The End of the World As We Know It
Trixie Belden wound her way through the smoke-filled room, dodging drunken jocks sloshing their beer all over the carpet. Her head was pounding and she wanted nothing more than to scream. Her college roommate, Susan, had invited half the campus to their tiny apartment for this April Fools’ Day party. Not that Susan really celebrated April Fools; she just used any excuse she could find to party.
Trixie loved Susan dearly, she really did. Their very different ideas of what constituted fun didn’t normally interfere with their friendship – except when Susan insisted on being the hostess for her crowd’s weekly drinking binge. On those occasions, Trixie usually managed to find a way to go home to Crabapple Farm for the weekend. This weekend, however, that failsafe just didn’t work. First of all, Susan had neglected to inform Trixie ahead of time that she was inviting her crowd over. Second of all, Trixie’s boyfriend, Jim Frayne, was in town to visit her for the weekend.
Just as Trixie had almost reached the safety of Jim’s side, one of the staggering male guests reached out and fondled her generous bosom. Trixie’s eyes widened in shock, but before she had a chance to react Jim had the guy’s arm twisted painfully behind his back.
“Stay away from her,” Jim growled in the guy’s ear.
The young man looked at Jim with the dull-witted expression of severe over-indulgence combined with terminal stupidity. “No problem, dude. I didn’t know she was taken.” With one last lascivious leer in Trixie’s direction, he stumbled toward some other, more willing females.
Jim turned to Trixie and leaned close so he could be heard without shouting over the din. “I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself, but…”
Trixie shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind your jealousy; I kind of like it.” She offered him a tender smile. “It’s these parties I can’t stand. Could we just go hide in my room until the crowd clears?”
Raising a ginger brow, Jim queried, “What makes you think there’s no one in there already?”
“Ugh,” Trixie shuddered. “All the more reason: to protect my private space from drunken orgies.”
Just then, another guest carrying a full pitcher of beer tripped and the pitcher went flying. Jim deftly positioned himself between Trixie and the airborne amber liquid. Arching his back against the uncomfortable feeling of beer soaking through his shirt and dripping down his back, Jim said, “At the very least, I need to go change.”
After scaring off a few inebriated college students making out in the hallway, and a couple just about to carry their pawing and petting over to Trixie’s bed, the young couple finally made it to the sanctity of her bedroom and locked the door securely behind them. Trixie leaned her forehead against the door briefly, reveling in the sudden quiet.
Behind her, Jim was stripping off his sopping wet t-shirt. “Where did you put my bag? I need to get a dry shirt.”
“Hold on, let me get you a towel.”
She retrieved a large fluffy towel from her closet and turned toward Jim, approaching him from behind. She grinned mischievously at the sight of the muscles rippling across his bare back. She slowly stroked the cottony material across his skin to dry him, then leaned in and followed her motions with a trail of kisses.
Shivering at her touch, as ever, he turned to face her. With a twinkle in his emerald eyes, he asked, “Were you wanting the taste of beer tonight?”
“That’s not the taste I’m after,” Trixie purred, slowly running her hands up his arms to the back of his neck.
Jim leaned down and languorously plundered her delicious mouth. When he paused to breathe, he whispered in her ear, “I think we may be stuck in here for a few hours yet.”
With a seductive smile, she replied, “I can think of a few ways to kill the time.” She moved backward toward her bed, pulling him along with her.
When Trixie awoke in the morning she nestled deeper under the covers, pressing herself closer to the bare skin upon which her head lie. She was inhaling the scent of him and preparing to wake him in a most pleasant fashion when the sounds from the next room penetrated her still-waking consciousness. Groaning, she opened one eye and peered at the alarm clock.
“You have GOT to be kidding me!” she shouted as she bolted upright.
Her sudden movements woke Jim, who stirred and glanced at the clock. He looked at his girlfriend’s furious face and listened to the sounds emanating from the living room. Nine in the morning, and the party was still going strong.
“Now I know why you’re so frustrated with Susan,” he said.
Trixie jumped up and started pacing the room in all her naked glory. “I’m BEYOND frustrated! One of these days I’m just gonna murder her in her sleep. The world will thank me!!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Jim cajoled, admiring the morning sunlight glinting on her bare skin.
“I’m not being melodramatic,” she argued. “This is normal, college-roommate dramatic.”
“But you don’t want to kill her,” he said.
“Why the hell not?” she asked argumentatively.
“Because,” he replied, catching her wrist as she passed by him and pulling her back to the bed, “I would be VERY upset if you had to spend the rest of your life in jail.”
With the type of quicksilver mood change to which she was prone, Trixie relaxed against him and smiled. “And where should I spend the rest of my life?” she teased.
Jim became serious all of a sudden, love glowing in his eyes. He caressed her cheek. “In my arms.”
Matching his serious tone, she returned his caress. “Until my dying breath... and beyond.”
He captured her lips in a searing kiss, and the party in the next room was forgotten.
Hours later, when passion had been sated and the coast was clear, Jim and Trixie emerged from her room to survey the damage. Peering around the L-shaped living/dining room, Trixie slumped against the wall in resignation.
“It’s going to take Susan all day to clean this up,” Jim commented.
Trixie snorted. “Who are you kidding? She has to be at work in fifteen minutes.”
Jim’s jaw dropped. “She can’t possibly be in any shape to go to work!”
Trixie merely sent him a withering glare and began stacking empty plastic cups. Jim shook his head and went to the kitchen to retrieve a trash bag… or several.
Susan bounded through the room moments later. “Gotta go! Don’t want to be late!”
She flung open the door to the apartment, pausing momentarily to toss a comment to her roommate over her shoulder. “Hey, Trix! Your friends are here!” With that, she was gone.
Three of Trixie’s good friends, Robin, Jenn and Katrina, entered the apartment and closed the door behind them. Taking in the chaos and disorder around them, they grinned.
“I guess we were right about you needing a clean-up crew, huh?” Robin asked.
“I love you guys,” was Trixie’s only comment.
Jim emerged from the kitchen with the box of large black trash bags. “I think we might need the whole box.”
“G’day, mate,” Katrina greeted him with a suggestive smile. “I’m still wondering why you’re wasting your time with Trix, here, when you could be best friends with my L.B.’s.”
Jim laughed at the long-running joke. “You never give up, do you, you crazy loon?”
“Not me!”
Jenn snorted. "For some reason, that prison chain gang last week wasn't good enough for her. She'd still rather have you."
"Can you blame her?" Robin asked.
Ignoring the friendly banter, Trixie took a bag from the box in Jim’s hand. “Do I even want to know what the kitchen looks like?”
“Umm… definitely not.” Jim shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to touch anything in there right now, and we’re going to need sustenance if we’re going to have the energy to tackle this disaster area. Why don’t I run out and get us some sandwiches or something?”
The girls all agreed, and sent him on his way with a detailed lunch order. Then they dug into their task in earnest. They started at one end of the apartment, collecting trash and righting furniture, and worked their way toward the other end.
A half-hour later, Katrina stretched and groaned. “Are we there yet?”
Jenn rubbed the back of her neck. “And I thought living with Mary and Cathy was a nightmare. I don’t know how you can stand living with Susan.”
Katrina grinned wickedly. “Only Trix knows about living with Susan, but an awful lot of people talk about sleeping with Susan… including Mark”
Jenn picked up a pillow and threw it at Katrina. The beer-soaked cushion splashed her face as it hit. “Eeeeeew! Gross!”
Robin was pulling something out from under the sofa. “Hey Trix, you should have spread this on the floor last night to keep it safe from spilled drinks.”
Trixie poked her head out from under the dining room table, where she had crawled to retrieve yet more junk. “What the heck is it?”
“A yellow poncho.”
Katrina wrinkled her nose. “What a perfectly hideous-looking thing. How did that get in here?”
Robin grinned wickedly. “No one will ever know.”
Picking up the next offending article, Katrina remarked, “Trix, the next time Susan throws a party, let’s ALL go to your house. Your mom could make us some of that delicious special Yankee-thingy.”
“POT ROAST!” the other three girls chorused.
As they had been cleaning, the girls had been hauling full bags of trash out to the garbage chute in the hallway and had left the door ajar. The door was suddenly flung open and their friends Mark and Cathy danced in.
“Susan killed Jim!” Mark shouted.
The room was deathly still for a moment. Then Trixie stamped her foot angrily. “That is NOT funny! Besides, April Fools’ is over.”
Katrina clutched her lovely chest. “Don’t go giving me heart failure like that!”
“He’s not kidding!” Cathy exclaimed. “The fool was making her deliveries, driving her stupid little Jupiter, when a crazy Vermont trucker cut her off. She swerved and jumped the curb just as Jim was coming out of the sandwich shop. She killed him with the Jupiter!”
Many hours later, Trixie collapsed with exhaustion onto her bed. She had been operating on auto-pilot all day, taking care of practical matters. She had identified the body, spoken with the police, made the heartbreaking phone call to Jim’s parents, and done everything else that needed to be done. The Wheelers had arrived with several Bob-Whites in tow, and were staying at a local hotel until the coroner released the body for transfer to Sleepyside for the funeral. Everyone urged Trixie to stay at the hotel with them.
With Susan in jail, however, the apartment was empty. Trixie hadn’t been alone for five seconds all day, and she just wanted some privacy. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow Jim had used the night before. His scent clung to it and she inhaled deeply, releasing the tears she had held at bay all day. The mournful sobs wracked her entire body.
How was she supposed to go on living without him? What was the point? Why should she bother?
She relived every moment of the night before, savoring the memories and longing for her one true love.
“And where should I spend the rest of my life?” she teased.
Jim became serious all of a sudden, love glowing in his eyes. He caressed her cheek. “In my arms.”
Matching his serious tone, she returned his caress. “Until my dying breath... and beyond.”
Agony overcame her. Was it possible to die of a broken heart?
“Jim... please don’t leave me here alone!”
She felt his presence then. As his arms wrapped around her she welcomed his embrace, sinking into the sleep of the dead.
One week later in Sleepyside Memorial Gardens, James Winthrop Frayne the Second and Beatrix Belden were laid to rest, side by side, as they should ever be.
Author's Notes
First and foremost, I need to state that the nasty character of Susan is entirely my own, and completely not based on any real person. Well, her partying and irresponsibility might resemble a few guys I knew in college, but that's about it. I admit, said character is named after my beloved Susansuth, but I really wouldn't want to leave the impression that Susan is anything like this character. The only reason she is so named is to sneak in the crucial plot element - that Susan killed Jim.
The "Jupiter" mentioned in the story is a fictitious car model. It was easier than dragging Jim's beloved horse into my mayhem.
This story is dedicated to Katrina, Mark, Cathyoma, Robin and Jenn. We had a fabulous dinner of "special Yankee thing" at Trixie Camp 2005, during which rumors began to circulate that Susan had killed Jim. If you need more explanation than that, you've clearly not heard enough stories about Vermont.
Oh, and one more thing...
APRIL FOOL!
I mean, come on. I'm evil, but would I actually kill Jim any
other day of the year?
