Breakaway
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mart's whistle preceded him as he walked up the stairwell to Brian's apartment. Amazed by his good fortune at having his morning class canceled, he had decided to visit Brian until his next class started. His brother and Jim always had a nicely-stocked kitchen, thanks to the combined efforts of his mother and the cook at the Manor House. He had at least a good hour of quiet time where he didn't need to study. He didn't count on having Jim there since Brian had told him Jim's schedule ahead of time. He should be at his pre-student teaching placement. He shouldn't be at home, which suited Mart wonderfully. They were almost friendly to each other but nothing else. Civil, cool and cordial. Nothing more; nothing less.
He reached the apartment and cheerfully knocked on the door, fully expecting his brother to answer. Having memorized Brian's schedule, he was aware that he should be home unless he had decided to meet Honey somewhere or go to the library to do more studying. Both were strong possibilities. Glancing down at his keychain which carried a spare key to Brian's apartment, he figured he would take a nap if his brother wasn't home. Whistling a merry tune, he waited with a welcoming grin while the doorknob turned. The grin abruptly slid off his face when he saw the person on the other side of the door.
Jim lifted his eyebrows, barely resisting the urge to ask him why he was there. Mart had excelled at avoiding Jim, which only annoyed him even further. "Mart," he remarked shortly and stepped back, his only outward sign of greeting, and waited to see if he would come into the apartment.
Mart stood on the threshold, a shocked expression on his face and his blue eyes immensely puzzled, unable to understand why Jim was at the apartment. He wasn't supposed to be there. He had memorized the schedule Brian had given him so that he could avoid Jim whenever possible. "Brian," he stuttered out inanely, looked beyond him into the living room for his big brother. "Is…ah…is Brian here?"
Slightly amused by Mart's reaction, realizing that he hadn't expected him to be at home, in his own apartment, Jim turned his back and walked back to the sofa, letting Mart make the ultimate decision on whether or not he would come in. He called out over his shoulder, "Brian left a few minutes ago to go the library. He wanted to check out a few books that he needs for a paper he has due. I think he's going to squeeze in a lunch with Honey and then he's in class the rest of the afternoon. I doubt if he'll be back until the evening." He sat down and picked up the remote, effectively ignoring Mart. The way Jim saw it, it was up to the younger man to make the next move. If he was a betting man, he would have laid down money on the fact that Mart would leave.
Caught in the crosshairs, unsure what to do next, Mart glanced up at the ceiling and mentally ran through the available possibilities. He had two options. He could either leave, which would be incredibly rude, or he could start the process of fixing the problems in his friendship with Jim, problems that he was aware where mainly his doing, not Jim's. Even though it rankled and wasn't something he wanted to do, he knew what he needed to do. His lovely girlfriend Di had taken on the role of peacemaker and had discussed it with him at length ever since the academic year started up. With four days of classes down and with each of them working on their fifth, that meant four full nights of conversations centering around him and Jim. Even though he would have liked to overlook the arguments she kept jamming down his throat, he couldn't. Much to his chagrin, her points were strong, valid and solid. They were ones that he couldn't ignore, not unless he wanted to be seen as an absolute ass. Since it seemed like fate had dropped an opportunity into his lap, Mart decided it was time to try. If anything, it would at least appease Di. It took a superhuman effort but he came into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Slowly, he sank down onto the recliner and remarked lowly, "Looks like the Yankees did well last night." The team was currently featured on the highlights of Sportscenter, with the previous evening's stats written in miniscule numbers across the screen.
"Extra innings," Jim answered shortly, just as quietly, and didn't say another thing. He kept his emerald gaze trained on the television set, stoic and smooth, and didn't glance in Mart's direction once.
Mart followed suit. The uniformed men continued to run across the screen while the announcers' voices droned on and on, sharing the information from the games. It didn't make a lick of sense to him. "And the Mets?" he finally asked after about two miserable minutes of absolute, deafening silence.
"They were featured before you came. They lost," Jim shared evenly, keeping his answers informative but short.
Yet another awkward length of silence. It was the first time they had been alone together without a buffer since the afternoon he had informed Jim about Trixie's move out of the state, Mart wasn't certain what to do next. Small talk wasn't doing it. Neither was sharing a television set. Frowning, he recalled what he thought had been Jim's schedule and decided it was a good place to start. Neutral. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he wondered curiously, "It seems to me that you were supposed to be at your pre-student teaching assignment this morning. Brian mentioned that to me at the start of the week. Did your schedule change?"
Jim settled back against the comfortable cushions and internally debated within himself whether he should clue Mart in to his new plans or not. So far, only his father, his sister and his advisor knew. Shrugging a shoulder, he figured it was as good a time to tell Mart as any. "Yeah. My schedule changed," he said with an ironic tint to his voice, one lip curled up at the edge.
The way he delivered his answer made Mart sit up and take notice. There was something odd in Jim's voice, something that Mart wasn't used to hearing from the older man. It sounded like self-recrimination. Facing away from the television set for the first time, his inquisitive blue eyes landed on Jim's face. Inhaling deeply, well aware of the fact that Jim had every right to tell him to kiss ass and get the hell out of there, he took a deep breath and inquired, "What do you mean by that, Jim?"
Jim let out a short laugh and ignored the question. He picked up his empty glass and tapped a finger against the side of it. "You realize this is the most you've spoken to me in over two months, don't you, Mart?" he asked with the right amount of sarcasm.
Mart flushed to the roots of his shortly cropped hair. "I know," he replied on a sigh. He couldn't bring himself to apologize for his behavior; he still firmly believed that Trixie had left because of Jim. However, as Di had pointed out over and over and over again, whatever the reason lay between Trixie and Jim and did not include him or any of the other Bob-Whites. Finally, after over two months of having his sister residing in another state and listening to Di drive the point home, he was starting to believe it. "Look, Jim," he began uncertainly and then stopped, having no clue on how to continue. Words utterly failed him.
Jim cocked his head to the side. When Mart didn't continue, he spoke encouragingly, "What, Mart?"
Mart's face contorted while he contemplated what to say. Nothing came to him readily except a long, drawn-out expulsion of air. Eventually, he declared slowly, choosing his words carefully, "I can't change what happened. I'm not going to go into it because you know what I'm talking about. I can't even say that I would have done anything differently on that day because, well, I probably wouldn't have. I don't think that I have completely accepted it even now but that's not your problem. That's mine." He frowned in deep concentration before admitting, "However, I am just starting to think that I may have been a little too harsh on you."
Jim drew back, torn between the desire to laugh at Mart's convoluted speech or to have his own temper ignited by an apology that wasn't really an apology. Mart thought he may have been 'a little too harsh'? Recalling that ugly scene in the kitchen at Crabapple Farm where Mart had gleefully stomped on the heart that Trixie had managed to tear out of his chest with her choice to leave, he questioned sarcastically, "Only a little?"
"Maybe. You know. The tiniest of bits," Mart replied with a small chuckle and his face warm with embarrassment.
It took Jim a while to decide what to do next. Hanging on to his own bitterness was a strong, viable option. However, it wouldn't serve much purpose. Since Mart was willing to almost apologize, he figured the best he could do was to almost accept it. When he laughed, Mart relaxed visibly. "Just the tiniest of bits," he repeated softly to himself and laughed a little harder, amused by the incredulous statement. An understatement if he had ever heard him. Remembering Peter Belden and their encounter near the orchard, he muttered, "At least you didn't have an ax with you."
"An ax?" Mart looked at him quizzically. Understanding broke through his lagging senses. "Ohhh," was drawn out of him, long and exaggerated, while he imagined what that meeting had gone like. His father hadn't softened towards Jim yet, was more than willing to hold onto his resentment against the redhead. Helen hadn't been able to sway him. Neither had Brian. Mart hadn't tried. All of the Beldens seriously doubted if he ever would forgive Jim. "That must have been…interesting," he finally settled on after searching for the correct word.
"Interesting," Jim mumbled under his breath before barking out a small, humorless chortle. Letting it go, he stood up from the sofa and pointed to the kitchen. "I'm going to get something to eat. Are you hungry?"
"Is my name Mart Belden?" he quipped back jokingly and followed Jim into the kitchen, starting to feel more at ease with his friend than he had in the longest of times. "You and Brian always have more food than I do over in my dorm room. That's the main reason why I stopped by," he admitted as he watched Jim go through the panty with eyes alight with hunger and come out with a box of pop-tarts. He caught the silvery package tossed at him, opened it and sniffed the frosting-covered pastries with appreciation before placing them into the toaster.
"When's your next class?" Having spent most of the week the same way as he had spent the summer, in complete and total isolation, with his thoughts as his only company, Jim wasn't privy to much. He had a pretty good handle on Brian's schedule since they roomed together but he didn't have a clue about Mart's or Honey's. It hadn't seemed important enough to him to actually ask them about it.
"Should be right now," Mart answered, anxiously waiting for the tasty treat to pop up from the toasty with his mouth watering. When the pastries jumped up, he grabbed them and plopped it onto the paper plate Jim offered him, shaking away the heat from his fingertips. Blowing on them to cool them off, he shared, "Our professor cancelled it. Something came up within his family. There was a note that on the door that said he had to go out of town and won't be back until Monday. Monday's class is still on, more's the pity."
"That's a pleasant Friday surprise," Jim noted. It always felt great to have a class unexpectedly cancelled. He placed his glass on the clean counter and moved to the refrigerator.
Mart laughed joyfully. "Exactly. Di's busy until three otherwise I would probably have headed over to her dorm to hang out with her. She's got a full course load today so I wouldn't have been able to see her. We're getting together this evening."
"So we're second choice," Jim inferred correctly, searching through the inside of the refrigerator. He pushed aside a Styrofoam take-out container, the last piece of pizza from the night before, and a box of Chinese food. Thinking that maybe he and Brian needed to stop eating out so much, he grabbed the container of orange juice and put it on the counter.
"Hey, neither you or Brian have violet eyes or long, dark hair," Mart joked back, slightly shocked by how easy it was to talk to Jim again. He hadn't realized how much he had missed his friend and felt more than a little shamed by his treatment of him.
After he poured his glass of orange juice, Jim leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. "I'm glad you stopped by, Mart," he remarked seriously, relieved to be on speaking terms with the other Bob-White again.
"Me, too." Mart took a bite out of his pastry and chewed it. It was exactly what he needed. Fighting the urge to inhale it, he recalled the fact that Jim shouldn't be at his apartment and that he hadn't answered his question. "Hey, Jim! You never answered my question. Why are you home? Aren't you supposed to be at your high school placement, meeting your class and getting ready to start student teaching in the spring?" he asked in-between bites.
"No. There was a change." Jim took a deep breath, preparing himself. It hadn't been easy telling Honey the previous night. It wasn't going to be easy to share his new plans with Mart but people were going to find out. He wouldn't be able to hide his change of heart for much longer. He was seriously surprised that Brian hadn't figured out that something was amiss yet but chalked that up to a combination of his stressful course load and his relationship with Honey. "I'm not going to be student teaching this year. In fact, I dropped all of my education courses from my schedule and have picked up new ones instead."
Mart choked on his next bite. Coughing, and not so delicately, he dropped the plate onto the table and stared at Jim as if he hadn't heard him correctly. "Did my ears deceive me? Did you say that you dropped all of your ed courses?" Incredulous, appetite completely gone, all he could do was stare at Jim, his mouth open and a smattering of left-over crumbs on his chin.
Mart's face was a study in almost comical surprise. Jim would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. "You heard right, Mart," he assured him quietly, his voice low and deep. "I had returned to the apartment about five minutes before you got here. I had a meeting with my advisor today. We discussed the changes in my declared program of study and also about my hopes for graduate school."
"Wait, Jim. You've got to slow down here. You're moving too fast for my brain. I can't process all of this." In deep concentration, Mart settled on the most imperative question of the series swirling through his confused mind, "What does this mean for your school, Jim? You have to realize that you need the experience of student teaching. You also need that degree in education. If you don't student teach or get a Bachelors in education, how are you going to open up one when you're ready? I don't get it."
"I'm not," Jim replied simply. He calmly took a sip of his juice and observed Mart's reaction over the brim.
"What?" Mart's mouth dropped to the floor. It took a second before he remembered to close it. "You're not planning on opening your school?"
Telling his next person wasn't making it any easier. Jim swallowed a sigh and forced his emerald eyes to stay on Mart's befuddled ones. "No. I talked it over with my father a few weeks ago. I'm going to graduate from NYU with a degree in business. Luckily I had already taken many of the required ones so that I only have to take a few extra courses this year." He shrugged. The extra course load didn't bother him. He didn't have much else to do. He certainly wasn't going to be actively seeking a social life. Staying home and studying was fine with him. "I'm okay with that. Then I'm going to take the LSATs and hopefully be accepted to Harvard for grad school."
Mart couldn't have been more shocked. "Harvard?" he parroted back stupidly.
"Law school," Jim offered quickly, anticipating the next question before Mart had time to form it. "I want to get my degree and become a corporate lawyer. It's already set. I'm going to work for my father's company after I graduate."
God, things were changing much faster than he had ever expected them to. The news hit him hard. He couldn't understand it, let alone comprehend it, and it took him by complete surprise. As far back as he could remember, Jim had wanted to open his own school. What the hell was happening to them? Mart asked himself the question silently. First Trixie blew them away with her decision to relocate the entire way across the country, then they found out that Honey changed her career plans, and now there was Jim…He had once thought that the Bob-Whites were the most steadfast and reliable group in the entire world. It looked like he was quite wrong. "I don't know what to say," he mumbled under his breath, staring at his friend with concern and bewilderment.
"I'm going to oversee the many charitable donations made by the company so I'll be able to help out worthwhile organizations and projects financially. Maybe I'll even find a school that we can support instead of building my own." Having come to grips with the idea that another of his cherished dreams was well and truly over, he appreciated the fact that his father had offered him the option to assist with the various charities that W&I funded. It was a start.
"Trixie. It's because of Trixie." A memory of Jim's face when he had first learned of Trixie's move tugged at him, made Mart feel even guiltier and slightly responsible for Jim's sudden change in plans. He hadn't been sympathetic or caring in his delivery of the news to Jim. Damning himself, he fleetingly pondered how Trixie would take the news once she found out about it. If he was feeling guilty, he couldn't even begin to imagine how it would make her feel. "You're changing everything because of her."
He couldn't believe that Mart, out of all the people that he knew, was bringing up Trixie to him. Amazed by the fact that they were actually going to talk about her, Jim replied deliberately, "Maybe. Maybe not. I can't change the fact that she chose to move instead of trying to work things out between us. I did a lot of thinking when I moved back to the city and during my second camping trip. It's not for me. Not now. Not anymore." He put the glass down on the counter with careful precision. The soft click wasn't as satisfying as the sound it would have made had he thrown it against the wall but he wasn't letting out any of his stronger feelings, was holding them in check with a steel will and unwilling to admit them, even to himself.
Mart heard a finality in Jim's voice that had him snapping his head back. He gritted his teeth and wondered if Trixie realized how much of an impact her leaving had made on Jim. Why couldn't she have stayed? he asked himself, frustrated with the entire situation, and ran a hand over his short, crisp hair. "I, um, I talked to her the other evening. Wednesday evening," he added hastily, gauging Jim's reaction.
Other than a quick blink, Jim didn't react. "She called Brian last night," he offered into the quiet, his voice intentionally low, even and controlled.
"She told me she was going to try and get in touch with him soon. It can be tough with all of us having different schedules and factoring in the time zone, too. She seems to be doing well," Mart shared, knowing that his words were making Jim feel uncomfortable but unable to stop talking about her for some odd, unknown reason. "But she misses us terribly. She didn't say it but I could tell. She misses home."
And he missed her. Terribly. He couldn't go back in time to try and correct the events of the past summer. Instead, he was stuck in the painful purgatory of their own making, with no way out. Too stubborn, he wasn't going to make an overture towards her. None seemed to be forthcoming his way from California, either. A new focus seemed to be the best course of action for him. It had to be. There wasn't much of a choice. Having no desire to hear anymore, he picked up his glass and carried it over to the sink. Tilting an ear towards the doorway, he listened to the television set. "I think Sportscenter has cycled back through. The Mets are going to be on again after the next commercial break," he announced in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Trixie.
It worked. Mart gave in and, with his pop-tart filled plate, he rejoined Jim in the living room. one. Together, they sat back down and watched the television set. His appetite had evaporated. He ended up picking at the pop-tarts, never finished Mart didn't bring up Trixie again, realizing that Jim had already shared as much as he was going to about his absent sister. He was impressed that Jim had talked to him about Trixie as much as he had. In desperate need of something to say, he asked, "Was your advisor content with your plans?"
"He said it's definitely feasible," Jim answered, relieved that Trixie wasn't brought up again. "He also mentioned that he may have a job for me over Thanksgiving break. It's voluntary. I wouldn't be paid but that doesn't bother me. There's an opportunity that he knows of in Massachusetts. It's for Habitat for Humanity. I'm going to put in for it. My advisor believes I'll be accepted for it since there aren't many people willing to volunteer over a holiday. It's a worthwhile project and it will help a family out, too. I'm looking forward to it. The plan is to have the house finished by the end of the Thanksgiving weekend. It'll be long hours and tough work."
Mart wasn't certain if he could handle any more surprises from Jim Frayne today. "But that means…" his voice trailed off uncertainly while the full meaning sank in.
"I won't be home for Thanksgiving," Jim finished for him. The volunteer position would be an excellent way for him to avoid seeing Trixie, who he knew would not miss a holiday at home, especially the busy Thanksgiving one. She would be needed to help out with the open house her family put on each November. He wouldn't be around, wouldn't have to face her or their concerned friends. It certainly wasn't brave of him to avoid Sleepyside but he didn't care. He didn't want to open his heart up to anymore pain. If staying away from Trixie helped, he would do it. "I'm not going to be in Sleepyside for the holiday. Instead, I'll be swinging a hammer or painting walls." If he was accepted, he added mentally. He wasn't worried about not being accepted. As his advisor had pointed out, there weren't too many people willing to give up an entire week and a holiday to work for free.
There went Di's fanciful hope that the Thanksgiving holiday would help the two mend their broken fences and become a couple again. Mart grimaced, imagining her response when he told her. She wasn't going to be happy. Neither, he suspected, was Honey. "Oh, boy," he grumbled lowly under his breath.
Jim understood more than Mart knew what those two lowly spoken words meant. Dropping the subject, he pointed to the screen. "The Mets are on now, Mart. You can catch the highlights of their game if you're still interested."
He didn't care about the Mets or any other baseball team right now. Mart watched the television set. He didn't see or hear anything that occurred on the screen. When the short blurb was over, he reached down, picked up his backpack and stood up. "Thanks for the snack. I'm glad you were here when I stopped by." It was the closest to an apology he would give Jm. Flashing his friendly grin, he explained, "I've got to head over to my class now if I want to get a good seat in the back of the room." Slipping the strap of his backpack over one shoulder, he moved towards the door, feeling more lighthearted than he had in a long time. It felt good to be on full speaking terms with Jim again.
Jim followed him to the door and watched him walk down the hallway. The normal bounce to his step that was an inherent part of Mart Belden was back. It made him smile. Slowly, he closed the door. The sounds of the chipper sportscasters didn't register on him as he passed through the living room on the way to his bedroom. He went straight to his desk. Even though he hated to do it, he opened his drawer. Hiding in the way back of the drawer, lying underneath an unopened birthday card, was a picture that he wouldn't have admitted to still owning, let alone keeping, in his room. He rarely looked at it. The corners of it were becoming crinkled from its new home within the desk instead of in a frame. Turning it over, the shaft of pain that shot through him was nearly debilitating. Her eyes stared back at him, beautiful, big and blue. The smile on her lips seemed to come from the happiness somewhere deep inside her. He noted the dimples winking in each cheek, the faded freckles splattered across her nose, the sparkle that was such an important part of her in the sapphire eyes. Shaking his head, he wondered how it could have gone so wrong for them and so very quickly, almost without a warning. Since it hurt to even look at a picture of her, he quickly flipped it over and stuffed it back into the drawer, well out of sight but certainly not out of mind. "Damn it," he muttered lowly and gave in to the urge. He slammed the drawer shut. Loudly.
Hating the weakness for giving in and thinking about Trixie, he grabbed his backpack and hurried out of the apartment, barely remembering to flick off the television set as he passed by it. The need to get out, to get away from the memories that were just beyond the edges of his mind, lying in wait to taunt him, was strong. He made a mad dash for the library. Once there, he tossed his backpack on a table in the far corner and buried his head in his thick textbooks, finding a refuge in studying, and completely ignorant of the student life going on around him. To him, it didn't matter. His new goal was paramount. He needed to make it happen, no matter what the cost. More importantly, he needed to forget about her.