Eternal Love

The phone rang.

Misa twisted the
water knob, bringing a halt to her shower.  Pulling a towel from the curtain
rod, she wrapped it around her body, then stepped out from behind the curtain.

The phone rang
again.

Towel-clad, she
swung open the door of the bathroom, scampered down the hallway, and lifted up
the cordless phone, checking the caller's number.

The phone rang
once more.  The caller's name showed as unavailable on the LCD.

She pressed the
talk button.  "Hello?"

"Hello,"
a man said.  "Is Robert Thorns available?"

"May I ask
who's calling?"

"Is this
Mrs. Thorns?"

"Yes.  Who
is this?"  She worried.  The man sounded like a debt collector.  Robert
always said he paid their bills on time, but sometimes she wondered how he
could.

"Mrs.
Thorns, I'm calling on behalf of the Cancer Research Institute.  We're
wondering if you or Mr. Thorns would like to become senescence donors.  Our
records indicate you have a transference hook-up in your home.  I could direct
you in its use over the phone.  A day could mean the difference between the
life or death of hundreds.  A week, even more.  Your time goes directly to our
lead scientists so they can continue their research."

The hot water
from her shower had all but cooled.  The remnants, soaking through her towel
and dampening her hair, chilled her shoulders and brought shivers to her skin. 
She had the urge to hang up and return to the bathroom and dip into a warm
bath.

"Mrs.
Thorns?  Are you there?"

She swallowed
hard.  "Yes.  I'm here.  I don't think we'll be donating.  I'm
sorry."

"Are you
sure?  The average person lives about seventy eight years, discounting
senescence transactions.  One week is an infinitesimal amount of time in
comparison.  Also, It's tax deductible and the good that—"

She hung up
before he finished.  Putting the phone back on its base, she walked down the
hallway in a daze, intent on returning to her shower.  She checked a clock on
the wall as she passed.  Robert should be coming home soon.  Maybe he'd like to
take her to a restaurant for dinner, something special where they could dress
up.

When she
returned to the bathroom, the phone rang again.  She switched on the bathtub
radio they owned, turned the volume dial until it drowned out the sound of
anything else, and twisted the water knob to resume her shower.

The disgustingly
crisp and pure surgical smell of the hospital room pervaded her senses.  In her
drug induced state, she felt detached from the world as if she were watching
herself on video years later.  Her head pounded.  She wanted to vomit.  The
doctor kept demanding things from her.

"Push."

Misa pushed. 
What more did he want?  She was pushing as best she could and she pushed every
time he asked, but he kept ordering her to do it again and again.

"Almost
there," he said.  "A little more."

Hadn't he said
this before?  How long had she been in here?  She couldn't remember. 

Though to be
fair, she didn't think she should be here at all.  She loved Dalton, she did,
but they were too young to be experiencing this.  She was only sixteen and in
high school; or had been until the weight of pregnancy kept her too exhausted
to continue.

Dalton said it
would be alright, though.  He would get a job.  Another job.  He'd get lots of
jobs and everything would be fine and he'd take care of her forever and their
son(they would have a son!  That's what the ultrasounds showed) would grow up
with loving parents.

She loved the
idea, it sounded romantic, but everyone disagreed.  It will be difficult, they
said.  She would lose opportunities.  How could she care for a child and
continue school?  High school might work, but college?  She didn't know those
answers.  She only knew she liked Dalton quite a bit, maybe she loved him a
lot, and he told her it would be alright.

Something
between her legs cried.  The doctor hefted up a small, fleshy bundle and showed
it to her.  She loved it, she knew that, but it reminded her of a hairless,
overgrown rat.  She laughed, wondering if anyone had thought this before.

"It's a
boy," the doctor said, triumphantly.  "Do you have a name for
him?"

Dalton had
hidden in a corner after she'd screamed at him too many times for his
incompetence, but he hurried back now.  "What do you think, babe?"

She smiled. 
"You liked Nathan, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but
you wanted to name him after your granddad?"

"No,"
she said.  She had wanted to do that, but not now.  "Nathan suits
him."

Robert phoned to
tell her he'd be home from work late.  She'd been reluctant to pick up the
phone, but the display showed his work number so it couldn't be too bad.  He
agreed wholeheartedly with her plan to go on a dinner date.  She'd dress up,
she said.  He chuckled and asked if she might dress down later.  Through the
phone she imagined his silly smirk.

Maybe, she said,
if he was good.  Oh, he'd be good, he told her.  Very good.

Maybe he would,
maybe he wouldn't?  They would have to see.

He drove her in
his sedan to their favorite Thai restaurant.  It scared her to drive because
she'd never properly learned how and everything seemed unfamiliar and
daunting.  She knew to stop at red lights, but she also knew some people didn't
bother to do the same.  Robert drove with confidence, though.  He made her feel
safe.

She waited after
they parked while he hustled over to open her door.

"M'lady,"
he said, extending his hand.

She took his
hand in hers, enjoying the difference between her petite fingers and his large
palm.  "M'lord Thorns, you're such a gentleman."

It was a game
they played sometimes, acting out parts from times far past while living in the
advanced present.  Computers and technology and politics might suit others, but
sometimes it was nice to forget all that and contemplate art and castles and
chivalry.

Robert helped
her from the car and brought her hand to his arm, tucking it around his elbow. 
"Shall we?" he asked.

"Let's."

The restaurant's
concierge greeted them with a smile.  "Hello, sir and madame.  Do you have
a reservation?"

Robert nodded,
reciting his information.  He'd called on his way home and made sure of the
restaurant's availability.  She liked that about him; his foresight.

"This
way," the concierge said.  "We've kept your table waiting."

Seating them,
the man left to inquire about their waiter and get them drinks.  She smiled,
glancing around the room and taking it all in.  A string quartet played songs
on a small stage, and a handful of couples danced to a slow tune.  Robert would
ask her to dance later, she knew, and of course she'd say yes.

"Misa,
look.  They've gotten new fish since last time."  Robert pointed to the
extravagant fish tank built into the wall.

Like a child,
she jumped to peek and look.  They did, they had new fish.  Only a few—a
bright one with purple fins and one with orange stripes—but they were new. 
They swam back and forth, making the checkered glass of the fish tank look like
an ever-changing multicolored stained glass mosaic.

"Do you
know what you want to eat?" Robert asked.

She thought
about it for a moment.  "I'd like that mango with sticky rice they
serve."

"I meant
for dinner!"  He laughed.  "We'll definitely get that for dessert,
though."

Dalton left
after high school.  He said he wasn't ready.  He couldn't handle it.  Of course
he would pay child support, though, and he'd like to visit Nathan sometimes.

He paid child
support; sixty dollars a week.  He never visited.

He went to
college somewhere, she didn't know where.  She didn't care much, either.  He'd
left her and she had her hands full with Nathan.  Her parents helped and they
weren't as critical about her life as they'd been during her pregnancy.  She
met an older man in his late twenties, too.

Gaige was
something alright.  That's what her father said.  He dressed in fashionable
leathers, and with his black hair he looked like he could pass as a vampire on
one of those hit shows on the premium channels.

He also did
drugs and enjoyed partying.  She never told her parents about that part.  While
she didn't do drugs herself and didn't necessarily enjoy partying, she liked
Gaige asking her to go with him.  It was a shared activity between them, a
closeness they could bond over.

When they went
to one party he knew of in an abandoned warehouse, he had her wear a dress that
showed far too much of her cleavage and probably all of her butt.  Her father
wouldn't like it, but her father wasn't going.  That's how she rationalized
it.  Gaige didn't rationalize; he groped and made out with her.

At the party, he
left her alone.  She stood in the supply room of the dusty warehouse with a
horde of party-goers, wondering how anyone could like this.  Someone had
brought a radio and blared trance music.  She recognized some songs and moved
back and forth, catching the rhythm but too shy to do it in full force because
of her wardrobe's inadequacy. 

Later, a long
time after Gaige left, someone attached strobe lights to a metal walkway
hanging above the makeshift dancing floor.  The lights flickered and flashed,
blinding her sometimes and highlighting different dancers at others.  Men tried
to dance with her but she shook her head and shooed them away.

Gaige returned,
eyes bloodshot and covered in haze.  He didn't look like he could see, let
alone recognize her, but he did.

"Hey
baby," he said, sidling close and wrapping her in his arms.  "How you
doing?"

"Gaige!" 
She laughed when he tipped her backwards into a mockery of a formal dance
move.  "Stop that!  Everyone will see me.  You're drunk, aren't you?"

"No
way," he said.  He twirled her around and she went with it.  "Had a
pick me up.  You want one?  Just a—"  He pinched the underside of her
elbow.  "—nip and you'll feel happy like a cloud."

"No, I'm
fine.  Dance with me."

They danced.

Later, they
fooled around in the back seat of his car.  "I love you," she said
after he spent himself.  She knew he would have said "I love you"
back, but he'd fallen asleep.

Robert woke early
for work.  She lounged in bed, listening to the buzz of his electric razor. 
She liked when he gave her a good morning kiss afterwards and the scent of
aftershave was fresh on his cheeks.

She rolled in
the blankets, twisting, tying, and untying herself from within them.  Robert
came in and searched his closet for the suit he wanted to wear.  This was all
nice, the situation idyllic for her.  Smiling as she watched him, it amused her
to see him trying not to look her way while getting ready.

When he finished,
he knelt by the bed and kissed her cheek.  She smelled his aftershave then,
fresh, like peppermint.  He opened a drawer in their bedside table and took out
his portable senescence machine.  She knew what it was for and what he would
do, and she hoped he knew he didn't have to.

"I woke an
hour early," he said.  No earlier than he usually woke up, she thought. 
"I think you deserve an extra hour for sleep, don't you?"

She murmured,
neither agreement nor disagreement.  She worried if she said too much, he might
not like it, that he might think her ungracious.  He smiled and patted her
cheek.  Pulling two cords from the machine, he attached the alligator clips of
one to his finger and the other to one of hers.  She laughed the first time
she'd seen this kind of machine since it reminded her of a pair of jumper
cables.  She didn't laugh now, only waited to see if he would change his mind. 
She wouldn't mind if he did, but he didn't.

The machine
whirred.  A zip of energy pricked her finger.  It stung, then vanished.  Robert
looked tired afterwards and she felt sorry for him.  On the contrary, she felt
refreshed.  Not the best feeling for sleeping, but she would try to because she
didn't want to waste the time he'd given her.

He kissed her
again before unclipping the cords and putting the machine back.

"I'll be
back tonight," he said.  "Have a good day, alright?"

She nodded,
lazily.  "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss
you, too."  He blew her a kiss, then turned off the lights and left her
alone in their bedroom.

Dalton hadn't
paid child support in months.  He never paid a lot, so he didn't owe much, but
she needed something to support Nathan.  That's what her parents said,
anyways.  In truth, they housed her, fed her and gave her most anything she
required, but they disliked her child's father shirking his responsibilities.

He arrived one
day while Nathan was sleeping.  Her father interrupted her while she was
reading a book to tell her someone was waiting for her on the porch, and by the
way he said it and the flare of his nostrils she could guess who.  Dalton stood
there, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth, heel to toe.

"Hey,"
he said.

"Hi,"
she said.

"I don't
have a lot of money."  His new button down shirt seemed to contradict this
statement.

"I never
asked for a lot of money."  She hadn't.  He was the one who said he'd
support them.  He was the one who said everything would be alright.  "You
need to support Nathan, though.  He's your son, too."

"I
know."  Dalton stared at the floor.  "I'm sorry."

"It's
fine."  It wasn't, not according to her parents, but she said it anyways.

They stood in
silence, neither knowing what to say or do.  All of a sudden he blurted out,
"Have you heard of that new thing they have?"