We eat slowly, watching the sun rise, listening to the gentle waving of the bayou. I force one down and feed the beans to Shiloh. Anything will taste of nothing, go down bitter, but a sandwich at least will give me energy. I feel around in the pack Starling gave me and find two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a bag of chips, two bottles of soda, and another can of beans. And soon-the meeting place is a full day’s hike away. I lay my head next to his and we stare into each other’s eyes. He smells more like home than anything in that sad farmhouse I will return to without him. Shiloh stirs and sighs beside me, dreaming of chasing something. I wonder if those old people would make the bargain I was supposed to make last night: Stop feeling and you get to live forever. Would Eureka?
My aunts and uncles look away from old men with walkers and women in wheelchairs, as if no one should have to endure such shameful spectacles.
My family speaks of age with pity and disdain: The elderly are weak, sick, pathetic. Sometimes I look at people and wonder if they’re afraid to die. I roll over in time to see a raccoon run away with the last remnant of my cake. Black logs lie scattered across slick leaves. The campsite looks like it’s been trashed by something bigger than a boy blowing out candles. My body is stiff and it takes a moment to recall where I am. Three crows sail the pink sky above my opening eyes. I recognize her easily as my Eureka, though she is close to death. She was seventeen a moment ago now she looks seventy.īy the time she is in front of me, she is stooped and frail. Lines deepen around her eyes, gray comes into her hair. Though she is very far away, I hear the rustling of her clothes, feel the weight of her body on the sand.Īs she draws closer, her face begins to change.
I hear soft footsteps in the sand behind me. It is nighttime and I am standing in a desert, surrounded by dunes a hundred feet high.Īn enormous bird soars above, silhouetted against the moon.
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