The Seep

Be present. Eventually, the conversation will flow to other things—typically, to The Past and How Great It Was, Even Though We Didn’t Know It at the Time, and The Future, that shimmering, mercurial beast, constantly breaking our hearts.

I am all the things I don't know. Everything is unfolding as it should, and that doesn’t mean I can't be mad about it.

My memories are who I am. You take away my memories, you erase me. Existence is memory. Do you understand? You'd kill me. You'd murder Trina FastHorse Goldberg-Oneka, daughter of Rita and Samuel, a child of love. Trans woman. Artist. Doctor. Healer. Native American. Jew. You erase my memories, and you erase my lineage of ancestors -- their pain, their triumphs, their passions, their dreams. No matter if the memories bring me pain. It's my pain! Let me have it.

Oh, race is a construction,’ he said, waving his hand. ‘Everyone knows that.’ ‘That might be, but it’s still meaningful. Constructs mean things.

Their little party was completed by Katharine and Laura, the friendly, easygoing lesbians from Tennessee. They came with copious amounts of alcohol (one can always depend on the lapsed Christians to bring the bar): pale ale for the butches, and drinkable red wine.

You people, you think happiness is the only important thing about being alive. I’m serious when I say I’m not interested in happiness. This old body hurts. That’s as worthy an experience as any.

People need to give each other space to make choices. We can't live solely for other people. Even if it hurts them. Even when it breaks your heart.

All I have is my uncertainty. And really, that’s all I’ve ever had. Everything else was a lie.

Tips for Attending a Dinner Party When Your World Has Ended and Another World Is Just Beginning Savor every little spoonful. Put your fork down between bites and actually listen to the conversation bubbling around you. Remember, you’re here for the experience. At the end of your long, languorous evening, should your host refuse you once, even twice, persevere—wash as many dishes as you can! Relish the feeling of the warm water, the steam on your face, the easy certainty of a dirty bowl made clean again. There is always work to be done, so why not do it? Everything can suddenly be taken away, like we’re just birds flying blissfully into a pane of glass. Enjoy the flavor of these intimate kitchen conversations. Ask more questions than you provide answers. When you do speak about yourself, don’t rehash old party material. Be vulnerable! And remember, before you ask your host where to put things, make sure to look in the cabinets and drawers. She won’t mind if her sugar bowl is put away in the wrong place when she wakes up to a kitchen she didn’t have to clean. As for you, you will probably wake up tomorrow, too. The sun will probably rise. Breath will probably move in and out of your lungs, blood will probably pump despite your amazing broken heart. Right now, you have a body, a mind, and a memory that extends backward through time’s infinite doorways. You are an everyday miracle. Enjoy life. Because even with the promise of forever, nothing lasts.

…interrogate the depths of your sadness or you’ll drown.

Ooh, I’ve missed you!’ Trina laughed. ‘Please never change.’ Lydia gazed at Trina with flinty, unblinking eyes. ‘That’s a very cruel thing to ask of anyone.

But just then, a herd of deer clipped down the street, followed by a topless unicycle collective.

Nothing wrong with being a little foolish. It kept you young.

I’ll take it away, like I took away money and illness, the sickness of the land, the poison in the water and the air. I’ll make it better, like I made the ice freeze again, the winters cold again, your cells healthy and whole again.” Trina felt a shiver run up her spine. She tried very hard to remain calm. She planted her feet, facing The Seep and its terrifying hole of a mouth. “But Pam,” she said. “My memories are who I am. You take away my memories, you erase me. Existence is memory. Do you understand? You’d kill me. You’d murder Trina FastHorse Goldberg-Oneka, daughter of Rita and Samuel, a child of love. Trans woman. Artist. Doctor. Healer. Native American. Jew. You erase my memories, and you erase my lineage of ancestors—their pain, their triumphs, their passions, their dreams. No matter if the memories bring me pain. It’s my pain! Let me have it.” The roiling mass of bodies spoke in unison. “If fear is the anticipation of loss, then grief is . . .” HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY MEMORIES

When the aliens first made contact, Trina and her not-yet-wife, Deeba,

Our bodies may be containers, but they will carry specific histories. And those histories are still meaningful.

How have we never met before? they said again and again, but what they really meant was How have I only just begun to love you?

Why do you feel like you need to have a job in order to be part of this world?

She couldn’t bear the platitudes of the people at the hospital—time is the only healer, it gets better, blah blah blah. Time did not make it better. Time made it worse, just like it made everything worse. Most horrifically of all, people expected her to be over it by now, as if her grief had a neat expiration date like the carton of milk she had left on the counter a week ago.

At her last volunteer shift at the food co-op, Trina had spent two hours processing a random woman’s latest past-life regression while shelving cans of chickpeas. It was too much.

Deeba had been a vegan long before the aliens came. Some people didn’t need cosmic intervention to know how to be good.

about why humans are so focused on the past and the future, all at once. it’s about learning! that’s the great gift of linear time! you can look back on your experiences in the past and use them to make choices for the future. time is embodied learning! that’s why memory exists! why failures are never truly failures, and mistakes are always glorious! no matter what, no matter what, no matter what, no matter what!

through the boredom and the freedom of unexpected immortality.

Eventually, the conversation will flow to other things—typically, to The Past and How Great It Was, Even Though We Didn’t Know It at the Time, and The Future, that shimmering, mercurial beast, constantly breaking our hearts.