Hello everyone. I would suggest that you use the restroom or get a drink before you start this chapter because it's quite lengthy. I didn't set out for it to be so long, in fact I battled against writer's block for several weeks, but it ended up being just over 13,000 words. Once the word's came, they wouldn't stop. I was also fortunate enough to have one of my lovely readers volunteer to do a beta-read for me, so this chapter will be much cleaner (spelling and grammar) than the previous ones. A million thanks goes out to her. And a million more thank yous for all of you that have read, followed, and reviewed.
I ripped this chapter from my soul…I hope you enjoy it.
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Mary Crawley was currently standing waste-deep in hot water.
Literally…
…and perhaps 'warm' would be a more accurate description of the pleasantly tepid water. The aqua blue liquid, turned dark by the pimpled but still-smooth surface beneath her bare feet, was the exact temperature to be qualified as perfect to her nearly naked body. One degree less would be too cold, one degree more would be too hot. But no chills broke down her spine and ran across her arms, and no beads of sweet formed on her brow.
The bright July sunlight shone hotly through the glass windows of The Pearl's fortieth floor, cooking the cool air, making the large, chlorine scented room artificially humid. Mary could see the ever-present city skyline stretched out far to the west and knew that the city below was abuzz with excited holiday traffic, though no evidence of its sounds permeated the thick glass. The only disturbances in the peaceful silence were the noises of her own making— her steady breathing and the occasional soft rippling of water, as her body broke through its mirrored surface. Her surroundings were composed of elegantly carved and polished stone, the colors of gold, ivory, sapphire, and quartzes. Potted tropical greenery and Grecian styled chaise lounges were scattered randomly throughout the room and purposely tucked into corners. The obligatory printed swimming rules, bright red against pure white, and a solitary orange life preserver, were the only eyesores breaking up the lavishness of her environment.
Mary was standing in the shallow section of one of The Pearl's large indoor swimming pools, in the exact same spot that she had stood in periodically for seven of the last nine days. Her arms were stretched out in front of her, palms open and fingers flexed and beckoning to the small child who stood, slightly raised, three feet in front of her.
"Come on darling. You know I'll catch you."
Quinn was currently standing at the pool's edge, all ten of her small toes curled over the pool's stone rim. Her stress at her current situation was clearly expressed over her delicate and round features. Mary clearly saw Quinn's internal battle between fear, desire, contemplation, doubt, and hope, as her blond eyebrows crinkled and rose in accordance with her elevated anxiety.
"Come on darling…" Mary pleaded with her again, urging her with ringing hands in the humid, empty air.
For a moment it looked is if Mary had convinced her, and the child gathered herself, bending low and moving her weight to her legs, readying herself to jump the enormous distance of three feet into the forgiving and warm water. Mary shifted her stance and loosened her tense arms, wanting to ensure Quinn's soft landing against her. Then, just as Mary's eyes widened in the anticipation of her jump, the child changed her mind, standing abruptly and taking a single step back from the edge.
Mary struggled to hold in her sigh of frustration and took a second to look down at her bare torso suspended in the blue water, noticing how the smooth water easily broke around her frame. She saw her naked stomach rise and fall along with her breath, and took another moment to gather herself before she met the girl's eye.
"Okay…Okay…" Mary said slowly to the child, who was currently tracing small circles into the polished floor with her right foot, "What are you so scared of darling?"
The endearment became Mary's name for Quinn several weeks ago, and it had come just as naturally as it had when Mary started calling Sybil the same name when she was just a child herself.
The stress in Quinn's eyes made its way to her vocal cords, making her already high-pitched voice more strained, "I'm afraid you won't catch me."
"But didn't I catch you yesterday?"
"Yes," she continued to trace patterns with her toes.
"And didn't I catch you the day before?"
"Yes,"
"And haven't I caught you every time you've jumped?"
The girl finally looked into her eyes and Mary knew that she had convinced her, "Yes."
Mary smiled sweetly at her, and a responding smile almost caught the corner of the girl's small curving lips…almost. What Mary would give to see her smile…
"Okay…" Mary continued through her smile, "Let's go on the count of the five." She raised her arms again, showing a clear target to the girl as the child hesitantly stepped to the edge of the pool's smooth surface once more.
Quinn let out a slow heavy sigh that would have made Mary laugh, if she didn't know how truly worried the girl was.
These trips to the pool had first started as ways to get her out of the penthouse nearly a month ago, once Mary had decided, during one of her many sleepless nights, that she needed to break Quinn of her fear of leaving the glass walls of her home. They first traveled within the building itself, exploring the vastness of The Pearl together. They rode the high-speed elevators with William and dodged disapproving looks from Thomas as they wandered into empty ballrooms and forgotten corridors. Mary carried Quinn almost the entire time those first few days and her arms grew weak with strain. Through sheer power of will and her overpowering desire to break through the child's fear, Mary pushed on without complaint.
Then, three weeks ago, Mary carried Quinn out of The Pearl's front doors, and into the streets of downtown Chicago. Passers-by on the street probably assumed that she was kidnapping the girl the way Quinn fought against her, kicking and screaming through a torrential downpour of tears. For a solid hour Mary held her tight to her chest and whispered assurances in her ear, all while fighting against her own burning tears as they sat on a city bench just outside The Pearl's main entrance.
"One…"
Looking back now, Mary felt immensely relieved that the aggressive form of therapy hadn't backfired completely. After Quinn's initial hysterics had subsided, having to fight off two different rounds of wet hiccups, and after she had sat and watched the many different types of people pass by her, all from within the safe cage of Mary's long arms, Quinn eventually walked back inside the doors of The Pearl under her own power, though her grip on Mary's hand remained vice-like. The next day was much the same, though this time her tantrum didn't last nearly as long, nor was it as extreme. The day that followed that, Quinn had seemed to accept her fate and although her grip around Mary's body remained tight and strained, as if she were trying to fuse to Mary's torso, not a single tear was shed. Since then, most days Mary and Quinn went somewhere together within the city, though never too far out of the shadow of The Pearl. Mostly, they ventured to the park, a second-hand bookstore they had discovered by accident, or a coffee shop where Mary would procure her second caffeine fix for the day. Quinn would sip on a chocolate milk or apple juice, before eventually finding an untainted page within the public coloring books and set about filling its blank spaces with the colors from broken crayons and dull pencils.
"Two…"
About a week and a half ago, it had rained, and their outing for the day was restricted to the interior of The Pearl once more. After an hour of wandering hand-in-hand, they had found themselves at the private pool again. This pool was meant only for residents of The Pearl's five penthouses, and though it was slightly smaller than the pool used by other residents and hotel guests, its seclusion made it more private and, thus, more ideal for their purpose. Mary saw Quinn eyeing the pool curiously and decided the next day to take the risk on another form of therapy. Their outings to the pool became trust exercises in which Quinn would willingly jump into Mary's arms, knowing that she would catch her. The first four days Quinn never made it into the water, but on the fifth day, she finally jumped. Her eyes had been closed and she only jumped with half of her heart, leaving her flight through the air short, requiring Mary to dive forward, in order to ensure that she would catch the frightened girl. Mary's excitement with their success, as she joyously twirled her around in the warm water, did not match up with the look of horror on Quinn's face, who looked like she was still in shock at the terrifying act she had just accomplished. The next day did not see the same success, but the two days that followed had. Yesterday, Mary had probably caught her twenty times, and her arms were ragged with stiffness and sore muscles, but she continued to push on, determined not to lose the girl's hard-earned trust.
Though, looking at Quinn now, as the child stood before her trembling slightly with fear, Mary knew that this initial jump into the water was still terrifying to her.
"Three…"
Though even if Mary did fail to catch her there was no way that Quinn's strawberry colored head would even fall below the surface, let alone would she sink to the bottom—the girl was the very definition of buoyant. The child stood before her wearing a pair of yellow water wings around her soft ivory arms and a small pink polka-dotted inner tube around her midsection. Even if lead weights were tied to her feet, Mary doubted very much that she would go under. Beneath her flotation devices, Quinn wore a swimsuit that Mary was particularly fond of. Mary continuously dressed Quinn in what the child referred to as the "ducky" swimsuit— the whole suit was stark white and the front bore a pair of cartoon blue eyes and an orange duck bill, the sides of the suit had two small white wings, and Quinn's tiny bottom was adorned with a protruding duck tail, that waddled from side to side as she walked.
The particular pair of yellow tinted goggles that Quinn currently wore, the tightness of the elastic mushrooming her wispy locks of hair and the yellow hue turning her eyes an unfamiliar shade of green, were chosen specifically by Mary after their first day at the pool.
That initial day at the pool Quinn had worn clear frames over her frightened eyes, causing Mary to panic nearly as much as the child had.
Quinn's bright blue eyes, in these stressful situations, were too much like his...
"Four…"
Quinn shifted her feet, readying herself for her leap into the great unknown, and she cast Mary the same look that she had given her on that first day at the pool and every day that followed it. Mary saw now, just as she had seen then, the trepidation in the child's eyes but also Quinn's desire to please her and be with her.
He often gazed at her with the same longings…
Mary readied her own stance in the pool, and said a silent prayer of thanks for the distorting lens that changed her father's brilliant blue eyes to a dull green.
Mary had insisted upon the goggles, after seeing Quinn look at her the same way Matthew often did.
This look of fear and longing and uncertainty and faith, crashing and melting into something that had not been named, something that undid her over and over again, something that left her burning for hours, something, that if it could be bottled, Mary would hoard and keep all to herself—she would line her walls and floors with the feeling of his eyes on her.
Mary carried the memory of Matthew with her always. Sometimes he was the pleasant tingle in her fingertips. Other times he was the pressure on her forth rib, or at the base of her spine. She often sensed him ghost across the back of her neck in the dead of night, and once she felt his presence warm the patch of skin between her breasts. She felt the full weight of him on her shoulders almost daily, and his lingering grip on her wrists chained him permanently to her. She was made heavy by his constant memory, but completely unwilling to remove his impression.
Mary had to physically fight off the glowing sensation of him and focus again on his daughter, who stood trembling with fear in front of her—his daughter, whom Mary loved effortlessly.
"Five."
For half a second it looked like Quinn was not going to jump, and Mary's heart fell again with disappointment. Then, in a single, shaking movement, the child squatted low, building her strength in her legs as if she were attempting to jump to the moon and not the span of three feet. Quinn held the position for a moment, her legs tight and her tiny fists clenched, and looked intently at the target of Mary's arms. Mary waited with baited breath, feeling her brow crinkle and her mouth fall open.
Then Quinn jumped and Mary watched, as if in slow motion, the girl's short flight through the air. When she caught her, half in the water and half out, Mary already had a smile on her face and a laugh in her chest. She spun Quinn around in the water as she usually did, craning her neck in the hopes of seeing the same smile on the girl's face. However, just as the many times before, no smirk broke across the child's face though Mary could tell that Quinn was pleased with herself as the child gazed back at her. Quinn looked like she could have smiled, her eyes were wide and clear, and her face serene and lovely, but no joy permeated her ever-present emotional walls.
Perhaps she had forgotten how…
For the next hour Quinn jumped into Mary's arms another two dozen times and they swam together in the large, empty pool. "Swimming" of course meaning that Quinn would float, like a small cork not really going anywhere, or Mary would either float on her back with Quinn lying flush against her chest or she would walk in the deeper end with the girl placed securely on her back, Quinn's small arms like soft ropes wrapped tightly around her neck. One day Mary hoped to actually teach the girl how to swim but, unfortunately, that wouldn't be for a while.
Once Mary announced to Quinn that it was time to get out, dry off and go upstairs, Quinn was reluctant to leave the warm water.
"I don't want to leave yet."
"But it's almost time for dinner." Mary took a moment, steadying her breath before mentioning him. "Your father will be expecting us."
However, the sound of Matthew's name had no affect on Quinn whatsoever; in fact, it made her seem even more determined not to leave the pool.
Quinn, who was currently bobbing up and down in the water a few feet in front of Mary, made to move deeper into the pool, but her attempt was laughably unsuccessful. She didn't know how to move through the water and she looked exactly like what Mary imagined a new fawn would look like if it were to suddenly find itself in deep water. Quinn was all arms and legs; her limbs were splashing, flailing and fighting for purchase in the water. Her neck was tense and strained, trying to keep her face out of the waves her attempts were creating. However, despite a valiant effort and massive amounts of will, no movement was achieved.
Mary suppressed a grin with forced effort and watched as Quinn slowly gave up on her attempts. She eventually stilled and raised her artificially green eyes to Mary.
The child spoke seriously and quietly, "Do we have to?"
Mary smiled and walked towards her through the water. She scooped her up, pleased that Quinn didn't fight back, and headed for the stone steps, which stretched into the deep blue water.
"Of course we do darling." They exited the pool, water running off of their lower halves in copious amounts and pooling about her feet. Mary placed a quick kiss on the side of Quinn's head before placing her steadily on the cold stone floor. She continued with a smile, "Besides, it's the Fourth of July. Don't you want to watch the fireworks?"
Quinn reached up and took hold of Mary's hand as they walked to where their things were placed on a nearby lounge chair. "No. They're too loud and I don't like how they shake the building."
Mary brushed off the girl's comment with a shrug of her shoulders, deciding to battle Quinn's fear when the actual moment came about.
Mary helped Quinn towel off, putting special effort into trying not to look too deeply into the girl's eyes as she removed her yellow goggles. She then helped Quinn dress, simply placing her dry clothes over her wet suit, knowing that she would have to bathe her as soon as they got upstairs anyway. Mary then briefly attempted to draw the chlorinated water out of her own hair with her towel before giving up and dressing hastily. She threw her navy tank top over the top of her wine-red swimsuit, and shimmied into her shorts before sliding into her flip flops and shoving their things, damp towels and Quinn's floatation devices, into a large beach bag.
A minute later, they were standing silently in the private penthouse elevator and Quinn was still holding tightly to her hand. The girl had taken to grasping her hand nearly every moment they were outside of the penthouse, and a thrill of pride and relief always rapturously spread throughout Mary's chest every time she felt the girl's fingers, soft but greedy, ask for purchase in the palm of her hand. The girl's hand was delicate and white, as any child's would be, but her grip was surprisingly strong and steady… just as his hand been the other night.
Mary closed her eyes tightly and tried with all of her might not to think of him. Unfortunately, despite her best attempts, her mind couldn't stop itself from traveling down the dark, twisted path and into his presence. She knew that the ride up to the penthouse wouldn't take much time and, after a moment's struggle, Mary surrendered herself to his memory. She knew that she mustn't lose control, not like she had the night before last, but she would allow herself to walk the fine edge between madness and ecstasy; so, Mary spent the short ride with Matthew.
She sighed with relief as her mind traveled back in time to several of their meetings. She spent two seconds remembering how he had loosened his tie and removed his jacket last week; his movements had been slightly violent but still hauntingly erotic. She spent another three seconds remembering how he had poured her a cup coffee one early morning last month; his eyes had been locked steadily on hers the entire time and he still did not spill a drop of the rich, black liquid. She spent a single second remembering how his body looked in his pajamas, long and lean, and how warm he always felt when she was beside him. She spent two more seconds remembering his laugh; it was deep and true, and his cheeks would bunch and his eyes would spark brightly, dazzling her into breathlessness and serenity. She spent three seconds remembering the sunset they had shared; as if God had designed it specifically for them. He had been more than handsome that evening, toeing the line between carnal and spiritual, sexual and sensual. She had memorized the paths his fingers had made in his hair and had mimicked the motions of his pink tongue, wet and cool, as they repeatedly moistened his red lips.
Mary then spent the remaining seconds remembering his touch.
The memory of his skin on hers was almost too much, and she felt her body sway through her closed eyes. Mary slowly opened her eyes and was surprised to see her opposite arm, the one that wasn't still securely in Quinn's grasp, raised to her face, almost as if it had heard her mind beckoning to it through the clear memory.
This was the arm that he had branded as his own…
Mary gazed at the inside of her wrist and she could almost still see the outline of his fingers. It had been four days and four nights since he had reached out in the dark, only intending to stop her progress away from him, not knowing that he would alter her so chemically and so fundamentally. Mary could still feel him there. She could still feel Matthew on those three inches of her skin, like a new tattoo or velvet shackles. Her eyes bore deeply into the small patch of flesh at her wrist and she was amazed to see no physical evidence of him having been there. She half expected to see his name carved over her veins, the cuts fresh and eternal, or at least see the impressions of his fingerprints, set deeply and permanently, into the white clay of her flesh. She could still feel him there, warm and heavy, so surely, there must be some evidence of him? She could still feel his caress, so where was his mark?
Then, in the frustrating and discouraging way that her painful reality always crept up on her when she was least expecting it, like a swift kick to the gut or a hard slap across the face, the thought of Richard burst through Mary's mind.
She was instantly transported back to the present, to the cold elevator, the muffled sound of heavy cords pulling against greasy wheels gravitating them towards the heavens, and the soft hand of the child next to her. The warm glow of Matthew's memory vacated her as swiftly as though it had never been there and Mary was left feeling empty and gasping for air. Her guilt of dwelling so much on another man tasted bitter in her mouth and felt heavy in her gut, and she felt red shame burn her cheeks. Mary closed her eyes tightly and felt the grimace of pain break across her face as she tried again to hide the fact from herself that she was supposed to be in love with someone else.
Mary felt Quinn's light tugging, soft but insistent, before opening her eyes and realizing that the elevator had stopped and was standing open before her. She exhaled heavily, grateful to have a distraction from her burning shame; she was becoming adept to hiding her guilt and the uncomfortable truth behind it by tucking it away somewhere deep inside of herself. Mary let her saving grace pull her forward and by the time they had entered the penthouse, still bright by the early evening sun, she had all but completely forgotten about her guilt.
The mouth-watering smell of melted sugar and rich chocolate filled the air and Quinn's head whipped around in the direction of the kitchen.
"Oh cake!"
It was a childish thing to say and Mary laughed loudly because it was a refreshing reminder that Quinn was in fact only a child of five. Quinn started mindlessly drifting towards the kitchen, and Mary scoped her up in a tight embrace before the child could get any further away from her.
"How about we take a bath first," she whispered in the child's ear and she almost felt the girl giggle, "then we'll see what Anna and Ms. Hughes are making for dinner?"
Quinn made an audible sigh of displeasure but agreed to be carried to her room, where she was scrubbed clean and dressed in a pink summer dress without any further complaint.
After several moments of squirming and fidgeting, Mary gave up on trying to get Quinn's shoes on her and allowed the child to burst out of the room where she then made a direct line for the kitchen, following the heavy scent of sweet baking chocolate. Mary sighed tiredly but happily and eased herself off of Quinn's bedroom floor, where she then followed the sound of the girl's bare feet slapping loudly off the polished wooden floor.
Even as she walked, half of her mind was still immersed in Matthew, unable to separate his essence from the rest of her. She passed the sunlit porch were she had wanted him so badly that she nearly gave up the fight. She walked around the couch were she had found him sleeping two weeks ago; he had looked so peaceful and so beautiful. She walked directly over the spot where she had felt his warm skin for the first time, burning but divine. She saw the bar where they had sat and talked during their shared sleepless nights; she was always more drunk on him than anything he would pour out for her. She blushed upon passing the velvet-crushed billiard's table, the innocent game having made an appearance in several of her new fantasies. Her fingertips ghosted across the smooth dining room table, the place where she had dined with him and his daughter, and where she felt their shared, but still kept, pain and sadness.
Mary heard his daughter's quite murmurings as she approached the kitchen, and she once again quieted Matthew's enduring presence in her mind. Upon entering the bright kitchen, Mary's eyes first landed on the small feast that was laid out on the island. Her eyes traveled across golden corn still on the cob, a lush caprese salad, spicy smelling salsa, smooth guacamole sprinkled with diced pineapple, a fluffy cream colored mousse, raw shrimp placed around red cocktail sauce, a slightly bitter smelling broccoli slaw, and an enormous platter of freshly cut summer fruit: berries, all shades of red and blue, bright green and thinly sliced kiwi, deep pink seedless watermelon, and rich orange mango.
Mary's eyes then landed on the small child standing directly in front of the large oven door, her eyes glued to the oven's insides, which was softly aglow by a single yellow bulb. Anna stood behind Quinn and Mary imagined that she often looked upon the child in the same adoring fashion. Ms. Hughes was standing in front of the open fridge pulling out several cuts of meat, and placing them on an empty wooden cutting board.
Anna saw Mary enter the room out of the corner of her eye and the two women smiled at one another kindly before the former returned to adoring Quinn.
It was Ms. Hughes who spoke first and she addressed the small child sweetly but with a tone that implied that she was slightly overwhelmed.
"Miss Crawley, why don't you move away from there and have a seat?"
Quinn acted as if she hadn't even heard the older woman and continued to stare into the depths of the oven. Mary could almost hear the girl's mouth watering.
Just then Anna moved up behind Quinn and, though she spoke quietly, Mary heard her whispered request, "Why don't you go and have a seat at the island, Quinn, and I'll give you a spoon to lick while you wait for dinner to be ready."
Mary had never seen the girl move so quickly. Less than a second later, the child had pulled herself up onto one of the high top chairs, and though she was trying to patiently wait for her treat, she bounced slightly in her seat.
Anna moved beside Elsie and reached inside the fridge to retrieve a mixing spoon that was covered in a soft, dark, and sticky substance. The sides of Quinn's mouth twisted up slightly and Mary's breath caught in her chest. She stepped forward instantly, determined to bear witness to the girl's first smile in months. Anna offered Quinn the spoon, and the girl grasped the utensil greedily in both of her soft pink hands. However, just like before, though the girl looked like she could have smiled, the small muscles involved in the illusive action would not pull and flex as they were intended, and Mary was left feeling disappointed once more.
Mary sighed and moved deeper into the kitchen, determined not to let her disappointment damper another successful day with Quinn.
Elsie saw her entrance and welcomed her warmly, "Hello Mary, dear. Did you two have a good day at the pool today?"
Everyone knew of their day trips and Anna and Ms. Hughes often enquired into their progression, eager to hear of successes and willing to patiently listen to failures.
Mary returned her warm smile, "We did, thank you." She felt Quinn's eyes on her and Mary spoke more loudly, wanting to ensure that the girl would hear her next words, "Quinn is doing great. I'm really proud of her… I think soon she'll be swimming all by herself."
The two other women knew that the last sentence was for the child's benefit but they both smiled widely and heaped more praise upon Quinn.
"Well done you." Anna said to Quinn while lightly patting her shoulder. Mary was glad to see that the child did not try to duck the friendly touch.
"That's great Quinn." Elsie said enthusiastically and Mary saw Quinn's light blush behind her half cleaned spoon.
"You're being so brave." Anna added again.
"Even I can't swim." Elsie added with a laugh.
Mary knew that it was slightly overkill, but large amounts of praise and healthy affection were exactly what the girl needed most. She caught Quinn's attention and smiled fondly at the girl and Mary's heart skipped a beat at the bright sparkle in her clear blue eyes.
The room was filled with a warm glow and the women subsided into a pleasant silence once more. Anna started in on the dishes, Elsie started adding different seasonings to the cuts of meat, and Quinn continued to meticulously clean her spoon while Mary watched her lovingly from a short distance. The child really had come far in the past eight weeks, but Mary still cringed at the thought of her going to school at the end of next month. Would she have enough time to ready her for the drastic change? The first day of school is an exciting and terrifying experience for any child, let alone one that had just started leaving her home for the first time. She pushed the unpleasant thoughts aside once more, deciding not to worry about them today.
Mary then suddenly became aware of soon-setting sun and asked both women, "What time is dinner planned for?"
It was Anna who responded, nearly up to her elbows in lemon smelling suds, "Well Mr. Crawley just got home a few minutes before you two did."
Mary stopped breathing momentarily, and she felt a little dizzy before her body remembered the natural rhythm of drawing in new air and pressing out the used. She had hardly seen Matthew at all since they fought four nights ago, and though part of her always longed to have him trapped in her eyes, a slightly larger part was glad of his absence. She was still so confused on the matter and she needed separation from him so that she could think clearly, though no clarity had been achieved. She was still maddened by his actions concerning Quinn, still shamed by her own explosions of anger, still desperately curious (and slightly afraid) to understand the mystery of his late wife's death, and still embarrassed by her spoken confession to him.
Thoughts of you already keep me up at night, Matthew.
Mary internally cringed at the memory. Her declaration had been entirely true but she had never meant for him to know that. She blames her anger and the heat of his eyes…nothing good would come from the combination of the two. She now realized that her avoidance of him would have to end tonight, and Mary felt a thrill of fear and savage pleasure at the thought.
Mary suddenly remembered that Anna was speaking to her, "… and he mentioned something about wanting to take a shower before he started up the grill, buuuuttt, "Anna held out the word dramatically, "he then headed straight for his office instead, saying he had to call someone about something."
Mary could almost hear Anna roll her eyes is exasperation and she chuckled silently at her friend's obvious annoyance with their boss.
Anna continued explaining with a shrug, "The Cubs play at nine-thirty and I don't want to miss the first pitch."
"So," Mary was unsure if Anna had ever actually answered her question and her eye caught Elsie's, "how long do I have to get ready?"
Anna turned at gave her a 'I just told you what time' look that Mary was able to brush off by giving her a goofy smile that made Anna's annoyance turn into lighthearted laughter.
Elsie answered Mary with her eyes still on the enormous steaks and chicken kabobs in front of her, "I would say it will still be about another thirty minutes before Mr. Crawley is ready to start grilling and, given the size of these steaks that William brought up from Beryl Patmore downstairs, I'd say another thirty minutes after that before we're ready to eat."
"Ok, well, I'll only need about the first thirty. Do you think you could watch Quinn for me while I get ready?"
"Of course dear, take your time."
Mary walked up behind Quinn and wrapped her in a tight embrace. She kissed her quickly three times on her cheek before whispering in her ear, "Be good for Anna and Ms. Hughes. I'll be gone just for a little bit."
She felt the girl nod before she turned and walked away and Mary held her breath until she was out of the kitchen, anxious to see whether or not the girl would demand to follow after her as she had done on several occasions, not wanting to be left alone with anyone else. Mary exhaled gratefully when she didn't hear her small pursuing steps follow her down the hall. Somewhere in the back of her mind Mary registered that Quinn was becoming more comfortable being in the presence of others and she smiled at the thought. Progress. She was seeing progress…slowly but surely.
…Now, if she could just see the same progress in her father.
She watched rays of sunlight and dark shadows dance under his office door and Mary couldn't help herself as she reached out and slowly ran her fingertips across the surface of the wooden door that kept him from her. She passed by silently, wanting to know every thought that crossed his mind that day and wanting to hear every word that fell from his lips; he could think them again and say them again, and she wouldn't mind, she would only listen silently. Hot blood rushed to her face and she sighed heavily as she remembered two nights ago and how thoughts of him had pushed her effortlessly over the edge and into ecstasy.
She tried to stomp out the memory and as Mary reached her bedroom door, she paused outside of it to rest her hand on the curved handle in the attempt to steady her trembling legs. Her body remembered what her mind had unknowingly created and then tried to forget; Matthew forming her…Matthew consuming her…Matthew building her…Matthew destroying her…Matthew writing her…Matthew erasing her…
Matthew…
She heard his door open behind her and saw the brightness of his office flood the darkened hall, and Mary wondered if she had been chanting his name aloud. She turned to face him, unable to deny herself the delicious temptation of being ensnared by his gaze. She sought the pureness of his stare greedily and was rewarded when he immediately locked eyes with her. His surprise at seeing her was clear across his boyish features, and her earlier question was answered. Before she could truly be thankful that her screaming thoughts had not left her mouth, she started silently chanting his name once more. She measured her breaths to match up with his and discovered that the rate of his inspirations were increasing the longer they gazed at one another.
Eventually he thawed out under the heat of her gaze and she saw him glance at the space between them momentarily before returning his eyes to hers and smiling shyly. She adored his crooked smile and felt her own wide grin break across her face without conscious effort.
He moved closer to her in a friendly manner and Mary was just on the edge of asking him how his day had been when she felt it happen.
The strap of her swimsuit came lose against her shoulder and, a moment later, Mary felt it move away from her body and silently fall down her arm, ghosting as lightly as a feature's touch across her exposed flesh. Her eyes where wrapped in his when it happened and she saw the exact moment that his attention was dragged away from her, as if there were a magnet linking his bright eyes to the wine colored slip of wet fabric. He had watched the strap fall down her arm as if in slow motion, and she saw him morph and change before her. His eyes lingered on the fallen tie and he looked at it accusingly and sensually, as if its assent down bare her arm had been the most erotic thing he had ever seen. He was so close to her that she felt the moment that his body caught fire by his desire, igniting something in him that had been dormant for too long.
His eyes slowly raked across her body, wrapping her arm, caressing her shoulder, loving her neck, outlining her jaw, and kissing her face before settling on her eyes again. His eyes were clear and bright, but ablaze with a fire that mimicked the hot glow of Mary's own dark eyes. Did he lick his lips unconsciously, or was he trying to taste her skin? She found that she could easily sympathize with the man because she understood, all to well, his burning and his yearning. They were entranced, dazed, and inebriated by the very existence of the other, and their bodies moved towards one another without conscious effort.
Her mouth moved over his name, though the sound of it did not leave her lips and Mary willed him to do the thing that they both desired. He moved closer and lifted his left arm towards her, his fingers were curled slightly with relaxation but still reaching out towards the thin strap of wine red fabric that had enchanted him so easily. His hand was inches away from her, traveling easily through the empty air, and Mary held her breath in the anticipation of his touch, knowing the destruction it would cause but clarity it would bring in its wake. She wouldn't stop him this time, and they would meet and fall, wrapped and tangled together.
She felt the heat of his fingers directly over the strip of fabric and but still his eyes remained fixed upon hers. He was asking for permission and she was begging for him to continue.
"Mary…" His declaration dripped with desire and she felt the sound of her name boil her blood.
The sounds of a beeping oven, a scrapping chair, and two women talking animatedly to a solitary child, broke through their shared reverie and the world that only they two had inhabited disappeared as though it had never been there; popped as cleanly as if it were a delicate bubble. Mary blushed ashamedly, choked on her tongue, and broke what remained of their trance. Matthew sighed with pain and drew back his arm slowly, bringing his now clenched fist down to rest heavily at his side.
Her shame burned through her delicate flesh and Mary did not look at him again as she turned and entered the guest bedroom, too disgraced by the fact that, only seconds ago, she would have gladly become unfaithful. She closed the door loudly, hoping that the slamming echo would drown out her gasps of pain. She leaned against the cool wooden door heavily, doubled over by her guilt and humiliation and still burning lust.
The door was not enough to shut out the temptation of him and Mary sprinted into her large bathroom, discarding her damp garments as she went.
The first few minutes of her shower could not be cold enough and she shivered violently behind the glass walls. Every inch of her white skin pimpled under the assault of cold water and her delicate hairs stood on their ends, but still her flesh remained white-hot. She burned and shook in equal measure and Mary knew that a most of the tremors that rocked her body were due not to the freezing water, but rather to his icy stare. She grunted loudly and pounded her hands against the dark tile, willing herself to shake him. She was sure that she must looked crazed as her body shook and her limbs tensed, fighting against her desires and her memories. Mary saw white behind her eyes and rung her neck from side to side, sure that by using massive amounts of will, she could forget how he set her ablaze.
Mary's internal rage soon turned into sobs of frustration and she adjusted the temperature of the water before succumbing to her anguish and crumpling into a lose ball on the shower floor. She let the warm water hit her upturned face as she gave up the fight against him, and the broken woman lost track of which hot drops were born in the depths of her eyes.
Unfortunately the first memory of Matthew that returned to her was the one recollection that she was most ashamed of. Mary was infuriated and shamed with herself for taking it so far and she let out another sob of frustration as the images flooded her mind and leveled her heart.
…It was a new memory…One that she had created unknowingly two nights ago, while wrapped in Richard's arms…Her heart had willed the idea to be true, so her mind manufactured the scene perfectly…
She had been in bed with Richard and, for the first time in their relationship, he could not bring her to ecstasy. They were both becoming frustrated and Mary felt a growing tension inside of her that had nothing to do with building sexual pleasure. She had tightened and squirmed below and above him, trying to force or will her climax to come to fruition, though the elusive satisfaction remained out of reach. At one point they had paused and while Richard questioned what was the matter, Mary was reminded that true sexual pleasure was born not only from physical stimulation but from mental inspiration as well. She closed her eyes tightly and thought of the man before her and as they started again, Mary searched her soul for the love that she had once easily harbored for him. Richard remained hovering above her, meeting and scaling every inch of her body, but he slowly fell through the cracks in her mind. Her thoughts of him dwindled as they continued to move, and before Mary was able to consciously realize the change that had taken place, her mind was submerged in the thoughts of another.
Her fantasies took over and her desire for release blossomed anew within her depths. Her pace quickened, her memories of him edging her forward, acting as a guide, and once she was able to recall the exact color of his burning blue eyes, she felt the shift take place. Her eyes remained closed and the faster she moved the deeper he burned her, and she imaged that it was he whom hovered above her and moved within her. It was like being reborn; being made and unmade in the same sexual sensation. She felt the cusp of her ecstasy a moment before it consumed her and as she opened her eyes, wanting to show the beautiful man exactly what he had done to her, it was Matthew's face that she saw in the darkness. The desires of her soul had easily deceived her eyes and she saw his face clearly; his eyes were bright, his skin was moist, and his mouth was slightly ajar, as if he had just finished saying her name. The pleasure that rocked through her was of Matthew's making and her heart sang out his name as she subsided into the afterglow of his touch.
Mary washed, dressed, and fixed her hair in a daze, still drunk on her shameful memories. She had been unable to sleep next to Richard that night and, after removing herself from his heavy, sleeping limbs, Mary spent a lonely and restless night on the couch. Her tears of frustration had been silent and she repeatedly questioned her character, her morals, and her values, but mostly, she questioned her future. It had been so clear months before, but now everything was clouded and confused.
She stood motionless in front of the vanity, staring deeply into the reflective glass. Makeup had hidden her red-rimmed eyes and irritated nose and her softly fashioned braid, hung lose and dark over her cream shoulder. Her fingers played with the edges of her white cotton sundress and she suddenly remembered that Richard loved this dress. She dropped the fringe as if it had burned her, and braced herself for another sweeping pang of guilt. She hated that she would have to face him tomorrow. Would he see that she was slowly falling out of love with him? Did he know of her delusions concerning her employer? Would he be able to tell that she had thought of Matthew while trembling in his embrace?
Truly, Rick was not to blame in this mess. Mary knew that Sybil and Edith would accuse him for anything that went wrong in their relationship, but, this time, Mary was the only one at fault. Richard might have flaws but he was always faithful and she knew that he loved her deeply. He was a constant; she was the one who was faltering.
Or perhaps, all Mary really needed was to distance herself from the thing, or rather the man, that was making her bend nearly to her breaking point.
She looked at herself in the mirror again, "Just get through until September, Mary."
Perhaps if she could make it through until September, when Quinn would start school and Mary would start her final year of studies, the lustful fantasies she harbored for her employer would subside. If Mary were completely honest with herself, most of her Matthew-centered desires were less than virtuous. She fantasized about him sexually but she hardly really knew him (their argument the other night had proven that). While he was always welcoming and flirtatious with her, his secrecy defined him best; he kept himself tucked away and hidden not only from his child, but from everyone around him. Mary would see much less of him come September and perhaps distance was all she needed to refocus her mind and her life.
Mary had firmly convinced herself of that truth as she walked out on to the warm patio. The sudden sounds of city traffic buzzed loudly in her ears and she took a deep breath of the humid air. The breeze smelled of flowers, fresh cut glass, coconut sun oil, ever-present car exhaust, and the distinct aroma of propane and cooking meat.
She felt his eyes on her from a distance and Mary was pleased with herself as she ignored the quiet yearning to turn towards him. She instead walked in the opposite direction towards Quinn who was drawing contently into a worn and yellowing coloring book.
"How are you darling?"
"I'm fine."
"Were you good for Anna and Ms. Hughes?"
"Yes. They let me help ice the cake. I wanted to use chocolate icing but Ms. Hughes said that it would be too much chocolate, so we used vanilla instead." The look of annoyance and indignation on the child's face made Mary laugh, "I didn't say anything, but I don't think she was right… There is no such thing as too much chocolate."
"I agree with you, though I'm glad you didn't disagree with Ms. Hughes."
"Anna let me lick the icing spoon too."
"Did she?" Just then Mary saw Anna walk out of the penthouse onto the patio; the woman's arms where weighed down by trays and dishes. Mary turned back to Quinn, "Are you alright here by yourself? I want to go help Anna with dinner."
"I'm ok."
Mary quickly walked towards the struggling woman and eased her load by taking from her the large plate of fresh cut fruit. Anna directed her towards the outdoor table, which was already covered with other sides and the women added their dishes to the spread.
"Thanks for that. I'm sure Elsie would have royally chewed by ass if I'd dropped anything."
Mary laughed, "Oh, I can't see sweet Ms. Hughes doing anything of the sort."
"Trust me. It would have been like I had spilt liquid gold."
"What about Matthew?" Mary internally chastised herself from bring him up again, but she couldn't let Ann be any wiser to her desires, "…Isn't it his food that would be ruined?"
"No, he'd be all right. He'd just laugh at me and then help me pick it up… He'd then probably take the blame in the attempt to save me from Elsie's wrath. He infuriates me to no end but he's a good guy."
Mary sighed breathlessly and attempted a half-heart laugh that sounded more pained than anything else, "I know."
She saw Anna look at her more deeply and watched as the woman's head tilted to the side questioningly.
Mary acted quickly, wanting to distract her, "Do you need help with anything else?"
However, Anna's questioning stare was not derailed. "No there was only the cake left and Ms. Hughes said she would bring it out in a few minutes." Anna's eyes squinted and her head was still inclined to the side as she stepped forward, trying get a better look at her in order to decipher Mary's loaded words.
Mary realized her attempts at distraction must be more drastic, "I've got a guy I want you to meet."
That did the trick; Anna lost all interest in anything else. Her eyes widened and her head snapped up straight, "Who is it?"
Mary spoke quickly, pleased that the ruse had worked, "He owns my favorite pub. It's a small place just off of campus but he runs a good business. He's a little older than us, but he works hard and is as loyal as they come…He's the type of person that I would considering calling first to bail me out of jail."
Anna laughed at her description of Bates, but Mary could tell that her new friend was interested.
Mary continued on by asking her, "When is your next night off?"
"Not until next Saturday."
"I'm off that night too. You should come by my place first and then we'll go to his pub for a few drinks and I'll introduce you. You'll be able to chat. It gets a little crazy past midnight but it's normally pretty tame until then."
Anna paused, considering for a moment, but soon a wide smile broke over her face, "Okay. Sounds like a plan."
She felt him enter the space behind her and Mary turned as Matthew placed a large plate of steaks and kabobs next to the smaller bowls of salsa and guacamole.
His eyes met hers for a moment before he looked at Anna as he spoke. "The meat is all done, Anna. Could you tell Elsie that we're all ready to eat?"
"Of course Mr. Crawley."
Anna was gone a second later and Mary had nothing to do but to look at him and try to engage him in pleasant conversation.
She placed a wide, innocent smile on her face, silently begging that they could pretended that what had passed between them earlier could be forgotten, "Good evening, Matthew."
His answering smile was shy, "Good evening, Mary."
Mary let out a small sigh of relief, "Have you had a pleasant holiday so far?"
"I have thank you. I had an excellent morning workout and the office was exceptionally quiet this afternoon, I was able to get a lot of things done." He paused momentarily before continuing, "I guess not many people choose to work on a national holiday."
He had said that last sentence with a short laugh, intending to poke fun at himself, but Mary caught the underlying sense of sadness in his tone.
Mary was unsure of what to say and offered him only a small smile in return.
Matthew continued on, "And how has your holiday been so far? I hope you and Quinn had a pleasant day?"
"We did thank you." They were being overly polite to one another, smiling widely and asking artificial questions, neither daring to delve too deep out of a shared fear of igniting what had burned brightly before.
"And what did you two do today?"
"We went for another swim." She saw his eyes darken with his remembrance of her fallen strap, but Mary pushed on, determined not to lose control, "Thanks again, for letting me know about the private pool. It's been wonderful for our purposes to have some privacy."
Matthew was well informed with what Mary was trying to accomplish with Quinn, and he had been more than willing to do anything to help, other than actually being there himself.
He shrugged his shoulders in an off-handed manner and Mary took a moment to appreciate his low-rise faded blue jeans, his well worn tennis shoes, and his thin v-neck t-shirt, precisely the color of his bright eyes, that was agonizingly thin, clearly displaying the lines of his shoulders and the planes of chest. His skin was darker than hers and his hair was slightly more ruffled than normal; it shone like spun gold in the bright light of setting sun. He looked young and carefree and mouthwatering.
His coy smirk was crooked and brilliant, "I'm glad I was able to help."
Just then Elsie and Anna returned and the five of them set about eating their prepared feast. Light chatter flew from the adults but Quinn remained silent. This didn't surprise Mary; the girl normally remained quite while in her father's presence. Mary had sat beside him throughout dinner and had counted the amount of times he had smiled and laughed: Six and three.
Quinn had gone back to her coloring after she had finished her dinner though not before she had whispered in Mary's ear to let her know when they were cutting the cake.
The bright sun finally set, casting the sky in a series of different shades of blue, and Mary wandered over to the western edge of the patio, leaning over the railing, watching the weaving trails of cars and lines of people that were make their way down to the lake in anticipation of the fireworks. She saw blurred outlines of several people pointing up at The Pearl in fascination and Mary waved back at them, feeling like a princess placed high up in a glass tower.
"I told you we'd have a fabulous view."
She started slightly at his approach but relaxed again upon seeing his warm smile as he moved to stand next to her.
"You were absolutely right." She breathed deeply, tasting the air, noticing that it now held the subtleness of his aroma. Mary turned back to the water, "It really is beautiful up here."
Matthew's eyes remained on her and he whispered breathlessly, "I adore everything about it."
She had not missed his words nor their double meaning and she turned back to him slowly. His eyes were bright and vulnerable and they held one another with their eyes for several tender moments. Matthew then looked down at his right hand before tentatively extending it towards her. Mary looked at his palm and was pleasantly pleased to discover the cocktail he offered.
He explained with a sheepish grin, "It's just an after dinner drink."
Mary took the tall highball glass from him, paying extra care not to touch his skin and she realized that he held a drink of his own in his left. Mary held the chilled drink out in front of her and she admired its distinct red, white, and blue layers and the smashed fruit and mint leaves that clung to the bottom.
"Festive." Mary said with a nod.
Matthew laughed again. Four times, Mary thought. "Yeah it's a concoction of my own making: a patriotic mojito…I'm still waiting on the trademark."
Mary smiled and raised her glass to his. "What shall we toast?"
He paused considering, "How about," He mimicked her motions, "…to government holidays and the wonderful excuse to get hammered drunk with friends and family in honor of them."
Mary laughed easily and chimed her glass to his before slowly tasting his chilled creation.
She sighed in contentment and appreciation, "Oh, it's delicious." She took another large gulp before continuing, "And you created this? I'm very impressed."
He shrugged his shoulders bashfully and explained, "I took a bartending glass several years ago for fun. I think it's fun to play with alcohol and I used to mix different things up all the time. Sometimes my attempts were successful but most of the times they were utter failures… and nearly all of the times I ended up smashed." He laughed in spite of himself, slightly embarrassed but Mary hung to his every word. It was wonderful to hear him speak so openly about himself in any way.
Matthew continued, "So that's why I'm always trying to get you to have a drink with me; I just want to show off." He smiled at her shyly and Mary felt her heart glow brightly with giddy happiness at their light flirtation.
Her voice was slightly higher with excitement though she tried to remain calm, "I see… and all this time I thought you were only trying to get me drunk."
"Well," He paused and looked up at her with a devilish smile, "there was a bit of that involved."
His sudden switch from boyhood shyness to brazen confidence left Mary breathless and spinning, and she took another large gulp of her drink as her complexion turned scarlet.
He laughed and continued, and his deep, rich voice did nothing to help her forget her attraction to him, "But, I can't take all of the credit; I modeled this," he indicated his own drink, "off of a shot that I learned several years ago."
Mary turned back to him with sudden recognition. "Oh I know what shot you mean. I had some of those last year at a pub. Blue curacao for flavor, Everclear for the burn, and grenadine to make sure it goes down smoothly." Mary paused remembering and said with an embarrassed laugh, "Those things make your clothes come off."
Matthew's retort was quick, "Well, later I'll have to make us some."
Mary felt her heart stop and her blood boil instantly. Matthew held her in his smoldering stare for several moments and Mary felt his presence warm the skin between her breasts once more. She was struck by the yearning desire to reach out and touch him again, though she had no ending goal in mind. He looked gloriously happy and carefree and his eyes danced across her features.
Mary's eyes drank him in a moment longer before Matthew suddenly broke into a small fit of laughter. She was momentarily frozen but she quickly recovered to laugh along with him, grateful that the intensity of the moment had passed without any lines being crossed.
Eventually, his chuckles subsided and they both regained their composure. They turned and started to watch the people down below again and Mary noticed how the sky had darkened in the past minutes.
His deep voice broke through their shared silence once more, "I'm sorry that you had to be here over a holiday. I know that it was a weekend you were scheduled to be with Quinn, but I should have given you the time off… I'm sure you'd rather be spending it with your friends."
"Don't be sorry." Mary said honestly, "I had a wonderful day and tonight has been lovely."
"Well, I should have at least insisted that you invited your sisters."
"They probably still wouldn't have come. Sybil is taking her day off to catch up on school work and sleep, and Ed mentioned something about a date."
"And what about your…boyfriend?" She noticed how Matthew had struggled over the last word.
She felt another pang of guilt wash over her, "Rick is just at home. He's not much of a party person."
Matthew nodded in understanding, "Was that him the other night? …The man who stood outside of your apartment the night I dropped you off?"
"Yeah." She said it with a tone of finality, clearly signaling to Matthew that she didn't want to talk anymore about Richard.
He nodded again in understanding but spoke on, "I want to apologize again for the other night. I had acted really rudely and I'm desperately sorry."
"Don't be. You were merely defending yourself from my irrational anger. I should be the one begging for your forgiveness."
"Still, I hope you don't think poorly of me, or…any more poorly of me."
"I don't, Matthew…I don't."
He looked at her intently, "I love…" Mary's breath caught in her chest, "how vehemently you defend and care for Quinn."
"I…"
"You're an amazing woman."
"But…"
"You've been a God send…truly."
Mary heard his gracious compliments but her mind automatically started framing another argument on behalf of his child. She bit her tongue with forced effort, and tasted the familiar bitterness that reared up within her. They simply couldn't discus Quinn without Mary becoming irritated at him for the distance he kept. And now, there was the pitiful situation with Quinn's late mother, whom, because of Matthew's reserve and pride, the angelic child would also never know.
"Please Matthew." Mary held up her free hand to stop him, "Let's…not talk about it…not tonight at least."
Matthew nodded slowly and Mary saw his understanding despite the enclosing darkness of the night.
Anna approached then and stated that she and Ms. Hughes were ready to serve the dessert if they should like some. Mary left Matthew's side at the balcony, and made her way towards Quinn, who sat at one end of a love seat facing the lake and already had a half eaten slice of cake in front of her. Mary smiled at the chocolate that she had managed to smear across her face and rub into her dress.
"May I sit beside you, Quinn?"
Quinn finished chewing a rather large bite of fluffy cake before responding. "Yes you may."
Mary smiled fondly at the girl and sat herself beside her, smoothing her dress after her ascent.
Quinn looked at her, "Aren't you going to have some cake?"
"Not right now darling. I'm still too full from dinner."
The girl's eyes brightened, "Could I have your piece then?"
Mary laughed, "I think you've had enough for one night, don't you?"
The girl looked crestfallen, "I guess."
The sky was completely dark now and Mary wondered how much longer it would be until the fireworks started. She sat silently beside the child and watched as the girl consumed her sweets, all while trying to devise a plan so that Quinn wouldn't be afraid. Mary didn't want her to have a breakdown in front of Matthew, sure that the man would find some way to blame himself.
She found his lean silhouette in the darkness and Mary watched him as he watched the blackness of the night and the clearness of the star studded sky. Even from a distance, she could see that he was in deep contemplation and that his thoughts had turned his boyish good looks back into that of a haunted man. Why did he hurt himself so? What great secret did he keep? When would he see reason? Mary felt herself go weak under the weight of all of her unanswered questions concerning Matthew Crawley.
"Mary," Quinn's whispered, beckoning her attention back to the child beside her, "I'm ready to go inside now."
The child held her empty plate and fork in her hands and her eyes remained on her lap as she spoke, almost as if she were ashamed of letting Mary know of her fear.
Mary tried to play dumb, "But the fireworks haven't started yet, darling. You don't want to miss the show."
"I don't want to watch them."
"Why not?"
Quinn shrugged her tiny shoulders, "I just don't."
"But I think you'll like them… I know I always do." Quinn looked up at her last remark, and Mary thought that the girl had been convinced to stay upon hearing how she enjoyed them; she was aware of how the girl liked mimicking her actions. But the child's thoughtful face soon fell, her eyes returning to her small lap.
"Please. Don't make me watch them."
Just then a single thunderous clap broke through the night air, its resounding echo bouncing off the lake and the surrounding city buildings and lightly shaking the ground beneath her feet. However, a brilliant flash of light did not accompany the sound, and Mary realized that the single deafening bang had been only a signal, letting everyone know that the show was about to begin. The distant echo of applause floated up from the people below and Mary turned in her seat to gage the reaction of the child beside her.
Quinn let out a yelp of true terror and a moment later she was pulling herself onto Mary's lap, forming a tightly curled ball with her face buried in Mary's shoulder, and her small frame rocking with her silent sobs. Mary wrapped her arms around the child tightly and tried to hush her terrors. She enveloped the child with her body, curving her spine, bowing her head, and tightening her arms, protecting her from her fears. Mary started to slowly rock her, hoping the small movements would provide Quinn with some peace.
For some unknown reason, she looked up in search of Matthew and found that he was already watching them from the same position by the balcony. Despite the darkness of the night, Mary saw him for what he was— a ghost, a shell, a fallen man, a lonely prince. He looked lifeless; his skin waxy, his eyes dull. She searched out for his haunted gaze and found that, though he was looking in her direction, he had eyes only for his frightened child. He looked at Quinn in such a way that Mary felt as if she finally understood the all-consuming nature of his pain. He was stuck in the mud of his despair and he had no more energy left in him to fight against it, and he hated himself because of his weakness.
Matthew finally looked up at her, and for the first time, she was unmoved by his direct gaze. She rocked his restless child against her body and though Mary was still trapped in his eyes, she was numb to its normal affect. They continued to stare through one another but no great understanding passed between them; everything else in the world fell away into nothingness as the child they both loved became consumed by her fear.
Another powerful sob of terror shook through Quinn's body and Mary looked away from Matthew to whisper promises and assurances into the child's ear.
Mary had to fight against the tightness in her throat, "You'll be alright my love…You'll be alright…I promise to keep you safe…You'll be alright…I won't let anything happen to you."
But Quinn only sobbed harder.
Mary knew that nothing was worth having Quinn suffer so much, and as she prepared herself to stand and carry Quinn inside, she felt the space to her right become occupied by the warm presence of another. She looked up to see Matthew sitting only inches away from them, staring at the coiled child in Mary's arms.
Quinn cried on, unaware of her father, and Mary pressed her cheek into her soft curls, smothering her with affection, hoping that the girl would calm. Mary looked at Matthew again and she silently begged him to do something, anything, for his suffering child. She had called him a coward and a fool only four nights ago, and she longed for him to prove her wrong.
Matthew gazed at his child and Mary saw his internal struggle. He moved uncomfortably and his mouth fought to form the words held captive in his chest. It was painful to watch him struggle so awkwardly and, just as Mary was on the edge of providing him with some assurances of his own, Matthew sighed in defeat and slowly turned away from them to look out at the water. Her blood boiled with frustration and Mary felt the familiar since of disappointment in him rise hotly in her chest. Soon he would depart from her side, leaving his child to her misery, and Mary would have a front row ticket to his cowardice once more.
The night was cruel. It was hot, and dark, and silent but for the trembling child in her arms.
"Your mother loved fireworks."
She felt Quinn grow quiet at his spoken words.
"She loved them with a child-like pureness that was lovely and sweet."
He continued to look at the water, but Mary knew that he was far away. His voice was steady and deep and his words were saturated with his memories.
"One time she saw them from a distance and demanded that we drive until we found them. We never did, of course… but it was still one of the best nights of my life."
Mary watched him remember his wife, and she could have wept with the sincerity of his spoken words.
"I set them off for her at our wedding. She had said it was the best present I had ever given her." His stare was like glass and is smile was only a little sad.
"I loved to watch her watch them. She would sigh, gasp, and clap in all of the right places, and, through watching her, I realized how truly wonderful they were."
Quinn had come out from her hiding spot and was looking at her father without worry or reserve, hanging on his every word as he created her mother for her.
"The Fourth of July was one of her favorite holidays and I know that it was only because of the fireworks at night." He spoke quickly now, "Our first summer together we went out of the city so we could shoot off our own. We shot them off until the sun came up the next morning." He laughed, "I spent so much money, but it was worth every cent." He sighed deeply, "She was worth every cent."
Mary felt deliriously happy and miserably sad in equal measure. Quinn was leaning towards her father, his words having entranced her so easily, and Mary could almost see how his spoken memories were slowly chipping away at the child's emotional barriers. But a bitter sadness had also consumed Mary upon listening to him speak; she had realized that she had never loved or been loved in the all-consuming way that Matthew had loved his wife. She yearned to understand what a fraction of that type of love would feel like; surely it would crack stone, defy gravity, and overthrow empires. Mary felt her heart slowly crumble in her chest before falling haphazardly somewhere deep inside her.
"She once told me that the first time she ever saw them as a child, she thought that the sky was ripping open, reveling the heavens behind them."
His were wide and his mouth continued to softy spill out his memories.
"Sometimes, when I see them, I still imagine that's exactly what's happening."
Matthew then turned from the water to look at his daughter and Quinn looked back at him with devotion and awe. He smiled at his daughter and Mary saw his reserve falter as his bottom lip trembled and his brilliant eyes became moist. He looked at Quinn with such adoration and love that it seemed to Mary, that Matthew was truly seeing his daughter for the first time.
"And, when your mother told me she was pregnant with you…I went out and bought her fireworks."
Mary was breathless as the first fireworks of the night began to light up the dark sky, painting the city she loved, the child on her lap, and the beautiful man beside her, in different shades of yellow, blue, red, purple, green, and orange.
She felt Quinn flinch from fear as the barrage of sparking flames lit up the night sky, their glow bright and their sonic booms rattling the earth. Mary tightened her grip around the girl, preparing to run at the first sign of her tears. Quinn twitched and blinked out from the hallow of Mary's long neck, and Mary was sure that the girl's terrors would return to her at any moment. But as the minutes slowly passed and the echoing thunder of the show continued to crack loudly through the air, Quinn's hysterics did not return. She felt the child slowly unwind and calm, bit by bit, and Mary watched the girl gaze with wonder at the bright sky, the brightness of the colorful explosions dancing off the child's wide eyes.
A particularly large explosion ripped through the night sky, casting their world in a blindly bright orange glow, and for the first time since Mary had walked through the doors of The Pearl two months ago and had her laid eyes upon the child whom she would grow to effortlessly love, Mary saw the girl smile. At first, Mary doubted her eyes and she blinked through the continuous assault of light that rained down from the heavens, sure that the delusion of the child's radiant smile would fade; nevertheless, no matter how many times she tried to clear her eyes, the breathtaking image of the happy girl remained. Mary felt her shattered heart reform instantly and then beat harder and faster than it had ever done before. The brightness of the night sky paled in comparison to the effervescent glow of Quinn's dimpled and bright-eyed smile.
Mary gasped and looked in disbelief and wonder to the only other person in the world that would understand the magnificent miracle that was the resurgence of the girl's long lost smile. Mary turned towards the girl's father and saw a man gazing at his only child, drunk with happiness; Matthew's brilliant smile matched his daughter's flawlessly and Mary gasped again at the image before her.
She didn't know how long she had been gazing at him, but eventually Matthew lifted his dazzling eyes to hers, and they shared a smile that burned just as brightly as the starry canvas above them. Her pounding heart felt light, and her mind swam with the intensity of his smile. Mary could not recall the last time she had felt so deliriously happy. She would remember this moment, this singular perfect moment in time, when the world stopped and the heavens caught fire, for as long as she roamed the earth.
However, her own bliss paled in comparison to that of the man beside her. His eyes were wet from his happiness and he shook slightly with his elation, relieved laughter spilling from him, his body unable to encapsulate his hysterical joy. He looked cleansed; his well-worn soul washed out and hung anew.
Mary didn't know who reached out for the other first, but she soon felt the warmth of him wrap around the delicate bones of her right hand. Their hands had meet in the middle of the small space between them, grasping and interlocking, holding and supporting the other as tightly as a lifeline. Their fingers brushed and twined together seamlessly, like two strands of the same thread, and Mary lost track in the darkness of which of the flesh colored digits were her own. She misplaced herself in his depths of his eyes, and while touching his skin, she could feel the strong current of his happiness radiate throughout his body, lighting up his limbs and charging his heart. He held her so tightly and so completely that Mary forgot herself— his essence fusing with her soul and making something brand new.
The colorful chemical flames continued to ignite the dark city sky and Matthew's smile slowly faded. His happiness was replaced by his wonder as he gazed upon the spot where her white flesh met his own warm skin. She too was in awe to discover how perfectly the two different pieces of their bodies had molded so seamlessly together. Their hands continuously moved together in the darkness, touching and discovering the other; she studied the lines of his palm, he caressed the gaps between her fingers, and they both traced the ridges of the others fingertips. Mary felt him everywhere, his warm hand acting like a glowing beacon for her lost body. His touched traveled up her arm, penetrating her flesh and infecting her blood, changing her bones and firing her muscles. He moved through her shoulder and ate away at her ribs, filling her lungs, and finding her heart, which he then wrapped tightly around, constricting it's flow and making it burn.
They held safe to one another for as long as they possibly could and once the moment came for them to let go and face the world without the other, they silently decided to hold on to each other for a single moment longer.