"Olivia," Peter placed a hand on my shoulder, gentle, but firm. He'd done it before, many times, with his father. I'd watched. With Walter, he placed authority in his voice, he was commanding. But not now, not to me.
He was asking.
I was bewildered, so I whirled, to read his face.
Usually, I'm pretty good at reading faces. This time, I had no idea.
--
"Olivia," I placed my hand on her shoulder. It started out as a way to get her attention, evolving in just a moment to create something else. Something I couldn't identify.
I hated this uncertain, absurd feeling.
I loved it too, the tingling in my fingers where they touched her. My stomach lurched. Not in the normal way, when your stomach is attempting to expunge a toxin, but the very opposite. I wanted to move closer, to pull her in.
I scolded myself and reluctantly withdrew my hand.
--
I didn't want him to stop.
That one small touch, his hand on my shoulder, threw my senses into a frenzy.
At first, they seemed to be screaming, running in circles. My heart pounded, and I felt faint.
And then, suddenly, they froze. Or perhaps the opposite. They melted. I melted.
And then he pulled his hand away, and everything fell apart.
--
The look in her eyes seemed to reflect my insides.
Wild, crazed. She bit her lip, and I wanted so much to console her, but I wasn't sure how. Somehow I didn't know anything anymore.
My hand reached toward her again, of its own accord, but it didn't matter, because the next thing I knew she stumbled toward me, pressing her head to my chest, and my arms wrapped around her automatically, as if they were made specifically for that purpose.
--
"Peter we… we can't…" I sounded like a frog. My throat burned and my eyes threatened to open the floodgates, but I pushed against them. All my secrets, all my fears and weaknesses – not just tears – would come spilling out. Why did I store them in the weakest place?
I tried to continue, but I merely ended up babbling nonsense and stumbling over fragmented sentences.
He didn't try to understand, didn't ask me to explain. He merely pulled me closer, exactly the way I needed him to.
--
I wasn't sure exactly what we couldn't do, or even who "we" refers to, but I didn't ask. Part of me didn't want to know, but the rest of me knew that now was not the time, that she needed comfort, not questions.
We stood there for ages, or maybe only moments, her tears soaking my shirt.