A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews!
New Normal
Chapter Eight
February 28, 2015
The microwave beeped loudly as the popcorn finished popping. Mary glanced up from her phone, deciding to wait a minute or two before dumping it into the bowl. There was no faint smell of burning, so it appeared for once she had been successful.
"You're quite the chef," Tom said a minute or so later when she joined him on the couch. "You'll be putting me out of a job."
Mary stifled a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll always need your help." She reached into the bowl, fingers brushing against Tom's as he did the same thing. Neither of them commented on it, Tom merely chuckling as Mary smiled.
"I never thought I'd hear you admit to that," Tom teased before eating his popcorn.
"Considering you've seen me at my absolute lowest, I don't think it even needs to be said," Mary retorted.
Tom smiled before asking, "So which movie are we going to be watching?"
"How does Mean Girls sound?"
Tom shrugged. "I've never seen it. It's your pick anyway."
Mary's has dropped. "You haven't seen Mean Girls?"
"That's what I just said, isn't it?"
Mary didn't even react to his snark. She was well aware he had picked it up from her... in fact, she was rather proud. "Well, that settles it. We have to watch it now." She reached for the remote. "I must say, I am rather disappointed in Sybil for not showing you sooner."
"Did she like it, then?" Mary turned, curious to know why he was asking. "We didn't have much time for nights like this. She was always studying, I was always working..." He trailed off before shrugging. "We might watch some shows, but..."
Mary felt unspeakably sad. Hearing him talk about things made her all the more grateful for her times with Matthew, in spite of all the hurdles that life had thrown in their way. Tom and Sybil had planned on so many things...
"She loved this movie. Whenever one of us was sad, we'd watch this movie together," said Mary, enlightening him on a Crawley sister tradition. "I think the last time I watched it was after Edith's wedding. The three of us..." She trailed off, recalling how all three of them had huddled up in Edith's bedroom. Mary had taken off her ring before driving up to Downton, recalling the way she had lashed out at them both right after the horrible wedding that wasn't. Sybil couldn't hide her pregnancy, so Mary would hide her wedding ring.
They were only a couple minutes into the movie, her focus only interrupted by Tom's observations on American high schools when his phone rang. He glanced down, eyes widening before hastily saying, "I'd better take this. It's Sarah."
Mary paused the movie as Tom leapt to his feet. "Hello? Sarah?" A pause as he walked into the living room. Mary craned her head around. "I'm at home. With Mary." Another pause. "Because she's been sad lately. I thought I'd cheer her up. I thought I told—" He trailed off, almost as if he had been interrupted. "I'm so sorry. I forgot that was tonight. I wasn't thinking—"
Mary's eyes widened. It was probably in bad taste, but she began eating the popcorn with considerably more enthusiasm than before.
"Can we reschedule?" A beat. "I can't leave now, I promised Mary—" He was interrupted again, mouth hanging open for a moment before his jaw clenched. "She's my best friend. Of course she's important to me. We're important to one another."
Mary had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Oh, God... Was this because of her? All she could think about was her break up with Charles, the thing this evening was ironically supposed to be taking her mind off of. She stopped eating the popcorn, turning away.
"There's no need to say things like that." Tom's voice was now unexpectedly and uncharacteristically harsh. "I don't appreciate you talking about her like that. If that's how you feel, then I don't think we should see each other anymore."
Mary wasn't sure if Sarah had been given a chance to respond before Tom hung up, but he was rejoining her on the couch moments later. He seemed less upset than she might have expected, more tense than sad. After a minute or so of sitting there silently next to one another, Mary staring at him as he looked up at the television screen. "Aren't you going to start the movie back up?"
Mary hesitated before handing him the remote. "Perhaps you should be the one picking out what we should be watching," she said uncertainly. She had never been in this position...
Tom hit a button and the movie resumed. Cady Heron was eating lunch in the bathroom stall. Mary glanced at Tom, who was watching intently.
"It's alright to be sad," she told him shortly after the infamous Jingle Bell Rock scene. He had said nothing since restarting the movie.
"I'm not. Maybe I should be, but..." He glanced over at Mary, trailing off before saying, "I liked her. I did. But I wonder if it might have been better if we had only been friends." He turned back to the screen. "I tried to move on too soon. I won't be making that mistake again anytime soon."
Mary understood perfectly.
"I never realized she was quoting this movie," said Tom a while later, obviously referring to Sybil. "I always thought she came up with this stuff on her own."
Mary smiled. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but she wasn't quite that original." She reached into the bowl, only to find it empty.
March 10, 2015
Mary was shocked to be staring at James A. Kent's resignation, with a plan to leave in two week's time. "Did you know about this?" asked Mary, showing it to Thomas.
His mouth fell open before he nodded jerkily. "I knew he was thinking of going, yeah."
Mary examined his face any sign that he wasn't okay but Thomas was almost as good as she was at hiding his true feelings. "Well," she said with a sigh, turning back to her back, "I suppose we'll need a new tour guide."
Thomas said nothing, typing away at his desk. She glanced over at him, lips turned downward. Mary suddenly wondered if maybe she shouldn't have brought it up.
May 8, 2015
"I've been offered a job. In America."
Mary blinked. "What?"
"I've been asked to cover their upcoming presidential election," said Tom. "I'd start at the beginning of next year."
Mary stilled, wondering just what he was saying. "Are you thinking of accepting it?" Her voice was cold, colder than she intended it to, but she couldn't help it. She didn't like this— not at all.
Tom blinked now. "I am." He shifted in his chair, reaching for a second helping of green beans. Mary merely sat woodenly, watching him. "Does that surprise you?"
"It does, actually." She was angry now. "I thought you liked it here."
"I like it here," clarified Tom, nowhere near as flustered by all this as Mary was. He was speaking so plainly one would think he was talking about the weather or something equally prosaic instead uprooting his life to move to America. "But I don't belong at Downton. Going there for this job... maybe I'll find where I'm actually supposed to be."
Each word was like a dagger in her heart. She had no idea why those words hurt as fiercely as they did— maybe it was because her identity was wrapped up in Downton and a rejection of it was a rejection of her, or maybe it was the idea of this house being occupied by just her and George... "What about Sybbie?"
"They have daycares in America," said Tom, unbothered.
"But won't you be moving around constantly?" asked Mary, fairly certain that's how these worked. America was a large country— was Sybbie expected to be going along with him on the campaign trail?
"The place I'll mainly be in is Boston," explained Tom, "and I've a cousin there. Liam," he clarified, a name Mary vaguely recalled. "I won't have to leave the state often, but if I do, she can stay with him and his wife for a night or two. They have two daughters, so they know what they are doing."
Her eyes narrowed. "You've known about this for a while," she accused.
"About a week or so." Tom sat his fork down on the plate.
Mary figured it was more than that. He had done his research. He probably had already consulted with this cousin of his, figuring out logistics and whether or not they would be able to look after Sybbie.
She excused herself to bed early that night, feigning a headache. She wasn't sure why she bothered— Tom was able to see through it. He gave her a pitying looks as she walked up the stairs, one that Mary staunchly avoided.
When she reached her bedroom, her legs seemed to give out. Mary bit the inside of her lip as she leaned against the the door, wondering why this was bothering her so much, one leg folded underneath her.
She had no idea how much time had passed, only aware the sun was dimming and her bedroom was slowly being engulfed in darkness. Mary pulled herself to her feet, stripping away her clothes and changing into her pajamas before collapsing on her bed. Her phone was placed on the nightstand, where it charged.
More time elapsed. Just as sleep was about to claim her, there was a knock at her door. Mary's eyes flew open, already wide awake again. She breathed shallowly before there was second, hesitant knocking.
She should tell him to come in. She should open up the door. But Mary sat upright in her bed, waiting until he went away.
May 9, 2015
Neither of them said anything about it following morning. Mary pretended all was well, making herself smile when all she wanted to do was scowl and demand he remain here... but she knew that wasn't possible. If Tom wanted to advance his career, he had every right to do so— no matter how inconvenient it was to Mary.
So she ignored it. Mary chattered about some inane work gossip ("Thomas swears he doesn't like him but they've gone out to lunch three times already," she told him in reference to the new tour guide, Andy) until Tom, who was busy cleaning Sybbie's face of her breakfast asked, "Are you alright?" When she stared at him with a curious look, he clarified, "With the whole job thing?"
"Of course I am," she lied, now looking at George. She swore there was more food on his bib than there probably was in his stomach. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You seemed upset last night."
"You took me by surprise. That's all." She turned to him again, masking her own disappointments, before saying, "I'm pleased for you. Really."
However convincing she may be to others, when Mary met Tom's eye, she knew at once that he had seen through her lie.
—
May 25, 2015
Mary was driving through the village when she spotted a blond man standing outside the new music studio, adjusting a foldable sign advertising openings for students. He glanced up, saw Mary, smiled and then waved. She responded back in kind, mystified, even after dropping George and Sybbie off to Mama.
"You never said Jimmy was still in the area," were her greeting words to Thomas when he arrived into the office, divesting himself of his jacket. Ever since Jimmy departure from their employment, Thomas hadn't said a word about him. Mary felt it was strange, considering Jimmy was easily his best friend.
Thomas shrugged. "Didn't think you'd care."
Mary rolled her eyes. Of course she cared... "What's he doing now?"
"Teaching music," answered Thomas. "It's what he went to school for, you know."
Mary was surprised. She had never thought of Jimmy as someone who wanted to teach— he was a part of a local band, she knew, but she'd never seen him as someone who would work with children. "How wonderful," said Mary, genuinely surprised. "Perhaps once George is old enough, maybe he can start taking lessons."
"What about Sybbie?" asked Thomas. "Or won't Branson let her?"
Mary hesitated. He hadn't told anyone else the news yet... she hadn't breathed a word of it to anyone else, not even Anna, who she usually confided everything in...
"I don't know yet, but I don't feel comfortable speaking for him," said Mary, as enthusiastically as she could muster. "We'll see."
June 1, 2015
Anna was the one who finally noticed something was wrong. She invited Mary over for a girl's night, John spending the evening up in his office. Anna poured Mary a glass of wine and they chatted with one another, Mary mostly about the children and Anna about her job and John's new garden.
"Will you tell me what's been bothering you now?" Anna finally asked after Mary told her about plans for Downton. Mary sat there, agape, as Anna smiled knowingly and said, "And don't say you don't know what I'm talking about."
Mary bit back a sigh. "Is it that obvious?"
"Probably not... but I know you and I know when something is bothering you." She reached over, filled Mary's half empty glass up again, and said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to... but you'll probably feel a lot better once you get it out."
Mary hesitated before glancing up Anna, one leg folded underneath her and eyes lacking any judgement.
She told her everything— about the job, about how awkward things suddenly were, how bereft she felt. "Have you told him that?" Anna asked, gaze not wavering from Mary even when the cat crawled onto her lap.
"No," Mary said, staring down at her knees. "I couldn't possibly."
"Why not?"
"Because it's his job... and it's a great opportunity. There's no reason for him to stay, apart from my selfishness."
Anna's gaze softened. "You aren't being selfish. You're just sad about a friend moving away. It's perfectly normal."
Was it? Mary wasn't sure. She had lost friends before— with a personality like hers, it was impossible not to bump shoulders every now and again. It didn't hurt like this— Tom leaving felt like a betrayal, like she was going to be alone all over again. It was the unfriendly reminder that people always left her... that's why she made a point of leaving them first.
"I don't want him to feel guilty," she said, not wanting to drag him down to her level.
"You wouldn't be," insisted Anna. "If anything, I think he would be more upset to know you've been suffering in silence all this time."
Mary wasn't sure.
June 3, 2015
Mary had been silently contemplating Anna's advice when mere days later, Tom announced, shortly after arriving home, "I accepted the job."
She froze. Then she plastered a smile on her face. "Have you? That's wonderful. Congratulations." She bustled past him to grab her phone, which was sitting on the counter.
"Thanks," Tom said, though he didn't sound enthused... "I'm looking forward to it." Based on his tone of voice, one might have thought he was talking about a colonoscopy instead of an amazing job opportunity. She knew why when he let out a sigh and said, "Mary, are you sure—"
Mary cut him off by raising a finger and lifting her phone to her ear. When someone on the other end announced she was calling Fabiano's, Mary quickly placed an order for a pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and mushrooms before hanging up— Tom's favorite... well, almost his favorite. She refused to add the olives to it. After she hung up, she met his eye and said, "It's a celebration... and you shouldn't have to cook for yourself when we're celebrating your accomplishments."
Tom smiled, looking genuinely pleased. Mary definitely couldn't bear to tell him now what she had been planning on saying... so she doubted it would ever come up. She had squandered her chance; now all she could do was be happy for him.
July 15, 2015
Mary couldn't believe she had been so careless— but then again, it was hardly like her to pay attention to things like birthdays... especially Edith's, which was in a mere two days. Mama and Papa were holding some sort of party tomorrow for her at the house and Mary had yet to buy a gift.
"What did you buy her?" Mary asked as she reached for her purse and sunglasses as Tom sat by, amused.
"I bought her a new journal. She's almost filled hers up," Tom told her. How he knew that was beyond Mary— she didn't even realize Edith kept a journal. Then again, Tom and Edith also genuinely liked one another. They truly did view one another as a brother and sister. "What are you thinking of getting her?"
Mary shrugged. "I don't know. Gift cards or something."
"For where?"
"I'll decide once I get to the store," answered Mary, somewhat irritated.
"Store?" Sybbie seemed to appear out of nowhere as Mary began slipping on her shoes. "Can I go?"
Mary glanced over at Tom who nodded ever so slightly. She hesitated, looking at her niece before saying, "I suppose so." Sybbie practically cheered. "You don't mind keeping George, do you?"
"Of course not," answered Tom as Sybbie raced over to the door, putting her shoes on the wrong feet until Mary knelt down time help her. "I was planning on watching them together, anyway."
Mary smiled, glancing down at Sybbie, who had now scrambled to her feet. "Very well," she told him, reaching for her niece's hand. "We'll be back shortly."
As Mary buckled Sybbie into the car seat, she listened to her babble about her Isis's new litter. "Can we get one, Mary?" She pleaded, giving Mary her best puppy dog eyes.
Mary hated saying no but knew she must. There was no way she could deal with a puppy and two toddlers... especially when Tom would be leaving with Sybbie... but Sybbie didn't know quite yet. There was still some time and Tom wouldn't be leaving until early January. "Taking care of a pet is a lot of responsibility, darling," said Mary, eyes flickering to the mirror to make eye contact with her. "Maybe when you and George are older, we can talk about it some more." She didn't even dwell on the possibility that Sybbie wouldn't return.
"But they're so cute!" insisted Sybbie, jaw hurting out. She looked and sounded so much like Sybil, speaking with the same sort of conviction. Mary briefly forgot where she was. "And then if we have one, it won't have to leave Isis forever!"
Mary nearly stopped breathing. Unknowingly, Sybbie's words were tugging at her heartstrings. "All puppies have to leave their mothers someday, darling," said Mary, though she didn't sound terribly convincing.
She didn't like the comparisons her mind was making, equating herself with Papa's dog. She wasn't Sybbie's mother, she was her aunt... but she could willingly acknowledge she was more involved in her niece's life than many aunts. Sharing a home, watching her grow every single day... it was no wonder Mary had developed a somewhat maternal bond with Sybbie.
She's Sybil's daughter, she reminded herself, staring ahead.
"But they'll be so sad!" Sybbie stuck out her bottom lip.
Mary blinked behind her sunglasses. "They will at first... but it will stop hurting after a while." She wondered who she was trying convince— herself or Sybbie.
When they reached the store, Sybbie had changed topics, talking about a game her and George had invented similar to tag. "What are we buying?" she asked, following Mary down an aisle.
"A present for Auntie Edith's birthday."
Sybbie lit up immediately. "Can I pick?" She asked, practically bouncing with excitement.
Mary paused. She had only planned on grabbing a cheap card and a Starbucks gift card... but if Sybbie was offering... "Certainly," she replied, grinning down at Sybbie.
When they went to pay, a pair of hot pink slippers, a water bottle, and a pack of gum sat on the conveyor belt. Mary had a hard time not laughing at each selection Sybbie made, excited for Edith's reaction... especially since she wouldn't be able say if she hated it once she learned Sybbie was responsible for everything. The cashier scanned each item, peering through her thick rimmed glasses to remark, "You and your daughter look so much alike."
Mary felt as if she were being stabbed in the heart. Sybbie paid no attention, focus diverted to the floor as she swung her arms around. "She's my niece, actually," she corrected the woman, heart full of love for the little girl. "But everyone's always said my sister and I look alike."
The cashier smiled before telling Mary the total.
September 8, 2015
She was uncertain how it had come out, but it had. Mary was now staring at her lap, picking at her nails and staunchly avoiding Tom's gaze.
"It's not because of you," Tom said unnecessarily. It didn't make Mary feel any better. She felt like shit— how hard was it just to keep her mouth shut and be happy for him? Now he would be feeling bad and guilty and every other negative feeling he shouldn't be feeling all because she just had blurt out, I don't want you to go to America. "In fact, I think you're the biggest reason I've stayed here, to be quite honest."
She wasn't certain if it was meant to make her feel better or not. "I know it isn't." She swallowed. "I just— I don't understand what's changed."
"I have." She glanced up now, finding Tom's gaze fixed straight ahead at the brick fireplace. "And... there's so many reminders here. Of Sybil," he clarified, almost unnecessarily. "And... and of Matthew." That caused her head to jerk up and for him to meet her eyes. "I know that we... he was your husband... but he was my friend."
Mary swallowed, thinking of the bond Matthew and Tom had shared. Sometimes she forgot that before they had become best friends that it had been him and Matthew. When she was in the depths of her grief, she hadn't really thought of what Tom was going through. It was that fact that made her feel ashamed. Losing a fiancée and then his best friend, all while taking care of two babies and a depressed woman... How had he done it?
"I just— I need to go somewhere else. To carve out my own life. To stop living in shadows." His words were almost poetic. "Does that make any sense?"
It didn't. Not to her, at least. She had never been stuck in the shadow of anyone else, not really. Her parents had expectations for her, of course, but if any of them had been fulfilled, it was solely to please herself. A large part of Mary identity was caught up in maintaining the legacy of the Crawley family and their ancestral home. Downton was a part of who she was.
But Tom wasn't like her. And for him, she supposed moving away from it all was the only way he felt he could move forward. The only ties that bound him were the emotional ones to her and the rest of their family. "It does," she acquiesced.
"We can still talk," he reassured her. "And maybe we'll come back for holidays and whatnot... it isn't like we won't still be close."
Mary wished she could be sure of that. There was no guarantee they wouldn't drift apart. In her experience, when people left, they did so for a very long time. The one exception in her life had been Matthew, who had seemed bound to her as if there was an invisible thread linking them together. No matter how hard they had tried to distance themselves following their break up, Matthew had nevertheless reappeared in her life.
It was then that it really hit Mary of just how afraid she was at being left behind. Tom would go far away and forget all about her, meeting new people. She would be a mere footnote in his life, someone he would think fondly on, but one day she would just be Mary, Sybil's sister and Sybbie's aunt, the person who had once been his best friend.
What did they really have in common, anyway, apart from losing their loved ones? Hardly anything. Tom's upbringing was virtually unrecognizable from Mary's and they had drastically different interests. For God's sake, one of Tom's favorite things was cars, the very thing that had killed Matthew!
"It won't be the same," was all she said.
"No," agreed Tom. "It won't be." There was a sad look in his eyes. "But no matter where I go, you'll always be my best friend."
She wished she could be certain of that and not account it to sentimentality on Tom's part. She knew she was being truthful when she replied, "And you mine."
September 21, 2015
Mary found Papa standing in the driveway, hands in his pocket and staring off into the distance. The sky was dark, the only lights coming from the house. Even the moon was hidden behind dark clouds, the stars obscured from view.
Upon hearing the gravel crunch beneath her feet, Papa turned around. He offered her a smile, one that didn't meet his eyes.
"How long have you known about it?"
"Since June."
Papa said nothing. He gazed out at the wooded area. Then, "Do Sybbie and George know?"
"Not yet."
The wind came out of the north, chilly and blowing Mary's hair, tickling her face and succeeding messing itself up.
"You... You don't think he would consider leaving Sybbie here, do you?" Papa sounded almost hopeful. "Just for a while, while he settles things?"
Mary shook her head. "You know she would be devastated to be away from him for too long, Papa." She tried to remain strong, to will her voice to not shake.
Papa nodded. "I'll miss him. I never thought I would but... I will." He swallowed, now turning back to her. "When Sybil brought him home that first time, I thought she must be mad... or just doing it to spite us and rebel. But now... Well, I know she couldn't possibly have picked another man."
Mary didn't look at him, tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffled ever so slightly, blinking.
"I wish I could have known back then," he continued, lost in his own thoughts now. "Then maybe I wouldn't have been so harsh."
"You should be having this conversation with Tom."
Papa nodded again. "You're right. I should." He turned back. "But I think I'll stay out here a while longer. I'm alright... but let your mother know. She worries about me."
Mary nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and began walking back into the house, using the cool air and short walk to compose herself before returning to her family.
November 12, 2015
The first sound Mary heard was that of a crying child. The next was the door closing. She looked up, diverting her attention away from George to see Tom and Sybbie reentering the house from their walk, Sybbie wailing loudly. Tom looked as though he had been through a war, evidently distressed.
"What's the matter?" Mary asked, rising to her feet immediately. She all but rushed to Sybbie's side, kneeling down inspect her for any scrapes or bruises. "Did she hurt herself?"
"I don't want to go!" Sybbie sobbed, running up to Mary, hugging her around the neck.
Instantly Mary understood what had happened. She met Tom's eyes, a little disappointed he hadn't forewarned her he was doing this... especially since she had been thinking it might have been best to rip off the bandage at once and tell both children at the same time. Still, there was no way to alter the past... and Tom looked so helpless and miserable at present that there was no possible way she could be genuinely angry with him over this.
"It's alright, darling," said Mary, uncertain of how the best way to comfort a child who had come to the unwelcome realization that she would be moving to another continent entirely. Truthfully, she didn't feel alright about any of this, either, but there was nothing to be done about it.
Sybbie continued to cry, repeatedly asking Mary to let her stay and for Mary and George (and Donk and Grandmama and Marigold and Rose and Granny Violet, etcetera) to move with them to America. Nothing either Mary or Tom said seemed to say seemed to help, nor did George's constant inquiries of "Why is Sybbie crying?" or asking his cousin to repeat what she said because, "I can't understand you!" When she fell asleep on Mary's lap, it was almost a relief.
However, George kept pestering. "Why aren't you telling me, Mummy?" He crawled upon the couch next to Mary, poking her arm as she tried passing Sybbie over to Tom gently. "Is it a secret?"
"I'll tell you in a minute," whispered Mary, cringing at the shrillness of his voice, especially when Sybbie stirred in Tom's arms. Tom gave her a worried glance, which Mary had no response to. Did he expect her to keep it from him now, after Sybbie just had a meltdown? It was best if he heard it from her instead of from Sybbie, who would undoubtedly tell him about it when she woke up.
Thankfully, George didn't respond the same way Sybbie had. "But why?"
"Because Tom has a new job," explained Mary, though truthfully she too didn't understand.
"But why can't he do his job here?"
"Because it's in America, which is very far away."
"Can I go, too?"
Mary shook her head. "Downton is our home, darling. Besides— wouldn't you miss Grandmama and Donk?"
"They can come, too!" insisted George.
"I wish things were that simple." She lifted her son up onto her lap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His hair still smelled of Sybbie's strawberry shampoo, which had insisted he wanted during his bath last night. "But I'm afraid it isn't possible."
"Yes, it is! We can all move!"
Theoretically, they could. Mary was well aware her family was well enough off they could afford to sell everything and move to America tomorrow if they so desired... But it would never happen. Papa loved Downton as if it were a member of their family, and Mary felt much the same. "We can't," she told him, feeling somewhat sad. "This is our home, Georgie. We can't leave it."
He didn't understand... and in a lot of ways, Mary didn't, either.
December 24, 2015
Tom was hanging Sybbie's stocking over the fireplace when Mary came down the stairs, now dressed in her pajamas. George's was in her own hand, having been hidden in her bedroom for weeks.
"Great minds think alike," she said, drawing his attention. He turned around with a grin, taking a step back as she hung George's alongside Sybbie's.
"I still have the other gifts in my room," he said softly, seeming soak in the dimly lit room. His eyes seemed to trace over the bulbs on the Christmas tree, the photographs hanging on the wall...
It was hard to believe that in mere weeks he would no longer be here. Mary willed herself not to think about it— if she did, she feared she would burst into tears, which was not only undignified but a horrible way to spend their last Christmas Eve together. So she put on a brace face to say, "Me too. But we can wait a while longer, can't we?"
"I suppose so... at least long enough for a mug of cocoa. Want one?"
"Certainly," said Mary, going to sit on the couch as Tom went to the kitchen.
"It's out of a packet," Tom explained when he arrived a minute or so later, two mugs in his hand. "It's not good as the homemade—"
"It's fine," Mary cut him off, taking a sip to prove her point. The liquid was hot, practically scalding her lips and the tip of her tongue, but she hardly noticed. Nevertheless, she sat it down. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said as he joined her.
They sat in comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Mary couldn't stop thinking this was the last Christmas they would spend with one another... would they still be as close when he moved to America? Technology had made enough advancements so they could stay in touch, but there was also the complexities that came with different time zones and balancing work that she wasn't completely confident.
"What do you think it would be like?" asked Tom quietly, staring at the fire. "If they were here?"
He didn't need to clarify who he was speaking about. Mary knew implicitly. "I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I don't know if you would be here right now, to be honest. Wouldn't you be in Ireland, like you planned?"
Tom shook his head. "I think we'd be here," he insisted. "Sybil'd want to spend Christmas with all of you... and you'd invite us, wouldn't you?"
It seemed like they were children, playing pretend, but Mary allowed herself to go along with it. She could envision Matthew in the arm chair, a mug of cocoa in his hand. Sybil would probably be on the couch with Tom and Mary... She was willing to admit the mood wouldn't be so somber if they were present in flesh and blood. There would be laughter filling the room, shushing one another to remind them they couldn't wake the children.
"We would," said Mary, answering for herself and Matthew.
It was hard to believe that this time next year, Mary would be here all alone. She glanced over to Tom, who was staring at the fireplace.
"I want to thank you," he began gently, "for everything."
Mary shook her head. "It's me who should be thanking you."
"No, really, Mary. I mean it. If it wasn't for you and Matthew... Well, I don't know where I'd be."
Mary didn't know where she would be without him. Perhaps Tom might've gone to stay with his brother and Mary would be at Downton. There was no way they would have ever become as close.
"Do you think that you'll ever come back?" Mary found herself asking. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at him.
"I'm sure we will."
"How soon?"
"I don't know yet." He sounded apologetic. "But it won't be forever. And who knows? Maybe you could come stay with us sometime."
Mary tried to picture the whole family being crammed into Tom's new three bedroom flat. He had shown her pictures of the place and while it was in good condition, it was also very cramped. "I don't know if we would all fit," said Mary, unable to stop grinning. "That is unless you want Edith and I sharing an air mattress in your living room."
"I was talking about you and George," Tom said hastily. His cheeks were pink when Mary finally glanced up. "I mean... I'd love to see everyone else at some point... but there'd be more than enough room for you two."
Mary couldn't stop herself from smiling, touched. She really would miss him.
January 12, 2016
The airport was packed full of people for such an early time in the morning. Tom sipped his coffee, balancing a sleepy Sybbie on his lap. George, on the other hand, acted as if he had been the one to order the coffee, jumping about the café and giggling, even as Mary tried to get him to calm down.
It was only the four of them at the airport. There had been a huge farewell dinner at the Abbey several nights ago, and Aunt Rosamund had graciously allowed them to stay at her place so they wouldn't have to rise so early in the morning. Edith and Marigold had swung by last night, giving the Crawley cousins one last chance to say goodbye.
In spite of the fact it was a weekday, Mary had to be there. She needed to be there until the very end, his last memory of this chapter of his life...
A woman's voice started on the intercom, breaking the silence between them. "I'd better start heading that way," said Tom, draining the disposable cup before rising to his feet. Sybbie, who was still sluggish, staggered alongside him, holding his hand.
"Yes," said Mary, gathering up her purse and her hyperactive son as Tom threw away his wrappers and cup, "Of course."
When Tom reached the proper gate, he turned to Mary, smiling widely. "Well... this is it, then." Much to her horror, he looked as if he were trying not to cry.
Mary wrapped him into a fierce hug, an unusually affectionate gesture from her, but she couldn't bear to see him looking so sad. It would only make her question if he was really going to be happy so far away. Mary closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you." Oh God... he was choked up. It wasn't doing anything for Mary's resolve to not burst into tears in public.
"Please let me know when you've landed... or else I'll worry."
"I promise." They parted, looking at one another tearfully.
They exchanged goodbyes with their niece and nephew respectively, kissing their cheeks and promising they wouldn't be gone forever. George and Sybbie hugged one another one last time as Mary pressed a kiss to Tom's cheek when she embraced him again. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
After Sybbie and Tom has disappeared through the terminal, Mary took George's hand and lead him through the airport. "Why are you crying, Mummy?"
"I'm not crying," lied Mary, staring straight ahead as she sniffled. "Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?"
