Eternity
By emma_lee
- 418 reads
Eternity
When I was a kid someone once described eternity as being an iron,
earth-sized satellite out in the middle of the galaxy. Then once every
thousand years a small bird flies out to that iron ball and brushes one
wing against its surface. And by the time the millennial birds' wings
have worn the satellite to a filing, eternity is just beginning.
As soon as I bought my first car I thought eternity was waiting for you
to finish getting ready to go out as I sat, engine ticking over,
watching the petrol gauge. Just as I began to think your parents had
caught you and you wouldn't be able to make it, you invariably
appeared. Big grin under that battered felt hat and leather duster coat
you wore over your black shirt and leather jeans. You'd barely have
time to shut the car door and compliment me on my leather top and
shorts before I'd be driving off. As I drive off now, through this
deadbeat city and away from stupid parents. We only wanted to be
together: hardly crime of the millennium.
I guess if you assume the first millennial bird flew up in year zero
and the next in the year 1,000, then the third would be taking off just
now. As I drive towards Gloucester to join the Fosse Way, I see you
sleeping through the drum-and-bass I put on to keep me alert. Just as
well, really, you always were a lousy navigator. We've got us, some
beer and our savings. Destination: north east. You had some friends in
the East Midlands. They were going to put us up until we could find
work and a place of our own.
My parents thought you would introduce me to bad habits like clubbing
till all hours and drugs. According to your parents, I came from the
wrong family. That was the problem with the small town attitude of this
claustrophobic city. They didn't stop us exchanging emails or bunking
off school to meet. As soon as I got my car, it was even easier: I
waited round the corner, you sneaked out pretending to be meeting mates
in a pub and then I drove into town the back way.
You could walk through the night club like you owned the place. The
duster gave you a taller, leaner appearance. You rarely danced. When
you'd been seen, we'd fade into the darkest corner and I'd feel your
lips on mine, your soft dark hair brush my face and the heat of your
pale skin like a protective cloak about me. I don't know what you saw
in me, but I hoped you'd never stop seeing it.
Now I'm eighteen. They can't touch us, can't stop us being
together.
*****
This must be Gloucestershire: the crumbly brownstone buildings,
quaint-looking villages and every other shop sells antiques. I pull in
by a pub. Don't know about you, but I need something to eat. I turn to
look at the passenger seat and I see you still sleeping. Briefly I want
to cradle you, to kiss your sleep-softened skin, to tell you it's all
gonna work out because it has to somehow and hold you forever.
But my stomach's rumbling so instead I nervously ease out of the car.
My leathers are out of place here. With you that never mattered, now it
does.
Somehow I drum up enough courage to get me into the newsagents and buy
an energy-snack. It'll keep my stomach quiet until we next get chance
to eat. I eat it as I cross the road back to the car.
Quickly I get back in and drive off, continuing north. Once clear of
the village, I floor the accelerator until the speedo hits seventy.
Then I ease off, keeping speed constant. The road's straight here and
the only thing likely to bother me is a tractor, now freight's gone
back on the rails.
We met kind of accidentally. I spun my parents a story about my friends
needing my help with some art project so I had to stay with her. To me
it sounded pathetically weak, but the schoolwork angle sold it. Then I
persuaded my friend she really had to go to this gig. We spent ages
getting made up to look older.
Nervously we entered the venue and scurried for the darkest corner
while we plucked up courage to go to the bar. While my friend admired
everyone's outfits, I saw you. I leaned against the wall for support.
My hand automatically went to push an imaginary stray hair in
place.
The action must've caught your eye. You walked in my direction. My
friend was still babbling, oblivious to the momentous event about to
take place. What did I say? Phrases like "Hi!", "You're into this DJ
too?", "What's someone like you doing in a dump like this?" sounded too
ordinary. You merited something more earth-shattering.
You smiled.
I smiled back. Then quickly glanced at my friend to make sure it wasn't
her you were smiling at.
Before I had chance to look back at you, I smelt leather, then
aftershave as you whispered in my ear, "What are you drinking?"
Split-second thinking was required and I didn't know what the bar
served. Not that I could think. Your closeness was making my head spin.
I looked towards the floor. As I did so, I caught sight of the beer
bottled in your hand.
"Same as you," I managed.
You spun off and I had to hurry to follow the swirls of your duster
coat. After buying drinks you found a couple of spare seats. We talked.
Or rather you talked about yourself but allowed me to chip in when I
wanted to. You kissed me and I wanted us to last for all
eternity.
****
Suddenly a bird catches my eye. A small bird, sparrow-sized, but it's
keeping pace with the car. How fast can birds fly? I dunno, but I
didn't think it was that fast. I don't think it's a sparrow either. The
feathers are black. But it doesn't have the yellow beak of a blackbird
and, in any case, is too small. Maybe the blackness is just the light.
I could be seeing a silhouette.
I try to look back at the road. But the bird has my gaze fixed to it. I
can't tear my eyes from it and it's still keeping the speed of the
car.
I can feel panic begin to tremble through me.
Through the windscreen I can see the hill. I can also see a brick wall
rise with the hill. Unless I steer away, I'm on a collision course. But
my hands are fixed on the steering wheel, unable to move. The wall must
only be a couple of minutes away. And I can't take my eyes away from
the damn bird.
*****
We'd left the club together. You'd given me our savings. I was to look
after them and pick you up tomorrow. Then we would drive away together.
Recklessly we'd stopped for a kiss, taking the risk someone might see
us.
In the background there had been a car. Dimly I heard the yells of a
group of lads enjoying a few beers and a night on the town. I had
ignored it. I had precious few moments alone with you as it was.
Suddenly the car had accelerated.
Breaking off your kiss I had grabbed your arm and tried to run. But you
had stood immobile, your mind not yet catching up with the idea of
motion. You were too heavy for me to drag away.
The car had hit you. Had hit the wall of the building we were standing
by. I slid inside an alley too narrow for the car. The alley I tried to
drag you into. My hands covered my face as I heard the crumple of metal
against brick. But through my fingers I had seen the car reverse over
you and drive off.
You had no chance. I had looked at your face so I could avoid seeing
the rest of you, but even then I had still seen blood seeping over the
pavement from the wound at the back of your head where you'd hit the
wall. Your eyes had stared wildly. I'd tried to smile, then had kissed
you softly on your lips. You had seemed to relax. I had pushed your
eyelids shut.
As soon as I heard the sirens, I fled.
It was a reflex action: authority hadn't exactly been kind to us. But,
with hindsight, I know my parents would've never forgiven me if I had
been found there. I'd never been able to show them my grief either and
the idea of trying to pretend I felt nothing over your death was almost
as painful as your death itself.
****
From the corner of my eye, I can see the empty passenger seat. Your
ghost stubbornly refused to talk. But it doesn't matter. My knuckles
whiten as I grip the steering wheel ever tighter. I know what to do,
how I can be with you after all.
Just keep my hands on the wheel and follow the millennial bird to the
beginning of eternity.
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