Old Windows

Breaks

* 2 Months Later

Despite Claire's heart breaking end to her 15 year friendship, she found sufficing solace in Mort. His unusually comforting demeanor and kind words seemed to sooth her restless thoughts. Although Claire would never admit that she missed Elise as much as she truly did, Mort knew.

One particular day, Claire had decided she had enough time spent inside. Going to work didn't count. She needed to go out into the world and ease her mind of everything. As she sat in the recliner nestled in the corner of Mort's upstairs loft, she suggested, "How about we go down to the flea market they have downtown?"

Mort's frantic typing fingers came to a halt and he looked up at Claire with confusion, "For what?"

This caused Claire to become even more confused as to why he would even ask. All they've been doing was staying cooped up in his house with the occasional dinner date, "To get out of the house for a while. Mort we rarely leave."

"What're you talking about Claire? Just last week we went out to dinner!"

She lowered her head in shock, "Did you hear yourself? Last damn week! Most couples I've heard of are always going on adventures and doing spontaneous things."

"Well, my best guess is that their partner isn't in the middle of writing bull sh*t to pay his bills. God Claire, go by yourself if you need to leave so bad," he huffed, returning his attention to his computer.

"Fine, a**hole, I will," she spat as she stomped downstairs to grab her purse and get the hell out.

Mort lifted his eyes without lifting his head to watch her as she left. Hoping she would turn around and say something, he fully lifted his head but came to a disappointing reality when she finally slammed the door shut. He heard the dirt under the tires crunch as she sped off. Mort slammed down his laptop screen and ran his hands aggressively through his ratted hair, forcibly unhinging his jaw. He threw off everything that was unkempt on his desk and watched it hit the floor.

Snatching his keys, he followed after Claire to the dreaded flea market. Noticing his black hat on the table as he stared intently upon it, he grasped the hat tightly and gently lied it on his head, softly smiling at himself in the mirror. His 10 minute drive consisted of various curses and 'I swear when I get a hold of her-" vows. Not bothering to properly park in a spot, he jerked the car into park and went out to search for her.

"Claire!" he barked, causing other shoppers to disperse out of his path.

Once his eyes met the back of her head, he quickened his marching foot steps and charged for her, "CLAIRE!" he sharply growled as he belligerently grabbed a hold of her arm to swing her around.

"Mort!" she shrieked, attempting to throw off his unruly hand, "You said you didn't wanna come?"

"You think I'm gonna let you out of my sight? Come on, we're going home," he ordered, expecting her to follow closely behind him.

When he noticed he didn't hear footsteps behind him, he whisked around, "CLAIRE! I said we're leaving!" his unjustified rage earning him uncomfortable stares.

"Mort!" she yelled under her breath, "what the hell is wrong with you, everyone is staring!" she cried as he didn't break eye contact with his car.

"I don't give a sh*t," he hissed.

"I drove my own car here, so what do you want me to do?"

He spun around and let out a deep, "F*CK!" as he once again torn through his hair with his hands.

He sighed deeply, "You better f*cking come home. You hear me?" he pierced through her eyes pointing one finger at her and walking backwards to his car.

She watched him drive off and buried her face in her hands. She could feel the cold and concerned stares not leave her as she got into her car. Wiping the summoned tears from her eyes, she sped as much as she could to his house.

Claire reached the now grim and appalling lake house. Gripping on tightly to her mace in hand, she walked up to the door. After a gentle knock, there was no answer.

Claire let herself in slowly and cautiously, "Mort?" she spoke softly.

She surveyed around the living room and saw him sitting on the couch, spacing out into the brightly gleaming fire place. Taking small steps to the couch, she approached him heedfully, "Mort?" she asked once more, sitting next to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Yeah what the f*ck was that, Mort?"

"I just get so upset sometimes out of nowhere and I don't know what happens to me. It's like I'm not myself and another part of me takes over."

"I think you need a break from working. You're probably going crazy because of it."

Mort didn't respond to her suggestion and looked up at her, "Are you always gonna be here?"

"What do you mean?" she chuckled.

"As in, are you always going to be here. Do you have any plans of leaving?"

She returned a puzzled face, "I don't..'plan' on it, no?"

"For any reason? You'll always be here?"

"Okay Mort, you're starting to freak me out a little bit."

He laughed to himself, "It's probably the hat," he tossed it onto the coffee table, "always makes me do strange things," he smiled in her direction.

She disregarded his odd comment and smiled back. Deep down, she needed closure and a proper apology to move forward, but knowing that was not very probable at the moment, she carried on and choked down her thoughts.

"However," she began, as this caused Mort's head to shoot up, "I think it would be best if we took a week off from seeing each other," she paused, "you know, so you can finish your work and we can have some alone time. It's getting pretty busy at the police station."

Mort stared into the fire place, begging every atom in his body to contain his anger, "Okay," he spoke out, unhinging his jaw as he usually does in frustration.

"This doesn't mean we're broken up or anything, just so we can focus on our jobs for a while," she tried her best to tranquillize the tension that she could feel rising between them.

"I said okay," he snapped.

Claire rolled her eyes and gathered her things. As she was just about to leave out the tattered door, she turned around and said through a calm whisper, "Call whenever you'd like, Mort."

He turned his head just enough so she could see the side of his face and he lazily raised up two fingers to indicate he got the message. Claire sighed and headed for her car and the quiet ride home she had ahead of her.