Luke Alden - Happy Birthday Eternity

I knew that things would get worse. The doctor told me that things were going to get worse. I just didn’t want to believe it.

And it takes me a minute to find some balance, but eventually I head back to the stairs. Back towards the exit. Back towards fresh air and reality.

I walk close to the wall and feel as if I’m going to fall to the ground at any moment.

As I’m walking I notice that my finger markings are already gone from the wall. They’re covered by dust.

When I get to the stairs I can hardly see. The building is getting darker. Night is stealing away the light that had slipped in.

My footsteps are echoing.

And as I get to the ground floor I hear the sound of something breaking.

My head snaps around, but there’s nothing to see; it’s too dark.

And then I hear footsteps.

I look around but can’t make anything out in the shadows.

And so I start moving for the exit.

My joints ache as I keep myself low to the ground.

I’m distracted by the shuffling of feet.

They’re getting closer.

And then I hear something else break.

I stand up and run.

For a moment I wonder if it’s Evaline that I’m running from. I wonder but I don’t want to find out. For all I know it could be a security guard. For all I know, it could be Dylan.

I pause when I get to the door. My hand lingers for a fraction of a second, and it’s almost as if I can feel the time passing me.

Then I’m out the door.

The night is cold.

The stars are shining.

I’m running when I need to be going back.

And it’s at this point that I realize that this isn’t something I can do on my own. I need help.

And so I start towards Franklin’s.

I’m out of breath and on a park bench.

I just threw up twice in a trash can.

My muscles ache and burn as I sit here with legs that throb. I’m feeling the exhaustion of the last few days kick in.

I feel as if I’ve been awake for years.

And I can’t seem to fight my eyes as they fall shut.

I dream of Evaline.

And in this dream we’re newlyweds with fingers that tangle like the sheets of our bed.

I tell her that I love her.

She tells me that she loves me.

And I know that we both mean it, because in this dream we’re both too young to be afraid of love.

And in this dream we both age.

Our skin wrinkles and hangs from our bones.

We become weaker and weaker with each and every year.

And we don’t mind the gray hair.

And we don’t mind the passing of time.

And we’re both hunched over as we walk the streets together.

We both know that death is coming.

But it’s ok, because we’re with each other.

When I wake up I’m still on the park bench and I’m feeling hung-over. Ear bleeding, gut twisting, sweaty palmed; hung-over. It hurts to open my eyes, and I’m not sure if that’s because I don’t want to let go of my dream or because my brain is half gone.

But, anyway; I take a moment and then stumble to my feet.

The sun is starting to rise and the birds are starting to sing.

I have to squint so that I can see clearly, and it’s when I’m squinting that I realize how much I’ve fallen apart. My body is betraying me, or maybe I’m betraying my body.

Regardless; I’m in shambles.

I’m in shambles and I need Franklin.

I need Franklin to be a friend.

To help me make sense of things.

To have my back.

But first I have to piss. So, I search out a public restroom and pinch my nose in disgust as the overwhelming stench of the tattered bathroom grabs hold of my gut.

There is grime that has been here for 100 years or more.

And I try not to breathe.

I piss and attempt to keep my mind off of this room that I’m in.

And then my feet go out from under me.

And the world, it moves sideways.

Things look strange where I am.

My muscles are tense.

My vision is blurred.

I hear things but it’s all muffled.

And then I look at my hands.

They’re shaking with a confused flood of emotion.

I don’t know when I am. I don’t know where I am. And when I squint hard I can see Evaline sitting in a chair across from me. She sits and looks out the window. Out into the night. Out into the darkness. She has a smile on her face as she watches the stars in the sky.

I want to stand up and give her a hug. I try to say something to her. But this is a memory that I can’t seem to manipulate.

And so I sit here with my tired body and watch as she looks toward the eve.

And I think of all the stars that have come and gone before I ever realized they had been alive.

And she moves her eyes from the window to me.

I strain to see through my blurred vision.

She’s not wearing make-up.

Her hair isn’t dyed.

Her skin isn’t tan.

She is aged.

And she comes over to me.

Things start to come into focus.

When I come to; I’m walking.

I’m almost to Franklin’s house.

I feel shaken.

Shaken because I don’t know if I was dreaming or remembering.

I can’t make sense of it.

And as my weighted feet carry me forward, I start to wonder if I’ll ever regain control of my body and my mind. I start to wonder if I’ll ever be in control of myself.

I stumble for a moment and catch my breath.

I should be worried about the fact that I have no recollection of how I got to this particular place.

In some ways I feel as if I’ve begun to give up on myself.

When I finally get to Franklin’s place, I start to feel a nervous sort of rush wash over my body. It feels as if I’ve been here in this moment a thousand times before, but I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve lived a life as long as me. Things start to jumble together.

Things start to repeat.

I stand for a moment and stare at his front door.

I want to knock but it’s as if my fist is weighted down. It’s as if my body is refusing me. So instead I look at the door with blank eyes.

I’m waiting for something to happen.

Waiting for my muscles to take control.

And finally my hand lifts.

And finally I knock.

I hear a rustling inside and I watch as the door handle jiggles.

And then my gut feels as if it’s on fire. My entire body soaks itself in a sense of dread.

And it’s a pause.

A breath.

And Franklin’s wife answers the door. She doesn’t say a word as she stands looking at me with a face that betrays more sadness than I have seen in all my years. She looks at me and her lips open in a failed attempt to speak.

And then the fire in my gut, it spreads to my body.

I look at her and open my mouth:

‘Are you ok?’

She shakes her head and tears roll from her eyes.

She shakes her head and her body starts to shake.

She shakes her head and I feel lost.

And it takes a minute, but she finally regains composure. Hands to face; she dries her eyes and looks me over.

‘Why are you here?’

I’m starting to wonder if maybe she finally caught Franklin cheating on her. I’m wondering if she finally hit a breaking point and decided to cut through the denial that has been weighing her down for several hundred years.

But I know that’s not it.

I pause.

She asks again.

‘What are you doing here?’

Her voice is stern and tired.

Her voice is gentle and in shock.

I can’t seem to find any words that fit this moment. Every syllable seems to be like a jigsaw piece that does not fit.

It’s a nervous twisting of nervous fingers and finally I open up my mouth. I open up my mouth and I ask her where Franklin is.