curse of forever (Feb 2022)

2

"Look," George points, watching the families drag their suitcases behind their backs, "That could have been us."

"That will be us."

"No Esther. That will never happen. We're stuck here together. For good."

I groan, taking his hand in mine, "That doesn't mean we won't be happy."

He sighs, looking down at the tiled floor, "You're right."

"I know I am. Now, let's go see Clay."

I drag him through the airport, down the stairs, and to customs. I get in line excitedly, waiting for our turn.

But he laughs.

"What?"

"You do realize right..." He starts, overlooking the crowd of people.

The realization hits me fast, "Shit. I totally forgot."

He grabs my nerveless hand, flashing me a smile before disappearing through a family of four. He goes past the customs booth, through the sensor.

It beeps immediately, and the police look at the machine confused, stopping the guy that just came through.

"Looks like he's getting a pat-down," I whisper, stifling a laugh.

He giggles, then guides me through the hallways to the gates.

"Look for Orlando," He says, pointing up to the brightly illuminated sign.

I squint up at the words, scanning the board for Orlando.

"Gate B36," I say, finally finding the words.

He nods, then we head off, making our way through the slow groups of old people who were heading to Las Vegas to gamble their stupid money away.

"Boarding in 10 minutes," He says excitedly, wiggling his fists back and forth.

"You excited?" I smile at the boy.

He nods fast, "I can't wait to meet him." But he immediately sighs, "I wish I could have met him."

The mood plummets, "I know George. But we wouldn't be with each other forever if we stayed in those disgusting bodies. I mean hell, did you see my face when she turned me over."

He laughs weakly, "It was disgusting. You wouldn't even be able to tell it was you by how fucked up it was."

"Right. And look how pretty I am now. Crazy what I gun to your brain can do."

He holds a hand up to his mouth, muffling the crazy laughs escaping his mouth.

"Boarding in 5 minutes!" The speakers announce. I look over to George with a toothy smile displaying across my face.

"I wonder what seats we'll find," He says looking out across the floor.

"Let's go towards the back. It'll be less filled."

"We can take whatever seat we want technically," He smirks, flashing his now grey, lifeless eyes at me. They were so pretty before. Especially in the sun on a hot day. I would pay millions of dollars to go back just to look into the ocean of honey I called his eyes.

-

The American-filled plane filled our nostrils with the rancid smell of oil and grease. I never really realized how better I could smell now than when I was alive.

The flight was forever, and I tried to sleep. I really did. But even when I closed my eyes, I was sleepless. Not even an ounce of fatigue filled my body.

When we finally got there, we rushed through the people's bodies, out the door, and onto the walkway up into the airport.

"It's cold here," George shivers.

"It's supposed to be hot," I frown, disappointed with the climate.

Everyone around us wore short shorts and thin t-shirts. A tropical feel surrounded us, but all we could feel was the sheet of frigid regret falling on top of us like a weighted blanket.

I simply sigh and start walking out of the gates. The walk was long to the outdoors and when we finally got there, the taxi waiting for us had a depressing feel to them.

We waited for someone to come to hop in with them. George had known Clay's address from a few weeks ago when they were texting about a meet-up.

I remember that day vividly too.

George laid excitedly on his bed legs sprawled out and his ankles crossed with a huge smile permanently plastered across his face. He complained that his cheeks hurt for a couple of hours after.

He talked with Clay and Nick about meeting up for ages now, and since George was finally able to get a visa, they were finalizing the details.

He would ramble on for hours about all the things they would do. The best thing he was looking forward to was Christmas with his best friends.

But that never happened, and will never happen. Not in this lifetime at least.

We sat in between a silent couple. I would guess about their late 30s. The silence in the car was painful and sad. Even the driver seemed to not want to be here.

The night sky was a dark grey, clouds painting the night like a dome. I felt trapped. The stars always gave me hope that there was something else than this depressing earth. But when I needed them the most, they were hiding.

The driver took us into the heart of downtown Orlando. Only a 20-minute walk from Clay's apartment, we started immediately, wanting to get there before he headed to bed.

We ran through the streets, laughing as the people behind us started to look around them like there was someone with them.

George read off the address from memory then we started up the long staircase. We didn't knock, why would we? When we entered through the door, we saw him on the couch with Patches watching football.

I guess he has not received the news yet.

We tiptoed over to the couch, sitting on either side of him. He immediately cringes, pulling the blanket up his body more.

Then, George places a gentle finger on his neck, running the tip up his warm skin slowly.

He shivers, turning behind him and looking around the room.

"The fuck," He mumbles under his breath, then turns back to the tv.

"Turn off the tv," I whisper to George. He nods getting up slowly and reaching his hand behind the tv, pressing the off button.

"Alright, what the fuck," Clay groans, standing up and walking to the tv. He successfully turns it back on and rolls his eyes before sitting back down.

I turn to George as he giggles maniacally, covering his mouth with his hand in attempt to stifle his laughter. I still don't think he understands we are dead.