Luke Alden - Happy Birthday Eternity

‘I’m not leaving until you apologize.’ This is my broken plea.

‘Apologize for what?’

‘For fucking another guy.’

And Evaline’s hand lays across my face for a brief second. A slap. There’s a burning where the welt raises on my skin.

‘You fucked around on me first.’

We’ve been together for one hundred years.

We’re like children.

There’s a pause.

My shoulders slump.

We’re catching our breath.

I can’t bring myself to leave.

Evaline breaks.

Knee’s to the ground.

She’s sobbing and crying and shaking and the tears mix with my blood and land on the floor like some sort of wet and sad poem.

I’m watching.

Not sure what to do.

Not sure if I care to do anything.

Eventually I’m on my knee’s next to her.

We kiss.

We kiss hard.

Our faces are wet with blood and tears and spit and passion.

We ache.

It becomes a race to undress.

Love isn’t spoken with vowels and consonants.

Love is a verb.

And we’re moaning.

On the kitchen floor.

There’s broken glass beneath us. It sandwiches between our backs and the linoleum.

We cum at the same time. Evaline throws her head back. I grunt.

Primal.

Uncontrolled.

From the gut.

This is love.

So I wake up and my body aches and my head hurts and my eyes burn and I have to piss. It takes a moment, but I get up.

Everything is blurry.

I can hardly see. The sleep is clouding my head.

I go to the bathroom.

My body is slumping against the wall.

The drugs are messing with me more and more every time I use them. I can feel them killing my brain and my body.

I can’t stop.

I keep holding onto yesterday.

I keep holding on and all it does is hold me back.

We’re all addicted to yesterday. Why else would this world be so nostalgic? My addiction is just a bit more physical in its nature.

I shake my head.

Everything is still blurry.

My gut is aching.

I stumble back to my room. Step by step, I’m propping myself up with the wall.

My eyes are closed.

I fall into bed.

There’s something next to me.

I turn around. It takes a second for my eyes to open properly.

It’s Evaline.

I didn’t realize how much I had missed her.

Evaline is lying next to me.

It can’t be real.

I have to be dreaming.

I am dreaming.

Except I’m not.

She’s there. Next to me. Touch, taste, smell and sight. Evaline’s there and sleeping. The same gentle snore. The same soft body movements. Even the same pajamas she wore years ago.

For a moment I can’t speak.

I can’t think.

My mind can’t process anything other than the dim glow of the world around me.

I’m lying in bed.

In my parent’s house.

Curled toes and squinting eyes.

I figure I’m finally crazy.

I reach my hand out to her.

Lay it on her shoulder.

She’s warm and soft and exactly like I remember her.

My heart feels warm.

It feels full.

I smile.

Sun in my face and parted lips; my voice cracks with a dry tongue that sticks to the roof of my mouth.

‘Evaline?’

I give her a small shake. She jerks away and lets out a tired sigh.

My hand is still on her shoulder.

The sun rises and paints the room yellow.

She tangles the sheets.

I tangle them with her.

She looks me in the eyes and smiles and yawns and breathes and exists.

‘Hey Ellis.’

Her voice and sound and cadence are exactly as I remember.

I lean in.

We kiss.

Tongue to tongue; we taste like morning.

We hug.

We hold.

It’s dramatic. It’s epic.

Cue the orchestra. Roll film.

We hold each other until I lose track of time.

Finally I whisper in her ear.

‘Where were you?’

She pauses.

The morning is spent in bed.

We look like quotation marks as we lay together.

It feels good.

We prepare dinner together.

Me and Evaline. Evaline and I. There are a million things I want to ask her; unfortunately I can’t recall any of these things. We watch the sunset. We eat.

There’s a calming feeling as she puts her hands around my arm and her head on my shoulder.

I can’t find it in me to be upset with her for leaving. She can’t find it in herself to explain where she was. We leave it at that. I missed her too much to be upset, or maybe I didn’t miss her enough.

The sun goes down the stars come up; they shine and reflect off of the glass outside. In my lifetime I have seen stars disappear from the night sky; pinholes that vanish from the landscape above. They were aged and gone long before I ever realized it had happened.

When Evaline first held my hand I felt like I was going to throw up. I wanted it so badly; I had fucked it up so much. I assumed we were never going to be together. I assumed that my chance had passed.

Right now, holding onto Evaline’s hand, I feel nervous. I feel the same way I did when we first held hands.

There were points in my life where I doubted the reality of love. I doubted the true existence of such an emotion. I broke it down and looked at it as nothing more than a chemical reaction; I dehumanized it.

At this moment; my doubt gives pause.

Inside my parent’s house we sit in silence. We take each other in.

Her hands are small and delicate and her fingernails are red and her skin is pulled and her body is tan and her teeth are white.

For a moment I feel as if I had literally dreamt of this moment some time ago.

And time, it passes far too quickly. We talk and we listen and for once I realize that Evaline is important to me. For once I don’t just know, but actually realize what Evaline means to me. I realize what it means to love her.

Our conversation moves in a gentle flow. Nothing is truly spoken but we communicate in other ways. And it’s a soft squeeze and locked eyes because words don’t seem to work. We’re inside. We’re at the kitchen table. My parents come home.

They’re together. They’re laughing. They were out dancing.

When they walk into the kitchen they give me a strange look.

I’m smiling.

They’re not.

‘Hey!’ This is me being excited.

‘Hey…’ This is my father sounding confused.

There’s a pause.

‘Isn’t this great!?’ This is me still excited.

There’s a breath.

‘Isn’t what great?’

I look at Evaline. The smile is leaving my face.

‘Evaline is here.’ I put my hand on her shoulder.

My parents look at each other. They look at me. My mother speaks first. ’No she’s not.’

There’s a nervous twisting of nervous fingers.

The way I felt when I first kissed Evaline was amazing. I had tried and failed before.

Like most people I base my actions off of assumptions.

Like most people: The assumptions I have are generally wrong.

I almost gave up after the first try.

Luckily I’m stupid.

Luckily my brain and my body don’t get along.

We were hanging out. We were sober. We were watching movies. It was like so many times before.

The moon had come and gone.

We were tired.

My arm had brushed against hers earlier in the night. It made my spine shake.

Her hand had brushed my leg. It made me lose my breath.

Hour by hour we moved inch by inch.

By morning my arm was around her.

Our eyes were half open.

Our cheeks brushed.

We kissed.

It was teeth and skin and sweat until our bodies were pressed together so hard that it became difficult to breath.