to ache.

  And then my mom turns her head and smiles towards something that’s just over my shoulder.

  ‘So you must be Evaline?’

  And then we are around a campfire.

  Smoke fills the air.

  21

  There are few things that cause me to feel shaken.

  This is obviously one of them.

  It’s been a minute and I’m not feeling any better.

  Evaline smiles at my mom. She opens her mouth.

  ‘I’m doing pretty well. It was a long day at work. Sometimes I wonder if everyone but me is incompetent at their job! Otherwise I wouldn’t have been so late in getting here. But don’t worry, I remembered the marshmallows!’ And she holds up a bag.

  And my mom, she smiles and laughs a polite sort of laugh. My father, he smiles and then looks to me.

  ‘What is going on here?’

  Everyone looks at me for a moment and then turns away.

  I pause.

  I breathe deep.

  I twist my nervous fingers around and around and around.

  Then I realize that this is all a memory. This isn’t too long after my parents and Evaline met.

  And I’m not sure how this happened. I’m not sure how the past has snuck up on me in this fashion. Because the walls should have melted away. Because I should have noticed some sort of change.

  Instead it all happened in a blink of time.