Happy Birthday Eternity Read Online Free Page B

was a slow drift, just like everything in my life. 
    Slowly drifting.
    And in my stomach, there’s a pit.
    I excuse myself to the bathroom.  Navigating the hall, I look at pictures along the way.  There is one picture of Franklin and his wife in the entire house. 
    There only needs to be one picture.
    They’re not going to age.  They’re not going to divorce.  No one is going to die and the changing of fashions and trends died with youth.  There is no need for anything more. 
    But when have we ever been satisfied with only having what we need?
    And so I go to the bathroom. 
    When I’m done Franklin asks if I want to go get coffee with him. 
    I do.
    We drive. 
    We end up at the same coffee shop we always go to.  The same coffee shop where we see the same people that we always see. 
    We’ve been going here for centuries.  We still don’t know the names of the other familiar faces. 
    Across the coffee shop is a new face.  He’s staring at me.
    I make eye contact.  He looks away.
    I order my drink, go sit down with Franklin, we start to talk.  Out of the corner of my eye I can see this guy listening to us. 
    The conversation carries on.
    About life.
    About the past.
    ‘I’m not too sure where I’m going to work now, I’ve got some money saved up, so I don’t have to work for the next hundred years or so, but I’d like to get back out there sooner than later.’
    When death ended, so did retirement.
    I’m not even thinking about working.  I feel as if I’m in a state of perpetual fog.  Something’s missing but I don’t know what.
    ‘I’ll get a job when I can get myself together.’
    Franklin nods.  Sips his drink.  Looks at the ceiling and the floor.
    ‘Hey, Franklin,’ I’m whispering, ‘someone’s listening to us.’ I gesture towards the man that had been staring at me.  The new face with curly brown hair and a lanky body.
    Franklin glances over and looks back at me. 
    ‘I think you’re just seeing things.’
    The stranger, the listening man, he starts to shift in his seat.
    I get up and walk over to him.  This is completely out of character for me, but so is being spied on.
    I look down at him.
    ‘Hi.’
    He stands up.  Looks me in the eyes for a brief pause, and then walks away.  Out the doors and down the street.
     
    14
     
    It’s Monday.
    I wake up to the alarm clock.  I roll over to put my arm around Evaline. 
    Her side of the bed is cold.  I let out a sigh.  I stand up.  Walk to the bathroom.  My head is still full of morning fog.  I feel like I’m dancing while drunk. 
    I brush my teeth.  I get in the shower.  The hot water isn’t waking me up.  I put on the cold water and start to shiver.  I get out.  Dry off.  Comb my hair.  Put on clothes. 
    I make breakfast and look out my kitchen window.
    Cars are driving past. 
    The sun is starting to come up.
    I put on the television.
    Watch the news.
    It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.
    I sit down to eat.
    The food doesn’t quite taste right. 
    I throw it away without finishing.
    I grab my keys, go outside, stand at my car.  I have nowhere to go. 
    I turn around and walk back inside.
    The air in my house is still. 
    I miss the sound of Evaline.
    I take off my shoes, socks, pants.  Get back into bed.  I would watch the sun come up but I’m not in the mood. 
    I close my eyes. 
     
    15
     
    ‘How did you know you loved Dad?’
    I’m at my parent's house. 
    My mom is drinking tea. 
    She looks the same age as Evaline.  She looks the same age as everyone in this country.  
    Her hair is pulled back as tightly as her face and she’s wearing cherry red lipstick that makes her look paler than she really is. 
    Her eyes are swimming around, they flick back and forth.
    She pauses.
    Clicks her nails on the table.
    Her mouth opens and shuts.
    It’s a fresh coat of lipstick.
    Her throat clears.
    Eyebrows arch.
    A pause.  A breath.  A nervous twisting of nervous fingers.
    We’re outside. 
    In