Drifting Along the Infinite Spring

Chapter 12 Pt 3 - Cirque du Quinn

James patted his billowing stomach. She'd teased him about it. He'd teased her back by pretending to be offended. But they both knew that vanity had vanished from their relationship lifetimes ago.

They'd turned the gas lamps low enough to let Paris sparkle through the windows unchallenged. But to James, the city was no match to the radiance of a single contented sigh from Martha. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder as they lounged on the antique chaise.

The night had gone perfectly.

"Thank you," she said softly. "This was wonderful."

He kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him. "But I meant it down there. You don't have to wow me anymore. I don't need a three ring circus."

James nodded and tried to keep his face pleasant and unassuming, then said, "Okay." It was nice of her to say, but he wasn't sure he agreed.

She stared at him for a moment, then raised her eyebrows.

But it's probably pointless to try and keep anything from her, isn't it?

"I... believe you," he began. "And I'm probably just overthinking, but... We had a certain dynamic- or, I guess I had a dynamic for... thousands and thousands of years. You fell in love with me over and over and over..."

"I know," she interrupted, squeezing his torso. "I remember. It's pretty great. Doesn't sound like a setup that would leave a guy insecure, though."

"Yes, yes. Please let me finish. Every time you fell in love with me, it was due – at least in part – to the circus. It didn't even take much at first: Wow, James can predict an international headline. Ooh, he can't get drunk. Look, he's good at basketball too. Would you have fallen for me without those? I know you'll say you would have, but we don't know for sure and we never will. And only time will tell if..."

She didn't let him finish. "Screw time. I'll tell you right now. It won't happen.  I'm not going to change. Not in this or any life. Okay?"

James shrugged weakly. We don't know what we don't know.

Martha sat up to face him. "Look at me. You once told me you would never lie to me."

"I remember. I haven't."

"So I want to hear you say it. Tell me that you believe me. That I will never leave you."

James took a breath. Maybe she would stay with him forever. Even if she eventually surpassed and grew bored of him, she'd have no other options; no choice but to tolerate him. James knew the loneliness of eternity well. Maybe that would be enough.

"Okay," he said. "I believe you. One hundred percent. " Then he kissed her – in part because he wanted to, but also in the hope of changing the subject. After they stopped, her eyes remained shut as she nuzzled back into his side.

They stared out at the sky over Paris for a moment, then Martha asked. "Do you always wake up the same?"

"Uh... what do you mean? Like at what time or... in what position? My side, I guess? But I don't really keep track."

"No, no, sorry," she said. "Yeah, that question came out of nowhere. I mean at the beginning of each life. Because I've been thinking about your painting – it's really stuck with me. I come back three times before I'm all the way back – and it's always the same. Is that how it is for you?"

"Yep, three times for me too," he said, twirling a strand of her hair in his finger.

"Mine are in my bed at night when I'm probably around two. Then when I'm swimming in a pool when I'm around four – I've learned to hold my breath heading into that one. And for the last, I'm sitting on my front porch swing with my dad at around five. What are yours?"

"Throwing a tantrum in the kitchen when I'm two. Sitting on the toilet at four. And then in a pet store, crouching to get a better look at the turtles, at five. But wait," James said, remembering. "What am I saying? I have come back in different places a couple of times."

"That's cool. When? How? It just happen randomly?"

"No, I had to manifest it. Otherwise, it's the three I mentioned without exception. It was around life seventy or eighty. I was getting bored. I'd seen every inch within the lifespan the universe had chosen for me and I yearned for anything beyond it. So I played around with some theories and eventually found that if I can concentrate on an image – like, a picture of myself old enough to be outside of my conscious memories – if I focused on it as I was dying, I could return to that moment. It would only be for the standard fifteen to twenty seconds and then I would jump to the usual spots."

"Did you change anything?" Martha asked. "Butterfly-effect yourself into a mansion?"

"Well, the first time, I was in shock. I was seven or eight months old, being fed some disgusting orange mush in my highchair. I didn't really do much but gawk and then the flash took me to my tantrum in the kitchen, then the toilet, then the turtles. But the second time, I had a plan. As soon as I landed in the highchair, I grabbed the bowl of mush and flung it as hard as I could over my shoulder. I couldn't see it, but I heard it splat against the wall and from the look on my mother's face, it splatted everywhere. Then the flash took me, but this time I landed in my backyard. It felt like the same two year old body as from the tantrum so I assume it was the same time. I remember feeling hungry, so maybe my mom was just a little late with lunch on that day in that universe and hadn't called me in yet. The final two spots were different as well. But nothing major had changed. My parents were still my parents. We lived in the same house. The cost of tea in China went undisturbed. I had just created a slightly different path."

"Interesting..." Martha said.

"Why? Are you considering-" But before James could finish, a shooting star streaked across the sky.

Martha gasped. "Did you see that? Oh, did you get that for me too?"

"Yes," James said flatly. "I stared at a picture of deep space taken five billion years ago, woke up there, and diverted an asteroid just so."

"All for me?" she asked with a hyperbolic smile.

"All for you."

Her face shifted to scold. "James, what did I tell you about the circus?"

"I know. I know. I promise. No more inter-celestial romantic gestures."

"That's better," she said, then nestled herself back into him.

James kissed the top of her head and held her tightly. Was he overthinking? Did he really have nothing to worry about as Martha had promised? If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he owed Martha everything he had, including his trust. So he let his mind rest as he embraced his love and searched the night for another shooting star over the twinkling lights of Paris.

Author's note:

I feel you, James. A sequel's weight is heavy. Little quirks won't impress anymore.  Everything has to be bigger and brighter. Or is Martha right?

I guess we'll never know. Drifting... is and always will be straight-up bonkers.

Thank you for reading!!