REVAMPED AS OF APRIL 2014
"You're back."
Mort was doing his damnedest trying not to be pleased at the fact that Carmen was standing outside of his front door for the second time today. He'd admittedly been close to caving and calling her himself, but hesitated for fear of coming off as desperate. He was already older, divorced, and admittedly in a low point in his career – there wasn't exactly room for him to start looking like the stalker-type either. He had opened the screen door for her this time and invited her in, so they were now both standing a couple of feet apart.
"Yeah," Carmen said, rubbing her palm across the back of her neck and gazing around as though she wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with this after all. "Look, I don't want thing to be weird between us," she said finally. "And I don't know if – if I did something wrong yesterday, or if I should've tried to explain right away –"
"No." Mort said, raising his eyebrows and feeling slightly tempted to walk away, because this felt almost like confrontation. "No – you didn't do anything wrong, okay? It was me. I just –"
"I had an amazing time with you yesterday, and I don't want that to be the last time it happens," Carmen finally managed to say quickly – just that statement seemed to steamroll over Mort's resolution to try and appear as calm as possible, and he allowed himself to let on that he was completely dumbfounded. "And – and I know it seems really shitty of me to, go around giving the green light all night, then have another guy in my house an hour later."
"No – no, Carmen, listen," he said, shaking his head. "I know you've told me about Rob. I know, he's your best friend, and that's… great. That's awesome," he said in a clearly forced tone. "I'm in no position to be uncomfortable with that or to question you about that –"
"Do you want to be?"
"What?"
Carmen flinched slightly – that certainly hadn't been the response she was hoping for, but she knew she had been abrupt. Very abrupt. She laughed in mild embarrassment and shook her head. "I'm just asking. Because I like being around you, I like spending time with you, Mort. And if we're on the same page, maybe we can see if this… goes anywhere."
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Carmen realized why she never made a move with any of the guys she had tried dating – the suspense was terrible. Mort looked a bit like a deer in the headlights, definitely stunned by her candor. Finally, as though he realized that none of the words that would come out of his mouth right now would be anything more than embarrassing coming from a man who made a living off of words, he leaned forward and tried to smoothly close the space between them – to kiss her. However, perhaps because he was out of practice or because he had moved a little too suddenly, he found his nose plonking ungracefully against hers, and she let out a tiny yelp.
Mort grimaced, clapping a hand to his forehead and letting out an audible groan. That was a total sixth-grade move. It was completely minor leagues. He was surprised, however, when she rebounded from the near headbutt he had given her and – much slowly – leaned forward to press her lips to his.
How long had it been, Mort suddenly realized, since he had actually kissed someone? He and Amy had been on the rocks for so much of the later part of their marriage, he wasn't even sure he could remember the last time he kissed her. Maybe that had been a little bit of the problem too. But for now, he forgave himself enough to push that out of his mind again.
For someone as straightforward as Carmen had proven herself to be, the kiss was surprisingly chaste, and Mort finally came to fully appreciate the fact that she was in uncharted waters as well – they simply handled these waters differently. While Carmen was happy to dive in head first and hope not to drown, Mort was of the mind that he was much safer back on the boat in a pair of arm floaties and a life vest just in case.
After a short while – too short, if Mort was being honest – they pulled away and stared at one another for a brief moment with hardly any indication of emotion, as though waiting for validation from the other party that it was okay. This time, Mort was the first to react, giving Carmen a lopsided grin.
"It's the bathrobe, isn't it?" he joked, holding out his arms and looking down at himself – a mess of tattered fabric and Dorito crumbs.
"Completely irresistible - and very practical. If you get hungry later, I think you have enough crumbs on their to make yourself at least two whole chips," Carmen laughed - and while it seemed very wrong indeed to be comparing her to Amy, Mort couldn't help but observe that Carmen didn't insult him for being a mess from time to time the way Amy did. Even when they were dating, Amy would always look at him with such disdain whenever he lounged around the house with his hair sticking up on one side, mumbling ideas to himself. Amy had been so obsessed with helping him and fixing him, Mort pondered, that she often forgot to love him.
So far, Carmen seemed to be taking a very different approach.
"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head to one side when she was unable to decipher why Mort had fallen silent all of a sudden. He cleared his throat and nodded, almost comically. Carmen snickered a little, then glanced back over her shoulder.
"I need to head into town - I'm running out of pretty much everything," she chuckled, scratching the back of her neck again. "I know you hate going down there, but - maybe you want to head down with me, we could grab a bite to eat."
Grab a bite to eat, Mort thought with a gulp. In town. People in town made it very clear how little they appreciated Mort's presence, especially if it was more than necessary. but, he couldn't very well disappoint Carmen, when just seconds ago, he'd decided he was going to try and date her. So, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll drive," he offered, proud of the fact that he sounded much more confident than he actually felt.
The usual patrons were sitting at the counter in the general store once he and Carmen arrived, but while they usually kept their backs turn, not looking and merely waiting for Mort to leave, the fact that Mort had just walked in with the town's newest resident - a pretty, younger woman at that - caused them all to turn their heads towards the door as the tiny bell above the door gave a jingle.
"Eggs, right?" Mort asked, attempting to act cool and hoping that this sudden rush of unsolicited attention somehow evaded Carmen's notice. "I'll go get them for you."
Carmen, meanwhile, made her way to the opposite end of the store to pick up the dish soap, sponges, and toothpaste, but was immediately faced by a moustached man in threadbare Wrangler jeans. He stood with his arms crossed in front of Carmen.
"D'you know who that is you came here with, miss?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and getting uncomfortably close to Carmen.
"Excuse me?"
"Miss Anderson, was it? Daniel Bartlett," he said, holding his hand out to shake hers as though he had just started a completely normal conversation. Carmen politely shook the man's hand, but no amount of warmth made it into her eyes as he spoke. "That's Mort Rainey you just walked in here with."
"Yes, I'm aware," Carmen snapped. "We've been seeing one another for a while now."
Daniel's eyes narrowed slightly - not quite a hostile expression, but rather one of scrutiny as far as this woman's answer. "Haven't you heard the odd things that have happened around that man? His wife, that boyfriend of hers, that detective... Mister Greenleaf. You know, don't you?" he asked. "If you're not careful, the next ugly end we read about in the paper could be yours."
Carmen stiffened and took a step away from Daniel, her expression icy. The answer, of course, was yes. She knew about those disappearances - Mort hadn't gone so far as to hide those things from her. What was the point? She tried to simply bring the conversation to end by turning her attention back to the store shelves and going back to her errands, but Bartlett's arm jutted out and closed around the bottle of dish soap she was holding, pushing it back towards the shelf.
"I don't think you heard me right, miss," he said, glaring down at Carmen. "You don't know what's gone down here, and ain't no one in this town feels comfortable about a young woman like yourself -"
"I think I've got it covered," Carmen sneered, yanking the dish soap away. "So, if you'd kindly fu-"
"Carmen," Mort asked, peering into the aisle with his arms laden with eggs, milk, and bread. His expression turned worried when he saw Daniel Bartlett towering over her. "Everything okay here? I see you've met old Danny Boy."
Daniel glared at the nickname and gave Carmen another harsh glance. "You mark my words. Rainey is trouble."
Mort felt an oddly familiar anger at the way Daniel spoke about him like he wasn't there - he felt his jaw tense up, and he fought back the urge to crack it to get rid of the stiffness. He'd gotten himself out of the habit a long time ago, and now was no time to get back into old habits. Definitely not.
The drive back up to the cabin on Lake Drive was quieter and slightly more uncomfortable than the drive into town, and out of habit, Mort flicked on his radio to rid the car of its uncomfortable silence until, after a few minutes, Carmen reached over and turned the volume down, reaching out and patting Mort's hand as he shifted gears to get up the steep incline.
"They're full of shit," she said, and to Mort, she couldn't have picked something more romantic or meaningful to say if she'd been channeling Shakespeare or Longfellow. "I'm a New Yorker. They're going to have to work a little harder than that to spook me."
"Yeah," he chuckled. "It takes something pretty huge to get you rattled. How big was that squirrel by the lake yesterday?"
"Enormous," Carmen replied, staring straight forward and trying not to laugh. "And unless you want us to have our first argument already, you'll agree."
Mort gave a snort, and that was enough to break Carmen's attempt at being serious. With levity restored, they made their way up Lake Drive and pulled up to Carmen's house. The day turned out to be inconsequential for the most part - home improvements on the old place, cleaning, sweeping, and the like. Mort couldn't help but think that it felt nice to do normal things with someone like this again - before things had gone sour, he'd enjoyed the little things like this. Maybe there was a shadow of a chance to enjoy them again.
After spending the majority of the afternoon helping her fix a leaky faucet and sweep the front porch, Mort decided to give the whole romance thing a shot. He suggested they go out to dinner or something - somewhere nice. However, when she went upstairs to freshen up and he sat down on the sofa, he realized that this was more physical activity than he'd been through in quite a long time. By the time Carmen came downstairs, attempting to brush her mane of wet hair, she chuckled at the sight of Mort, fast asleep on the sofabed - and more importantly, the fact that he had somehow managed to get the damned thing to open, when Carmen had been trying and failing to do so for weeks.
She glanced at the large pile of pillows and blankets on the floor that she'd been sleeping on lately, because she had yet to take it upon herself to buy a new bed. Trying as best she could to tread quietly, she walked over and picked up one of the blankets, laying it over Mort before setting up a few pillows for herself on the other side of the sofa bed. She went to turn off the lights and as she settled down to sleep, she took a moment to think that things were going to be alright after all.
And when Mort woke up in the morning on the sofa bed, not alone for the first time in a couple of years, he allotted himself a sleepy smile as he thought the exact same thing. He lazily reached out and draped an arm over the woman next to him - not pulling her too close, but just close enough to so he could register the warmth of another person laying close to him. He watched as Carmen gave a small, sleepy grin, and the pair decided maybe it wouldn't hurt to sleep in a little longer.