October 25, 1994

The second hand passed the three and James removed his right index finger from his left wrist. Twenty nine beats over fifteen seconds gave him a heart rate of 116. But it was a pointless exercise. He knew it was elevated. There wasn't anything he could do about it. It was just a way to pass the time.

He laughed. "Pass the time!" A group of girls a short distance away glared at him then quickly averted their eyes.

He squeezed his empty hands into fists and then shook them out. He didn't need Macbeth as an excuse to be left alone this time. Keeping no friends and generally creeping out his fellow students took care of that.

7:12.

He surveyed the cafeteria. He marked the entrance, Martha's secondary position, and Christian and Robbie seated at a lunch table. On an impulse, he broke protocol, walked to their table, and sat across from them. They stopped their conversation about stupid lezbos and looked at James nervously.

"Sup?" Christian said apprehensively.

"Leave," James commanded.

"What?" Robbie asked, his face pockmarked and puzzled.

"Leave. Go." James pointed away from the entrance. "To the other side of the cafeteria."

"What?" Robbie repeated.

James raised his eyebrows. "You're really going to question me?" They flinched slightly. As a way of compartmentalizing his emerging sadism, James had spent the last five years physically abusing and psychologically torturing Robbie.

"All right, man. Chill. Shit, man," Robbie said as they stood to obey. A group of boys at the opposite end also stood and moved to another table.

James tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his left shirt sleeve but it was already saturated so he used the right. It had been the most difficult childhood – outside of perhaps the second or third – that he'd ever lived through. For as dark as it was for as long as it was during his lives lost in nihilism, he never knew to miss her. And the struggle to resist the fall had been draining. Giving in would offer relief, but she was coming, and for her, he held on.

But what if I'm too far gone. What if I can't... He held out hope that being with her – even just seeing her – would be sufficiently restorative. He'd vowed, in fact, to keep her at a distance this life. In addition to Christian and Robbie, he'd scare off Steph Jenkins or anyone else meaning her harm. Perhaps, he'd offer her a kind word, here or there. But he was in no shape to offer his full self. At the moment, however, he just needed her to walk through that door. He just needed to see her.

7:15.

Of course, there was also the chance...

If it happened again, he would know something was wrong. He wasn't sure what he would do. There was no contingency plan. Investigation, suicide, catatonia, killing spree... everything was on the table.

He'd tried not to theorize on a possible cause. He told himself it was irrelevant. But I have to pass the time somehow, right?

As far as he could surmise, he hadn't done anything significantly different. Of course, no two lives were the same. But he'd been getting away with mild to moderate variation for hundreds of lives with her usually showing up. The thought had occurred to James that it was a punishment – that he'd committed some kind of crime or sin and someone or something was making him pay.

But nothing stood out from his last life with her – at least, nothing he hadn't done many times before.

7:17.

He turned to check on Christian and Robbie. They stood at the opposite end of the cafeteria as he'd commanded. Maybe the fact that James regularly allowed those degenerates to intimidate Martha so he could play the hero had caught the attention of the cosmic judge keeping her.

There were, in fact, practical reasons for allowing the confrontation to play out. No matter how charming James was, she usually found a cold approach suspicious and kept up her guard. But after knocking Christian down a peg, she felt a momentary surge of confidence and accepted James immediately. She'd have a friend right off the bat, then Camisha would ask about their interaction and she'd have two, and things generally played out better from there. At least, that's what he told himself. Perhaps it was all ego – James The Magnificent gets to swoop in and save the day.

Pathetic! I don't deserve her.

He laughed then clenched his jaw at the incongruent outburst. It was all a silly fantasy – casting himself in Greek tragedy. Nevertheless, if she showed, he wouldn't let them near her.

7:19. Soon!

He looked to the entrance. His right leg bounced uncontrollably under the table. The tips of his fingers tingled.

And then something strange happened.

A girl James didn't recognize walked in. This was impossible because he knew every single student in this school three years ahead and behind.

Then he knew it was a hallucination – a cruel joke for his mind to play at such a time and place – because... it was Martha. But it couldn't be her because she was early. It couldn't be her because instead of her comically bloated winter jacket, she wore a yellow UC Berkeley hoodie. The apparition wasn't acting like Martha either – or any teenager entering a new school, for that matter. Her movements were deliberate – her head turning this way and that, standing on her toes, almost as if... she's looking for someone?

"Oh my God. Check out the freak," a girl at the next table said, pointing.

Her friend next to her laughed and said, "Yeah, what's with her jacket? Is she like, supposed to be like, a banana or something?"

James turned to 'Martha,' then back to the girls, then back again. He stood, but didn't know what to do next. Is she?? He felt dizzy. He put his lips together but struggled to project the sound.

"Martha," he whispered. He blinked, took a breath, and then, "MARTHA!"

The chatter of the cafeteria fell in unison. She turned toward his call and met his eyes and it was over. Her eyes... All of the fear and pain washed away, his pestilent thirst quenched with a look. Her eyes... But more than that, by all appearances – she... recognizes me?

A smile broke across the width of her face and tears fell as she began toward him slowly.

He looked thinner and paler. But it was him – 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 – after the confusion and fear, her father's degeneration, and the perpetual, debilitating impersonation only to find James dead – she wanted to collapse into him. But in him, she sensed a frailty matching her exhaustion. So she endured.

"Hi," he answered hesitantly. An intense fear suddenly appeared to compete with his ecstasy. This could all be a dream or fantasy or hallucination or anything to explain the unexplainable. He strained to push out the words. "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 she was real.

Cat calls erupted around them and 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. He had too many questions. "How?"

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

Suddenly, it occurred to James and his smile disappeared. "No. No, this is..." For hundreds of lives, he'd begged for an end to his cursed existence, and now, she too... "No. Now you're trapped. This is-"

She put her hand to his mouth. "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 he trusted them instantly. 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 to be together wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted and all points in between.

Author's note:

You made it!  Thank you so much for reading For Those Who Don't Believe in Love Songs! 

I hope you enjoyed it and, if I've done my job, you must have questions.  If so, check out Book 2 - Drifting Along the Infinite Spring, set to debut Summer 2020. 

Martha and James live!!