Happy Birthday Eternity (12 page)

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

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.