July 29, 1996 [20]
"It would probably be foolish to try and change your mind again, wouldn't it?" Steven said as he loaded Martha's army duffel bag of clothes into the back of the Jeep parked in front of her childhood home.
"Who knows, Dad? Maybe twenty-third time's the charm," Martha teased, adding a backpack and CD binder. She unzipped the front pocket of the backpack and took out a handkerchief.
"Promise me you'll enroll next fall," he implored. "Or... maybe even this spring? I'm sure Berkeley would take you a semester late. Say the word and I'll handle all the paperwork."
"I cannot promise you that. But yes, eventually," she reassured. "As we've discussed, there's going to come a time when I don't have the freedom I have now, so I'm making the most of it while I can."
"I know. I know. It's just that you're so bright and I worry that..." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "But I've already made that argument enough."
Martha put her hands on his shoulders. "Everything's going to be alright." She could see it in his eyes. Beyond the usual torment he'd carried from raising an immortal, there was fear – for her future and her well being, but also that he wasn't living up to his responsibilities as a father.
He didn't deserve fear. He deserved peace. And she knew how to give it to him. "I know you're proud of me, Dad. Of my academics... my basketball... my gardening..."
"Oh yes. Your gardening has always amazed me – the carrots... And the turnips? Don't get me started on the turnips!"
"You've always been partial to the turnips," Martha agreed. "But what I'm trying to say is... In addition to all of that, you've raised... a happy daughter." His Adam's apple bobbed. "And you did it all on your own." He sniffled. "You did a magnificent job, Dad."
His face clenched as he reached out to hug her tightly. "You know, all I... ever wanted was for... you to... be happy," he choked out.
"I know. I know," she said, patting his back. They released one another and she offered him the handkerchief.
He wiped his eyes and blew his nose, then said, "Jeez, I don't know what's come over me."
Martha couldn't help but roll her eyes a little. My dad, crying... Imagine that.
James walked out of the garage carrying various camping supplies. Steven turned to him and said, "There he is! Someone, call the cops. That's the boy that's stealing my daughter!"
James played along. "Oh no, he caught us! We better make a run for it!"
Smiles broke across the men's faces as they broke their farce. Steven had a great deal of respect for James, in fact. And as with all things James, and now Martha, it was entirely by design...
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Drifting Along the Infinite Spring
General Fiction[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...