11/04/31

I still think about it sometimes. Your face was the first thing I saw every morning, the first thing I ever wanted to see. The light coming in through the translucent curtains, reflecting over your hazel eyes.

We would wake up, have sex, have coffee. The rest was nothing and everything all at once. I knew I had you.

We were wrapped up in the beauty of it all; high up, caged only by clouds and nothingness. That day, I remember stepping out, wrapped up in a flimsy, almost transparent robe, and the ghost of your kisses on my skin. The path to the cliffs was almost beautiful, if not for the feeling of impending loss that enveloped its traveler, getting stronger the closer you get to them. But this was my every morning routine, I was used to it.

I stayed by the edge of the cliffs for a while, staring down onto the sea of clouds under our small patch of land. The Earth underneath was completely unreachable, even by sight. Memories from our past life down there were also starting to feel farther away. That day, you trailed after me, as you would sometimes. I remember the soft touch of your hand on my shoulder. I knew what you were thinking —that I was reminiscing on past life, but I wasn’t, not really. I never regretted a thing we did. Not even when it landed us up here, prisoners for eternity.

Your hand skimmed down my arm, turning my chin up to face you. Grabbing my face with both hands, you placed the gentlest kiss on my lips. Time ceased to exist.

***

As we walked back to the house, hand in hand, we wondered what the day ahead of us would look like. Time was tricky now. Days weren’t days, weeks flew by or crawled, depending on our mood. During those slow weeks, I could understand how all this was meant to be a punishment. Parts of me understood sometimes how this could break some people apart, achieve its desired effect.

We’ve been serving our judgement for about 3 years now. Even though some days mash together in the routine of it all, it has always been important to me to keep count of how much time has actually passed. Not because of an underlying hope of getting out of here —I know we never will, ours was a life sentence, imposed for committing the most unforgivable crime—but mostly because remembering dates and celebrations was always important to me, even before we were exiled. I reminisce now on birthdays, holidays and celebratory dinners with a smile on my face. It’s the one thing I miss the most. Well, that, and the possibility of having children of our own. Those are the things I miss the most.

I never thought too much about kids when we were down on Earth. It was never a goal of mine. I had other priorities. My career, success, education, academic aspirations. It felt as though there was too much to do and too little time. It’s almost ironic now. I have all the time there is to have, no distractions other than you — albeit, you were always the biggest one— but having kids of our own would be impossible now, and it’s killing you. I wonder if that’s the actual punishment. For us not to be able to reproduce ourselves. It makes sense; people down there want nothing to do with the likes of us.

That’s why I’ve always found it strange that our prison is the same place where we committed our crime. I mean, I understand the idea behind it. We should be haunted by this place. We should be consumed with regret every time we wake up in this house. But, to be honest, I’m not. In fact, I can’t help but love this place. I love the kitchen island where I sit and read while you cook, I love the book shelf full of my favorite stories, even if I’ve read them all at least twice by now. Mostly though, I love that the ocean is our backyard.

See, magic works in strange ways. This is, obviously, a prison, meant to keep us in, given that we are now considered to be a threat to society. So, yes, we live by the ocean, and yet we can’t leave. Remember the first time we tried to escape? We swam so hard, for hours on end, but the house stayed as close as ever. After some time we understood, there was no swimming out of here.

***

After lunch that day, I returned to the cliffs. I knew you didn’t like it when I got too close. Were you scared I wanted to jump? Are you still scared now? Was I curious about what would happen? Maybe. But I could probably answer the last question. I’d only be deposited right back to where I jumped from, safe and sound. Otherwise, what kind of prison would this be, if we were provided with a perfect escape?

This time, when I looked down at the sea of clouds, I could hear them more clearly. At the time, you didn’t believe me, but I know you can hear them now too. They’re still down there, yelling up at us, cursing us for what we did. They never stop and consider the possibility that maybe what we did eventually helped them too, freed them too. I know how it sounds, like I’m trying to justify it. And, you know what? Maybe some part of me will always try to justify it. But, maybe, just maybe, it’s also true. We might have saved them all.

“It sounds like the purgatory down there. I can’t believe you can’t hear them” I said, when I heard you approaching from behind.

“Yeah? What are they saying?” You asked.

“They wish we would hurry up and die” I repeated what I heard from the Earth underneath us. I peaked down once again and screamed at the top of my lungs “I’m immortal now! I couldn’t if I tried!” Maybe that would shut them up.