Writing Prompt:
“Two immortals are slowly coming to terms with the fact that what they each thought would be a short 50-60 year marriage to a mortal is turning out to be a much longer commitment.”
“I followed you to your ‘clinic’ appointment today.” She declared as he passed the living room. The sunset filled the window behind her, her face lost in the shadow. He couldn’t quite see her expression, but he knew from the timbre of her voice the emotion she wore.
“Oh? You want to see the good doctor too? Treatment today was a bit exhaustin-“
“When did you stop aging?” She snapped.
He laughed, trying hard to maintain the ruse, old habit. “I mean, I started seeing him when I was-“
“No, you know what I mean. I’m not talking about doctors, I’m not talking about treatments, I’m talking about when it was that you stopped growing old. Or at least when did you know.”
“Love, it really is just my genetics. You know what they say, ‘black don’t crack,'” he tried to force a laugh, but she stood in a flash. He was startled, though her silhouette froze. The last of the sunlight pouring in behind, but he saw the tissues, she had been crying.
“I’m going to need an honest answer.” Something changed in her speech this time. Something like an accent, the pacing was different, familiar. “I need to know when you knew you would never grow old.”
He looked down. It had happened before, but he felt like maybe this time it was going to be different. Maybe because they both looked at least roughly the same age he could keep it going. He loved her after all. All of the lovers, but her most of all. But it always happened, decade after decade. Century after century. Millennia on end, he’d leave his woes behind, attach himself to one identity, one lifetime with a lover. Just to have to watch them age, just to have to watch them die.
He just wasn’t ready for this one to be over yet. His tears welled. He closed his eyes, bracing for the truth to be revealed and for all the illusions to be shattered.
“We didn’t really have calendars like we have now, but I think I was perhaps sixty winters old when I was first banished. It had been a couple decades. I don’t know the exact year I was born, but best I can recall it was around 3500 BC. Or BCE. Or whatever.” He dropped his bag, raising both hands to cover his face. After all this time he still felt something akin to shame, like he had to hide immediately after the honesty. They drooped back to his sides.
“The world was so different. We knew of rulers only from the ground level, so I didn’t really hear of the historical landmarks that would help me pin down my exact age. I’ve spent so many years in exile, wandering, whatever you want to call it. Hell, I didn’t even learn to read or write until I wound up in Egypt like three thousand years ago.”
He paused, opening his eyes to the dim room. The orange glow felt out of sync with the emotions he was feeling. Finally, he lifted his head to see the face of the woman he loved, fearing this would be the last time. So many last times.
But there she stood, weeping, with joy and a smile. Her voice issued forth in a dead tongue, matching the pace that felt so familiar before.
“[Oh my love, my darling…]” His shock must have been evident, she chuckled at his expression. “[You know that love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. Know that I love you. When I committed myself to you I did not say forever in vain. When I said ‘until death’ I had no intention of releasing myself from that vow.]”
The automatic lights flickered on, ruining the mood, bathing their ageless faces in artificial light. They laughed, but his confusion was apparent, even as she rushed to his frozen feet.
“[My dear, I too know no end to my life. I’ve waited so long to find someone like you. Someone to run away with into the woods, to appear somewhere new, with new names but the same love.]”
The moment lumped in his throat, sputtering out between gasped breaths, “[but how did you know?]”
“[I didn’t. Though I may have suspected it before, I didn’t know until today.]” She nestled into him, tightening her embrace. She lurched with a sob, then whispered softly, “[I was so afraid that I would lose you that I ran from my fears for years, choosing to believe that you worked hard to stay your wrinkles through science and give us more time together. I did the same, hoping you would believe I really had perfected the art of skin care, that menopause was just another year or two away. Hoping you could just enjoy my beauty, without question…]”
“Oh, I had questions,” he said in English once more. They hugged tightly, laughing, then pulling away to each wipe the tears from the other’s face. “I just thought maybe you won the genetic lottery!”
“I have, but the real lottery I won, after centuries of searching, was finding you.”
“Wait. Centuries? [How old are you?]” He pulled another dead language from the catalog of time, hoping to throw her off her game.
“[Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?]” She fired back with yet another ancient tongue. His brow furrowed. “Ah, maybe that was too far from your lands.”
“No, but wait, I’m used to dating younger women, but… how much younger?” He pulled away, feigning concern.
“Let’s just say you’re robbing both the cradle and the grave and leave it at that, shall we?”
Mike Lightheart 
good
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