Closer- Short Fiction
The thing about time is that it doesn’t really exist, at least not in the way the human mind comprehends it. It flows in and out, backward and forward, it speeds past you like a blaring jet then stops on a dime. Time is relative. Time is changeable. Being an Eraser these are things I have to know.
You might know me by many other names as legend, myth, or paranormal, but nobody knows who I really am. No one except her. The human world is filled with the curious, but she was never curious. It’s like she knew, somehow, how it all really worked, and instead of waiting for us to find her, she found me.
Abby.
We’ve met a dozen times, each encounter a little closer, each conversation deeper, more meaningful, but she can’t remember any of them. You see, there are things humans just aren’t supposed to know. That’s why I exist. To Erase. But this time will be different. This will be the last. It’s too dangerous having her know. No one is supposed to know.
“Remember that time we were in Cancun?” she says dreamily. She’s seated primly on the couch in her apartment, her chocolate hair hanging delicately over face, her lithe and fair body covered only by a tank-top and boxer shorts. I long to trace my fingers across the freckles on her legs, bury my face into her neck and take in the scent of her hair. She doesn’t know it’s the last time. She giggles and runs a hand through her hair. “I was so sure I’d finally figured it all out,” she continues. I nod from across the room. I remember. The hot Mexican sun made sweat cling to our skin. Even soaked through, she smelled like gardenias. But she’s not supposed to remember that.
“You know what needs to happen, Abby,” I say sternly. She rolls her eyes and lounges sideways, that same dreamy smile lining her lips.
“Does it need to happen, Rain? Can’t we just run away together?” she whispers.
“We’d need to run far,” I reply. I’m trying to keep my composure, trying to memorize everything about her so that even after this-I’ll never forget. She steps up from the couch and walks slowly toward me until her hands grip the lapels of my jacket.
“We could run to another galaxy,” she whispers in my ear. Shivers run down my spine and I pull her close to me, holding her so tightly I’m afraid I might hurt her, but she only pushes herself in closer.
“They’ll find us,” I whisper back. There’s no way out. Even if we did hop to Andromeda, the Erasers would find us, and then what? They’d change my memories and kill her. The thought of it makes me choke.
“Every time I kept looking for the truth, I think deep down I was really looking for you,” she says. Tears run down her cheeks, and I pull her face up with my hands, her blue eyes glimmering through her tears.
“Abby-” I say, but she interrupts me by placing her lips on mine. I give in. I run my fingers through her silky hair and tenderly kiss each part of her face. She kisses me for the last time and pulls away, attempting to smile even though she’s sobbing.
“It’s the last time, isn’t it?” she says. I can only nod, fists clenched as the time draws nearer. This is the only way to save her life. She pulls her head level to mine, eyes locked with my eyes. Like a cat’s second lens, I flick my left open to reveal the red iris of an Eraser.
“Don’t come looking for me,” I say. She shakes her head firmly.
“I won’t forget you,” she replies. Before my heart stops me I blink and the room fills with crimson light. Her eyes turn blank, her expression free and painless. I carry her back to the couch and kiss her cheek one last time as I set her down.
“I love you,” I whisper into her ear. Then, in a flash, I hop to the rooftop of the adjacent apartment building.
When she wakes, she continues about her business. She throws away her collection of UFO literature, gets a stable job, makes new friends, and lives a normal, human life. My own goes back to normal, Erasing the minds of all those who come too close to knowing the truth. But at night I sit on rooftops, watching Abby through her picture windows, watching her cook and clean, and go about regular things, and as I’d half-hoped, she doesn’t begin searching.
Sometimes when she’s alone and reading or watching TV, she runs a hand across her cheek as if she’s remembering a dream, and looks out the window in my direction. I don’t let her see me, instead clinging close to the fading memories of her skin, her laugh, her kiss.
She was never meant to remember me, and I was never meant to love anyone, but even though only the dredges of her still cling to me, I know I will never forget. Abby.