Out of time

Completing the cycle

25th February 1979

It had been two days since Richard’s little therapy session and honestly I was feeling... better. I still miss James terribly but my head is clearer and I have a plan. As we speak I’m waiting on a bench for bus back to my apartment, I have just visited my safety deposit box to return my journals they seemed to be helping at first, stirring up old memories but now I just find myself going round and round in circles. The only conclusion I am finding from it been a headache. Although I’m feeling better about living I know that I’m pushing it for time – this is close to the most life I’ve been given after one of James’s deaths before. I’m anxious to get back home now, finish my new plan before I expire!

Talking with Richard got me thinking, he’d asked me if I didn’t trust him anymore, that’s why he thought I had closed myself off to him. Which of course is ridiculous, he is the only other person apart from James that I would trust my life with completely. Undeniably though I had changed since my eighteenth birthday, up until that night I had had no previous memories of my past lives. I had been a totally normal seventeen year old girl, no responsibilities, no one to take care of or worry about, just my own teenage dramas that at the time seemed like life or death. Then at twenty three minutes past seven – the exact minute of my birth the memories slowly started to return to me, all of my past lives crammed into my head too many moments to make sense of. I thought I was going insane before I found the journals I had left for myself. The more I read the more the memories became solid in my mind. Those silly teenage dramas that had seemed so important not long ago hailed in comparison to my new problems. My personality changed overnight, the foolish naïve girl replaced with that of woman with experience of life – I became old before my time. I tried to hide it from my family to make them believe I was the same girl and for the most part it worked, except of course when it came to Richard, he knew almost instantly that something had changed but unable to put his finger on it he let it be and accepted me for the new woman I was.

From that point on I had never been as open with Richard again, what could I say? I’ve actually already lived fifty life times over but I’ve only just remembered because a witch cursed me and my boyfriend, Oh yeah he’s out there somewhere in the world as well but he doesn’t know who I am yet. Richard was the person I was closest to in this life but even getting him to believe that would have been a stretch. In every life I have lived as soon as my memories returned, I had to pretend to be who I was previously – I had gotten good at it, at hiding who I really am, out of the fear. Scarred of been thought of as a freak or worse been locked up in some loony bin just waiting to die. Even when I found James, the only other person in the world who goes through what I have to go through - well nearly, my memories return once I turn eighteen whereas his only start to come back once he meets me but still no one else can relate to my experience but him and even then I pretend, I call him James and he calls me Maggie because to call him John and for him to call me Mable would be too painful, it would be admitting to all the hurt we have been though together – for each other. When really all I want to do is enjoy the time that we have together.

I realised though just as I thought I had been protecting Richard by avoiding him, when really all I had been doing was pushing him away. By making James and I stick to these names to these lives never revisiting or talking about the past, I have been pushing him away too. I have been pretending with the one person I should be able to be completely honest with him. I think that’s the real reason he called me Penny – even after his memories returned. A compromise, not Mable because he could see that it upset me but not Maggie either because he knows I am so much more than just Maggie Taylor. Just like Richard, James was giving me my space, giving me time. For James and I however time is different he can afford to give me more than two weeks of space before I come to terms with my situation. He’s given me decades, life times even.

I know James is a logical thinker, he knows I will at some point come to terms with who I really am and open up to him again, then what though? And what has he been doing in the meantime?

Richard is impatient, I can imagine him chewing poor Andrea’s ear off till she finally gave up and let him come over to my apartment to talk me round himself. James however wouldn’t let me have all this time and just wallow in self pity with me, no he would be proactive, be coming up with a plan, have something to present to me to show me there was hope when the time came. Just as I would sieve through my journals for answers when he was gone he must have been doing something to occupy his time too.  

That’s when the idea hit me to go through his apartment, find his equivalent of my journals, he must have something I was sure of it. I had been in his apartment so many times and never seen anything out of the ordinary but perhaps that’s because I had never really been looking before.

After two hours of searching high and low, looking in every nook and cranny I could think of to hide information and coming up empty. I slumped onto a chair feeling defeated, had he really not been looking? Had he given up us too? I had been so sure, so certain I knew him well enough to be right about this. Had we really gotten to this point, two strangers, who no longer knew one another, been pulled back together, bound together by a twisted fate, just to pretend that they are destined to be with one another. I had to hand it to Tabitha just when I thought her punishment couldn’t get any worse, she sucker punches me right in the gut.

I started to feel it, the pool of desperation returning, threatening to drag me back under, that last bit of hope I had put all my remaining energy into – gone. This isn’t how it was suppose to be between James and I, we had always been so in sync. When one of us felt low the other one stepped up, carrying the load until they felt ready to share it again. Had I been absent too long? Is it possible that James had been carrying the additional weight for that much time it had become too much and I’d be too caught up in my own head to notice he needed my help? I grabbed one of the cold pillows off James’s sofa to hug and see if I could still recognize his smell lingering on it. A pathetic last attempt to reassure myself I still knew him. As I lowered my head to take a whiff something caught my eye.

An old copy of Romeo and Juliet on his shelf, it was out of place compared to the rest of his books they were newer, the shelves filled with the works of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac and other authors like them. No other works similar to Shakespeare. It had been a favourite of ours; we had seen it in the theatre many times. Been to watch more interpretations of the piece than I could count, performed by many different actors over the years. That is before the experience of going to the theatre had been permanently ruined for me, tainted by the memory of the torturous evening Marcus and I had endured. I had loved the story so much back then because I related to it, particularly the ending. Juliet under the powers of a potion designed to slow her heart, so she could appear as though she were dead, in an attempt to be with the one she loved - the one she was banned from seeing. Only to awaken from her slumber, to find her lover - Romeo dying, right before her very eyes. Grief stricken she then takes her own life to be with him.

My heart starts racing with excitement could this be it? Could he have hidden something after all? In the pages of a book? Thinking about it, it is the perfect place. A reminder of our past that I would never dare open for fear of unwanted memories. I walked over to grab it, I could hear my heart beat in my ears, my hand trembling as my arm extends to reach out and grab it. I swallow hard; hold my breath then go to open it.

Nothing! My heart sinks and my eyes begin to well up, I flick through the pages and everything looks as it should.

‘Come on!’ I scream out loud continuing to flick through the book a fire igniting inside me. I get about half way through that’s when I see it - James handwriting!

‘YES, I KNEW IT’ eyes scrunched shut, fists clenched tight I shout at the top of my lungs. I danced happily around the apartment hardly able to contain my excitement, clutching on to the copy of Romeo and Juliet for dear life. I knew that he would have something! How could I had doubted James, how could I have doubted myself? I really have been pretending for too long, just going through the motions one life at a time. With that realisation a new determination awoke within me, I am not helpless, I can beat this – we can beat this.

 I run my finger over the seam of the page and realise these pages are newer than the last, James has added them himself, cleaver boy. Finally containing my new found excitement I go to read what he has written. It’s a list of names, with numbers, some have two sets of numbers next to them others only one. What can that mean? The first few sets of names are crossed out. James must have eliminated these for some reason. I think for a few minutes pondering about the different possibilities of their meaning. Who are these people and how did you find them? That’s when it clicks could the numbers be, are they, page numbers? With this idea in mind, I run to grab James’ copy of the yellow pages and his phone book; some of the corresponding pages are missing. I find the next page number that is on the list, in the yellow pages; it’s for a tarot card reader. I stare at the ad, stumped, tarot cards? What could he possibly want this for? Most card readers are phoneys and even if you do find a real one, they are no better than...

‘Hhhuh’ I gasped, James was looking for witches! I am beaming, this is huge, a new lead. How did I doubt myself, I knew he must have something! I knew that I could count on him. Despite loosing myself down the line for a little bit I should never doubt that I know James – No that I know John!

My plan came together quite easily once I had found Johns list, I made a copy for myself and put everything in John’s apartment back the way I found it. Although I know a lot about John I have no idea how he takes his information from one life to the next so not wanting to disturb anything I thought it best to put it all back.

Next I added the information to my most recent journal and contacted the first name on the list, setting up an appointment for a ‘tarot reading’ and now here I am sat waiting for the bus after having returned my journals to the safety of my deposit box ready to be found again by my next self. I look down at my watch, the bus is running late. I am anxious to make it home in good time before the potential ‘witch’ reaches my apartment.

I see the bus in the distance and eagerly stand up to put my arm out. That’s when I notice her, a woman across the street. She is a similar age to me but something about her seems familiar. I stare at her trying to figure out why she seems to spark something in my memory, that’s when it hits me – her eyes they’re grey.

‘Hey’ I call, she looks over at me startled and starts to walk away.

‘Hey, no wait, please wait’ I go to run after her desperate to stop her, to get a better look at her eyes, to confirm if they are the same. Lost in my determination to reach her, to get answers I fail to remember the bus that I had started to flag down only moments ago. Panic sets in, I turn to get back to the safety of the pavement but my reactions aren’t quick enough - it’s too late. The last things I remember are the sounds of panic from the nearby pedestrians, cars coming to a halt unable to move because of the obstruction the pedestrians are causing and those grey eyes staring at me as I lose my consciousness. Another cycle complete – well played Tabitha.