Eternal Love Read Free Page A

because of
loneliness.  She didn't feel bad about it, though; she suspected this was the
same reason he'd called her.
    Another bonus to
the real estate, in Gaige's mind, was the stockpile of drugs and alcohol he
kept stored beneath the floorboards.  He brought out a box and smiled, offering
her whatever she wanted.  She declined.  To make up for her lack of interest,
he took double for himself.
    He drank, too. 
She listened to him ramble about malformed ideas in his intoxicated state.  She
yawned, tired, but doubted they could leave tonight.  She didn't want to sleep
on dirt covered floors, but she mistrusted Gaige's ability to direct them back
to his car, let alone his ability to drive it.
    "Hey,
baby?"
    She opened her
sleep-heavy eyes.  "What?"
    "You heard
of that new stuff?  You give someone your life, that thing?"
    "Yes." 
She nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open.  She hadn't told him, but Dalton
was paying her a week of his time every month as child support.  Her parents
said she should sell it when she had enough to move out on her own.  She didn't
want to, though.  She was only twenty three, but she felt and looked younger
now, almost like she had when she was eighteen.  Not much difference, not
really, but to her it was noticeable.
    Gaige rummaged
through his drug cache, snatching out a rectangular box that looked like a
briefcase.  He undid the latches and lifted the lid, turning it to show her. 
Inside, the same as the machine at Dalton's dad's office, was the senescence
device used to transfer life from one person to another.
    He grinned. 
"The ultimate high," he said.  "Me and the guys are trying it. 
We transfer a couple years back and forth.  Feels like crap if you're losing
some, but man does it feel great if you're gaining.  We don't lose anything in
the end, just give it all back so it evens out."  He pulled out the cords
and showed her.  "You want to try it?"
    Unsure about the
procedure the first time she'd done it with Dalton, soon it became routine. 
Perfectly safe, his father told her.  If Gaige wanted to partake in something
less dangerous than his usual habits, she could agree with that.  "I'll
try it," she said.
    "Great!" 
He clipped their fingers.  "I'll give to you, then we'll switch."  He
punched numbers into the machine and started it.  "Takes awhile to warm
up.  It's an older model."
    By the time the
machine warmed up, they'd fallen asleep.  She woke in the morning with the clip
attached to her finger and Gaige snoring, slumped over the table.  He looked
years older.  She felt incredible, invigorated, and awake.  Tidying up while he
slept, she packed the machine and latched it into its box, leaving it on the
table.  When Gaige woke up, he complained of a headache and said he felt awful,
but blew it off as a hangover.
    ...
    Robert was
dead.  He died in an accident.  A car speeding through a red light hit his
passenger door and sent him crashing into a street pole.
    When she first
met Robert, she had looked like she was in her early twenties and he in his mid
thirties.  Twelve years later, she looked the same and he looked like he was
closer to the age of retirement.  Now she didn't know what he looked like; the
coroner warned her, saying it might be best if she remembered how he last
looked instead of seeing him after the accident.
    She wandered
their house, confused.  If she slept in late during his usual work days, it was
like pretending he'd left and would be home later.  She took long showers
around the time he would have returned, but whenever she came out he wasn't
there.
    One time, before
the wake, she went to their favorite Thai restaurant.  The concierge recognized
her and mentioned Robert hadn't called in a reservation.  She apologized and
was about to correct the man, to tell him what happened, but he smiled and said
they had a table if she would wait one moment.  She waited.
    Sitting at the
table for two, she ordered water, two glasses,