For Those Who Don't Believe in Love Songs

Chapter 22 - The Beginning

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.