Pink Flamingos

Afterlife

Eddie still lingered in my life. He invaded my thoughts and left me smiling to myself. I just hoped that he didn’t notice.

Sometimes he would catch me on my way to the shops, and we’d buy groceries, records or sweets together. Other times, he’d get a fold-out chair out for me and we would sit side-by-side, talking about nothing. On rare occasions, I’d fall into old habits and ignore him altogether.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked as we sat out under the sun together.

“Nothing,” I replied. That was what I always said and I wished it were true – but I was always thinking about something, it’s just that I never knew how to express it to anyone.

I wanted to ask him what he was thinking instead. He seemed a little nervous, always glancing at me, then the floor, then the record player, then the sky. He was fiddling with his fingers and running his hands through his hair.

But I couldn’t make the words come out. I didn’t want him to know that I even considered him in the slightest.

“You know I like you, right?” He blurted out abruptly.

I looked to him and nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

“I mean, I’ve liked you since we met.”

That’s impossible, I thought to myself. That’s crazy, that’s silly, that’s stupid, that’s not true- “I know,” I said simply, looking at him curiously.

“And I want you to like me too. Ya know, as more than a friend.”

There was silence.

“And how do you intend on doing that?” I said unexpectedly.

In that moment, I wished that I could punch myself. I knew I should have told him that i had been thinking about him, or that at least a part of me felt the same way. But every word was like a weight hanging in my chest, making me slump down and slouch. I needed to become smaller, then maybe he wouldn’t want anything from me at all.

He shrugged. “Honestly? I’ve got no idea.”

“Oh,” was all I could think to say.

“Sorry,” he said.

“…it’s fine.”

There was awkward silence, with neither of us being able to face the other. I wanted to say everything to him but I couldn’t force a single word out. For all I knew, he felt the same way.

“I know I’m probably not your type,” he admitted sheepishly.

“I’m probably not yours either, so aren’t we even?”

“True.”

He sighed. I sighed. I tried to imagine myself as a grand adventurer, who could turn to him and tell him the whole truth confidently and seductively. But the quiet grew heavier moment by moment.

“Can I do something?” He asked quietly.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond. Every answer I could possibly give seemed stupidly simple. The situation was beyond me.

I felt him press two curled fingers under my chin to turn my head towards his. His pupils were blown wide, his mouth hanging open slightly. I took a shallow breath.

He brought me closer and pressed his lips against mine. Cautiously, I brought my hand around to the back of his neck. It was gentle and soft, but my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest. I hoped he didn’t notice that my hands were shaking.

But despite all my worries, it felt heavenly. As soon as we broke apart, we kissed again and again, each of them being short and sweet. I felt like I was melting – I was disappearing in the best kind of way.

I couldn’t keep track of how long it went on. The world didn’t slow down, speed up or stop – it simply ceased to exist. I kept my eyes shut and let him do the work, wondering when it would be over without knowing whether I wanted it to be or not.

I have never been able to tell if someone is a good kisser or not. In my eyes, someone poking around inside my mouth with their tongue is really the same as anyone else doing it. None of it really mattered. All I could say was that there wasn’t any teeth clashing, which was nice I supposed.

He didn’t taste like anything in particular, but I remembered being close enough to smell his aftershave. I was beginning to run out of air – I felt like I was trapped inside a sinking ship, watching the world above through the crystal-clear waves while heading further and further down and gradually becoming resigned to my fate.

When he finally did stop, he did it slowly. At first, his lips were still practically on mine, and then he moved back at the rate of slow molasses with his eyes still closed. We both had to take a moment to draw in a breath.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” I replied, a little more confident than the first time.

Again, there was silence. Though he turned away from me, I still felt like I was trapped inside that sinking boat, the world that existed above the water teasing and taunting me because I could never be a part of it. No matter how much air I took in, my lungs felt empty. It was like he had taken it all from me and the only way I could get it back was by kissing him again.

And again and again and again and again and again and again-

“What was that for?” I asked.

He shrugged without even sparing me a glance. “I said I liked you, didn’t I?” There was a pause. “Did you…. did you want me to kiss you?”

I didn’t know what to say to him because I never knew what I wanted in the slightest. It was always two things at once – I wanted him as close to me as possible but I wanted to run far, far away from him. I could never want all of a person, even though I often wanted them to give me everything. It just isn’t possible.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

I counted to three in my head as he looked at me curiously, his head tilted slightly to the side like a puppy dog’s. I could see the gears turning in his head, the machinery whirring. Silently, I wondered what he was thinking.

Had I hurt him? Pleased him? Anything in between?

“What do you think happens after we die?” I said quietly, my eyes darting between the ground and his.

“Why do you wanna know?” He asked brusquely.

My voice coming out as small as a mouse’s, I said, “I’m just curious.”

He sighed. “We just disappear. There’s nothing else or anything. We disappear and that’s the end, sweetheart.”

I didn’t know what else I had expected him to say. He didn’t seem like the kind who believed in a paradise. The only thing we had was the life we were given, there was no chance to try again. The thought was very depressing.

On shaky legs, I stood up and walked away. I walked away from him and back to my own trailer, shutting the door behind me with a soft click and standing there in front of it, breathing shallowly and trying to remember what it was like to be a loving person. No matter how hard I tried, my feet refused to take another step.

I hadn’t turned back to see his expression – I could only wonder how he felt. Deep down, I knew that I had probably hurt him. Good, I thought, and shut myself off to the world.

It was as easy as shutting the door. There was the same soft and gentle click of the lock and the slight, ever so slight creak of the hinge.