Thank you all so much for your continued support. I enjoy reading your reviews and messages and am so please that many of you seem to be enjoying my story. Sorry about the longer delay in updating. I took a week off from writing and then struggled for a couple more weeks trying to write this chapter, but I ended up being fairly please with how it turned out. Thanks again and enjoy chapter 5. Cheers.
Her drink burned her throat but she was still able to finish it in three large gulps. She pushed the clear glass away from her, which now only contained four large cubes of frozen water and a small amount of blush colored liquid that she was unable to tilt down her gullet. The warmth of the alcohol quickly spread from her throat to her chest and extremities and she let out a relieved and heavy sigh. Alcohol was one of the few substances on earth that could be physically cold but would still chemically burn. A small, sparking drop of condensation rolled down the smooth clear glass of her empty drink and silently hit the old and roughly polished wood of the bar in front of her.
Mary looked up and saw the look of impression on both Bates and Sybil's faces. Their expressions matched one another's perfectly—both sets of eyes were open wide, both of their eye brows were raised high upon their crinkled foreheads, and both of their mouths hung open, gawking at her for finishing her double vodka and cranberry in no more than five seconds. Mary had entered her favorite neighborhood pub, not even pausing to acknowledge Branson as he cleared and wiped the table closest to the entrance, and made a direct line to where Sybil sat at the bar chatting with Bates. Mary had eyes only for the crimson-colored, chilled drink that sat next to Sybil. She had requested for her sister to order her 'usual', via text, and, now with it in clear sight, Mary didn't even taken the time to sit down before quickly grasping the small tumbler and downing its contents.
"Good evening Mary." Bates addressed her warmly with undisguised humor in his gravely voice, as she finally sat down with an exhausted plop next to Sybil. "Would you like another?"
"Yes please." Mary said with another heavy sigh. Bates gave her a knowing smile and turned to grab the bottle of Three Olives off the second shelf before tilting more than a generous amount of the clear liquid into the glass's bottom.
"Wow Mary." Mary turned toward her baby sister to see that Sybil's look of astonishment had turned in to one of friendly humor at Mary's obvious stress and exhaustion. Sybil continued with a large smile on her full lips, "I know that you normally enjoy your vodka-crans but I'm not sure I've ever seen you take pleasure in one so much…Long day?"
Bates placed Mary's refreshed drink in front of her, "This one's on the house…I can tell that you need it."
Mary raised her drink to him and said through a tired exhale, "Thanks Bates… Here is to your continued good health."
Mary took another long pull at her drink but left slightly more than half of the red tinted liquid in the glass before turning back to Sybil. She placed her right elbow on the bar's scratched surface and tilted her head so that her right cheek rested easily in her cupped hand.
"Sybil my dear, I've had a long eleven days."
"I can tell. How's our tormented angel?"
Mary checked the time on her phone, "Actually, if you don't mind I'd like to wait until Ed gets her. She texted me a few minutes ago and said she would be here soon. I know she'll want to know and I just don't think I have the energy to explain twice. In fact, she asked me to order her drink… Bates." Mary called to her favorite bar tender and ordered Edith's usual rum and diet.
"Ok. I don't want you to pass out from physical exhaustion on me." Sybil laughed sarcastically.
"It's not that I'm physically exhausted as much as mentally taxed. I'm losing so much sleep because my brain won't turn off at night. I'm constantly trying to figure out a way to break through to her and I'm continuing to come up short." Mary let out another long and frustrated sigh and Sybil rubbed her back soothingly.
"Alright, just take a moment and try to turn off your mind for a bit."
Bates returned a moment later with Edith's drink in one hand and another plain diet coke for Sybil. Sybil was still only 20 but was allowed in the pub because Mary was on such friendly terms with the owner.
Sybil thanked Bates and continued to address Mary, "But you know that you're not getting out of here with out telling us how your first two weeks went."
"Oh, I'm well aware of that and it hasn't been two full weeks yet," Mary said through a yawn. "You and Ed are like mom and Gran, always wanting the finest details."
After leaving The Pearl last Saturday afternoon, Mary headed straight to her sisters' Lincoln Park apartment to give them a full account of her day's events. Mary told them all about the plagued household, including the tale of the two departed women and the two surviving but severally wounded individuals remaining. She told them of the joyless girl and her haunted father and how Mary knew that her task would be the most arduous experience of her life to date. Sybil and Edith's shared hatred of Matthew Crawley came as easily as Mary's first had upon hearing about Quinn's situation, and despite Mary's best attempts to quell their anger and explain that Matthew was just as disgusted with himself as they all were, her sisters would not listen to her. In truth, Mary still had a hard time defending Matthew to others; she still placed all of blame for Quinn's depression and sadness entirely on his shoulders, but it was hard to hate someone for something when they already loathed themselves for the same reason. Mary would best describe her feelings towards Matthew Crawley as being in a constant state of disappointment with the man; she didn't hate him, she wasn't really even mad at him, but she was constantly frustrated and shamed by his actions.
Of course, Mary's account to his sisters did not include how she personally felt about the man during their brief encounter. She did not tell him how hansom and virile she had found him, or how she felt an immediate and ethereal bond linking him to her, or how she had lusted after his tall and lean form. She did not include how her body felt white hot and alive while trapped in his gaze; or how her skin had tingled pleasantly and that her blood had rushed to chest, like a blazing fire, when he slowly moistened his lips. She did not mention how he smelled of sweet cream, green mint, relief, masculinity, and something like home; or how she felt as if she could permanently reside beneath his chin or perhaps dwell endlessly next to his right hip. And she certainly did not tell her sisters how easily she could have pressed her lips against his, slowly but passionately, and would not have felt any shame in doing so until hours later.
To deny that she was attracted to him would be a lie, but to do anything about it would be a delusional dream and an enormous mistake. How could she even fantasize of tasting Matthew Crawley, when his actions concerning his young daughter sickened her to the core, consuming her days and haunting her nights? Therefore, she would admire him from a distance—appreciate the view but never jump the fence and enter the grounds of his tortured and mutilated mind.
Thinking of him always left Mary feeling confused and irritated, so she quickly changed the subject, "How's school going Sybil?"
"Fine I guess." Sybil responded dejectedly, "I'm seriously second guessing my decision to take summer classes."
"You know if you wouldn't have mom and dad would have made you come home for the summer."
"I know, I know. And I wanted to stay up here, but my brain feels fried… I really only had one long weekend of peace before the start of the summer semester."
"I understand, but at least at this pace you'll be able to graduate a whole year early and that means med school is one year sooner." Mary said the last sentence with the intent to lift her spirits but Sybil remained gloomy.
"Yay, more school." Sybil said quietly.
"Are you second guessing your decision to do pre-med?"
"No, I'm not. It's always been my dream to be a doctor…I just want some time to breathe before I go. I'm thinking of taking a gap year like you did."
"Well you know that I loved my time abroad but I had the money to do it. Do you?"
"No" sighed Sybil sadly. "You know my school schedule is too packed for me to work."
"Well, then I think you have you answer darling."
Sybil's shoulders slumped and she began idly stirring her drink with her straw, lost in her own thoughts. Mary understood Sybil's restlessness and she wished that her sister could add a little bit of fun and excitement in her life, perhaps even someone special to make her laugh and smile.
A moment later, Edith entered, talking loudly on her cell phone. She walked up to where they sat, and gave Mary and Sybil an apologetic smile and mouthed a silent 'sorry' to them both. Edith picked up her drink, took a long drag from the straw, and rolled her eyes at something that was said on the other end of line.
"Well tell Tony that we won't have the specs done until the end of next week. That was the deadline he gave us originally, so that's when it'll be done."
Mary heard the muffled, disembodied voice of an unknown female for a moment before Edith spoke again.
"It won't be late, but it won't be early. If he wanted it earlier then he should of planned for that…Yeah… Listen, I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Without a second's hesitation she disconnected the line and turned to Mary and Sybil and said, "Sorry 'bout that ladies. How's it going?"
"I'm slightly depressed and Mary's sanity is hanging on by thread. How are you?"
"Stressed. Anthony is breathing down my neck for no good reason." She sat herself down in the empty set to Mary's right. "He told me that we would have four weeks to finalize the design and specifications, so he shouldn't be riding my ass for not having it done yet. I've still got…what day is it?"
"Thursday." Mary replied tiredly while pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, trying to relieve the pressure against her head.
"So I've still got," Edith paused to count the days, "Eight days. There is no need for him to get his panties in a bunch."
"Your still fairly new there Ed," Sybil said warningly. "It hasn't even been a full year yet. You had better behave yourself."
"Oh, I'm not that worried. I do good work and Tony knows if he threatens me too much I'll leave without hesitation and have another job in the same hour." Edith gave a small knowing smile that made Mary feel as if she were missing a large piece of information. "He's stressing me out, but I've got Anthony Strallan wrapped around my little finger."
"Well aren't we a miserable group." Mary added while finishing her second drink and motioning for Bates to make her another one.
"That's true." Edith added still speaking to Mary, "but you're the one with the most interesting life currently. Tell me, how's our fallen angel and her devilish father?"
Mary ignored her slight on Matthew, knowing it was a lost cause, "She's much the same really. Distant, aloof, troubled…scared…as cold as ice but still sensitive to the wishes of others. There's only been a handful of times when she has denied a request I've made of her, and that's a small miracle for any five year old." Mary looked up at her sister's slowly, and she appreciated how intently they were listening to her. "Tragic. That's still the best way to describe Quinn Crawley."
Her sister's must have seen the way Mary's body crumpled slightly at the mentioning of Quinn's name, for the demeanor of the their small atmosphere changed. Edith's stare faltered slightly and Sybil looked down at her drink. For the past thirteen days, Mary felt as if she were physically weighed down by her worry over Quinn and her frustration with her father. Mary noticed how she had taken to walking the streets with her head down at her feet, and how tired she looked in the mirror most mornings, and how she had generally become a much less happy person. The three sisters sat in heavy silence for moment, their separate minds chasing their own thoughts.
Edith's curiosity eventually broke through the silence, "What do you do with her all day?"
"Mostly things that require very little interaction, like drawing, or watching a movie, or reading a book… Oh, and the other day I figured out that she likes to watch me play video games."
A small smile broke across Mary's face at the happy memory. On Monday, she had discovered that the family room contained all sorts of gaming consoles— Play Station, Wii, and Xbox but also several older consoles like a Game Cube, Sega, and, much to Mary's delight, an old Super Nintendo. After locating her favorite child hood game, unwinding the dusty remote control cord, and asking Anna to help her locate the right channel, Mary started a new game. She was instantly transported back to her childhood and one day in particular stood out clear in her mind. She was ten and Ed was eight and for one whole snowy Saturday, they sat in the upstairs den in their pajamas and played the game from start to finish on an old ten-inch TV screen. Mary was pleased to find that her hands still easily remembered the controller and, after a few warm-up levels, her fingers pressed all of the right buttons almost without conscious effort. When Mary started playing, Quinn sat on the couch behind her but as she progressed through the game and the hours ticked by, Quinn slowly made her way down onto the carpet beside her. During the final boss battle, Quinn's right arm was flushed against Mary's left, both of their bodies leaned toward the TV in excitement and anticipation, and both of their eyes were glued to the giant screen. When Mary had beaten the final level, she wrapped her left arm around the girl's small frame and hugged her close to her side, unaware of her blissful actions. To Mary's relief Quinn did not push away. She did not respond in kind but she allowed herself to hugged tightly and that fact made Mary's heart leap for joy. Quinn looked into Mary's smiling face and though she did not return the smile, her eyes looked less haunted. Monday was a good day.
However, Mary's reprieve from her misery lasted for only a moment longer because she quickly remembered what had occurred yesterday.
"Wednesday was a complete disaster though." Her mouth had suddenly gone dry and she took a small slip from her drink before explaining. "Like I said, most of the stuff we had done required very little interaction, which is fine because I know that she's frightened of it and I'm not expecting her to have an enormous break through in only the second week, but I still wanted to try something a little different. So, after lunch I suggested to her that we go for a walk or maybe to the park, just enjoy being outside in the fresh air." Mary paused, let out an exasperated sigh, and tried to rub the tension from her own neck. "I didn't think it would be pushing her too far but, just at the suggestion, Quinn had a complete meltdown. I've only ever heard her speak in short whispers but I can now tell you that her voice works just fine." Mary remembered the way she had screamed, her small face reddening, and tears pouring down her round checks in waves. "She ran into her play house, refusing to come out even to eat. I was only able to go in there and get her, which was no easy task by the way, after she had fallen asleep on the floor. I put her to bed still dressed in her day clothes out of a fear of waking her."
Mary decided against telling her sisters how the girl did wake up shortly after Mary had placed her in bed. She still doesn't know whether or not Quinn knew that she was watching over her from the rocking chair across the room, but she does know that she watched the girl cry silently for a long time, tremors of pain and sadness rocking endlessly across her tiny frame as she lay curled into a small, tight ball. Eventually, Quinn's tears subsided but Mary picked up where she had left off. Tears flowed steadily from Mary's eyes for hours, each making their own unique path down her checks, rolling off the edge of her jaw, and disappearing into the dark fabric of her shirt.
Mary sighed again, "So I guess I can add agoraphobic to the list. Anyway, I stayed with her until a little past mid-night and then made my way to my room for the rest of the evening."
"Oh yeah," Sybil spoke now and her raspy voice remained quite despite the escalating noise in the bar, "what's it like staying there?"
"Ok…it's like staying in a fancy hotel. Although, I don't sleep well and that's saying something considering I'm sleeping horrible at my home too. But I guess I've never slept well some place new. I'll just have to get use to it." Mary took another drink from her glass and began tracing the lines of condensation with her pinky finger. "The accommodations are beautiful but I can't really enjoy them."
"Do you see much of her father?" Sybil asked the question in an off-handed manner, but Mary felt her face flush at the mentioning of Matthew. She hoped her sisters would assume her sudden color was due to her drink.
Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "Not really no. I mean, I've seen him nearly everyday but only in passing or at a distance."
Mary remembered locking eyes with him on Friday evening of last week and again early this morning while having her morning coffee. Both times she had looked up, unconsciously feeling his eyes on her body, and discovered him staring at her from a short distance. She knew that she should be frightened or at least annoyed by his constant unabashed gaze, but Mary found that she spiritually thrived underneath it. They had gazed at one another hotly for several moments, he would run his fingers through his hair automatically and she would tilt her head reflexively, elongating and exposing the lines of her neck, before one of them had the courage to look away. The first time it was her. The second time it was him.
"Really, I'm not sure I've spoken more than five words to him other than 'good morning' and 'good night'." That was much was true, and Mary knew the exact five words she had nearly shouted at him through tear clouded eyes when she left Quinn's room Wednesday night.
Bates came back around and refreshed Sybil's drink and she asked Mary, "Does he work from home?"
"No, which is why I rarely see him. He works somewhere down town. Elsie mentioned the building the other day but I can't really recall it now…I think it might have been the Spence Building…or maybe it was The Legacy?...Either way the Murray Firm is based somewhere down town and Matthew is there Monday through Saturday from seven to seven."
"Ugh!" Edith replied hotly, "I don't want to hear anymore about that disgusting man. He's a coward and the only reason his daughter hasn't been taken away from him is because he can afford to pay someone like you to do his job for him."
Once again Mary found that she couldn't disagree with Edith's assessment of Matthew, despite badly wanting to.
"Anyway," Edith continued, "What does Rick think of you working there? I can't imagine that he would have any opposition to you being gone for most of the waking hours of the day." Edith's words dripped with sarcasm and she gave Mary a knowing look from under her brow.
Mary curled her lip and rolled her eyes dramatically at Edith's remark. It was a well-known fact that her sisters did not approve of her live-in boyfriend. Mary often tried to avoid the subject of him altogether when she was with her sisters because it always ended with Ed and Sybil ganging up on her and Mary saying something spiteful back at them that she always regretted later. They didn't understand her and Mary didn't understand them. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
"Well he doesn't like it very much at all. He's pleased with how much I'm being paid, but dislikes how I'm never home with him."
Sybil cut her off and said in a satirical manner, "Oh, imagine that! Rick's worried about himself. That's something new."
Mary defended him quickly, haughtiness coating her remark, "I honestly don't blame him. We've really only spent a couple of hours together since I've started this job. How would you like it if you never saw your significant other?"
Both Edith and Sybil rolled their eyes at Mary's question but neither one of them had a retort for her.
Sybil eventually responded, "We just don't understand why you're with him Mary. You're amazing. He's not."
"Thank you but that is only your opinion. And trust me, plenty of people in this world think Richard Carlisle is amazing…me included."
"He's controlling and arrogant." Edith spat back at her.
"He's involved and intelligent." Mary tired to remain calm.
"He's cold and selfish." Sybil added.
"He's reserved and independent." Mary was failing to remain calm.
"He's a total dick, Mary." Edith stated loudly and confidently.
She met Edith's statement with heavy silence and hard stare. Mary's anger burned through her body, piercing Edith. Mary saw her sister's reserve falter under her rigid stare, and Edith eventually looked away from her shamed at the remark she had made.
"I'm sorry Mary." Edith replied quietly, "I shouldn't have said that about someone you care about."
"No you shouldn't have." Mary responded coldly. She took a minute to unwind the aggravated tension in her limbs and chest before taking a deep breath and adding softly, "but I forgive you…Now, let's talk about something other than my boyfriend."
Sybil took her clue and a moment later the youngest Crawley sister was busy asking Edith how her love had been going. In truth, Mary was extremely pleased to listen to Edith ramble on about a string of unsuccessful dates rather than think about her own long-term boyfriend. Lately, she couldn't help but feel a crashing sense of shame every time she thought of Rick. He might not be the type of person that Edith or Sybil would have dated, but Mary knew that deep down he was a good and honest man in a city overrun with liars and cheaters. He had been a dedicated partner over the years and he deserved better than what she had been giving him lately. Their relationship had been a little rocky the past couple months but it had entered a new stage of dysfunction ever since she started caring for Quinn. Their sparse meetings were composed of unsaid things and short bitter remarks. She met his irritation with silence; He met her distance with anger. It was a horrible circle that only led them to sleeping at opposite edges of the bed at night, neither daring to drop their pride, a crater of unsaid words separating their unsleeping bodies.
Mary would never admit that her relationship problems might have something to do with her attraction to her boss. She could easily admit to herself that she found him appealing, but she found any number of men on the street to be good looking as well. Those men were not plaguing her relationship with Rick, so Matthew Crawley wasn't either. Although, no man she had ever passed on the street had been able awakened her body and ignite her soul as Matthew had with only a few fleeting glances. Never the less, Matthew's small presence in her life was not the source of her relationship problems. Besides, Rick's personality flaws were almost nonexistent in compared to the enormity of Matthew's vices.
Mary departed from her sister's company around nine to make sure she was home before Rick got back from his evening class. She walked the six blocks home in peaceful silence, the alcohol in her system graciously numbing her jumbled mind.
Their apartment was located inside an old refurbished brick building that use to be a modestly sized church. The building held only four apartments and Mary and Rick's was located on the top level. She loved the old, romantic building, their cozy apartment, and their small roof top garden, where they grew lettuce, tomatoes, and a variety of herbs and spices. The apartment was arranged on slightly varying levels; she adored the way you had to step up one stair to enter the master bedroom, climb two stairs to enter into the kitchen, and descend down three to enter den. The aged brick of the building lined most of the inner walls and many of the old pipes were left exposed in the kitchen and bathrooms. The apartment's large stained glass windows reflected the afternoon sun in a picturesque way, and the original hard wood, now scratched and well weathered, still covered the foundations slightly sloping floors. Rick had given her free range over the decor and she had furnished and decorated it mostly with items she purchased, and then spruced up, from different flee markets and second hand shops around the city. Mary loved how nothing really matched—it was organized chaos. Their couch was forest green with purple polka-doted throws, the rug in the den was stripped red, brown, and gold, their comforter was a blue plaid and their pillows were a solid yellow, the shower curtain was a map of the Chicago 'L' train, pop and word art lined the walls (her favorite piece being a robot bulldog smoking a thick cigar), the curtains in the guest bedroom were an orange and pink floral pattern, and their dishware consisted of nearly every color of the rainbow. It was a hodgepodge of moods and feelings, colors and textures, patterns and prints, but it was unique and bright and warm.
Once, inside their two bedroom apartment, Mary set about making a late dinner for her and Rick. She quickly assembled a couple of avocado, diced tomato, and mozzarella grilled cheese sandwiches. She placed the warm sandwiches on the table and paired them with fresh veggies and garlic hummus, an enormous bowl of Bing cherries, and chilled lemonade. Just as Mary finished pouring her own glass of lemonade into a bright read tumbler, Rick walked through the front door, dropping his brown leather messenger bag on the patchwork recliner by the door in an exhausted manner.
"Hey." Mary called to him warmly, giving him a welcoming smile. She was glad to find that she was genuinely happy to see him, something she hadn't felt for a couple of weeks. Rick strode across the room family room and walked up to the kitchen, eyeing the spread on table, before planting a quick kiss on Mary's check.
Mary leaned into his kiss and asked, "How was class?"
"Fine I guess. They're all idiots."
Mary laughed at his remark, "Well you can't expect them to be scholars. It's only a two hundred level course. Most of them are probably only 20."
"They don't think for themselves." Rick pulled out her chair for her and then quickly sat down beside her. He grabbed a handful of cherries and placed them on his plate. "They want me to spoon-feed them the 'right' answers."
"They're still stuck in that 'high school' frame of mind—they think to study history is to only fleetingly remember a series of events, laws, and dates."
"I know that it's a battle I'll have to fight for the rest of my career."
"Most of them just want a grade and the credits, not the intellectual awaking that you want to give them." Mary added before dipping a stalk of broccoli into the container of hummus.
"Stupid kids." Rick explained with a heavy sigh. He had meant for it to sound like an insult but Mary could tell by his tone and slumped shoulders that he was disappointed in his inability to get through to them.
She heart sank for him. She wanted to cheer him up by reminding him that not all of his students were as dense as his current class.
She took a deep breath, "They don't understand that to study history is to study the collective human experience. They don't want to consume the past, digest the knowledge, and produce their own original thoughts. They might not get it Rick…but many of your other student's have."
Rick sighed and looked up at her with a relieved smile, "Thanks for the reminder."
'If you want to truly understand anything, observe its beginning and its development' Mary quoted Aristotle to him, knowing that it would make his smile widen. She was not disappointed.
"God, you're a breath of fresh air. Come with next week."
"Maybe I will." Mary took a bite of her sandwich and said through a mouth full of cheese and bread, "They're just kids though, try not to get too down on them."
"You were their age once, and I remember, very clearly in fact, how history's true importance wasn't lost on you."
"Well I developed more quickly."
"You can say that again." Rick gave her a twisted smirk that made her face redden. She smiled at him knowingly before taking another bite of her sandwich.
After a moment's pause, filled only with the sounds of chewing and muffled traffic, Rick suddenly laughed loudly. "Tonight I actually had someone ask me where I went to medical school." He laughed again and continued, mimicking the student by speaking from the back of his throat and slowing his speech, "This particular gem was like, 'Ugghhh, Dr. Carlisle. Dude, Ugghhh…where did you go to med school at?' Rick paused and laughed again, "What a moron."
Mary looked at him from under her brow, frozen in the act of lifting her cup for another drink. "There is no way that actually happened."
"I swear."
"I don't believe you."
"Cross my heart."
"No."
"Yes."
Mary suddenly burst into hysterical laugher. She laughed so hard and for such a long time, her abdominals and her cheeks ached and tears weld up in her eyes. Rick laughed along with her and it felt wonderful to be so careless and happy for a while. Eventually their hysterics quitted to a few dispersed chuckles and they went back to enjoying their meal in quite contentment.
When Mary rose to clear their empty plates, Rick quickly grabbed her arm and spoke to her seriously, "You were one of the best students I've ever had."
Rick was thirty and Mary was twenty when they first met one another. He was then an assistant professor at DePaul and she was an undergraduate student. She had taken his class, Europe Since 1945, in the spring semester of her sophomore year and the two started casually dating one another two years later. By that time Mary was nearing the end of her final year of undergraduate work and Rick had been promoted to associate professor. They kept their relationship quite those first few months. They technically weren't breaking any rules, since Mary was no longer his student, but relationships between students and staff were still frowned upon. They remained in contact during the entire year that Mary spent abroad and Rick even joined her in Italy and Greece for a month in the summer and again in Germany for two weeks during his winter break. Their relationship got more serious by the time Mary had turned twenty-four and had started her graduate work and, last fall, the two moved into their current apartment. Their ten-year age difference was never an issue for them and Mary thought that their driven personalities complemented each other well.
His voice was low and pleasant and his eyes were clear and bright, "You're intelligence and tenacity is what I love most about you."
Mary's heart lifted at his words and she felt her lips move upwards in a small, adoring smile. She lowered her eyelids, moistened her lips, and responded in a soft and seductive voice, "Oh please, Ricky, I know you only love me because I'm a firecracker in the bedroom."
"Well, that is true." Rick responded through a wide, mischievous grin.
Mary turned and walked away from where he sat, putting a large amount of unnatural sway in her hips, to place their dirtied plates and glasses into the kitchen sink. Just as she was about to turn on the water, Rick suddenly grabbed her around the waist, turned her around to face him, bent down, and lifted her up, placing her entire body over his right shoulder. Mary laughed as Rick planted a light smack on her bottom and carried her to their darkened bedroom where they made love for the first time in weeks.
After, Mary lay stretched out pleasantly beside Rick. Her naked body felt satisfyingly warm and completely relaxed. Her bones seemed to sink into the bed and her muscles felt non-existent. Her sexual experiences with Rick were always very primal and animalistic. They both wanted sexual release and they craved the exquisite pleasure that went along with it. She loved the feeling of her own climax rocking through her exposed, tightened, and burning body. Mary and Rick's personal sexual needs were nearly always fulfilled when they went to bed together.
The stress of the week slowly crept back in on her and the physicality of their toss in the bed left Mary exhausted. She was just about to drift off into a heavy and well-deserved sleep when Rick's low voice broke through the air.
"When will you be home on Sunday?" Mary could tell form his tone that his playful demeanor from earlier had vanished.
Mary did not want to have this conversation again. They had been having such a pleasant evening in each other's company.
"Not until 8 o'clock."
"I see." Rick paused momentarily before continuing, and Mary could tell that he was trying to keep his irritation in check, "I don't know why you agreed to stay the night there."
Mary rose up on one arm to look at him, "I've always stayed the night at my employers when it was needed."
"Only every once in awhile." Ricks voice was beginning to rise but he did not look at Mary. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling above him, "Why on earth you would agree to staying there EVERY Wednesday and EVERY other weekend is beyond my comprehension."
"I assume there are a lot of things in this world that are beyond your comprehension."
"I'm an intelligent man Mary. I understand most decisions that require basic common sense or prudent judgment. Common sense was not invoked in your decision."
Mary was suddenly reminded of Edith's words from earlier, 'He's controlling and arrogant.'
"Quinn needs me." Mary responded quickly.
"She needs her father not you." Mary had told Rick about Quinn's non-existent relationship with her father, though Rick, at the time, had seemed much less interested in Quinn's well-being and more interested in whether or not Mary could get stock advice for him from Matthew.
Mary's voice rose to meet his, "Well her father isn't there for her so I will be."
"That's not your responsibility."
"But it's my choice."
"So you willingly choose something that directly effects our time together. What about me Mary? Don't you think I need you too?"
'He's cold and selfish.'
"Excuse me for thinking that a neglected child needs my attention more than a fully-grown and emotionally developed man."
Rick finally looked at her at his words were laced with poison, "Your independent decision on this matter could ruin our relationship. Is that what you want? To have a…" Rick searched for a word, "DEFECTIVE child disrupt your happiness with me."
Mary's impulse to protect Quinn was reflexive—a newly acquired muscle that was swift and powerful. She wanted to physically strike Rick for calling Quinn something so cruel. His choice of insult had implied that her troubles were of her own making. Every muscle in her body tightened uncomfortably.
She spat her next words at him through her clenched jaw, "Well if our relationship falls apart because of a five-year old girl, then it was never that strong to begin with."
She threw the comforter off of her naked body, wrapped her silk robe around herself, and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She would rather sleep on the couch for the night then spend one more moment by his Rick's side.
Mary rolled over and saw the bright lights of the city skyline through a small crack in the drapes. She flipped the pillow over and punched its middle, trying to force its limp body into something that would sooth her aching body, but not even the cool side of the pillow would reward her the slightest bit of peace. She grumbled and sat up straight, tilting her head first to the right, then to left, the back to the right again, the sound of her cracking spine reverberating around the large room. Her bag was still packed by the door and the clock on the wall read 1:37. She could leave now, in the dead of the night, and he wouldn't realize she was gone until he woke in the morning. They both knew that their arrangement was only temporary and there was no sense in her hanging around if it wasn't going to work.
Her phone buzzed beside her, the large screen reading "Napiey". Mary slid her thumb across the screen, opening his text message.
Where the hell r u? I'm drunk at Bates' and ur not here 2 tell me 2 stop buying shots for the table of girls next 2 me. My bill is going 2b HUGE! lol
Mary chuckled lightly, and responded.You dork. Is Sybil or Ed there? Want me to tell them to close your tab and get you a taxi?
"No, none of the Crawley sister's r here 2 keep me in line and anyway the nite is still yunge …I feel like I should try karaoke tonight. More spesificially(?) Johnny Cash."
Normally, I would advise against it but I need a laugh. I'm texting Bates and having him record it for me.
Y aren't u here?
Mary sighed and flipped on the lamp next to her bed, A girl has to work for a living Napier
EEEWWWW! It's 2 in the A.M.! Y r working on a Saturday night?
Mary started to respond to him, wondering if she would ever escape this question, but was suddenly cut off by another message from Evan.
Got 2 go. Lady Gaga is playing and nohting brings the ladies 2 the dance flour like Lady Gaga. Going 2 make those shots i bought pay off. ; )
Have fun. Be Safe Napiey.
Mary quickly sent a text to Bates asking him to make sure that Napier got home safely, before shutting off her phone, then trying to rub the weariness from her face. Mary's confidence in her ability to get through to Quinn was taking a severe beating and there were several times that she just wanted to cut her losses and call it quits.
She stood and walked to bathroom, wanting a cool glass of water. She tried not to look at herself in the large mirror, knowing that only a tired and disheveled woman would live behind the reflective glass. She searched the vanity for a moment looking for her glass, before remembering that she had dropped it on the floor this morning and had placed it in the dishwasher to be cleaned. She briefly considered dipping her head beneath the sink and drinking straight from the elegantly shaped facet before deciding against it. Perhaps a late night stroll through the penthouse to the kitchen would do her some good.
…
Her first weekend staying at the penthouse and caring for Quinn had, so far, been uneventful, save for tonight's dinner. Friday had gone smoothly, Mary having read a total of five books to Quinn as the later sat drawing or mutely staring out the massive windows. Each time Mary had finished one book, Quinn had quietly walked up to her, removed the hardback from her grasp and replaced it on the self before thoughtfully chose another one for Mary to read. Today had been peaceful as well. Mary was able to talk Quinn into playing a video game along with her and was please to find that she seemed to enjoy herself.
Around four o'clock in the afternoon, Anna informed Mary of how Matthew and Quinn ate dinner together every Saturday evening at seven, and that Matthew had invited her to join them. Mary washed and dressed Quinn and then quickly dressed herself in the best outfit she brought with her. Dinner was an uncomfortable situation to say the very least. They dinned in the formal dinning room and neither the elegance of their surroundings nor the decadence of their prepared meal could make up for the fact that none of the three individuals attending wanted to be there. Mary decided that their twenty-five minute dinner had been one of the most excruciating and awkward situations in her life.
She had helped Quinn into the large chair on Matthew's right and then sat down across from her on Matthew's left. He was dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, and as she sat, Matthew smiled at her warmly and inquired into whether she was well. Mary returned his smile and assured him she was fine, all while noticing that his sky-blue tie matched the colors of his eyes almost flawlessly. Elsie then entered with their dinners- chicken cordon bleu, buttered and steamed new potatoes, and steamed asparagus, for Mary and Matthew and a grilled cheese sandwich, cut into fours, and a fruit medley with a dollop of Cool Whip for Quinn. Mary set about cutting her chicken but was stopped in the act of taking her first bite by the sound of Matthew's sudden and strangled sounding intake of breath. She looked up at him and saw a man fighting a raging inner battle with himself. After several moments of watching Matthew fidget uncomfortably and seeing his mouth move around un-vocalized words, the man finally addressed his small child.
"And how was your day Quinn? I saw you playing a video game, did you enjoy yourself?" His voice was soft and unsure, cracking slightly in different places.
The girl never even looked up at her father. She sat leaned back in her chair, holding one triangle of her sandwich in both hands, her mouth chewing slowly, her small fingers shinning with the grease of her buttered bread. After several moments, Matthew eventually gave up on waiting for his daughter's answer and Mary met his glance for a moment, before he turned his attention back to his own meal. His posture was even more dejected than normal and his face was slightly flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, Mary did not know.
The rest of the meal was finished in complete silence. Mary's eyes remained locked on her own plate in front of her, only occasionally looking up to see how much Quinn was eating. Mary silently consumed her entire meal, wanting only to occupy her mind and body while having to endure the agonizing situation.
Eventually Quinn's soft voice broke through the deafening silence. Her eyes remained on her half finished meal as she spoke to the room, "May I please be excused?"
Mary looked up and saw Matthew's fork pause in the act of spearing a piece of chicken. He answered his daughter's request, just as quietly as he had spoken to her before, "Yes you may."
Mary's eyes drifted to Quinn and saw that the girl did not budge from where she sat. After a second's beat, Quinn's eyes rose and locked with Mary's. The girl spoke again and his time it was clear whom she was asking permission of.
"May I please be excused, Mary?"
It was the first time Quinn had said her name but the joy of the small victory was lost in a sea of thick tension. Mary wanted to craw into a hole and die.
Mary quickly turned her head and saw Matthew's gazed fixed on a spot on the table, the fingers of his left hand tensing and flexing repeatedly. His blue eyes looked hard and tired and she could see the muscles of his jaw clench and unclench beneath is sallow skin. Eventually, Mary repeated Matthew's answer, and with her eyes still on Matthew's sickened form, she heard Quinn vacate her seat.
In time, he looked at her and she clearly saw the purple bags of descended skin under his thickly lashed eyes. They locked eyes for only a moment, before Mary looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
"I guess I should excuse myself as well." Mary quietly uttered to him while making to stand from her seat. "Thank you for the dinner invitation."
She did not wait for him to speak as she turned and walked away from where he sat, though she couldn't help but feel guilty at leaving him alone at the large table. It felt as if she were slowly walking away from someone who was drowning.
…
Mary gradually opened the guest bedroom door, stepped into the dark hall on her tiptoes and closed the door silently behind her, keeping the handle turned until the door was completely shut. She slowly walked down the corridor, the polished wood floors feeling pleasantly cool against her bare feet. She walked past Matthew's office and another smaller guest bedroom before passing the family room. She noticed a faint light issuing from the large front living room but thought nothing of it as she entered into the large kitchen, aglow only from a small bulb above the stove. Mary located another small tumbler and filled it with chilled water from the refrigerator door. She emptied it in three large gulps and filled it again, letting the water run down the edge of the glass, trying to minimize the sound of the running water. She clutched the cool glass in her hand and exited the kitchen, turning right in the direction of her temporary room.
A single clear note broke through the air and Mary's head whipped around, surprised by the sudden musical key. She heard the loud thumping of her startled heart in her ears and her body froze in midstride. Another, slightly deeper, note rang through the air a moment later, and then there was a beat of silence that was followed by a succession of keys that combined and settled themselves into a slow, beautiful, and melancholy song. Her body, which had been tense from shock a moment ago, slowly loosened alongside the rise and fall of the poetic melody. She didn't recognize the tune but its beats, bridges, and tones felt like a natural and organic extension of her body. Her heart softened and then warmed pleasantly in her chest as the song continued, and then, without conscious thought, she turned around to follow the beckoning of the clear piano notes that called to her from the living room.
She placed her glass of water on the dinning room table and entered into the living room, her eyes fixed on the opposite corner of the room. Mary knew who would be sitting at the piano's bench, playing the song that was written by angles but was meant for the damned. Her feet carried her forward to him, hypnotized by his lyrical masterpiece, a flood of emotions and broken images crossing her mind, making her feel emotionally fulfilled and still desperately lonely. His body was visible only by a single lamp's light, casting half of his body in a warm glow and the other half in a deep shadow. She saw the curvature of his spine through the thin fabric of his grey t-shirt, the small protruding ridges of his vertebrae dispersed down the thick line of his broad back. His head was tilted slightly to the right, his thick golden locks hung loose in disheveled groups, waving slightly with the slight movements of his arms and hands as they traveled across the ivory keys. His bare feet were flat on the floor, not bothering to use the piano's pedals, and she could see the tension in his legs through his plaid pajama pants.
She stood not ten feet behind him now, and she paid witness to the man's continued spiritual birth, life, and death as he sat composing. Mary could see through his blurred reflection in the window that his eyes were closed behind a pair of glasses that she did not know he required. His face was relaxed but pained, his mind no doubt recalling the fresh, haunting images that inspired his swan song. She closed her eyes with along with him, feeling and breathing through his every stroke of the keys, her mind traveling across time and space, recalling her own life's tragedies. Her grief was strong but therapeutic, reminding her that pain was a part of living, and her heart rate accelerated as the music rapturously built and soothingly ebbed. A tear that she didn't know that her body had created, fell from one of her closed eyes, and she let out a slow and silent sigh, which was heavy with emotion but light in spirit. The song he unknowing played for her built one last time, an explosion of color and grief at play behind her eyes, before perfectly subsiding, his final dispersing key strokes meeting up flawlessly with her beating heart.
Mary did not know how much time had passed between the end of his song and the time she opened her eyes, her mind unwilling to leave the beautiful space he had created for her. Her lids slowly fluttered open, her lashes coated with unshed tears, and she saw him staring at her through the reflected glass. She met his eyes in the glass and she watched him as he slowly removed his glasses to look at her more thoroughly. Their stare was momentarily broken as he turned in his seat, but they recovered the tragic loss quickly. She must have moved more closely to him while her eyes were closed, because now only a few feet of ground separated them. She was certain that if they both reached out towards one another, their stretched fingertips would have lightly brushed. His clear blue eyes once again transfixed her; his song had already enlivened her spirit, but his gaze set her body aglow.
His eyes slowly traveled across her burning form and Mary let him do so without protest. Part of her conscious mind reminded her of what she was wearing, but her unconscious mind was too busy enjoying the way Matthew Crawley's eyes tenderly stroked the outlines and centers of her body. She stood before him in only a pair of black leggings and an oversized, solid red t-shirt. The leggings clung like a second skin to her lean legs and the shirt hung loose and crooked around her frame, exposing a solid inch of skin above her hips and the entirety of her left shoulder. He waited for her to inhale and exhale twice before removing his eyes from the exposed line of skin above her hips. His eyes then slowly traced the bow of her hips to lines of her stomach and curves of her chest, until his eyes caught sight of her exposed shoulder. His eyes lingered longest on her nakedness there, and Mary had never felt more aware of her own anatomy. His eyes traveled the exposed line of skin between her arm and chest, and she felt the blood rush there, illuminating it for him. He licked his lips quickly and Mary saw him look away from the spot with deliberate effort. When his eyes finally returned to hers, Mary was his for the taking. She felt her mouth open slightly and her mind search for words, unsure of the best way to ask him to take her to bed.
"Did I wake you?" Matthew's low, smooth voice reverberated around the large room.
"No you didn't." Her relaxed voice was surprisingly steady. "I couldn't sleep and was just out fetching a drink."
"I'm glad. I would hate to think that I was disturbing your sleep."
"No you weren't." Her words hung in the air and they continued to see through each other.
She continued addressing him, "You play beautifully."
"Thank you…I frequently can't sleep and I find playing to be…" Matthew's eyes traveled to her shoulder again, "…soothing."
"It was very soothing."
He stood then. Gradually easing his body off of the piano bench. She was pleased to see him dressed in something so relaxed and normal; he looked years younger. She could see the hard planes of his chest under the thin cotton of his shirt and the sharp edges of his hips protruded slightly above waist of his low fitting pajama pants. Mary noticed that he was several inches taller than her without her heals on, and she had to look up into his face to maintain the lifeline that bound them together. His eyelids were heavy, and his lips were moist and parted. Her chest was tight, her stomach empty, and her legs heavy, as Matthew took one slightly hesitant step towards her. She remained locked in his eyes as he moved and she felt her mind battling with itself between fighting his advances or surrendering to the blissful oblivion that he was about to bestow on her. He took another step towards her, and as his eyes drifted to her trembling lips, Mary's better judgment caught up with her. She looked away suddenly and the spell that they had manifested so easily together was broken.
"I'm sorry." Mary had apologized reflexively but she realized that in doing so, she had given voice to their shared and intense attraction.
Matthew paused in his tracks and Mary could feel his slow, exhaling breath warm her face. He stepped back from her, and Mary raised her head in time to watch his fall. He took another step back, and she could have wept at his distance. They both shuffled their feet uncomfortably, unsure of what to say to the other, each knowing what would have happened if Mary would not have looked away.
Eventually, the sound of Matthew's humorless laugh rang through the air, "I'm sorry about tonight's dinner. I'm sure it couldn't have been a pleasant experience for you."
Mary knew that he was trying to use humor as a mask for his shame and disappointment, but she decided to play along with him, thankful that he had graciously changed the subject.
Her small laugh matched his, "I've had worse." They both knew that it was a lie, but Matthew seemed to accept it.
"Unfortunately, tonight's events are pretty common." His light tone slipped on his last word, making his statement sound more like a sad confession.
Mary wasn't sure how to respond and the room filled with uncomfortable silence once more.
Thankfully, Matthew changed the subject again a moment later, "I'm sorry you can't sleep. Are you comfortable enough?"
"Oh yes everything is wonderful. My restlessness has nothing to do with the accommodations." She thought she saw understanding behind the brilliant blue of his eyes.
"Could I offer you a drink?" Matthew indicated the bar in the opposite corner. "Just something to take the edge off."
Mary gave him a small smile, "No thank you. Perhaps another time."
Matthew looked slightly dejected but forced a warm smile to his lips, "Another time it is then."
The silence that followed was deafening, and both of them looked down at their bare feet in order to have something to do.
She heard Matthew's deep intake of oxygen, but Mary spoke before the unknown words were able to leave his lips, "I think I should give sleep another try." His brow crinkled in disappointment and Mary took in a tight, shaking breath, but was able to push on with forced cheerfulness in her voice, "Good-night then."
She saw the look of surprise and poorly hidden sadness cross his face, before he replaced them with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Good-night, Mary."
She hesitated slightly at the sound of her name on his lips, fascinated that the two simple syllables could sound so beautiful when they were formed on his tongue and fell from his lips. She looked deeply into his eyes once more, and she tried to untangle the clouded mystery that surrounded the gorgeous man. Reluctantly, she tore herself away from him and began walking away, her body directed toward the guest bedroom but her mind remaining under the glow of his bright, burning eyes. The eyes that were perfect windows into his sadness and misery; eyes, the color of a clear summer sky and Caribbean water; eyes, that had undressed her emotionally, layer by layer, time and time again; eyes, that he had given to his only daughter.
Mary suddenly paused at the cusp of the darkened hallway, the memory of Quinn's beautiful and joyless eyes flashing across her mind. She slowly turned back to him and was unsurprised to find that he was already looking at her.
She repeated the same five words that she had said to him three nights ago as she had exited Quinn's room and discovered him sitting on the hard floor just outside his child's room. His red-rimmed eyes and tear-tracked cheeks matched Mary's. Her voice had trembled and broke when she said them the first time, but this time her voice remained soft and clear.
"She needs her father, Matthew."
He met her gaze for a moment before slowly looking away, unable to maintain the contact. Mary felt the familiar disappointment she harbored for him rise in her chest and then settle bitterly in her stomach. The weightlessness he had inspired in her minutes before was replaced with frustration, and she despised him for having the ability to light her on fire and then subdue her completely. She looked at him for only a moment longer, internally screaming for him to look at her once more, before she departed. Matthew did not hear her silent wish, and eventually Mary tore herself away from him, sure that the pain of leaving him behind would cause visible marks on her skin.
She retreated down the darkened corridor, passing the room where the girl was hopefully sleeping peacefully and the room that her father would craw into later, seeking a peace that he would not find. As she turned the corner, her own bedroom door in sight, she heard Matthew speak to the night and the ice that he had built around her heart moment's ago cracked slighty and Mary sighed sweetly at sound of his answering I know following her down the hall.