October 25, 1994 [4]

Martha loved irony. She found it liberating. Romeo and Juliet, The Wizard of Oz, Beauty and the Beast... Be they joyful or tragic, that outcomes may contradict expectations made her destiny indefinite

So although the snowflakes, light and wide, fell as helplessly as she remembered, Martha no longer considered them kindred. And though she was still the girl who'd been ripped from her home and her friends in the middle of her junior year, it was of her design and she was ecstatic.

She stood from the window sill and walked to her new closet. The rack was mostly empty as the majority of her clothes remained in boxes scattered around her room. Blank and stark, she'd kept her room in character, not wanting to take any chances. But this was the morning of... and there's no way I'm wearing that stupid coat!

Her yellow UC Berkeley hoodie hung in her closet like a flag on a quiet day. Martha chuckled to herself at the failed metaphor. The flag should be checkered! She pulled it off the hanger and onto herself, claiming her victory.

"Marty!" her father called.

"Coming!" she replied, dancing through and around the boxes then down the stairs.

Steven stood with his arms out, holding her backpack in one and the marshmallow coat in the other. He stared at her for a moment, most likely in shock from her suddenly good mood.

Before he could speak, Martha wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed the side of her head to his chest.

"Oh... my," he stumbled. "What's... what's this for?"

"I love you, Dad," she said and squeezed him tighter.

"I... love you too, sweetie," he said then closed his arms around her awkwardly, still holding the bag and coat.

"And I'm sorry," Martha said as she released him. She cleared her throat and swallowed back tears. There was so much she'd been holding onto – despair, guilt, anger, glee – she feared that if she opened the gates, the deluge would be unstoppable. "For so many things."

"Okay, but... I'm confused," Steven said with a face to match.

Martha laughed. "It's okay. Let's talk about it tonight. You wouldn't want me to be late for my first day, would you?"

"No. No, certainly not." He shook his head slightly as if to wake himself from bewilderment then held up the coat. "I got this for you. Did you see that it's snowing outside?"

She took the coat and silently walked it to the front closet to hang it up. Then she returned to him, took her backpack and swung it over her shoulder.

"But..." Steven protested.

"I'm going to be okay, Dad," she said with a smile. His confusion morphed into acceptance and his smile matched his daughter's. Then Martha led the way as they left for her new school.

"Do you have your class schedule?"

"I do."

"Do you want me to walk you in?"

"I do not." Martha stepped out of her father's car and into the feathery light snow falling over the school's guest parking lot. Before she closed the door, she looked back at him. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm really happy we're here."

"I... um... okay?" Steven stuttered with a confused smile.

"I love you, Dad. See you after school."

"I love you too, Marty."

Martha closed the door and turned toward the school. The actual school!! It was somehow both smaller and larger than she remembered. She felt a sudden, irrational fear. All of her dreams were about to come true, but... What if I had a stroke? What if my legs suddenly stopped working? What if a sinkhole opened beneath the school and we all tumbled to our death!? She shook out her sweaty hands, took a deep breath... and then her first step.

Sure enough, her legs worked fine. As she advanced, she wanted to run, but knew patches of ice could be hiding under the powdery snow. Over her lifetimes, she'd mastered the art of anticipating slip-ups lurking out of-

Seriously? I'm about to find him and we're busy making metaphors?! And with that, Martha broke into a jog, letting out involuntary giggles every few steps.

She burst through the steel door then side stepped a pair of students loitering in her path, before finally entering his cafeteria. Familiar sights, sounds, and faces hit her at once and she bit her lip to keep from squealing. Her eyes sprang to the empty patch of wall where they first met. She never knew flat white paint over cinder blocks could look so beautiful. Should she go and wait there for nostalgia's sake? No! No time to get cute!

She scanned the crowd of faces. There was Camisha, sitting with Calvin; Scott DiMonte with his teammates; Steph Jenkins with her scowl. But where was he? Martha continued to search frantically. He's here, right? He has to be here. Because I made it here. He has to be here, because I made it here!

"MARTHA!"

She turned to his voice. Time slowed. Sound fell. And Martha's peripheral vision evaporated as her eyes finally found him. James... James!!

She couldn't feel her legs, but they didn't need instructions. As she moved to him, Martha saw he was thinner and paler than she remembered, but his eyes, though tired, were his. He wasn't a dream or a disembodied voice, but the boy who had died in her arms; the boy who had eluded her for so long; the boy whose face now projected a mix of confusion and ecstasy. Tears blurred the image so she wiped them clear before finally reaching him.

"Hi," she said with a laugh through her tears. After everything she'd been through, she wanted to collapse into him. But in him, she sensed a frailty matching her exhaustion. So she endured.

"Hi," James answered hesitantly. "Do... you know me?"

Martha smiled and nodded. "Yes, James. Yes, I know you." Then she leaned in to him and pressed her lips against his and her fear and longing exploded into golden, sparkling euphoria.

Cat calls erupted throughout the cafeteria but Martha and James were oblivious. In his arms, all at once, she knew that every medicine or vaccine crafted in a lab was placebo. In her arms, all at once, he knew that all wisdom born from spiritual or philosophical quest was trivia. Holding each other, they were whole, pure, smooth, and cured.

Finally, they released. "Sorry it took me so long," she said.

"What?"

"I'll tell you later."

His mouth gaped. "How?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. Just happened."

Suddenly, the joy in his face disappeared. "No. No, this is... No. Now you're trapped. This is-"

She put her hand to his mouth. It had been exhausting. It had been torture. But this moment was enough. "Don't care," she said with a smile. "We don't have to worry about that today."

There was a newfound authority behind her words and his face softened. They stared at each other for a moment of frozen bliss then took each other's hand and started for the entrance, slow at first, but steadily quickening until they ran through the doors and into their new dawn.

They weaved through stragglers, crossed the bus drop-off lane then into the student parking. Unable to sleep the night before, James had been the first car in the lot, taking the spot closest to the entrance. He led Martha to his green Dodge Omni.

"Oh, is this your car?" she asked, surprised by the change from the gray Honda.

"Yeah..." The discrepancy between who James was in this life compared to whom Martha remembered came into focus. His eyes dropped. "Some things about this life... have been-"

Before he could finish, she pressed herself against him, slamming his back against the car. She ran her fingers through his greasy hair and tasted cigarettes on his tongue – but no, James, I don't care!

Martha didn't want to stop but wanted more than this parking lot could give. "I'm sorry," she said after releasing him reluctantly. "I promise I want to hear all about it. But right now, you need to start the car."

"God, I missed you!" he said then, opened her door for her.

"Chivalry won't start the car, Quinn!"

"Yes, Miss Beckett. Right away, Miss Beckett," he said as he looped around. Once inside the car, he leaned to her and resumed their embrace, his hand holding her cheek. Her hand moved from his chest down to his belt and then the pocket of his jeans where she found his car keys. She broke their kiss then slid his key into the ignition.

"The girl knows what she wants," James said, then started the car.

Author's note:

(Long exhale) We made it!  Thanks for sticking it out. 

Now that we're here (though we're not done with this day - wink, wink, nudge, nudge), was it too much?  Did I ask you to wait for too long?  I wanted you to feel Martha's exhaustion and frustration and longing to find James, but did the experience become too annoying or unpleasant? 

I appreciate your feedback and, as always, for reading and sharing their journey.  <3 <3