Immortal Summer

Despite the phone set to record our conversation, I still have a pen and notepad at the ready. I date the top of my page and attach a photo of the interviewee with a paperclip.

“Let’s start with something easy. Who are you?”

“Easy? That’s a little philosophical, isn’t it?” Susan laughs across from me. “My name is Susan Reburgen, I am a teacher at Gosford P-12 School.

“How long have you lived in Gosford?”

“My whole life, just like most other people.”

“I'd like to understand how exactly this little town discovered the secret to immortality. Explain to me your story of what happened.”

Susan lifts her chin, ready to shed light on the mystery. “It all started with my family,” she says proudly. “I’ve been going over our old photos and records, seeing if there was anything I could donate to the historical society. They would take better care of it than me. After all, the secret to all this was just collecting dust in a cupboard. I found the ritual as written by my great-grandmother, who had lived 145 years, apparently. Her generation, and the many before, performed this ritual every Summer Solstice. I’m not sure how old it is, I haven’t gotten it dated… but it’s old.”

“What made you think it would work?” I interrupt before she can continue.

“I didn’t know it would. You look at this on paper and it’s impossible. But, here I am,” she smiles, splaying her hands out in a wide gesture. There she sits, the fifty-two-year-old woman looking like a teenager. Her skin no longer holds sunspots and she now wears her daughter’s clothes, baring the skin of her thighs in a way nobody would ever have seen her do before.

“What are you looking forward to with your newfound years?”

A dreamy, peaceful state overtakes her. “Oh, I have been thinking about this for a while. I have a second chance to do things better this time. I will look after my health more. Sunscreen, less alcohol. I have more dexterity in my fingers, so I think I want to try learning guitar or piano. What makes this special is the opportunity I have. I think I have a responsibility to care for myself and provide for the community, to make sure that this ritual was worth it.”

I make a note:

SUSAN

Ancestral ties. Cost-benefit in question, wants to make it worth it.

“I googled the Summer Solstice before our interview. It’s an auspicious time of year, for rebirth, health, and fairies…” I throw a pointed look at her.

“Fairies? No. I didn’t see any fairies.”

“Then who, or what, returned decades of life to you?”

The corner of her mouth drops ever so slightly, and the mood plummets like a bowling ball off a cliff. “Consider this the last question I answer today, and you can quote this. I would like to thank Marcus for this gift.”

Who is Marcus?

Stunned, I watch her leave the cafe and all those questions floating in my head are unanswered. Two hours later I find myself sharing a coffee with Ken, known as the elderly man who walks a lap of the neighbourhood every Sunday. Only now he is in his thirties.

“Good morning, Ken. How are you?” I poise my hand, ready to take notes.

“I'm well, thank you.”

As he beams a cheery smile, I notice his jaw seems more pronounced in his youthful body, compared to the photos of him in last years newspaper I'd found this morning, where is cheeks hung off his cheekbones.

“You look well. I am hoping to find out what exactly happened last week at the ritual. I am seeing the term elixir of life online. Who do we have to thank? Who performed the ritual?”

“Ah, you can thank our kids for the news, horrified little carrier pigeons online, they were. I mean, they have parents and grandparents the same age as them! For the ritual, you can thank Susan and Marcus Reburgen. The Reburgens, myself, Betty, Harold, Johnny Waterson were there… I think I remember seeing Ivan. There might have been twelve of us? You should see Mary! She looks the exact same as when she was in high school, it is amazing.”

Who is Marcus? -> Susan's husband?

“Lucky. How does it feel to be so young again? It looks like you are in your thirties, do you know how old you are?”

Ken frowns over the rim of his cup. “I had thirty-two years restored, I didn’t want to take more than that. This must put me at thirty-nine?”

“Can you choose how many years younger you want to be as part of the ceremony?”

“Yes. I don’t think I will be participating again next year.” His troubled eyes are fixed on his coffee. “Will you be publishing this story somewhere?”

“Yeah, not sure where yet. Depends on how it all comes together.”

“Before you do, I want you to promise me something. If you mention me in it, please say that I didn’t know what was going to happen. I think only the Reburgen’s really knew. I wish I never entertained it.”

KEN

Regrets! Reburgens organised the event?

I’ve never seen such a haunted look hold a person’s face. By my age, people tend to get good at covering trauma and brushing over grief. I see Ken go through this process and shove down whatever is burdening his soul so he can finish his coffee.

“If you talk to Mary, keep in mind that this ceremony, this ritual, fell out of practice for a reason. If you don't get much from her about the ritual, talk to Jakob Fernie, he's a foreigner working at the olive plantation for the Summer.”

For the second time today, I am left with more unsatisfied questions than I started with. I catch Mary on a late lunch break and we take a seat in the lunch room of the aged-care wing of the hospital.

“I'm really excited you came to interview me,” she says, rosy-cheeked. “It's been three days and you're the first journalist here!”

“Well... the tale seemed pretty unreal. The kid's posts are going viral and I want to give this some more detail and credit. How are you feeling?”

“Great! Not even a sore knee to bother me. The benefits of being eighteen again! I forgot how good these early years were. I can't believe we have the key to immortality in my lifetime... or that we always had it. The ritual used to be performed by the town every sixty years or so to maintain youth. If you ask me, that is perfectly achievable.”

“Truly! There are a lot of folks here who could benefit from this, we wouldn’t need aged care anymore.” My heart twists with excitement. This is a huge story.

“We will still live in a world which needs aged care. Not everyone benefits from the ritual, unfortunately.”

“Ken said there were twelve people who participated, did it not work for some of you?”

Those rosy cheeks turn beet-red. “It worked for everyone.”

I sense the approaching wall blocking conversation and try to change direction. “How does the ritual work? It is a chant, a spell?”

MARY

It works for everyone

Not always a benefit

Once 'regular' practice, but forgotten?

“There needs to be a bonfire burning some flowers, and sun-charged water. We drink the water, say some words, and that’s it.” Her voice is tight and controlled. “I should get back to work. It was good seeing you. Let me know how you go with the story!”

With that, she skipped out of the room with a wave over her shoulder, leaving me in a pit of frustration. Usually people are excited to tell their stories, to have a moment in the spotlight and talk about their achievements, but something about this answer to immortality is sealing lips.

In the late afternoon, I catch Jakob Fernie leaving work. He's an older gentleman, limping, and eager to be interviewed.

“Tell me, how does it feel to be part of the discovery of the elixir of life?”

“It's not, it's a curse.” He shields his eyes from the sun. “I arrived to the party twenty-six, and left like this. Sixty-two drops of blood for a town tradition they said. I'm sixty-two years older. Same with the others.”

My pen stills. “How many of you were there?”

“Twelve of them, twelve of us. Not everyone on my side got to see the bonfire go out. Too many years were taken. If I make it another year, I am going to be on the other side of the ritual, and take back my years.”

Immortality has been found during the Summer Solstice of this small town, but at a high cost.

“Did it... did it hurt?”

He didn't need to answer.

JAKOB

It hurts.

The secret was buried once, but it's impossible this time.