[COMPLETED]
[WATTYS 2022 WINNER]
James Quinn can't die. Actually... that's not true. He's died many times - somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 - only to be reborn as himself to live his life over again.
For millennia, he's had to endure this c...
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March 5, 1993 [18]
The knuckles on James' left hand blanched as he lowered himself into a pushup while his right turned the page of the book propped in front of him. It was Albert Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus, a book he'd read countless times and the closest thing this non-believer had to a bible.
Upstairs, the phone rang and James switched hands.
It had been an easy life thus far. He'd fostered peace and goodwill at his school and his mother was in relatively good spirits and temperament. There had been some interesting national headlines, however: Nicole Brown-Simpson was found strangled two years early with no leads to the killer. Rodney King was never beaten by a group of LA cops on a DUI stop – or at least it wasn't taped. Yet there were two unique, if equally violent riots stemming from LAPD brutality in the summers of 1987 and 1991.
James didn't think much of it. Mostly, he thought of Martha.
The door to the basement opened and he heard his mother call, "James! Phone! It's some girl!"
"Kay, Mom! I'll be up in a second!"
As always, patience wasn't an issue for James. But he had to admit, he was more anxious than usual to see Martha and live a full life together after their far too brief rendezvous in Hawaii. Hawaii... Can't wait to hear how that turned out. Hope there are no hard feelings. Either way, he planned to gloat over his victory.
James climbed the basement stairs, entered the kitchen, and found the phone on the counter. "I'm going to take it in my room, okay Mom?" His mother sat at the dining room table, silent and lost in thought. "Mom?"
She snapped to him with a smile. "Yes darling?"
"I'm going to take the call in my room. Do you think you could hang up the phone when I ask?"
"Of course," she said, nodding.
"Thanks," he said, then left for his bedroom.
James had called Martha a handful of times, though she'd never called back. No worries. If patience is a virtue, then I'm the friggin' Pope.
He sat on the side of his bed, picked up the phone, covered the mouthpiece with his hand, then called, "Got it, Mom!" Through the receiver, James heard the kitchen phone hang up like a car crash. Then, he said, "Hello?"
"Hi... Hi, Jimmy. This is Ashley, um... Ashley Baker?"
"Oh, hey Ashley. How are you?"
"Good. I'm good. How... are you, Jimmy?"
"I am also good. Thank you for asking. What's up?"
Ashley Baker was going to ask James to the spring dance.
