--The Police

Honey paused outside Jim’s door until she noticed that he was gathering up the books he had brought with him. Foregoing her usual courtesy, she walked right in. "What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?" She almost giggled at the way he visibly jumped, dropping one of the books onto the floor.

Jim bent down and retrieved the book, stuffing it into his backpack. "I thought I would, yeah." He took a quick look around the neat room, but he had everything he needed. He just didn’t have what he wanted.

He wasn’t going to leave until tomorrow afternoon. They were going to try out the lake, even though it was probably on the cold side. Honey sighed. "You’re leaving because of Trixie, aren’t you?"

Jim avoided her gaze. "No; what do you mean? Finals aren’t that far off and I want to study."

"You can’t study here?" She waited for an answer, but when there was none she plunged gamely on. "It bothered you seeing them together. Didn’t it?"

Jim didn’t bother denying it. "Forget it," he said flatly.

Honey was suddenly pissed. "I will not," she retorted hotly. At his surprised look she added in a gentler tone, "Why don’t you just admit you have feelings for her?" She sat on the end of his bed and crossed her arms, shifting so that the sun pouring through the windows stopped hitting her in the eyes.

Jim sighed and dropped the backpack onto the floor, sinking into his desk chair. "What good would that do?" he asked his sister. And anyway, he wasn’t sure he even understood what they meant. She was probably better off with Nick. Nick, who didn’t hesitate when it came time to ask her out. Nick, who never had to numb himself just to survive. Although Jim had to admit he’d been feeling anything but numb whenever he thought about the two of them together. It was so confusing.

Honey leaned her chin in her hands. "What good would it do. Hmmm. Well, for starters, you could be the one taking Trixie out for a special birthday dinner tonight instead of Nick Roberts. What do you think of that?"

"I think you’re insane, that’s what I think of that." Jim regarded his sister fondly. "Honey, it’s really sweet how concerned you are. But facts are facts. Trixie sees me as a friend. And you know what the quickest way to end a friendship is? Telling her you don’t exactly see her as just a friend anymore when she doesn’t feel the same. I can’t let that happen. Do you really want that to happen?"

"How can you be so sure that’s what would happen? And anyway, I don’t think that would have happened."

"Happen, happen; man, this is one happening conversation!" Jim joked, trying to change the subject.

Honey regarded him sourly. "I’m going to happen all over your head if you don’t get serious for two seconds," she said, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. Men could be such pains, and brothers in particular. Then she remembered the real reason she started this whole thing and her face softened. "Jim, I just can’t stand to see you like this."

"Like what?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

Honey drew her knees up to her chest and crossed her hands over her shins. "If I ask you something do you promise not to get mad?"

"Okay," Jim replied tentatively. He suddenly knew that he probably wasn’t going to like what she said, and hoped he didn’t fly off the handle.

"Did you not tell Trixie how you feel because you don’t know if she feels the same, or did you not tell her because you…were afraid to go there?" She finished the last part of the sentence in a rush, drawing her knees into her chest. The silence stretched on for so long that she started to feel itchy. "Wait, before you answer, just let me say one quick thing. I never went through what you went through with your mom…you know, and your dad, and…everything. But I know how it feels when you wonder if maybe God just…kind of forgot all about you, you know? Like you’re being punished for something you didn’t even know you ever did, like in a past life or something." As usual, when Honey was on a roll her words tumbled one over the other. "And then He remembers you again, and everything is going great, but there’s that small part of you that wonders if you’re going to be forgotten again. Or punished again. And that if you just lay low, and not ask for too much, then…"

Jim could not believe what he was hearing. It was strange and wonderful to know that he wasn’t the only one who had skulked on his belly trying to work out a route from behind enemy lines, desperately looking for cover. There were no words, there was only gratitude, there was only recognition, a welcome visit from the home world. Finally, he rose from the chair and stood in front of her, extending a hand.

"Come on; let’s go downstairs and raid the ‘fridge." It was all he could say, but he gave her hand a brotherly squeeze.

Honey smiled and let him lead her downstairs. It was, she supposed, a start.

*     *     *

 

I kissed your lips when your face looked sad
It made me think about him and that you still loved him so
But pretty soon I made you feel so glad
that you belong to me and love began to show
He hurt you then, but that’s all gone
I guess I’m saying you’re the only one
I’m waiting for the day when you can love again

       --The Beach Boys

 

"Nick, I can’t see you anymore." Trixie blurted out the hateful words, tasting them as if they were poison. They were sitting in Nick’s living room on the sofa, where they’d gone after the dinner Trixie could barely swallow.

Nick stared at her for a moment, feeling as if all the wind had been knocked out of his body. "Why?" was all he could think of to ask. Shit! was all he could think.

"Because. Because I…I still love Jim," Trixie finally said miserably, feeling like the vilest creature who ever walked the earth.

Even though Nick knew this, had, in fact, always known it, to hear her say it out loud was like a knife wound. He dug the nails of his left hand into the couch cushion until the sick feeling passed. "But why does that mean we can’t see each other?" he said.

Trixie was incredulous. "You…you still want to see me? Nick, that isn’t fair on you!"

Nick tried to smile. "I’ll decide what’s fair or not fair," he said weakly.

Trixie buried her face in her hands. "I don’t know why it has to be like this. Damn it, I don’t."

"Me either," Nick muttered too low for her to hear. Then he sighed heavily. "Trix, I knew when I asked you out that first time that you still had feelings for Jim. But I decided I wanted to spend time with you anyway. I still do." Not seeing her at all was still worse. He knew that much. Then he had a thought that almost laid him out flat. "Trixie….do you, I mean, do you want to keep seeing me?"

Trixie’s head jerked up. "Yes. Yes! Oh Nick, I do like you. I like you a LOT. I have so much fun with you and you’re such a good…"

"Puh-leeze don’t say I’m such a good friend. Guy’s hate that. Trust me!" Nick tried to keep his tone light, but Trixie could plainly see he was serious.

"You’re such a great kisser," she said instead, her smile genuine.

"It’s true," Nick said teasingly. "What can I say?"

Trixie shifted until she was half sitting, half lying across his lap. "Say I’m an idiot for loving somebody who doesn’t love me back," she whispered.

"The heart wants what it wants," he said instead, a little ironically. He wanted to kiss her but wouldn’t let himself. Not for the moment anyway. "Have you ever told him you love him?"

Trixie shook her head. "I was afraid if he didn’t feel the same way, we couldn’t be friends anymore."

"You don’t think he loves you too?"

Trixie smiled a bitter, ironic smile. "I think he likes me a lot," she said wryly. They regarded each other in silence a moment before she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Remember the movie ‘Pretty in Pink’?" When Nick nodded, she added, "Remember Duckie?"

"Trix, you look a HELL of a lot better than that guy," Nick joked.

Trixie smiled. "I only meant that the redhead in that movie only liked him as a friend too. And they didn’t even have the decency to use the book ending. Which frankly pissed me off. Duckie was so much better than that other stupid guy!"

Nick began to smile with relief. He didn’t think he could bear any more seriousness, and Trixie looked so genuinely outraged it really was funny. "But Blaine acted so sorry at the end," he said, just to annoy her. It worked.

"I hated that guy! He brought her to that party and didn’t even stick up for her! And then he suggested that if they wanted to go visit her friends they could crawl under a rock!"

Nick began to laugh, and Trixie, realizing the foolishness of their argument, laughed too. "I know—it’s only a movie," she said.

"Only a movie," he agreed. He finally gave in to the temptation and kissed her, kissing her for so long that he was suddenly aware that his parents weren’t home and that he was beginning to lose control. He slowly backed away, his pulse heavy. "I have something to tell you," he said, a little breathless.

"Oh?" Trixie managed. She wondered how she could be in love with somebody else and yet respond the way she did to Nick’s kisses. It didn’t make any sense.

"I got in," he said shyly. "I was going to tell you over dinner, but you seemed so distracted and sad." And now I know why, he thought sadly.

"Oh my God, that’s amazing! Oh Nick, I don’t believe it. Have you told your parents yet?" Nick had been waiting for weeks for the letter that would tell him whether or not he got into the San Franciso School of Art. Ever since he found out they placed a strong emphasis on the study of classical drawing and painting techniques, color theory and sculpture, he’d wanted to go. Mr. Crider, the head of the Art Department at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High, agreed that it was the best place for him and had written a letter of recommendation. So had the curator of the Sleepyside Museum of Art, Nick’s boss and good friend.

"No. They don’t even know I applied," Nick admitted.

"Nick!" Trixie gasped.

"I know. But it’s clear across the country. My mom’s going to have a cow."

Trixie thought about what her parents would say if she blithely informed them that not only was she planning on graduating from high school early, she was moving to California to attend school. She shuddered elaborately. "Your mother is going to have a stroke," she corrected. "What are you going to do?"

Nick shook his head. "I don’t know. But I’m going. I have to go. I haven’t wanted to do anything else for as long as I can remember."

Trixie understood in a way few would. "I know what you mean. I don’t think my parents are going to like it when I tell them I’m planning on majoring in Criminal Justice. They think my ‘detective-ing’ is just a phase I’ll grow out of. But it isn’t," she finished firmly.

Nick smiled at her and took her hands. "Once the summer is over, I’ll be gone. I want to be with you before I go." At Trixie’s stricken look he quickly added, "Look, I know there’s no way. And even if there were, how realistic would it be for us to be together when we’re on different coasts? I learned that the hard way when Amy moved to Seattle."

Trixie squeezed his hands. "You’re probably right, but…oh Nick, why aren’t you mad at me? Shouldn’t you be really pissed off?"

Nick let out a short laugh. "What’s the point? It wouldn’t get me what I want. Did it get you what you want?" He sucked in his breath at the look of wistful longing that filled Trixie’s expressive face. "Don’t move. Stay like that," he said, dumping her off his lap and running out of the room.

Trixie sat there a moment, puzzled. "I wouldn’t blame him if he went to get a baseball bat," she muttered aloud. But Nick was very right about something. She had felt angry when she discovered Jim was dating other people, not just sad like she thought. It made her feel small.

"Hold that pose," Nick puffed as he dashed back into the room, a large sketchbook tucked under his arm, some art pencils in the other.

"Oh Nick, you don’t want to draw me," Trixie protested.

"Oh yes I do," he muttered distractedly, already beginning to sketch, first in broad strokes as he captured the basic shapes he wanted, then smaller more detailed ones.

Trixie sighed, but let him continue. "Honestly, there’ve got to be better subjects for you," she protested weakly. She thought about how her freckles would look on paper and shuddered.

"I can’t believe you don’t know how beautiful you are," Nick said, looking back and forth between his sketchpad and Trixie’s face.

Trixie blushed. "Puh-leeze."

"Hush. Artist at work," he commanded. He had never seen a look like that and the artist part of him couldn’t let the opportunity pass. His own pain over the situation was irrelevant.

Trixie sat quietly, the only sound in the room the hissing of the soft charcoal pencils on the absorbent paper. She thought about what summer would bring, and what after summer would bring and wondered if there would ever come a time when she understood what her life was all about.

To be continued…

Author’s notes: "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" – Lyrics & Music by Sting; performed by The Police.

"I’m Waiting for the Day" - Lyrics & Music by Brian Wilson and Mike Love; performed by The Beach Boys