...Well...
...I said it would get more 'dramatic'...and it did (kinda)...
...but people had been requesting FLUFF!
And so...
...I tried.
Lemme know if I succeeded or not.
So far this chapter is an expiremental (and very long) one for me.
I see it as, basically, 'Jim and Molly Attempt to be Normal'...THE MOVIE!
(Because it is so long...)
Or, Jim and Molly the Family Soap Opera!
No! Don't run away!
It's just a visit to the family. Nothing tooooo cheesy. :)
And sadly, it gets kinda...not fluffy...sometimes...(not too much though).
...but by the end it all works out happily and I'd say it gets pretty damn fluffy so...
...hmm...
...idk...
I really, really, hope you guys like it because I've been writing for days lol trying to get this right!
Molly had just stopped into her flat briefly during her lunchbreak to feed Toby (who had been feeling neglected lately but it's not as if she could smuggle a cat into a hotel…or could she?) put down her bag and keys on the counter, when the phone range.
The landline.
(Why did she even still have one of these?)
Normally, Molly didn't get many phone calls especially to her home-phone and so her first thought when she heard the ring was that someone had died.
"…Hello?" she answered, tentatively, phone to her ear.
"Hey, Molly! I finally got you!"
It was her sister.
Damn it.
"Hi, Beth."
"I've been calling and calling all day!"
"You could have just called my mobile…"
"I did. Apparently your number's been disconnected—"
"Oh yeah. I had to get it changed."
"Why?"
"Well there was this guy…"
"Ooh! A guy! Tell me more!"
"There's nothing to tell, really…he just wouldn't stop calling and texting. So I changed my number. That's it."
"Oh, Molly, whenever someone gets interested, you run away…why do you do that to yourself?"
"I—"
"At least tell me he was ugly—"
"No."
"Or fat—"
"He isn't—wasn't…well I don't know what he is now since I'm not seeing him anymore—"
"Or something, anything! Give me some reason why you broke it off if he wasn't fat or ugly. Tell me he was something."
"…he sure is 'something', alright…"
"What was that?"
"Nothing—no it's just…it just wasn't working out…"
"Oh…well…I see…Any new prospects?"
"Well…"
"You're thirty-two and still single, Molly! Do you really think it's the time to be picky?"
"I have to go. I just came home for lunch. I've got to go back to work now—"
"And now you're going home for lunch! Stop being such a spinster! You're working too much! You need to go out more and meet people and have fun and—"
"Goodbye, Beth."
"Wait!"
"…What is it?"
"The reason I called is we've bought a new place! A great four bedroom out in the suburbs!...which you would have known if you hadn't, you know, changed your number and 'forgotten' to tell me."
"That's really nice. I'm sure you and Thomas'll be happy there. How is he, by the way, and Matthew, too? How are they?"
"They're fine. They're really good…which you would know—"
"I know, I know! I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch, it's just I've been busy—"
"'Busy'? Busy, Molly, really? It's been a year!"
"Two, actually…maybe even a little more."
"Exactly! That's what I'm trying to say!"
"I know, Beth, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"No. Don't be. Don't be sorry…just come and visit us."
"I—"
"It's almost Easter and I know even you don't work on Easter—"
"Well—"
"No, Molly. No excuses. No sorries. Just come and visit your sister. The day after Easter come by the new place and see me."
"…Fine. Alright. I'll come, I'll visit you…now, what's your new address?"
After the almost an hour long drive, he taxi pulled up in front of the house.
It was tall and wide, larger than the average house, with a green lawn and even some full-grown flowers (probably put there by the realtor to attract buyers). There was an expensive-looking car in the driveway too, all new and shiny like the house.
Upper-middle class in a recession.
Molly closed her eyes from the window view and took a deep breath.
She was not going to be judgmental and jealous.
She was going to be happy for her sister (and her sister's rich husband).
Because Molly loved her sister…
…which was why she was going to subject her (and her rich husband) to Jim Moriarty.
The cab was stalling, motor (and meter) still running, in front of the house and Molly turned away from the window towards Jim would was gazing past her at the house.
(And he seemed to be pretty happy for her sister, from the grin on his face.)
"They're going to recognize you." Molly panicked, "There's no way they wouldn't recognize you."
"They won't." Jim dismissed, eyes now focusing on Molly instead of out the window, "…I'm in disguise."
Yeah.
Because being too lazy to shave for a few days and putting on some drugstore reading glasses definitely constituted being 'in disguise'.
"But what if they do?" Molly worried.
"What if they do?" Jim shrugged, "So what?"
" 'So what'?" Molly exclaimed, "What do you mean 'so what'? So what, they'll know I've been, um… 'spending time with' a criminal! They'll think I'm some kind of criminal—"
"Hey, at least they won't think you're a lonely old maid who likes cats a little too much." Jim reasoned, "Besides, I was acquitted. So technically I'm not a criminal—"
"Let's just go and get this over with." Molly resolved, reaching into her purse and then handing the taxi driver the fare (Jim had turned out his empty pockets, shrugging apologetically).
She stepped out of the cab, Jim following her (and of course expecting her to hold the door open for him like a chauffer).
They headed down the (fake cobblestone) path towards the nice house, past the driveway where the nice car was parked.
Jim stopped to admire it (or maybe just his own reflection (and disguise) in the reflection created by its tinted windows).
Molly, noticing this after she was a couple feet away, hurried back to him, grabbed his hand and then pulled him along towards their intended destination.
"I swear to god, Jim…" Molly muttered, tugging Jim behind her, "If you do anything, anything crazy or illegal or… bad, I'll, I promise you I'll—"
"Is that a threat, Molly?" Jim interrupted, stopping again, "Because I love it when you make threats. It's just so… adorable."
Molly turned back to look at him smirking, opened her mouth as if she was going to say something but then closed it and turned back forwards, continuing ahead.
"…come on…" she said, shaking her head to herself, "…just—come on…"
She already regretted letting Jim talk her into letting Jim accompany her.
…Well it was his idea to go so whatever trouble he caused was his fault, not hers.
Yes.
(Not her fault. Not her fault. Not her fault.)
Not her fault at all.
They climbed the stairs to the front door and then Molly knocked before Jim saw the doorbell and pushed it.
After around thirty seconds, Jim was already pressing it again and again, the bell now ringing without rest.
"Stop it!" Molly exclaimed, snatching his hand and pulling it away.
Jim grinned.
"…what are you gonna do to me if I don't?" he asked, "Tell me. I want you to threaten me again."
Molly groaned, releasing his hand.
Instantly, it was hovering above the doorbell again.
"Don't!" Molly warned, "…She must've heard it already the first hundred times. I'm sure she's coming."
"Yes, but women always take so long to—"
Molly gave Jim the closest thing to a 'death glare', silencing him just as the door finally opened.
"Sorry, I was in the back…" Beth apologized with a smile, leaning forwards to hug her older sister, "Molly, it's been so long!...and who's this?"
Beth stood just inside the house, examining the unfamiliar man who had arrived with her sister.
Nice clothing (dress shirt and shoes, slacks) but needed a shave.
Well, good enough...
…Especially for Molly (who's never really had much luck and whose biological clock had to be ticking away).
Jim stood just outside the house, examining the younger sister that Molly really hadn't wanted to visit.
Oh, she was pretty!
Blonde hair (naturally honey, but bleached lighter), green eyes, soft pink blush, lipstick and nail polish.
Curvier too (her hips were wider than Molly's, but not too wide, so he had only had one child…and not that recently either because she was far too in shape) this sister wasn't a 'Plain Jane' like Molly—and she knew it, too.
No wonder Molly resented her.
…uh oh.
Molly had caught Jim staring at her sister.
(Oh, Molly darling, it was so not like that. Jim wasn't attracted to women and even if he was he 'perfect' girls like 'trophy' certainly wouldn't be his type…
(no, his 'type' would be the nervous little trainwrecks with the 'problems' to 'solve' and the morals to destroy (morals being the 'problem').The ones like tightly-wound spools of thread that he'd slowly unravel and then tangle up again like a cat playing with a ball of yarn.)
…that is if he was attracted to women. Which he was most certainly not.)
Time to say something—
"Hi there, I'm Bethany!" Molly's sister beat him to it, extending a hand to shake, "Nice to meet you, uh…"
"Jim Moriarty." Jim greeted, shaking her hand.
And Molly's eyes widened as she held in her gasp.
"He's joking!" she declared desperate, looking back and forth between Beth and Jim, " He's not—You're not—Tell her you're joking! Tell her—"
"Honey, calm down, calm down!" Jim chuckled, letting go of Beth's handshake to pat Molly on the shoulder, he then turned back to Beth, "It's just this little joke I've been making ever since 'the trial of the century' or whatever they call it. Cause somebody said I looked sort of like him."
"Oh, I never pay attention to that court stuff." Beth laughed.
"But you're husbands a lawyer…" Molly reminded.
"I know." Beth groaned exaggeratedly, still smiling, "And I got tired of it after the first six months! It's so boring—"
"I heard that!"
They heard Beth's husband shout from inside and soon he was in he doorway standing next to his wife.
(...ooh, and he was pretty, too! Dirty blond and blue eyed. Also, he was older than both Jim and Molly.)
"Hey there, Molly, nice to see you again!" He smiled and it was genuine as it was polite (and he was supposed to be a lawyer! Jim was disappointed …), "…And nice to meet you, too, Mr. um…—I'm assuming you're not actually James Moriarty, 'consultant criminal', despite the resemblance."
"As far as you know..." Jim winked, "Jim Marlowe. Nice to meet you both."
Molly sighed.
(Jim really couldn't be more creative than to use the same first name and the same initials?)
This was definitely a bad idea, bringing him here.
(But it was his idea, not hers.)
"Oh, Marlow!" Thomas considered, "Like in Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness'."
"So some people do still read." Jim replied, "But no…it's Marlowe-with an 'e'. Like the Shakespeare contemporary. Which is fitting because I'm much more a storyteller than a character…"
(Of course, Jim had used the same first name! If he hadn't Molly would have probably slipped up and called him 'Jim', anyway, so why risk it? He was actually 'playing it safe' for her. She should be thanking him not glowering at him!)
"Ah, I see..." Thomas nodded, "But, as I'm sure you know, 'Marlow'—without an 'e'—from 'Heart of Darkness' was only the most thinly-disguised of self-inserts. The work was all but autobiographical about Joseph Conrad's travels in the Belgian Congo! So, you see, it is possible to be both the storyteller and the character in your own story."
"Oh, I like you." Jim grinned, "Mr.—"
"Please, call me Thomas." Thomas introduced himself, shaking Jim's hand.
Their hands shook for a long time which left Molly and Beth just standing there awkwardly as they had throughout the entire exchange, eyes shifting between their 'men' and each other.
Molly didn't even want to imagine what Jim was probably imagining involving his new 'friend' that he 'liked'.
"…Should we, uh…go inside?" Molly suggested (to her sister as 'the boys' were still talking).
"Oh! Right!" Beth exclaimed, "Please, come in, come in!"
She removed herself (and Thomas) from the doorway so that Molly and Jim could enter.
"Yes, come in, please!" Thomas added, snapping himself out of the conversation, "I'm sorry I didn't invite you in sooner, what was I thinking…"
"It's alright." Molly smiled, politely.
(And Jim was really getting tired of all this 'being polite' thing.)
Molly and Jim followed Beth and Thomas into a spacious living room that looked even larger because it was mostly empty, aside from a couch, two arm chairs, a coffee table and some cardboard boxes stacked on the hardwood floors.
There were no curtains on the windows yet and even though no lamps were plugged in yet, the room was well lit by the early afternoon sunlight.
"As you can see, we're still unpacking…" Thomas explained.
"Yes." Beth agreed and then grinned deviously (!), "And since you and Thomas seem to be such good friends now, Jim…you can help him with the table in the other room while Molly and I unpack in here."
"Oh, what a kind sister you have, Molly..." Jim commented, "…inviting us all the way down here to be her free labour."
"Well, I'm happy to help my baby sister." Molly stated, still smiling even when she added, "…I always try."
"Thank you." Beth stated, still smiling even when she added, "And you do always try so hard."
And they locked eyes for a brief moment, both still smiling.
Thomas and Jim watched this, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, as well, as they still smiled, too, both just standing there awkwardly.
"…Okay." Thomas began, clapping his hands once, breaking the awkward silence, "Shall we get started or are we going to wait for the third extra helper?"
"A third helper?" Molly inquired, looking away from her sister towards her brother-in-law.
"Paul's coming." Beth declared, causing Molly to turn back towards her.
"Oh." Molly replied, slightly surprised, "When?"
"He's on his way." Beth told her, "He'll be here soon."
"…oh, okay." Molly said, raising an eyebrow just barely (thinking only sister would see), "So we'll wait?"
"No." Beth decided, shaking her head, "We can start without him."
"Alright, then." Thomas smiled (less sincerely and more forced to break the tension), "Let's get to it…"
He started towards the hall that must have led to the dinning room, passing his wife whom he kissed on the cheek before continuing out of.
Jim followed him, mimicking his movements exactly (except for the kiss on the cheek that went to Molly instead of Beth).
Molly and Beth watched Jim and Thomas leave the room.
Molly knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to not be supervising Jim herself the entire time he was at her sister's home…
…but it wasn't her idea, it was Beth's, actually. And so whatever damage Jim might cause to the table, or to the new house (or to the husband) was her fault, not Molly's.
Still, Molly didn't even want to be alone with her sister that much either.
Oh well, she had no choice…
"So, which first?" Molly turned to Beth and asked, gesturing to the stacks of boxes and smiling.
"Hmmm…how about this one." Beth smiled, choosing a box, bending over and beginning to open it.
"Yeah, we've done the whole upstairs. We did Matthew's room first, just like it was at the old place, so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable the first night. And then we did ours. Now even the guest room's set up, which mum's been staying in this past couple days…. and I know Thomas is just so—"
"Happy about. Your mother's a lovely woman. I'm glad she's been with us. You know that, dear."
"I know, I know, Tom, I'm just teasing!"
Jim and Molly listened as Thomas and Beth called back and forth to each other from different rooms as the men and women worked on their respective tasks.
Then Jim and Thomas heard the front door open and two pairs of footsteps enter the home.
The first were small feet, pounding and squeaking (trainers) as they ran across the wood into the living room.
A child.
Matthew.
The next, following at a pace not only slower than the first pair but slower than average (an older person) with heels (a female) that clicked against the floor.
Thomas's mother-in-law.
Beth's mother.
Molly's stepmother.
"Hi, Virginia."
Jim heard Molly's voice speak first, which meant that Beth was probably busy hugging Matthew.
Virginia.
She had a name.
"Hi, Virginia." Molly greeted, setting down the lamp she had picked up back into the cardboard box amongst the styrofoam packaging and approaching her stepmother.
"Hi, Molly." Virginia smiled, she was blonde like her daughter but kept it its natural (and now graying) shade, "Nice to see you again!"
They hugged (—sort of—).
(—It was much shorter and looser than the long embrace Beth and her son Matthew were still having as she bent down to his eye-level.)
"Where's Uncle Paul?" Matthew asked his mother when she released him and stood back up.
"He's not here yet." Beth answered, then gesturing to her sister "…but Aunt Molly is."
"Who's she?" Matthew questioned in a tone that was forgivable only because of his age, looking up at Molly as if she was an alien.
"Don't be rude, Matthew." Beth reprimanded, standing behind her son, hands on his shoulders, and looking down at him, "This is your aunt, Molly. You've met her before."
"I don't remember…" Matthew said.
"Well I guess that's understandable," Beth reasoned, now looking directly at Molly, "Had only just turned two. That was more that three years ago since you—and all us—have seen Aunt Molly."
"Wow, he's so big now!" Molly exclaimed, (too cheerily and smile too wide to be real), then glancing down at him and adding, "…Aren't you, Matthew?" awkwardly (because she never had been that good with kids—even when she herself was one).
"That does happen, Molly." Beth agreed, "All children grow up. Even the smallest ones you think never will. That's just what they do."
"Yes." Molly smiled, and then turned back to Matthew, "How old are you now?"
"Almost six!" Matthew declared, proudly, "And soon I'll—"
"It's time for you to go take your nap now." Beth interrupted.
"Never!" Matthew cried.
He rushed out from under his mother's grasp and out of the living room.
"Should I go after him?" Virginia asked, head turning in sync with her grandson's direction, but body not moving.
"No, don't worry about it, mum." Beth shook her head, laughing, "You've probably been chasing after him all afternoon. Thanks for that, by the way. You deserve a break!"
Virginia smiled and nodded, gratefully, hurrying to sit down in the nearest armchair.
Molly saw Matthew peer from behind the wall separating this room and the hallway.
Seeing that his mother and grandmother were properly distracted, he continued his escape into the dining room where his father and someone he had never seen before (or had seen before when he was two years old and just forgotten like his Aunt Molly (he did sort of recognize the guy a little) were putting pieces of wood together into a table.
Matthew had never realized tables were made that way. Until now he had thought that they were just kind of there.
(Well, 'you learn something new everyday', that's what Uncle Paul said.)
However, Matthew did know that wood came from trees and so did paper (but how? Oh, well, that didn't matter. At least he knew it did) which he was very proud of.
The table was upside-down, its legs lying sideways on top of its bottom.
Weird.
"Whatcha doing, daddy?" Matthew asked.
Thomas set down the table-leg he was holding and turned to his son.
No.
Stepson.
Jim stopped what he was doing as well and evaluated the appearances of Thomas and the child.
Thomas and Beth both had some variation of yellow hair, but Matthew had brown hair.
Thomas wasn't Matthew's real father.
(And Thomas probably knew it, too, because Jim had been conversing with the guy and he wasn't stupid…well, that stupid. He was a trial attorney. He should have recognized Jim.)
"We're building the new dinner table." Thomas answered.
"Oh." Matthew accepted, "Can I help?"
"Thanks for offering, buddy, but we've got it." Thomas refused, politely, "How was the park?"
"It was really big and cool!" Matthew described, excitedly, "…but all the other kids were there with their nannies. I was the only one there with my grandma."
Thomas sighed, but then laughed.
"Be thankful for that." He said, "Be thankful for family."
(Yes. Jim decided. Thomas definitely knew.)
"Okay." Matthew nodded and then pointed at Jim, "Who's he? Have I met him before? If I did I can't remember and that's not rude 'cause I was only two and that's 'understandable'. "
(He had trouble pronouncing the word 'understandable' saying 'un-dee-stan-abull' instead.)
"No," Thomas responded, and then smiled tiredly at Jim in apology for his (step)son's odd statement, "You haven't met him before."
"Then who is he?" Matthew questioned, in a tone that was forgivable only because of his age.
"Well, I'm a lot of different things." Jim stated, before Thomas could speak, starting towards Matthew, "I'm a person, a human-being—I think, a computer whiz…sometimes, a storyteller, a criminal—"
"Is there something you need to tell us?" Thomas (mostly) joked.
"Jaywalking." Jim shrugged, "…We've all done it, haven't we?"
"Ah, yes, we all have, haven't we?" Thomas chuckled (with only just the tiniest bit of relief, and then turned to Matthew, adding for his benefit "…except me, of course. I'd never do such a thing! I'd never break the law! I am a lawyer!"
And once he was sure that he had 'set a good example' for his son he turned back to Jim and they grinned.
"I just meant your name, mister..." Matthew clarified, looking up at Jim confusedly.
"My name's Jim." Jim told him, "But you didn't ask my name. You asked who I was. And you can't just as somebody that question and except to get a short answer. Because people are a lot of different things."
"Oh." Matthew accepted, nodding, "…but why are you here?"
"I came with Molly." Jim said, "Your…aunt, right?"
"Yeah, she's my aunt." Matthew affirmed, "Aunt Molly. Even though I don't really remember her…"
"Well that's…'understandable'." Jim reasoned (and only very slightly mocked the way the kid had said the word earlier. He was sure Thomas hadn't noticed…or sure that it, at least, hadn't been noticeable enough for Thomas to call Jim out on in and risk being wrong).
"So you're Aunt Molly's boyfriend, then?" Matthew 'deduced', "…and I know what 'boyfriends' and 'girlfriends' are already, even though I'm only five and three quarters and all the other kids at school only know what 'husband' and 'wife' mean. I know because Uncle Paul always brings different ladies when he comes and he calls them his 'girlfriends' and they call him their 'boyfriend' and—"
"That's enough, Matthew." Thomas warned, "That's rude."
"But it's true!" Matthew whined, "It's true, dad! You know, you saw!"
"Doesn't matter." Thomas insisted, "It's rude. You don't say things like that about your uncle, Paul. It'll give Jim here the wrong impression because he's never met Paul and you don't want to do that, do you?"
"No." Matthew shook his head, but then muttered under his breath, "...still true though."
"And it's still rude." Thomas declared, pointing a finger at Matthew, "And we're not going to be rude in this house."
"That's something you'll learn about the truth, 'buddy', I'm sure." Jim stated, leaning against the wall behind Matthew, "it's almost always rude…and you would know, right, Mr. 'I'm A Lawyer'?"
Thomas laughed forcibly, awkwardly with his mouth but glared at Jim with his eyes.
Jim just grinned, snickering.
"I said we're not going to be rude in this house." Thomas reminded, pointing his finger at Jim.
Jim shrugged, innocently.
"But how are you all those different things?" Matthew asked, still gazing up at Jim in confusion (and now a bit of awe, too, for this man had stood up to his father and only Uncle Paul had ever done that before…plus they were in the 'same boat' now as Jim too was being called 'rude'), "All those things you said before?"
"Well like I said, everybody's a lot of things." Jim explained, "But I'm an actor and so that's why."
"An actor? That means you're on the telly!" Matthew replied, excitedly, "And I think I saw you, too, before!...on some show about what dad does or something."
"Aren't you a little young to be watching court shows?" Jim raised an eyebrow.
"He's a smart kid." Thomas stated, proudly, moving to stand next to Matthew and ruffle his hair (Brown hair. Not blond. Not his real son.), "He learns from it. Big words, the way the world works. More than any kid can from those ridiculous kid's shows that are supposed to be 'educational'."
"Can't argue with that." Jim conceded.
"Yeah," Matthew agreed, leaning into his father and smiling, "…except I sometimes can't tell which ones are real or not."
"I have that problem myself, sometimes..." Jim smiled down at him.
Although they couldn't see them, Molly, Beth and Virginia could hear the entire conversation occurring in the dining room.
"A charming one, your boyfriend is." Beth commented, opening a box by ripping off the tape sharply, "…a little strange, perhaps, but charming."
Molly sighed.
(If only Beth knew…but Molly was glad that she didn't. No one could know.)
"I guess so." She laughed, taking the framed family photographs out of the box Beth opened and placing them on the coffee-table and the smaller but taller tables that they had set up next to the armchairs earlier.
"How'd you meet him?" Beth asked, rearranging the locations that Molly had put the pictures.
"Work." Molly answered without thinking.
(Would Beth notice—)
"But he just said he was an actor." Beth stated.
(—Yes. She would. And did.)
"…um…it was for a role." Molly saved, quickly, "He was researching."
"Oh, really? That's interesting!" Beth replied, stopping to look at Molly.
(And Molly couldn't tell if she was genuinely interested because Beth was far too good at that whole 'being polite' thing. And whatwould Jim say about women and faking it—no. She was not going to start thinking like him too…except she was already getting annoyed at pleasantries.)
"Yeah, it's funny." Molly smiled…and then decided to change the subject, "You're son's charming, too. He seems very smart."
Complimenting someone's child.
Safe territory that made for 'happy campers' in the odyssey of conversation.
"Thank you!" Beth thanked, "He is. He really is. You know he's testing above grade level!"
Smile.
"You must be so proud."
Smile. Smile.
"Oh, we are."
Smile. Smile. Smile.
"Seems like a great kid!"
Still smiling.
"He is, he really is. I couldn't have been luckier! And we love him so much—"
"See, they love him so much." Virginia interrupted, from where she was reclining on the armchair, eyes closed (Molly had thought she had fallen asleep), "Both of them. Both of them love Matthew so much."
"Mum—" Beth attempted but was cut-off again.
"Both of them." Virginia repeated, eyes still closed, "See, Molly, Thomas loves Matthew even though he's not his biological son. They love each other all the same."
"It's sweet." Molly said, "But Matthew doesn't know—"
"But Thomas does, dear." Virginia opened her eyes (green like her daughter's), "He knows and he still does, still loves his son. All the same, all the same…"
Once the table had finally been constructed everybody sat down for dinner…which was pizza because nobody felt like cooking.
The seating had been an awkward affair to arrange.
(The Rules: Couples should not be separated, nor should a child be from his parents, and what of the woman who had come alone (which, for once, was not Molly)? It was all too complicated confusing…)
Finally, Beth, Matthew and Thomas (in that order) had been scrunched onto one of the longer sides of the table, across from Molly and Jim.
Virginia sat one end of the table, across from the seat they were saving for Paul, who had still not arrived (so, across from no one).
They were all sitting on folding chairs, the regular chairs hadn't even been delivered yet.
The pizza box occupied the middle of the table, which had no table cloth and only paper plates because the dishes had yet to be unpacked.
The chatting had sputtered down to another one of those 'awkward silences' that happened after everyone had 'wholeheartedly' agreed with something someone had said (didn't want to argue) and so now no one could think of anything more to say on that subject.
Matthew, oblivious, just continued to shoved the tiny bites of pieces his mother had cut for him into his mouth, after pulling off all the pepperonis to eat later (he hadn't really been a contributor to the conversation anyway).
Jim had been the perfect dinner guest, making both profound insights into and hilarious jokes on every subject the hosts had managed to think of, thoroughly charming and impressing them with his air of unpracticed social ease that completely awed Molly…
(But, of course, it was practiced. Jim had been practicing his whole life. Rehearsing his acts. He only made it look like magic.)
…up until this particular, silent point.
Now Jim was distracting himself by nonchalantly chomping on pizza while he tested to see how long Molly could manage to make no reaction as his free hand gliding higher and higher up her leg, under the table, under her skirt.
She was actually doing quite well.
But Jim could see Molly beginning to eye the drinks on the table, trying to decide which one was the best choice to 'accidently' knock over onto him.
His glass of water (tap water being the only drink available in the house at the moment) was the easiest prospect, he could see her elbow inching towards it…
Jim pulled his hand out from under the table, picked up the cup, chugged the water, and then put it back down empty where it had been.
It wouldn't be much use to Molly now if her elbow 'just happened' to knock it down onto his lap.
But before Jim's hand could return to its earlier activity, Molly spoke, crossing her legs and leaning forwards.
(Okay. Jim would call this a draw…Wait. Nope. He'd still won. Some of Molly's hair had fallen into her plate and was getting greasy.)
"You could have hired people to unpack for you and got it done much faster." She stated, looking at Beth and Thomas in turn, "So why invite me? You didn't even know I'd be bringing anybody who could help."
Beth laughed, dabbing at her lips with a paper napkin.
"So I see you've figured out our ruse." She smiled, "This all was just an excuse to get the family together."
"But Uncle Paul isn't here yet." Matthew interjected, mouthful, "And we can't tell everyone until Uncle Paul's here."
"Honey, no." Beth whispered, hastily moving the napkin to her son's mouth, "…Don't talk with your mouthful." She smiled apologetically around the table, "Sorry."
But covering Matthew's mouth and apologizing hadn't distracted Molly from what Matthew had said.
"Tell everyone what?" Molly inquired, innocently.
"Nothing, nothing—there's nothing to tell." Beth dismissed, looking down at her plate, "I don't know what he's on about. He just misses Paul, that's all."
Molly was unconvinced.
(And so was Jim. Beth may have been better at social situations than Molly but she was still doing that same thing that Molly did when she was lying. The talking too much and too quickly, not making eye contact thing. It was adorable…that is, when Molly did it. Beth, not so much…)
"Just tell us." Molly insisted, "I know there's something…"
"We're going to wait until Paul's here." Beth resolved, taking a breath.
"Paul's not coming." Molly declared.
"You don't know that!" Beth countered.
"Yes I do."
"You don't know everything, Molly, even if you think you do. You don't—"
"But I know this. I know Paul's not coming."
"No you—"
"And I know you're pregnant."
Yes, as if the bickering sisters hadn't been awkward enough, now one of them had just outed the other as pregnant.
"Well!" Virginia exclaimed, smiling so widely as if she thought her teeth would be sharp enough to cut the tension, "Congratulations, then, Beth, Thomas!"
"Thank you…" Beth murmured to her mother and then to Molly, "…but how did you know?"
"I'm not stupid." Molly smiled, "The new house. Four bedrooms. Gathering the whole family together—well, almost. And I did go to medical school. I know the signs." she snorted, then, almost unnoticeably (and it was crueler than Jim had ever heard her sound) "…and it's not like I didn't figure it out the last time."
Beth's breath hitched, but she still smiled and said, "Oh, well. I just wanted it to be a surprise for everyone. It's not like it's a secret or anything."
"Yeah, and I'm glad it's all out there now." Thomas laughed, sitting back in his chair, "I'd been having trouble keeping it in, I've been dying to tell somebody all day!"
"You can tell Uncle Paul when he gets here." Matthew suggested, glancing up at his father.
"If he gets here." Molly corrected.
Smile.
"He will." Beth affirmed, assuredly.
Smile.
"Paul's your favorite uncle, isn't he?" Jim asked Matthew, leaning across the table to steal a pepperoni piece from Matthew's stockpile.
"He's my only uncle." Matthew shrugged, pulling his plate closer to him to protect the rest of his stash.
"Well that makes it easy then." Jim said, leaning backwards again as popped the pepperoni into his mouth, "Only having one uncle and one aunt. Don't have to pick favorites."
"Well, how do you know he's only got one uncle and one aunt?" Thomas inquired.
"Kid just said he's only got one uncle," Jim reasoned, looking at him, "And your wife's has just one brother and one sister."
"How do you know I don't have a sister?" Thomas persisted.
Jim grinned.
"I didn't think your siblings counted."
"…What do you mean by that?"
Thomas was controlling his tone and facial expression as much as he could but his eyes were uninhibited anger.
"Well, you know, you not actually—"
Jim felt something (Molly's shoe) stomp sharply down on his foot under the table.
"—having any siblings." Jim completed his sentencing with a wince and a smile.
"How'd you know that?" Thomas questioned, raising an eyebrow.
He was softening but his guard and suspicions were still raised.
"Oh that's easy!" Jim chuckled, "This is a family thing, right? And you two wanted 'everyone' to be here. You've just announced that you're expecting a child. If you had any siblings they'd be here to hear it."
"Very good." Thomas smiled, also chuckling.
"It also means your parents are probably dead, too—or at least in a nursing home." Jim added, with (exaggerated) solemnly, "Either way, I'm sorry for your loss."
Molly was about to stamp on Jim's foot again but to her (pleasant)surprise, Thomas laughed again.
"Dad's dead, mum's in a home." He confirmed.
"Had you late in life, didn't they?" Jim suspected, "Both had profitable careers, busy schedules. Waited until they were established and had saved up a lot of money to settle down and start a family. And by then they were only able to conceive one child, even with the medical treatments. And so they poured all their time, money and energy onto you. Tutors, extra-curricular activities, law school. They created the perfect, successful son in their own images."
"Wow!" Thomas exclaimed, excitedly, with an enthusiastic laughed, "You got all that right! Except, of course, I wouldn't say I'm 'perfect'…"
"I would." Beth said, leaning over sideways to rub her husband on the back appreciatively.
"He's not bad." Jim shrugged, with a wink that almost kicked him for under the table.
"You're not bad, yourself!" Thomas returned, arm around his wife (and so his son, too) but his eyes still on Jim, "You're quite the detective!"
"Like I said, I'm a lot of things." Jim stated.
"You're like that Sherlock Holmes." Matthew declared, he then turned to look up at his father, "I saw him on the news…dad, is Sherlock Holmes real?"
"You said he was on the news, didn't you?" Thomas reminded, "So what do you think? What did we decide about what we saw on the news?"
"That it's true, it's real." Matthew recalled.
Jim covered his laughter by wiping his face with a paper napkin.
"So you can answer your own question, then." Thomas told Matthew, then turning back to Jim and adding, "I'm teaching him to how to think. Nobody teaches kids how to think anymore in schools."
Jim continued to clean his face.
"Sherlock Holmes is real then." Matthew decided, "…but then that means Jim isn't an actor because actors aren't real and the news is real and I saw Jim on the news."
"That wasn't him." Molly said, almost choking on her food, "It was just someone who looked like him."
"Oh." Matthew nodded, "Okay…when's Uncle Paul getting here?"
"Finish your pizza, dear." Beth instructed, lifting one of the little pieces she had cut for her son and brining it to his mouth.
It was a useful and polite way of keeping him quiet.
Now there was another one of those 'awkward silences'.
Molly was going to ask some neutral question about the schools in the area, as Thomas had mentioned teaching a few moments before, in order to restart the conversation but this time Jim spoke up.
"Molly wanted to wait until Paul got here, too, before telling everyone…but since Beth's secret got told, its only fair ours is too."
"What are you talking about, um…'honey'?" Molly asked, trying to smile across the table at her sister, her brother-in-law and their son, while glaring at Jim out of the corner of her eye.
Jim could feel a foot hovering above his own, waiting to strike.
Oooh, time to play footsie!
(But Jim doesn't play fair, 'honey', Jim plays to win.)
He slid his foot out from under hers, then pinning hers down and not releasing it even when it struggled to get free.
And Molly was doing quite well, once again, at having no visible reaction.
"Yeah, what are you talking about? Do tell." Beth inquired, innocence feigned exaggeratedly for the sake of sarcasm, "I mean, you must have some important secret to announce if—after you've avoided me for years—you show up here with a new man on your arm. I'm not stupid, Molly. I wonder just what it could be?"
"Beth." Thomas hissed.
He tried to smile across the table at Jim and Molly while glaring at his wife out of the corner of his eye.
"We're engaged." Jim announced, taking Molly's hand, "We haven't got a ring or set a date yet or anything, but Molly and I are engaged."
"No, we're not!" Molly cried, before she could stop herself or think of something smarter to say.
"We're not?" Jim gasped, taken aback, expression utterly shocked and confused.
(Oh, how Molly hated him sometimes…)
The table, then, was set with wide mouths and eyes and raised eyebrows.
"...Well …" Virginia said, locking eyes with Thomas who was as unsure of what to say as she was.
Beth was not.
"What, you two can't make up your minds, then?" she snickered.
Yes.
Something like that.
"No—well—yes—"Molly stammered, "What I mean is…I just didn't want to say anything yet. Like Jim said, I didn't want to say it until Paul got here…"
"So you two are engaged?" Virginia asked, "or aren't you?"
"Are we?" Jim added.
(…Really, really hated.)
Everybody was turned towards and looking at Molly, who sat silent, eyes darting around at each of them.
What could she even say?
She had known that bringing Jim was a bad idea. Just look what he had done. This was all his fault.
"Jim, he…he hasn't gotten me a ring yet." Molly declared, with a huff, "And so therefore I do not consider myself 'engaged'—Even if he, um… does."
Everybody seemed to accept that answer, some even chuckling a bit.
"No ring?" Thomas chastised jokingly, turning to Jim, "Shame on you, sir!"
"Yeah, without a ring it's not official." Beth agreed, still looking at Molly, smiling and shrugging, "…Shame indeed."
"Don't look at me like that!" Jim protested, "I'll get one as soon as I can afford it!" he turned to Molly, "I thought we talked about this, darling—"
"We did?" Molly gasped, taken aback, expression utterly shocked and confused.
(Oh, god, sometimes Jim really loved her.)
"Well, congratulations anyway." Beth sniffed.
"Yes, congratulations—even if it's not 'official'…" Virginia agreed, standing up, "This calls for desert! I'll go and get it…Beth will you help me in the kitchen?"
She started out of the dining room, through the door that led to the kitchen.
Beth stood up slowly, pushing in her chair and then following her.
"Jim, can I talk to you in the other room?" Molly asked.
Much less discreet than Virginia had been, but still just as effective.
"Sure." Jim shrugged.
Molly and Jim got up, Molly hurrying out of the dining room into the hall and Jim sauntering after her.
Thomas and Matthew were left at the newborn table, christened by pizza.
"Exhibit A," Thomas began, gesturing towards the door to the kitchen, "When one female wants to talk to another female, alone, they do it in the kitchen where all the women of the world go to conspire against us men…and Exhibit B," he gestured to the door leading to the hall, "When a female is angry at her male, she pulls him out of whatever room full of people they're in so that he'll be all alone and undefended when she pounces."
Thomas made a mock 'pounce' at his son from his seat next to him, causing Matthew to laugh uncontrollably.
Just like Uncle Paul had said, he learned something new everyday.
"She did this on purpose!"
"Don't be angry, dear…"
"Of courseI'm angry, mum, Molly did this on purpose-!"
"Keep your voice down!"
"She did this on purpose. She's not the innocent little girl you think she is. She did this on purpose just to ruin my day and steal my moment—"
"Just be happy for her—"
"Why should I be? She's only ever been jealous of me!"
"That's not true—"
"Yes it is and you know it. All she's ever been is jealous. And all she's ever done is try to bring me down."
"No, dear, Molly isn't like that…"
"Yes she is! She's so passive aggressive! And congratulations, Molly! You've finally upstaged me—"
"Keep your voice down, Bethany, for god's sake!"
"Don't say you don't see it, mother. I know you can, she's always been like this ever since…"
"Your father died?"
"Yes! And she needs to get over it!"
"It was very hard for her. She was the one who cared for him, the one there watching him as he—"
"I know, I know, you've said this all before and I know. But every time I try to reach out to her she pulls away, she ignores me, but now she comes and does this…my god, mum, I think she hates me…"
"…What do you want me to do, honey? What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know, something…. Anything!"
"…I'm not Molly's mother, Beth…."
"But you raised her like one! You love her like one!"
"Yes, but she doesn't love me like one."
Ear pressed to the painted (freshly. Only a week ago) wall, Molly could hear the hushed conversation between her half-sister and stepmother.
This was all Jim's fault!
And Jim could hear the whole thing too, he had his ear to the wall, his head right next to hers.
"You can't just do that." She whispered.
He heard her through the wall, her back still turned to him.
"Do what?" Jim asked.
And she heard his words through the wall and heard his breathing behind her.
"You know exactly what." Molly stated, turning around to face him.
He had expected tears in her eyes, but there were none, instead there was a glare.
It was kind of cute.
"Say we're engaged?" Jim inferred, "Why not?"
"Because it's going too far."
"No such thing, love…and besides, you wanted to prove to your family you're not a miserable old spinster. I'm just helping."
"This isn't 'helping'! You just made things worse! You—"
"Keep your voice down."
Jim grinned, leaning against the wall still and Molly continued to glare.
"You. can't. do. this."
"Why not? I can do anything I want to, when will you learn, anyone can do anything they want to—as long as they're not too scared."
"No, it's not like you can fly or—"
"You know what I mean. And this is all just a bit of fun, anyway. We can take it as far you want to. I can buy you a ring—if you want. And we can even get married—if you want. We can do anything…"
Molly laughed, despite herself…or maybe it was very deliberate.
"I'm not stupid. I know you don't mean that—"
"Yes I do."
"It's not real."
"Ah, but what is 'real'?"
"Don't get philosophical with me."
"Or what? What will you do to me? Threaten me, Molly, I want you to—"
"No. Just don't. Don't."
"And what's more important to you, anyway. Something being 'real' or something making you happy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Would you rather know that I love you, forever, but—then never see me again…or would you rather have me, all to yourself, forever—but know that I don't love you at all and I'm only just pretending?"
"No."
" 'No' to which?"
"No. Just no."
Back seated around the dining table everyone ate their desert (grocery store cake out of a box—'why did it take so long to bring out?' Matthew had asked), making small talk as sweet and artificial as the 'sugar' in their tea (which Matthew was still too young to drink—'when you're older, dear' Beth had said).
"So, do know if my second grandchild's a boy or girl yet?" Virginia inquired, her station perpendicular to her daughter's.
"Oh no, I'm only just thirteen weeks," Beth answered, "We won't find out 'til I'm at least four months."
"Well, with Molly knowing you're pregnant and Jim knowing my life story from the fact that I don't have any siblings," Thomas joked, "I think if they put their heads together they could probably figure out the gender, don't you concur?."
Beth rolled her eyes but laughed politely.
"I didn't know your 'life story' from the fact you don't have siblings," Jim corrected, also laughing politely, "I knew it from the fact that you can't yet be forty but you've already got a dead father and a mother in a home. It's the most probable explanation—And I say 'probable' because, of course, your parents could have simply not been here because they'd been eaten by sharks."
"True, true." Thomas conceded, "But still, that's pretty damn impressive. Give it a try, why don't you?"
Jim leaned forwards, bent over the table, staring intently at Beth's stomach.
But after a few long, silent moments of not even blinking, Jim sighed and sank back into his seat.
"Nope." He shook his head, "X-ray vision's still broken. Sorry."
"Ah, well." Thomas shrugged, "Least you tried…" he then turned to Molly, "How about you, Molly? Can you tell me whether we've got another boy in there or a girl?"
Molly, whom had been gazing into her all-but empty paper plate, sketching random shapes into the leftover frosting with her plastic fork, trying her best to be ignored (when normally she didn't even need to 'try'), looked up at Thomas who was smiling and then at Beth who was also smiling.
Smile. Smile. Smile.
"Well…I…" Molly began, glancing down at Beth's belly (still basically flat) rather than making eye contact, "…I can't—I mean, girls are usually carried lower than boys, but it's too soon to tell and there's no way to know for sure until it's born, even with an ultrasound because sometimes those are wrong…so sorry. I don't know either."
"It's okay." Beth told her, glancing quickly to Thomas, "It was a silly request anyway. We'll just go to a doctor when the time comes."
"And besides," Thomas added, "We'll be happy either way."
"And what about you, 'buddy'?" Jim questioned, turning to Matthew who was eating his cake with his hands, "Will you be happy either way?"
Matthew looked up, frosting decorating his face and fingers.
"I dunno…" he mumbled.
"Well which do you want it to be?" Jim rephrased (not sighing, not rolling his eyes) "Do you want a little sister or a little brother?"
"Don't ask that!" Molly exclaimed, and then explained, "It's not like he can control what it is and he's supposed to love his sibling either way!"
Explained, even though she knew that Jim knew exactly why that was a rude question to ask but explaining because if she didn't explain then everyone else would know that Jim knew and then Jim would seem rude and so she would seem stupid for picking him (Which she was, wasn't she?—oh wait. She didn't 'pick' him. He picked her. (Not her fault. Not her fault. Not her fault.)).
"I want a little brother!" Matthew declared.
"Alright." Jim accepted, chuckling, "You might change you mind later, though."
"Jim!" Molly chastised again, for the table's sake, of course, not Jim's (for her own sake), seeing as Jim was hopeless.
"I'm joking." Jim defended, "What I mean is that I happen to be a little brother myself and my big brother, well, he always got annoyed at me, growing up. Still does."
"Oh, you've got an older brother." Beth commented, smiling, "That's nice. And what does he do?"
Jim laughed, locking eyes with Molly, who laughed as well—nervously.
"Well it's perfectly legal." He stated, "—but that's all I'm allowed to say."
"… 'legal'…oh, I get it, he's a lawyer, isn't he? " Thomas 'deduced' (incorrectly) inspired by Jim's earlier deductions (correct), "Like me! Ha, ha. 'Legal'. That's clever—and that explains all the lawyer jokes from earlier! So your brother's an attorney, then?"
Jim held a finger up to his own lips.
"Shhh." He said.
And Thomas laughed, thinking (incorrectly) that he was correct.
"See, I'm learning." he continued, "You can 'teach an old dog new tricks'—Not that I'm 'old', or anything…well maybe to you two…"
Thomas glanced at his wife and stepson who were twelve and thirty-three years younger than him respectively.
Beth laughed politely (awkwardly), the age difference in her marriage sometimes being the source of problems.
Matthew just stared up at his father as if he had just stated the obvious.
"Of course, you're old, dad." He stated, plainly, "You're a dad! Parents are supposed to be old!"
And it was another polite, amused laugh at her son's antics the noise from Beth's mouth quickly covered with a napkin (definitely not her choking on the bit of cake she had been chewing).
Molly would have been able to appreciate the irony of this situation…
…but Jim had decided to hold her hand under the table and so, instead, she had to appreciate the irony of that.
"Yes," Virginia piped up, to spare her daughter anymore 'irony', "it was very impressive, what you did. That trick—"
"It's not a 'trick'!" Thomas interjected, "It's a bloody skill!"
"Stop it, you're making me blush…" Jim whined bashfully.
"Don't sell yourself short, mate." Thomas insisted, "I bet you can read people. Just like that. I could use a man like you to help me select juries…"
"You offering me a job, Tommy?" Jim inquired, raising an eyebrow, "Cause I'll have you know, I don't work for anyone but myself. However I do consult—"
Thomas chuckled, leaning back in his chair, "I was kidding, 'Jimmy'—but only half kidding. The firm's not hiring now, you see."
"Oh, well." Jim shrugged, also leaning back, arms behind his head now (letting go of Molly's hand…) "Guess it's just court shows for now, then."
"Shame, you're wasted on the D-list…" Thomas began but was cut-off.
"It wasn't that great, what he said." Beth (rudely!) interrupted, having heard enough compliments of her sister's boyfriend from her husband, "It's not like he figured out everything about you. Just a few details. And not all of them were right, even. You said his parents 'had' him after fertility treatments. They didn't. You got that wrong. Tom was adopted."
"I knew that." Jim smirked, "It was obvious from the family photos you and Molly were unpacking…I just didn't want to say that word in front of the children."
Now, Matthew rolled his eyes (how many times had heard that one before 'oh don't say that in front of the children'? it was so annoying…).
Jim smiled over at him sympathetically.
"Speaking of 'children'…" Beth said, standing up, "I think it's time for a certain child to go to bed."
Immediately, Matthew attempted to dive under the table and hide, but Thomas was able to grab him by the stomach and lift him, struggling, into Beth's arms.
"Do you need any help?" Molly asked, all of a sudden.
She had jumped up from her chair just as she had seen Virginia (who looked very tired) prepare to rise for hers.
"No, Molly, I don't." Beth refused, with a frustrated smile, still wrestling with her son.
"Oh..." Molly nodded, slowly sitting back down, "…Alright…"
She watched Beth drag Matthew (who was too big, now, for her to carry), 'kicking and screaming', out of the dining room.
For once she was actually not jealous of her sister and actually glad she did not have children of her own (a pet cat would do just fine, thank you very much).
Sitting in her chair, expressionless, Molly saw Jim turn to her with a look of concern so genuine she wanted to puke.
"Darling, are you alright?" he asked, quietly.
Molly was about to tell him (but for Thomas and Virginia's benefit) that she was fine…
…but then she decided to 'just go with it'.
"She doesn't even want to be in the same room as me." Molly sighed sadly, "My sister…Beth… she—she hates me."
And it wasn't even like Molly was lying about this. She wasn't even pretending.
It was all true, it was all real.
"Oh, honey…" Virginia cooed, now getting up (which Molly felt bad about) and going to put her arm (awkwardly) around Molly's shoulders, "No she doesn't."
"She's just hormonal." Thomas added, from across the table, "It's the pregnancy affecting her."
(And he and Jim shared a quick look that said 'women' after Jim had smiled over at him thankfully and apologetically (politely).)
"Yes, dear, and she's upset that Paul couldn't make it." Virginia agreed, clearing the paper plates from the table, "He's always so busy and she misses him—just like she misses you."
"Okay, okay." Molly accepted, smiling up at Virginia and then across at Thomas, "Thank you. Thank you both. " she started to stand, "…But it's getting late. I think Jim and I need to get going now—"
"No. Please, stay the night."
Molly heard Beth's voice and turned around to see her sister in the doorway.
"Oh, no, we can't—"
"Sure you can. We've got the guest room already set up and mum's leaving tonight, anyway, so it's free."
"But—"
"I insist."
"Thanks, we'd love to!"
And Molly heard Jim's voice and felt another arm around her shoulder, this time his (—as well as his breath again on her neck as he whispered, "don't worry, it'll be fine" in a tone more sinister than soothing).
They had no toothbrushes (or toiletries of any kind) to wash up with before bed.
No pajamas to wear (and no clothes for tomorrow, either).
And no one to feed Toby!
"I've got people for that." Jim said, words mangled, as he emerged from the guest room's adjoining bathroom brushing his teeth (how?).
"What?" Molly asked, "You've got people who would break into my flat… and feed my cat… while I'm not there?"
"Yeah." Jim shrugged, "…well, I mean, they could do it while you were there, too, but I don't see why you'd want that...unless…—no, I don't think you'd be in to that sort of thing and besides I'd never trust them to do that right and—"
"But you trust them not to, you know, steal anything?" Molly countered, skeptically.
"Of course! They're professionals." Jim stated, then mumbling "…but even so, I'd still have to do that myself…" as he paced back into the bathroom.
And Molly did not even want to know what the 'that' Jim had been talking about was.
She was seated on the guest bed.
Its beige sheets had not been changed from nights the (two, Jim had somehow 'deduced') Virginia had slept in it but Molly certainly wasn't going to complain (that would be rude!).
After all, Virginia was 'family', wasn't she?
(And she was a very clean woman, too. Virginia had always 'kept a clean house', as she had always said, back when she was a housewife.)
Molly was not going to become spoiled just because she had been sleeping in king sized hotel beds that the maids changed the sheets of every morning, lately.
(And was she still paying for that room? Jim had mentioned something about reimbursing her or switching it over to his name or something… but then nothing had ever happened after that.)
"I never knew it was your stepmother you got your cleanliness from…always assumed it was from your mum."
Molly heard Jim say from inside the bathroom.
And then he spit into the sink.
"…but Virginia's the one who left us the toothpaste in here. And the soap…"
The water ran.
Then Jim was back in the doorway.
"She brought four extra toothbrushes." He declared, holding up the brushes (cheap, economy brand (she had bought in bulk ever since her husband died) and different colors. the blue one was wet. must have been the one Jim had used).
"Must have worried they'd forget theirs at the old place," Molly reasoned, referring to Beth, Thomas and Matthew, "and so had them just in case. She did always come prepared."
"And now she's left the package for us, sweet old lady." Jim smiled, "She must really care."
(Molly suddenly remembered how Jim had blown an old lady up and almost blown up a little boy. And she had just exposed an 'old lady' (later middle-age) and a little boy to Jim on the same day. Great idea…but not her idea.)
"Yeah…" Molly agreed, also smiling (awkwardly) up at him from where she sat, eyes shifting.
"Which one do you want?" Jim asked.
"Oh, whichever." Molly answered, walking over to him, 'randomly' grabbing the blue toothbrush, and then stepping into the bathroom.
It really was nice.
Well lit, clean cream colored tiles, only a shower (no bathtub but the master bathroom had a jacuzzi sized one).
As Molly brushed her teeth, she could see Jim in the mirror's reflection, still standing in the door way, staring at her and so (out of habit) she looked down into the white bowl of the sink, spitting down.
When she looked back up Jim was gone.
Washing her face, Molly decided instead of showering in this strange house (either tonight or tomorrow morning) she'd just wait until she got back home and could actually change clothes anyway.
As she exited the bathroom she started to speak.
"Jim, are you're, um, 'people' actually going to feed Toby or should I—what the hell? What are you wearing?"
Molly, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, gaped at Jim.
He on the bed, reclining against the headboard wearing an undershirt and pink panties.
Her pink panties.
(!)
"What?" Jim asked, setting down his phone next to him, "You don't like it?"
"Those—those are mine!" Molly stammered, "I've been looking for those!"
"You left them at the hotel that time you woke up really late." Jim explained, remembering the day Molly had asked him to wake her up at six AM but instead he had decided to stand there and watch her sleep (—just to see how long she would. That was the only reason. Definitely.) "…I can give them back, if you'd like…"
He started to stand (bouncing up and down slightly on the mattress) and pull the elastic down.
"No!" Molly exclaimed, "—Uh, well, not now. You can keep them on. It's fine."
"You sure?" Jim checked, eyeing her and grinning.
"Yes, I'm sure!" Molly replied, still in shock, "But those are for women—why would you—"
"'Cause it's fashionable." Jim declared, "Sherlock does it."
(And just how did Jim get that information?)
"…oh." Molly said and plopped down backwards onto the bed, between its foot and Jim's feet.
She closed her eyes.
"So…" Jim began, "…why have you and baby-sis Bethany been acting so bitchy all day?"
"…don't wanna talk about it…" Molly muttered, covering her already closed eyes with her palm.
"Aw, come on! You girls are sisters! You're supposed to be best friends forever and ever and ever—"
"You've probably worked it all out, haven't you?"
"Not all of it."
Molly sat up, opening her eyes and turning to Jim. His eyes were closed now and he was leaning back against the dark, wooden headboard.
"What do you have?"
"Little Betty had a baby when she was nothing but baby herself. Dropped outta school. You didn't like that…did you, Molly?"
"No—I mean no, I didn't like it. You're right. That's right. Beth did get pregnant. She was only twenty."
"Where's the daddy?"
"She ran away with him-that's why she dropped out. It was before she got pregnant…but then he left her, when she did. And so she came back."
"Hmm. I see. And the two of you never got on after that?"
"No…no. I tried to warn her. I told her what would happen…"
"But she didn't listen?"
"Uh-huh."
"We never do."
"… 'we'?"
"Baby sisters and baby brothers."
"Oh."
"We just do whatever we want. We've always got to learn the hard way—except we never do. We've always got our big brothers and big sisters to come clean up our messes..."
"Yes! That's exactly what happened! She came back, crying and pregnant, not even an apology—even though she'd been gone almost six months, and they all just forgave her! Virginia, I understand, she's Beth's mum but—"
"Brother Paul?"
"Yes. Paul…Paul forgave her. They all forgave her—except for me. I didn't. I couldn't. Not again. Not after so many times…
"It's okay, Molly, just let it all out, let it all out, it's okay to cry, it'll be okay…"
Jim was rubbing Molly's back now, her long light-brown hair draped over his arm.
She couldn't tell if he was being sincere in his comforting—or just joking (or some combination of the two…or trying to be sincere but failing because he was completely incapable…or, maybe, joking because he didn't know how to be sincere in the first place).
"I'm not going to cry." Molly stated, shrugging him off of her, "I'm just—I'm just a little bit…angry."
The word 'angry' came out with all the hesitation and gravity of a curse word.
Molly didn't get 'angry'.
…or at least she wasn't supposed to.
She was supposed to sit there and smile like a good little girl and maybe cry into her pillow sometimes if she felt the need to be emotional.
Jim smirked.
" 'Angry'? You know I'd really love to see you angry…but, darling, I don't think you know the meaning of the word—let alone how to achieve it."
And, no.
She wasn't supposed to know, was she?
"You're right-and I shouldn't even be angry, anyway." Molly resolved, "I should be happy for her. Happy things worked out alright in the end and she's got such a great son like Matthew. Happy she found a husband who loves her and her son like Thomas…"
…happy she made all the mistakes Molly never got to have the fun of making and still got the perfect life…
…happy Paul still forgave her…
"…Beth doesn't have everything, you know…"
(But didn't she?)
Jim, in his ridiculous underwear (her ridiculous underwear—which was only ridiculous on him(but also strangely attractive)), had grabbed Molly by the shoulders and was trying to get her to look him in the eyes as if she wouldn't be distracted.
"Beth doesn't have everything." He repeated, seriously, "She may have a fancy, new house and rich, lawyer husband and a marginally cute kid… but Beth doesn't have everything."
"Oh yeah? And what doesn't she have? Problems…?" Molly snapped, whipping her gaze away from him towards the empty wall (painted manila like the rest of the house).
"She doesn't have me." Jim stated.
Molly turned back to face him.
His words were to be expected, of course…
…and so, of course, was the kiss.
They did kind of have a routine, in a way, this was normal…
But when Molly felt Jim's hands (magically and completely of their accord—not his fault.) glide down her arms—and then right back up her thighs, raising her flowy, floral skirt out of their way as they traveled along…
…it was time to 'break tradition'.
"No." Molly said, removing Jim's hands from her, "Not here."
"Aww…but why not?" Jim whined.
(What? He couldn't go one day without 'it'? Well, he was a guy… But still, some manners, please! He was usually pretty good at faking those…)
"Because there's a kid here, my nephew!" Molly hissed.
"He's asleep." Jim reminded, "He never had his nap today. He'll be out all night."
"My sister's just down the hall!" Molly added.
"We can fix that." Jim shrugged, "We can invite her in…"
"Jim!" Molly gasped.
"Well, it wouldn't be fair to make her just listen while her husband's out doing who-knows-what—"
"He's driving Virginia to the airport!"
"So they say. They could be in the back of his Bentley—"
"It wasn't even a Bentley! It was some kind of foreign car…I think…"
"Oh, didn't know you knew cars, Molly."
"I don't…"
"Ex-boyfriend?"
"Older brother."
"Oh. Well, I'm rubbish at all that automotive stuff, but I'm brilliant with shoes…where were we, again? Oh yeah! Thomas and his mother-in-law's not-so-secret tryst and Beth's vengeful threesome with her spinster sister and that spinster sister's brilliant and unfairly sexy boyfriend who, by the way, is extremely well—"
"No. That is just so…messed up!"
Jim just snickered.
Molly gasped, offendedly (although it wasn't the most genuine of gasps or offenses taken).
"It's not funny!"
"Then why are you laughing?"
And Molly was laughing.
Trying and failing to suck her smile back into her face, finally covering her mouth as the floodgates finally opened and the giggles came spilling out.
"Because it's—cause it's awkward!" she managed to choke out, bending forwards, face in hands, "…And I can't help it! I just laugh in awkward situations...it's just something I do!"
"I know." Jim said, "It's sweet."
Molly, head still half down in her own lap, looked up at him.
He was smirking—no, smiling.
And he looked like he meant it too.
Molly had to rise and kiss Jim then, whether he meant it or not, because what he had said was 'sweet', whether he meant it or not.
(And did he mean it? Could this all, after so long, still be some elaborate lie? All be just a game?...Somebody like Jim wouldn't waste his time on someone like her, would he, unless he really did like her…then again, someone like Jim (in fact, only Jim) would fake something (a relationship) like this just because he was bored—But he had Sherlock. Jim could be 'with' (bothering) Sherlock right now. But he wasn't. He was with her.)
Fingers politely combing through her hair this time as they kissed, Jim finally broke it to whisper, forehead against Molly's, "so about that threesome with your sister…?"
"Jim!" Molly exclaimed, pulling away from him, and even slapping him (very lightly) on the cheek.
She tried her best to look and sound shocked and offended…
…but then promptly gave up and cracked up again.
"What! You know I'm kidding…"Jim shrugged, rubbing his cheek, "I just wanted to see you smile again."
(And oh, how she hated him sometimes—but only sometimes.)
Molly leaned up and kissed him on his 'slapped' cheek.
"Thank you." she whispered into his skin, "That's… sweet."
In the middle of the night Jim finally heard the front door of the house swing open, close behind someone and footsteps trudge up the stairs.
Thomas's and Beth's voices said quiet words to each other from their bedroom down the hall, light now turning on.
What had taken Thomas so long to take Virginia to the airport…it wasn't that far away.
(…Maybe his joke about the affair was actually true…no. it would have been in their body language. So why…? Thomas could have been out those four hours screwing the queen for all Jim cared. It wasn't his problem.)
Jim reached over to the bedside table, past his smartphone, to pick up the knife Molly had found in his when had been folding the pants he had thrown onto the floor.
( 'You can't just leave it there. They'll get wrinkled! We have to wear the same clothes tomorrow—at least till we get back home.' She had said, and he had loved the way she had said 'home' without thinking, then noticing it immediately after and 'discreetly' checking to see if he had, trying to have no reaction herself.)
She had felt the heavy, hard thing in his pocket (ha, ha, ha!), and had pulled it out, confused, asking why he had a knife (heavens!) with him. 'self defense' he had said, 'might need to murder somebody…'.
Might.
In the darkness, the blade glinted, reflecting the light creeping in under the door to the guest room, as Jim examined it. He could still hear Beth and Thomas talking in whispers (polite so as not to wake anyone).
Just might.
Jim moved to sit up and get out of the bed…but he was prevented by something—No…someone.
Molly.
Her arm was draped over him, hand clutching his shoulder lightly, and her head was lying on his chest instead of on one of the (firm and very substantial—but still adequately fluffy) pillows.
When did she get there?
Eyes closed, she was sleeping and even sort of snoring, too…
(It should have been annoying.)
…And now Jim couldn't possibly move without waking her.
(That also should have been annoying.)
Oh well.
Sighing, Jim returned the knife to the beside table and sunk back down into the bed, resting one arm behind his head and the other on top (around) Molly (—because he had nowhere else to put it, of course).
The birds were chirping outside and the sunlight was spilling into the room from the window as Molly awoke.
Ah, how lovely—
Wait a minute.
Where was Jim?
Molly sat up in bed, throwing the covers off and scanning the guest bedroom for a sign of him.
Jim was gone!
No!
He'd done it!
He'd really done it!
He'd gone and killed her whole family in the night and because she was the one who brought him here it was all her fault!
Molly had tried to keep Jim from moving but somehow he had escaped her and the room and went to go use that knife just like he said he would.
She jumped out of the bed, and ran out of the room, into the hallway.
Having removed her skirt to sleep, Molly was now dashing around the upper floor of her sister's new house in her (not pink) underwear, a t-shirt and socks.
Classy.
Beth and Thomas were not in their room and neither was Matthew in his.
No!
They were gone!
Jim had called his 'people' to come and take them away!
This was all her fault!
She had known bringing Jim here was a bad idea…
And now she couldn't even find him.
Almost slipping as she sprinted around the hardwood floors, Molly dashed down the stairs, calling out "Jim!".
"…in here!" his voice replied, surprisingly enough.
Molly turned the corner, still running, into the dining room.
There Jim and Beth sat at the table across from each other, drinking coffee and eating pastries (from a local shop, judging from the plastic bag nearby), as they chatted, laughing.
The two of them turned to see Molly, wide-eyed in the doorway.
"Hey, there!" Beth smiled.
"Nice outfit." Jim grinned. Somehow, he had acquired fresh clothing (jeans and a shirt—aged and baggy on him).
"Fashion statement?" Beth joked, "Looks great…but I could just lend you some of my clothing, if you'd like. Tom gave Jim some old stuff to wear."
"Coffee?" Jim offered, holding up a third cup in Molly's direction.
Molly sighed, even laughing a little in relief.
"Where's Thomas?" she asked, "And Matthew?"
"Tom's taking Matthew to school." Beth explained, standing up and starting towards her sister, "Then he's off to work."
"Oh." Molly nodded.
"Follow me," Beth giggled, "I'll get you some clothes…"
Molly nodded again and shadowed Beth out of the room—but not before glancing at Jim who shrugged.
"Your boyfriend and I had a good, long talk, Molly."
Molly listened to younger sister's voice as she showered in the guestroom bathroom shower (which Jim had also apparently used earlier, as it was already wet, and she had slept somehow slept through).
Beth was seated on the guest bed, waiting as her older sister washed up.
"He explained to me how you're feeling. He told me how much you missed me, how much you talked about me—but were too afraid to call me. He said you said you didn't want to ruin my life with all of your problems…"
Molly heard Beth's voice hitch, but then regain it's momentum.
"…You don't have to feel that way, Molly. I really wish you didn't feel that way and—and what I mean is…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday. I was being over-sensitive. Maybe it is all the hormones…But I don't want us to fight or not fight but have us be angry at each other and not talking…I want it to be like it was before. When we were kids and you were my big sis, the coolest personin the world, the one I wanted to be just like…the only one who understood me…"
Molly felt the tears rolling down her eyes already, warm shower water washing it away.
"…Well, what I'm saying is…keep in touch, Molly. We're sisters, for god's sake! ...but we're also friends. I want us to be friends. I forgive you for everything and I hope you forgive me…I also hope you're glad you came to visit. I am. If you hadn't come and hadn't brought Jim along, we never would've been able to work this all out. Jim seems like a really great guy. I'm so happy for you that you've found someone."
Molly turned off the water, stepping out of the shower into the steam and grabbing the towel left for her on the rack by Beth—no. By Jim.
It was still slightly damp and it smelled like Jim.
"He explained everything to me, made me understand. Made me realize how much I need you, how much I owe you…Make sure you hold on to this one. Don't let him get away. He's good. Funny, cute and smart, too. You deserve the best, Molly, you deserve to be happy…and whenever you two do get 'officially' engaged, I want to know about it—And I wanna be Maid of Honor at the wedding, okay?"
Molly exited the bathroom to see her sister standing before her in front of the door.
Even though she was only wrapped in a towel and her hair was still soaking wet, Molly leaned forewords and hugged Beth who returned the embrace sincerely and wholeheartedly.
"I love you too, little sis." She said.
Just what Jim had said to completely solve the problem between Molly and Beth, Molly would probably never know.
"Did you threaten her?" Molly had checked, just to be sure, smiling like it was a joke to be polite.
Jim had just laughed.
They were in the back of a taxi now, again, driving back towards London.
"Family gathering." Jim commented, "Not actually as boring as I'd thought…"
"If you thought it'd be boring, why did you go?" Molly inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I knew I'd be able to have some fun, at least." Jim shrugged, "I'm always the 'life of the party'."
Molly rolled her eyes.
After a few moments of silence and staring out opposite windows, she spoke up.
"…but what you said to Beth—or at least what she told me you said…none of it was…none of it was actually true."
"Pretty, white lies." Jim explained, eyes watching the rows of suburban houses roll by, "The lifeblood of manners…You did tell me to be on my 'best behaviour', didn't you?"
"I did." Molly admitted, "And you were—for the most part, at least."
"'For the most part'?" Jim repeated, in mock offense, turning to her and smiling a bit, "I was perfect. The perfect tamed tiger."
"You almost told Matthew Thomas wasn't his real father!" Molly exclaimed, "…and you were totally flirting with my sister's husband!"
"Was not!" Jim denied, then reconsidered, "…well maybe…"
Molly shook her head, laughing just a little even though she knew she really shouldn't and that it was wrong (which, consequently, was why Jim's actions were funny and making her laugh in the first place).
"…Thank you." She said, looking out the window again, "What you said—even if it wasn't exactly all true…what you did…I never would've been able to work things out with her on my own so…Thank you. So much. Thank you."
"I know how you can 'thank' me." She heard Jim reply.
She could see him staring at her, smirking, in the window reflection.
The taxi driver had apparently heard him too, turning around and pointing a finger at both Jim and Molly.
"No." he warned, preemptively "I'll be having none of that in my cab. It's too damn early in the morning."
Jim rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. From his wallet miraculously appeared money, numbered in the triple digits.
He handed them to the driver.
"Keep the change." He instructed, "…and keep your eyes on the road."
The taxi driver took the money and turned around, the car continuing along through the pretty suburbs in the springtime.
...Again. I hope it was 'fluff' enough. (haha I made a rhyme! lol)
If not, I'm sorry.
(And eating pizza...do they do that in England?)
The original ending to this chapter, actually, was Molly and Jim sneaking out of Beth's house before dawn and Molly never reconciling with her. They then run into Paul on their way out who says nothing to her but looks at Jim wrong. Paul's car is a police car. And Molly says Paul never forgave her for looking just like their mother.
But then I thought...no.
Too sad.
Need happy!
Need FLUFF!
(Need good reviews lol)
And do you all want back to plot next chapter...or another sad attempt at me writing fluff...or something else (I was thinking a visit to Irene...or maybe the Revenge of Arthur, Conan and Doyle (and Ricoletti))...?
Tell me.
Or just say something!
I feel like ya'll are dissapointed (discouraged? underwhelmed?) in me or something lol since I got less and shorter reviews last chapter.
...I'm just insecure, lol.
Pretty please, review?
(I need to feed on my praise-driven confidence again).