Tyger, Tyger-Chapter 10
Title: Tyger, Tyger
Author: mm_thibault
Rating: NC-17 Let's just assume language and sexxoring, as well as adult situations and violence.
Spoilers: Season 3 with drabbles of other seasons, too
Summary: Marshall meets an interesting woman who changes up his whole life, and who will lead him to find the love of his life, or at least, act on it.
Pairing: Mary/Marshall
Shoutout: To Bujyo for her endless help. Seriously.
Ch1 Ch2 Ch3
Ch4 Ch5 Ch6
Ch7 Ch8 Ch9
Chapter 10-Why
“…This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom spread
These are the tears...
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel...”-Annie Lennox
Marshall awoke around 11 to the strangest sensation: that of complete freedom. He had no pressing engagements, no plans, and no visitors. Nothing to do today except exactly what he wanted, and it had been so long, he had truly no idea what that might be.
He stood in his kitchen, in his Vitruvian Man pyjama pants, leaning up against the counter with his bowl of Life cereal just enjoying the calypso music playing from the speakers of his ipod dock. It was a wonderfully mellow way to start the day.
After getting dressed, he tended to the housecleaning chores that had built up during the week, though they were quite few given his normally fastidious nature. Just some dusting and laundry, really, neither of which was terribly pressing.
When he finished, he decided to settle in to the couch and watch the DVD set of the BBC series The Power of Art. He had the companion book as well and had read through parts of it, but thought he’d actually sit down to watch an episode because he’d heard good things about it. Briefly he thought of calling up Mary, and TL, though for different reasons. Lily would be all over the show, and he just enjoyed Mary’s company, even if being in the same room with two art history geeks was enough to make her want to blow up a bus full of nuns.
He looked at his watch and thought about it as he hit ‘play’. They were probably still at the salon. His mind boggled over the idea of Mary in someplace so very girly. Marshall trusted that Lily would look after her, but he did not envy her the job at all. Lily’s home turf was likely to make Mary more than a little nuts, and they’d probably have to stop off at the shooting range afterwards so that Mary could recover some of the dignity she’d thought she lost.
He was hip deep in the second episode when his phone rang, and he looked at the clock, surprised that he was that far into the late afternoon already. Caravaggio and Bernini were enthralling subjects, with their messy personal lives and beatific artwork. He knew who it was before he answered, he didn’t need to look at the screen. “Since this isn’t a collect call, may I presume the salon appointment went well?”
“You’ve been watching the BBC again, haven’t you?” She greeted him and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer, but he wasn’t going to push. “Maybe,” he drew the word out for comic effect.
“You want to get a pizza? Maybe come over and watch a movie?” she sounded agitated, and a bit distracted.
Saturday was normally the day they hung out together, so it wasn’t apropos of completely nothing, but something in her voice pinged faintly on his ‘impending doom’ radar. “Sure, if that’s what you want. You ok?”
“Yeah,” she answered quickly. “I’m fine. You grab the pizza and head over, I’ll have the beer.” He thought he heard her say “several of them” under her breath, but he wasn’t sure.
“Alright, give me about half an hour and I’ll head your way.” He wanted to see how the show ended, it wasn’t a crime.
“Ok,” the relief in her voice had him very curious indeed. “See ya in a bit.”
He was left staring at the phone after they’d disconnected. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite place it and he had no idea of where to start looking. “I guess I’ll just start with the pizza and go from there,” he said to the empty room as he reached for his remote to resume his show. It was just getting to the good part.
True to his word, he was out the door half an hour later, pondering the rivalry between Bernini and Borromini. Two architectural artistic geniuses locked forever in competition, culminating in the Piazza Navona in Rome in which Bernini’s Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi statues are either looking away, or recoiling in horror, from Borromini’s Sant’Agnese in Agone, the Church of St. Agnes. A struggle left to play out for eternity, with no one to declare a winner, though everyone had an opinion.
Marshall was struck by the sad futility of it all as he paid for his and Mary’s food, though he was loath to draw allegorical comparisons. He knew he was locked in an epic duel of wills, hers versus his, only in this instance, at this point, there was nothing beautiful to be left to posterity, only the sum total of their work together, and that encompassed the essence of them not at all.
Mary had the door open while he was halfway up the walkway. He took her in as she leaned against the doorframe, black tank top, jeans, and “Flipflops?”
“Stop staring at my toes, nitwit. They’re self conscious about their new look.” She took the pizza boxes from him and walked towards the kitchen, and he followed her inside, as was expected. He was noticing more and more that there were a lot of tacit expectations in their interactions and reactions, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked all of them.
He made a point of looking back up, but then examined them closer when she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t a bad look, really, metallic green toenails. A nod to femininity with a distinctly sharp edge to it, in other words, perfect for her. “I got you the pepperoni with the extra cheese.”
She set their boxes down, side by side and opened hers. She’d already gotten plates out for them and had them and napkins sitting at the ready. It was disturbingly thoughtful. “Did you tell them to put the good cheese on it? Not that part-skim whatever the hell it is.”
Or maybe not. “They were clear after the last time you called and their manager had a crying fit in the middle of the store. They saw me coming from a mile away.”
Mary nodded, pleased that her mayhem had a purpose. “Good, I’d hate to have to call them back.” She grabbed three pieces and then headed over to the couch to wait for him. She already had a half finished beer sitting on the coffee table.
Marshall grabbed a few slices of supreme, and a beer from the fridge and followed her over. “So, what cinematic masterpiece do you have for us this time?” he asked as he settled into the couch with his food.
Mary’s grin was sly as she grabbed the remote and hit play. “I thought we’d go for something a little older today.”
He hummed around his mouthful of pizza. “A wayback flashback, how novel.” He knew the movie from the eerie opening theme. He turned to face her more fully on the couch. “Amityville Horror? What on earth possessed you?”
Mary gave him a look that was pure innocence. “I spent the day at the haughtiest spa in the state. I figured I could use a respite in a house filled with demons.”
“Not a whole lot of difference there.” Marshall looked at her hands, and finally noticed her fingernails. She actually went through with it. “Your nails look nice.” Maybe it was the shock that made him speak, but they were longer than he knew them to be and the same metallic green as her toes. It was cute, and much more feminine than he was used to from her.
Mary looked distinctly uncomfortable at the comment. “Eh, I don’t know if I’ll keep them. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try them. They’re not too long, so I guess they’re ok. Just have to get used to them.”
“I think they’re pretty. I like the color.” Marshall couldn’t help it, it was a small change but she seemed to be embracing it in steps and he wanted to encourage that. Not that he had any delusions that today it would be girly nails and tomorrow it would be him, but it was a beginning. “You and TL have a good time then?”
Mary blanched at the question and her jaw tightened. “It was ok. It’s a little strange to see people falling all over themselves for her at the mention of her name, and she just lets them. It was a lot more her element than mine.”
Marshall figured that would have been the case. He knew that TL liked to live her life on her terms, but that her family name came with monogrammed designer baggage she’d just as soon eschew. Still, he knew that sometimes the fawning was unavoidable, and so she dealt with it, in a manner befitting a woman of her grace and bearing. “So what’s she up to tonight?”
Mary got up to get more pizza. “Apparently she has a date,” she called from the kitchen. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that she spat the last word out because it was rancid.
A date? The very idea of it floored him. He pictured her last weekend, salsa dancing in the restaurant, twirling and sliding against him. Walking through the art museum giving him a lesson in Pre-Raphaelite and the Romantic Movement in general, and Mary thought he was a fount of knowledge. And now, she was out, probably in a slinky little black dress with matching sexy heels, having drinks and dinner with someone who was not him. It hurt a little more than it should have, but he recalled their late-night conversation in Mary’s guest room and knew that it was for the best. “Anyone we know?” He tried to sound casual and disinterested, taking a bite of pizza and focusing on the movie to camouflage his curiosity.
“No, she wouldn’t tell me.” A strange shadow passed over her features like she was remembering something and then she looked him over speculatively. “Any reason you look like I just ran over your dog?”
Marshall took a long pull from his beer and concentrated on the movie. He gave her a sideways glance, scoffing at her entirely too accurate assessment of his feelings. “No, why?” Feigning stupidity had never worked for him before, but there was always a first time.
Mary raised her eyebrows, and opened another beer. “Okay then.”
They watched the movie in silence for awhile, except for the rustle of paper plate and napkins, and the sound of beer caps hitting the table. He was up to three, and he was pretty sure Mary was at four, maybe five that he knew of. “You know the house is for sale.”
Mary’s gasp was audible. “Whose? Yours? Why?”
Her shock was heartening, if unintentionally amusing. He smiled, “The house on Ocean Avenue.”
She still looked confused. “What house on Ocean Avenue?” She followed Marshall’s gaze to the television and turned back to him with a grimace. “That house is for sale?”
“Yeah, I read it in the news. You can buy it for a couple hundred grand.” He collected his empty paper plate and napkin, and pointed to hers. She nodded and he took all of their trash to the kitchen to dispose of it.
“Why in the hell would anyone want to live there? The fact that it’s on Long Island should be enough to scare anyone away.”
He smirked. “Says the woman from New Jersey.”
She pursed her lips. “I just mean, if the Long Island thing isn’t enough of a deterrent, the house told the priest to get out. I’m pretty sure that is a house that knows its own mind.”
Like you? He wanted to ask, but that was probably just the alcohol talking, and quite a bit more aggressively than he would have liked. “I would have never taken you as a believer in all those ghost stories and urban folktales.” He brought in another beer for each of them and set them on the table.
“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” she recited to him with a self-satisfied grin.
His eyebrows shot so far up his forehead that he feared they were making a break for it, as he looked over at his partner in shock. It took him three tries to get his mouth to work correctly to speak. “Hamlet.”
She snorted and went back to enjoying the film. “You aren’t the only one that went to college, doofus. Watch the movie.”
Marshall did was he was told, still reeling that she’d just whipped out Shakespeare on him like it was an everyday occurrence. He had no idea how to respond to that, or even if he should. Something was definitely up, but he still had no clue as to what.
Mary hit stop at the end of the movie and ejected the disc. She wasn’t big on rolling through the credits, and he didn’t mind because it was more of the creepy theme music. “It’s all fun and games ‘til the walls start bleeding,” she murmured as she put the disc away and turned off the TV.
“And then it’s a hundred yard dash,” he agreed solemnly. He got up and walked over to her back door, looking out over her pool and into the night sky. He felt her behind him. “You wanna see something cool?”
He watched her appear in his peripheral vision to stand next to him. “Okay. What’d you have in mind?”
“How do you feel about astronomy?”
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” she asked dryly.
He took her hand and led her outside to her chaise lounges. “Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some cool stuff in the night sky right now.” He waited until she got comfortable before he sat on his own lounge chair and got situated.
“Okay, Mr. Wizard, dazzle me.”
Marshall grinned and launched into the position of the planets in the sky, pointing out Jupiter and Neptune rising and racing across the sky. It was a new moon, and thus he was able to point out several features that wouldn’t normally be available, like Draco the dragon, and Cepheus the king. Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and Perseus would be rising in the coming months, marking the change of seasons, with Orion marching across the sky shortly thereafter. He thrilled her with their tales and their mythological significance. He talked about the meteor shower a few weeks ago and going into the desert alone to experience it. She teased him about watching too much of the science channel and how it was no wonder that he was so pale.
After a while, he ran out of steam as the fourth beer hit him harder than expected. He laid back on his lounge chair, pondering the sky with Mary next to him. It was almost perfect as far as he was concerned.
“I got a question.”
He turned his head to look at her only to find her already staring at him. “My life is an open book to you.”
She turned her face back to the sparkling night sky. “How long have you been sleeping with her?”
Marshall sat up in the lounge chair and turned to her, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, what?”
Mary was still staring at the stars when she closed her eyes and laughed humorlessly. When she opened them again, he knew exactly why she’d been acting so strangely. “It’s funny how you two had the exact same reaction. A flash of terror, followed by a request for clarification. Makes me think that maybe I’m not asking the right question.”
He turned to face her fully, putting both boots on the ground. “Okay, you asking her if we’re sleeping together? So not okay.”
Mary looked unrepentant and mean as she sat up and faced him. “Why not? I think I might have a right.”
Marshall cocked his head to the side and looked her in the eye. “A right to what, exactly? Last time I checked you were neither my wife, nor my girlfriend.”
“No, but I’m your best friend, and I shouldn’t have to deduce from your actions that you’re seeing someone.”
He ignored her churlish tone in favor of getting in his own dig. “Wow, I’m surprised you stopped banging Faber long enough to deduce anything at all pertaining to me.”
She dropped her head back and laughed sarcastically. “So that’s what this is about. You’re mad I went off and had a little fun in Mexico. You don’t get to have an opinion about that Marshall, especially if I can’t comment on your sex life.”
“We slept together the night you left for Cabo, okay? And pretty much the whole weekend. I didn’t know who she was until she walked out of Stan’s office. All I knew was her first name, Lily.” There was no need to mention the rest of the details of their whirlwind fling, because at this point, there was no more havoc to wreak.
She managed to look simultaneously impressed and appalled. “At least I knew Faber’s name, Jesus, Marshall. She could have been anybody, huh? Just an available piece of ass because I hurt your feelings by not offering you mine?”
It was maddening, her convoluted reasoning. “You don’t get to play the wounded party here, Mare. You’re the one who picked this fight.”
She stood up from the chair to tower over him, and while she didn’t put her finger in his face, the intent was the same. “No actually, you are. What the hell was I supposed to do, Marshall? Declare my undying love and devotion to you? In the middle of the office?”
Undaunted, he stood up as well, ready to defend his position. “Well you could have done more than just flee in terror at the first available opportunity. You were in Stan’s office finalizing your vacation so fast, I’m surprised your feet weren’t smoking.” He was quiet for a moment, and then went for it. “I never thought of you as a coward.”
He knew the slap was coming before he saw it and reacted accordingly, grabbing her wrist before she had a chance to strike him. He pulled her close enough that they were nose to nose. “Don’t do anything you can’t take back,” he whispered through gritted teeth.
“Let go of me,” Mary snarled, equally violent. If he let her hit him, this was going to a dark place that neither one would make it back from. He released her wrist and stepped back with his hands up in surrender. She responded by turning on her heel and stomping off into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Marshall took a good five minutes outside gathering his senses, because right now, the rage was overriding everything else. He wasn’t sure what would have happened had the slap connected, but it would have been nothing good. Now, as he calmed down into a more normal frame of mind, he knew where to go from here. Inside, because, “She’s done running, and I’m done chasing.”
Marshall walked into the house, and it was library-quiet. Not a soul to be found or even an electronic hum to detect. He knew she hadn’t left, would have heard her car, but still, it was disconcerting to see a place so full of life, her life, and have it seem so horribly empty.
He walked back to her bedroom and knocked on the door. “Mary, let me in.”
“Oh, I think you’ve done quite enough. You need to go. We’ll talk,” her voice trailed off. “Later, maybe. But right now, you need to leave.”
He tried the handle and found that she’d gone in there and locked the door. “Don’t make me pick this lock,” he sounded tired, even to his own ears. He was so tired of all the games and the footraces.
“Go. Away.”
Marshall traced a pattern on the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he ticked off the reasons to do just that, all of which fell to the wayside when compared to the reason he was staying, had stayed all these years. “We are not having this conversation through a door. You open it, I pick it, or I kick it. I don’t care which, but I’m coming in there.”
He heard the muffled howl of a wounded animal and then the doorknob unlocked and came open a crack for him. “Why do you keep pushing this?”
A very good question, that he wasn’t sure he could answer fully even to himself. “I don’t know. And as much as it terrifies me to admit that, I know in my soul it’s the right thing to do, it’s what I need to do.”
“But how? How do you know?” she whispered brokenly, and it tore at his heart.
He chewed on his lips for a moment and then did what he came inside to do. “We need to talk. I’m coming in there.”
The cool inky darkness of the room wrapped around him like a cloak and he had to take a moment for his eyes to adjust. He found Mary sitting on the side of the bed with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking like she was crying.
Taking a seat next to her on the bed, he laid an arm across her shoulders, and though she stiffened away from him for a moment, she eventually turned into him and cried. He soothed her as best he could, rubbing her back, kissing the top of her head, rocking them both back and forth. It had been a traumatic day for everybody.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder. She didn’t look up at him.
“For what?” They’d both been rougher with each other than they meant to, probably on account of the alcohol and the fact that they’d both had time to stew over their respective grievances, so he was willing to call ‘bygones’, at least for this.
“For,” she gestured towards the back of the house, “that. Out there.”
Oh. Okay then. He kissed the top of her head again, and then placed a finger under her chin to lift her glistening eyes to his. “Hey, don’t worry about that. We were both wrong, and we can just chalk that moment up to a bit of wildness over which neither one of us had control. Okay?”
She gave him a tremulous, watery smile. “Okay.” Then she took a deep breath and sighed it. “What was I supposed to say to you, Marshall? What words was I supposed to magically know to make this better? Because it needs to be better, I need my best friend back.”
“Is that all you need?” That was really where this conversation had begun, oh-so-long ago. That was the $64,000 question, bereft of flowery speech and .50 cent words. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.” Her arms slid around his waist, pulling him closer to her. “I need you.”
He smiled and kissed her hair, hair that was soft and smelled like sunshine, and gathered her up so that she sat, cuddled, in his lap. “You have me. You will always have me.”
Author: mm_thibault
Rating: NC-17 Let's just assume language and sexxoring, as well as adult situations and violence.
Spoilers: Season 3 with drabbles of other seasons, too
Summary: Marshall meets an interesting woman who changes up his whole life, and who will lead him to find the love of his life, or at least, act on it.
Pairing: Mary/Marshall
Shoutout: To Bujyo for her endless help. Seriously.
Ch1 Ch2 Ch3
Ch4 Ch5 Ch6
Ch7 Ch8 Ch9
Chapter 10-Why
“…This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom spread
These are the tears...
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel...”-Annie Lennox
Marshall awoke around 11 to the strangest sensation: that of complete freedom. He had no pressing engagements, no plans, and no visitors. Nothing to do today except exactly what he wanted, and it had been so long, he had truly no idea what that might be.
He stood in his kitchen, in his Vitruvian Man pyjama pants, leaning up against the counter with his bowl of Life cereal just enjoying the calypso music playing from the speakers of his ipod dock. It was a wonderfully mellow way to start the day.
After getting dressed, he tended to the housecleaning chores that had built up during the week, though they were quite few given his normally fastidious nature. Just some dusting and laundry, really, neither of which was terribly pressing.
When he finished, he decided to settle in to the couch and watch the DVD set of the BBC series The Power of Art. He had the companion book as well and had read through parts of it, but thought he’d actually sit down to watch an episode because he’d heard good things about it. Briefly he thought of calling up Mary, and TL, though for different reasons. Lily would be all over the show, and he just enjoyed Mary’s company, even if being in the same room with two art history geeks was enough to make her want to blow up a bus full of nuns.
He looked at his watch and thought about it as he hit ‘play’. They were probably still at the salon. His mind boggled over the idea of Mary in someplace so very girly. Marshall trusted that Lily would look after her, but he did not envy her the job at all. Lily’s home turf was likely to make Mary more than a little nuts, and they’d probably have to stop off at the shooting range afterwards so that Mary could recover some of the dignity she’d thought she lost.
He was hip deep in the second episode when his phone rang, and he looked at the clock, surprised that he was that far into the late afternoon already. Caravaggio and Bernini were enthralling subjects, with their messy personal lives and beatific artwork. He knew who it was before he answered, he didn’t need to look at the screen. “Since this isn’t a collect call, may I presume the salon appointment went well?”
“You’ve been watching the BBC again, haven’t you?” She greeted him and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t answer, but he wasn’t going to push. “Maybe,” he drew the word out for comic effect.
“You want to get a pizza? Maybe come over and watch a movie?” she sounded agitated, and a bit distracted.
Saturday was normally the day they hung out together, so it wasn’t apropos of completely nothing, but something in her voice pinged faintly on his ‘impending doom’ radar. “Sure, if that’s what you want. You ok?”
“Yeah,” she answered quickly. “I’m fine. You grab the pizza and head over, I’ll have the beer.” He thought he heard her say “several of them” under her breath, but he wasn’t sure.
“Alright, give me about half an hour and I’ll head your way.” He wanted to see how the show ended, it wasn’t a crime.
“Ok,” the relief in her voice had him very curious indeed. “See ya in a bit.”
He was left staring at the phone after they’d disconnected. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite place it and he had no idea of where to start looking. “I guess I’ll just start with the pizza and go from there,” he said to the empty room as he reached for his remote to resume his show. It was just getting to the good part.
True to his word, he was out the door half an hour later, pondering the rivalry between Bernini and Borromini. Two architectural artistic geniuses locked forever in competition, culminating in the Piazza Navona in Rome in which Bernini’s Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi statues are either looking away, or recoiling in horror, from Borromini’s Sant’Agnese in Agone, the Church of St. Agnes. A struggle left to play out for eternity, with no one to declare a winner, though everyone had an opinion.
Marshall was struck by the sad futility of it all as he paid for his and Mary’s food, though he was loath to draw allegorical comparisons. He knew he was locked in an epic duel of wills, hers versus his, only in this instance, at this point, there was nothing beautiful to be left to posterity, only the sum total of their work together, and that encompassed the essence of them not at all.
Mary had the door open while he was halfway up the walkway. He took her in as she leaned against the doorframe, black tank top, jeans, and “Flipflops?”
“Stop staring at my toes, nitwit. They’re self conscious about their new look.” She took the pizza boxes from him and walked towards the kitchen, and he followed her inside, as was expected. He was noticing more and more that there were a lot of tacit expectations in their interactions and reactions, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked all of them.
He made a point of looking back up, but then examined them closer when she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t a bad look, really, metallic green toenails. A nod to femininity with a distinctly sharp edge to it, in other words, perfect for her. “I got you the pepperoni with the extra cheese.”
She set their boxes down, side by side and opened hers. She’d already gotten plates out for them and had them and napkins sitting at the ready. It was disturbingly thoughtful. “Did you tell them to put the good cheese on it? Not that part-skim whatever the hell it is.”
Or maybe not. “They were clear after the last time you called and their manager had a crying fit in the middle of the store. They saw me coming from a mile away.”
Mary nodded, pleased that her mayhem had a purpose. “Good, I’d hate to have to call them back.” She grabbed three pieces and then headed over to the couch to wait for him. She already had a half finished beer sitting on the coffee table.
Marshall grabbed a few slices of supreme, and a beer from the fridge and followed her over. “So, what cinematic masterpiece do you have for us this time?” he asked as he settled into the couch with his food.
Mary’s grin was sly as she grabbed the remote and hit play. “I thought we’d go for something a little older today.”
He hummed around his mouthful of pizza. “A wayback flashback, how novel.” He knew the movie from the eerie opening theme. He turned to face her more fully on the couch. “Amityville Horror? What on earth possessed you?”
Mary gave him a look that was pure innocence. “I spent the day at the haughtiest spa in the state. I figured I could use a respite in a house filled with demons.”
“Not a whole lot of difference there.” Marshall looked at her hands, and finally noticed her fingernails. She actually went through with it. “Your nails look nice.” Maybe it was the shock that made him speak, but they were longer than he knew them to be and the same metallic green as her toes. It was cute, and much more feminine than he was used to from her.
Mary looked distinctly uncomfortable at the comment. “Eh, I don’t know if I’ll keep them. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try them. They’re not too long, so I guess they’re ok. Just have to get used to them.”
“I think they’re pretty. I like the color.” Marshall couldn’t help it, it was a small change but she seemed to be embracing it in steps and he wanted to encourage that. Not that he had any delusions that today it would be girly nails and tomorrow it would be him, but it was a beginning. “You and TL have a good time then?”
Mary blanched at the question and her jaw tightened. “It was ok. It’s a little strange to see people falling all over themselves for her at the mention of her name, and she just lets them. It was a lot more her element than mine.”
Marshall figured that would have been the case. He knew that TL liked to live her life on her terms, but that her family name came with monogrammed designer baggage she’d just as soon eschew. Still, he knew that sometimes the fawning was unavoidable, and so she dealt with it, in a manner befitting a woman of her grace and bearing. “So what’s she up to tonight?”
Mary got up to get more pizza. “Apparently she has a date,” she called from the kitchen. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that she spat the last word out because it was rancid.
A date? The very idea of it floored him. He pictured her last weekend, salsa dancing in the restaurant, twirling and sliding against him. Walking through the art museum giving him a lesson in Pre-Raphaelite and the Romantic Movement in general, and Mary thought he was a fount of knowledge. And now, she was out, probably in a slinky little black dress with matching sexy heels, having drinks and dinner with someone who was not him. It hurt a little more than it should have, but he recalled their late-night conversation in Mary’s guest room and knew that it was for the best. “Anyone we know?” He tried to sound casual and disinterested, taking a bite of pizza and focusing on the movie to camouflage his curiosity.
“No, she wouldn’t tell me.” A strange shadow passed over her features like she was remembering something and then she looked him over speculatively. “Any reason you look like I just ran over your dog?”
Marshall took a long pull from his beer and concentrated on the movie. He gave her a sideways glance, scoffing at her entirely too accurate assessment of his feelings. “No, why?” Feigning stupidity had never worked for him before, but there was always a first time.
Mary raised her eyebrows, and opened another beer. “Okay then.”
They watched the movie in silence for awhile, except for the rustle of paper plate and napkins, and the sound of beer caps hitting the table. He was up to three, and he was pretty sure Mary was at four, maybe five that he knew of. “You know the house is for sale.”
Mary’s gasp was audible. “Whose? Yours? Why?”
Her shock was heartening, if unintentionally amusing. He smiled, “The house on Ocean Avenue.”
She still looked confused. “What house on Ocean Avenue?” She followed Marshall’s gaze to the television and turned back to him with a grimace. “That house is for sale?”
“Yeah, I read it in the news. You can buy it for a couple hundred grand.” He collected his empty paper plate and napkin, and pointed to hers. She nodded and he took all of their trash to the kitchen to dispose of it.
“Why in the hell would anyone want to live there? The fact that it’s on Long Island should be enough to scare anyone away.”
He smirked. “Says the woman from New Jersey.”
She pursed her lips. “I just mean, if the Long Island thing isn’t enough of a deterrent, the house told the priest to get out. I’m pretty sure that is a house that knows its own mind.”
Like you? He wanted to ask, but that was probably just the alcohol talking, and quite a bit more aggressively than he would have liked. “I would have never taken you as a believer in all those ghost stories and urban folktales.” He brought in another beer for each of them and set them on the table.
“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” she recited to him with a self-satisfied grin.
His eyebrows shot so far up his forehead that he feared they were making a break for it, as he looked over at his partner in shock. It took him three tries to get his mouth to work correctly to speak. “Hamlet.”
She snorted and went back to enjoying the film. “You aren’t the only one that went to college, doofus. Watch the movie.”
Marshall did was he was told, still reeling that she’d just whipped out Shakespeare on him like it was an everyday occurrence. He had no idea how to respond to that, or even if he should. Something was definitely up, but he still had no clue as to what.
Mary hit stop at the end of the movie and ejected the disc. She wasn’t big on rolling through the credits, and he didn’t mind because it was more of the creepy theme music. “It’s all fun and games ‘til the walls start bleeding,” she murmured as she put the disc away and turned off the TV.
“And then it’s a hundred yard dash,” he agreed solemnly. He got up and walked over to her back door, looking out over her pool and into the night sky. He felt her behind him. “You wanna see something cool?”
He watched her appear in his peripheral vision to stand next to him. “Okay. What’d you have in mind?”
“How do you feel about astronomy?”
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” she asked dryly.
He took her hand and led her outside to her chaise lounges. “Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some cool stuff in the night sky right now.” He waited until she got comfortable before he sat on his own lounge chair and got situated.
“Okay, Mr. Wizard, dazzle me.”
Marshall grinned and launched into the position of the planets in the sky, pointing out Jupiter and Neptune rising and racing across the sky. It was a new moon, and thus he was able to point out several features that wouldn’t normally be available, like Draco the dragon, and Cepheus the king. Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and Perseus would be rising in the coming months, marking the change of seasons, with Orion marching across the sky shortly thereafter. He thrilled her with their tales and their mythological significance. He talked about the meteor shower a few weeks ago and going into the desert alone to experience it. She teased him about watching too much of the science channel and how it was no wonder that he was so pale.
After a while, he ran out of steam as the fourth beer hit him harder than expected. He laid back on his lounge chair, pondering the sky with Mary next to him. It was almost perfect as far as he was concerned.
“I got a question.”
He turned his head to look at her only to find her already staring at him. “My life is an open book to you.”
She turned her face back to the sparkling night sky. “How long have you been sleeping with her?”
Marshall sat up in the lounge chair and turned to her, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, what?”
Mary was still staring at the stars when she closed her eyes and laughed humorlessly. When she opened them again, he knew exactly why she’d been acting so strangely. “It’s funny how you two had the exact same reaction. A flash of terror, followed by a request for clarification. Makes me think that maybe I’m not asking the right question.”
He turned to face her fully, putting both boots on the ground. “Okay, you asking her if we’re sleeping together? So not okay.”
Mary looked unrepentant and mean as she sat up and faced him. “Why not? I think I might have a right.”
Marshall cocked his head to the side and looked her in the eye. “A right to what, exactly? Last time I checked you were neither my wife, nor my girlfriend.”
“No, but I’m your best friend, and I shouldn’t have to deduce from your actions that you’re seeing someone.”
He ignored her churlish tone in favor of getting in his own dig. “Wow, I’m surprised you stopped banging Faber long enough to deduce anything at all pertaining to me.”
She dropped her head back and laughed sarcastically. “So that’s what this is about. You’re mad I went off and had a little fun in Mexico. You don’t get to have an opinion about that Marshall, especially if I can’t comment on your sex life.”
“We slept together the night you left for Cabo, okay? And pretty much the whole weekend. I didn’t know who she was until she walked out of Stan’s office. All I knew was her first name, Lily.” There was no need to mention the rest of the details of their whirlwind fling, because at this point, there was no more havoc to wreak.
She managed to look simultaneously impressed and appalled. “At least I knew Faber’s name, Jesus, Marshall. She could have been anybody, huh? Just an available piece of ass because I hurt your feelings by not offering you mine?”
It was maddening, her convoluted reasoning. “You don’t get to play the wounded party here, Mare. You’re the one who picked this fight.”
She stood up from the chair to tower over him, and while she didn’t put her finger in his face, the intent was the same. “No actually, you are. What the hell was I supposed to do, Marshall? Declare my undying love and devotion to you? In the middle of the office?”
Undaunted, he stood up as well, ready to defend his position. “Well you could have done more than just flee in terror at the first available opportunity. You were in Stan’s office finalizing your vacation so fast, I’m surprised your feet weren’t smoking.” He was quiet for a moment, and then went for it. “I never thought of you as a coward.”
He knew the slap was coming before he saw it and reacted accordingly, grabbing her wrist before she had a chance to strike him. He pulled her close enough that they were nose to nose. “Don’t do anything you can’t take back,” he whispered through gritted teeth.
“Let go of me,” Mary snarled, equally violent. If he let her hit him, this was going to a dark place that neither one would make it back from. He released her wrist and stepped back with his hands up in surrender. She responded by turning on her heel and stomping off into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Marshall took a good five minutes outside gathering his senses, because right now, the rage was overriding everything else. He wasn’t sure what would have happened had the slap connected, but it would have been nothing good. Now, as he calmed down into a more normal frame of mind, he knew where to go from here. Inside, because, “She’s done running, and I’m done chasing.”
Marshall walked into the house, and it was library-quiet. Not a soul to be found or even an electronic hum to detect. He knew she hadn’t left, would have heard her car, but still, it was disconcerting to see a place so full of life, her life, and have it seem so horribly empty.
He walked back to her bedroom and knocked on the door. “Mary, let me in.”
“Oh, I think you’ve done quite enough. You need to go. We’ll talk,” her voice trailed off. “Later, maybe. But right now, you need to leave.”
He tried the handle and found that she’d gone in there and locked the door. “Don’t make me pick this lock,” he sounded tired, even to his own ears. He was so tired of all the games and the footraces.
“Go. Away.”
Marshall traced a pattern on the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he ticked off the reasons to do just that, all of which fell to the wayside when compared to the reason he was staying, had stayed all these years. “We are not having this conversation through a door. You open it, I pick it, or I kick it. I don’t care which, but I’m coming in there.”
He heard the muffled howl of a wounded animal and then the doorknob unlocked and came open a crack for him. “Why do you keep pushing this?”
A very good question, that he wasn’t sure he could answer fully even to himself. “I don’t know. And as much as it terrifies me to admit that, I know in my soul it’s the right thing to do, it’s what I need to do.”
“But how? How do you know?” she whispered brokenly, and it tore at his heart.
He chewed on his lips for a moment and then did what he came inside to do. “We need to talk. I’m coming in there.”
The cool inky darkness of the room wrapped around him like a cloak and he had to take a moment for his eyes to adjust. He found Mary sitting on the side of the bed with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking like she was crying.
Taking a seat next to her on the bed, he laid an arm across her shoulders, and though she stiffened away from him for a moment, she eventually turned into him and cried. He soothed her as best he could, rubbing her back, kissing the top of her head, rocking them both back and forth. It had been a traumatic day for everybody.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder. She didn’t look up at him.
“For what?” They’d both been rougher with each other than they meant to, probably on account of the alcohol and the fact that they’d both had time to stew over their respective grievances, so he was willing to call ‘bygones’, at least for this.
“For,” she gestured towards the back of the house, “that. Out there.”
Oh. Okay then. He kissed the top of her head again, and then placed a finger under her chin to lift her glistening eyes to his. “Hey, don’t worry about that. We were both wrong, and we can just chalk that moment up to a bit of wildness over which neither one of us had control. Okay?”
She gave him a tremulous, watery smile. “Okay.” Then she took a deep breath and sighed it. “What was I supposed to say to you, Marshall? What words was I supposed to magically know to make this better? Because it needs to be better, I need my best friend back.”
“Is that all you need?” That was really where this conversation had begun, oh-so-long ago. That was the $64,000 question, bereft of flowery speech and .50 cent words. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.” Her arms slid around his waist, pulling him closer to her. “I need you.”
He smiled and kissed her hair, hair that was soft and smelled like sunshine, and gathered her up so that she sat, cuddled, in his lap. “You have me. You will always have me.”