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It doesn't make much sense but ever since you died, I have been searching for you.
Then again, what about us and the cruel, merciless world we are thrown into time and time again makes any sense?
I still remember the day after you lost your arm, sitting beside you as I watched the sunlight that crawled in through the window dapple your face. Even the dust was illuminated and beautiful as your sapphire eyes blinked open. You looked like an angel.
"I'm going to hell," you said.
I shrugged. That was fine by me. It didn't matter since I knew I would follow you into the fires of death just as I did in life. As long as we went to hell together, I would be satisfied. What started as a curse on my devil bloodline has become my blessing. In every life, I find purpose in chasing you.
Sometimes I meet your father. Other times you meet my mama. Sometimes we have known each other since childhood. Other times I only catch you once in passing. The worst, though, is when I don't see you at all. I know you're there in the world somewhere, but fate is particularly cruel to us in those lifetimes and I bumble through life with a yearning that I can't satisfy.
You know, the memories right before I lose you are always the most vivid.
Smelling your softness in the trees before burying the arrow into your pelt. Hearing the monotonous flatline of the heart monitor as you rattle a final breath. Tasting the iron of your warm blood rush into my mouth as I rip your throat out in the stadium. Pulling your weakening body out of the placid lake. Feeling you go limp in my arms from an enemy's bullet. Watching you fall asleep for the last time, old and happy, in your favorite reading chair.
And in every life, you die before I do.
Do you remember? Do you have favorite lives, too? In so many of them, you plaster on a stoic face of determination. Erwin, I've learned that you're a genuine liar. Ironic, right? But I realize now that you're just as good at lying to others as you are at lying to yourself. One time you admitted that I am the only person who truly understands your heart--better than you do yourself.
We lived a life once where your father took me in as the housekeeper. You were just a little boy. It was so refreshing to see you unabashedly share your childish dreams, running and jumping and jeering with glittering eyes. Even after your father died, we stayed together for a while, the way that Kenny and I sometimes do.
I think my favorites are the ones you find the most boring. Holding your hand in the grocery store I always think, "this is it, this is the life." But you get that faraway look in your eyes that hollows me from the inside out. You always want to move forward, accomplishing something. That's just how you are. I don't mind as long as I can come with you.
Do you remember when we moved out of our hometown to the coast and you taught me how to swim? Or when you were studying algae blooms in the Antarctic and we froze our asses off for four years straight? Or when you were in charge of my hospice care? I thought for sure I would die before you in that one, but I'm fate's fool. Then was that one where you asked so many questions that you had to run away to the northern countries to avoid execution as a political prisoner. Honestly, Erwin, it was such pain to finally find you again.
How about the one where we were knights? The sword in my hand felt a little too familiar, but I didn't mind it if it meant I could be by your side. You looked dazzling in that white cloak, shining like an angel, glowing like the sun itself. But I don't like the warrior ones very much. Whether we are soldiers or hitmen, you have such a burden on your shoulders. I can do nothing to ease it other than let you die. And I have let you die more times than I can count.
Still, I'll wait. Any life is a good one as long as you're in it.
Right now, I am waiting for the train. It was a long day at work and I hope to find you soon so I can come home and fall asleep in your arms. It's hard to rest most nights. There is a girl on the platform across from me and she is strangely familiar. She scans the station, eyes sweeping up and down, looking for something. Or someone. Our gazes meet. I recognize the look in her eyes because I have seen it in the mirror. "You'll find him," I mouth to her. But she already knows.
The train arrives, tousling my hair wildly around my face. I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders and grab the stanchion. Someone bumps into me.
"Excuse me."
Sapphire eyes blink at me warmly and golden hair sticks out of your bun in protest. You look like an angel and you smell like sunlight.
"Don't let it happen again," I say.
You are so beautiful, shining like a star among the greys of the train car. It doesn't matter how I see you--covered in dirt, wearing grey slacks, or adorned with gleaming armor--it's always the same. No matter how human you reveal yourself to be, you are so much more than that. Part devil, part divine, there is something special about your soul.
We wander the halls of purgatory together.
"Ah, have we met before?" you ask, smiling despite my sullen attitude. "I saw you waiting for the train."
Yes.
I was waiting.
I have been waiting for such a long time.