Unrequited

It was a morning full of uncomfortable things. First a shower that was too hot for his liking, then having to talk with Gillian through her report assessing his mental state, and now being trapped here in an uninviting bank building with a blissfully ignorant, fresh-faced employee trying to talk them into unwanted investment options. Oh hell.

His body was restless and his mind somewhere else. He found it hard to concentrate and keep his limbs from fidgeting. His body wanted to escape the situation of being in a confined space, even though he knew there was no real reason to feel detained here in the first place. It was a fight-or-flight kind of thing and he had lost the ability to control it. It kicked in at random moments; nothing he could do about that.

He remembered the weekend in Boston. Remembered lying next to her in a hotel room and listening to her breathing. A sign of life and comfort right next to him—not thousands and thousands of miles away.

He had taken her hand while she was soundly asleep, just to know what he would feel. It was an assessment more than anything else. And the result was pretty clear—to the rational scientist in him as well as the emotional hothead.

He had lain there with his eyes open for a long time before getting up, shuffling out on his bare feet, and carefully closing the door behind himself. He had wanted nothing more than to simply stay.

"Cal?"

He recognized her voice and turned his head to look at her. He just saw big, concerned eyes staring at him. He was lost at what was going on and what he had missed while his thoughts had been far, far away. "Yeah."

"Do you want to do that?"

He shook his head to clear his clouded mind. "Sorry, what?"

"Split the money into two accounts for now."

"Um, yeah, I guess." He didn't really care. As long as he didn't have to rely on Gillian for money anymore. It was a kind of dependence he didn't want to have. As it were, he was already depending on her more than enough.

"So we'll go with that then," she concluded and looked at the bank employee.

What followed was an endless parade of paperwork to be tackled, and he simply signed what was shoved in front of him without really thinking about it. He was glad that at least Gillian seemed to pay some attention.

They left the bank building some time later and stepped outside into another quite beautiful spring day. The last feathery clouds were slowly dissolving, leaving room for blue skies and a warming sun. She looked up and squinted her eyes. Then her gaze went over to him, probably looking all exhausted from nothing really.

"I know you hate that question, but are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just not in the mood for banking bullshit." He felt a little guilty immediately after saying that, because after all it was another morning she had taken off and sacrificed to help him find his footing again.

But she wasn't offended. "So no banking career for you then?"

"I guess not."

"I was hoping this appointment could convince you that it's completely your thing."

He smiled coyly and avoided thinking about the fact that genuine career options were currently missing from his life. With a slightly heavy heart he peeked into the sun as well. "I can enjoy a beach day, while you unfortunately can't. I think my thing beats your thing here."

She laughed and tilted her head in a way that he had always liked. It accentuated her long neck that was visible much better anyway, as she was wearing her hair in a ponytail today. "Can I take you somewhere?"

"No, thanks." His eyes lingered on her face; the soft outline of her cheeks and her lips, the blue of her eyes, the faintest idea of freckles coming out for the summer. He smiled again and in a strange-but-not-so-strange instant the morning was getting better.

She just smiled back, albeit a little confused. "I'll be working until about five thirty."

"Can I pick you up from work? We could go somewhere for dinner." He tried to go for casual, but the way it came out of his mouth was nothing but. In fact it was loaded with uncertainty and self-doubt.

She waited a little before saying anything in return. It felt like a lifetime, but was probably just the time she needed in order to decide whether she could let him in again, after being told that she was better off without him. "Yeah," she said, "that would be nice."

Relief flooded his systems and he kissed her goodbye on the cheek while already looking forward to seeing her again. His eyes followed her walking over to her car and throwing him one last glance before getting in and driving off.

It was one first step of taking the chances he had left. For once he felt proud of himself.

The second step was not spending the day inside of a bar and the vicinity of alcohol. Alcohol, that was not really helping with anything but a temporary numbness. So instead he tried to come up with another plan.

But it wasn't like he snapped one finger and knew what to do. His mind was blank and so it was just him walking the streets of Washington, D.C. again. A city that felt more and more familiar by now, but still not quite like his old home.

His feet in the end led him to a place that was holding dear memories. He sat down on one of the benches at the Japanese American Memorial, just like him and Gillian would do every springtime to watch the cherry trees blossom.

It was a tradition they had always held onto, despite stressful work days and other commitments. They would always find the time to take this little trip once a year and share some Chinese takeout and a laugh, surrounded by the semi-circular granite wall and two sculptured cranes rising into the sky.

He had never thought about coming here without her. But even now she was with him somehow. The memories of the days back then flooding his mind, and for once it was a warm and comforting feeling instead of loss and wistfulness. He smiled to himself.

He spent quite some time sitting there, watching birds and other people, trying to recall what they had talked about here when life was still normal and good. Well, as normal as it got. Their lives had probably never been as normal and innocent as other people's.

He was in the middle of recalling a particular conversation about one of his hated cheating spouse cases, making her laugh with comments about things seen he was unable to erase from his mind, when his phone rang all of a sudden. It wasn't Gillian; the display said unknown caller.

"Lightman."

"Hi Cal, it's Frank."

He had nearly forgotten about that in the whirlwind of events and emotions. But now he remembered.

"Hope you're doing good. Settling back into society?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Far from it, but this wasn't a personal call after all.

"I'm calling about the favor you asked me. We tried to track down Mazari and her husband, but there's no evidence, no whereabouts of them after a border crossing from Iran to Afghanistan about a year ago."

"Okay," he just said.

"I'm sorry, I can't be of any more help. It's all we could find, really. As I understand, her husband is some kind of merchant entangled in Al-Qaeda terrorism schemes. May I ask why you wanted to know about her?"

He thought about it for a moment. "She's just somebody I met. Somebody who helped." Somebody he wished a better future and a kind of freedom they both seemed to have longed for.

A gust of wind stirred some of the cherry tree petals and swirled them elegantly through the air. He thought back to the curtains with the blue birds on them, swaying in the spring air of an Afghan village. His symbol of a freedom he thought would never come again.

So that was it then. The end of their shared road with no one of them ever knowing what happened to the other. If the birds could ever fly into the sky as much as they had wished for them to do.

"Thanks anyway," he mumbled and massaged his temple.

"If there's anything else I can do for you, let me know, okay."

He hung up after some parting words and stared into an undetermined distance. He remembered her telling him about her studies as a nurse in Tehran. That she wanted to go back one day and maybe become a doctor. That she wanted to teach other women and help them to be independent.

They both knew well enough that it was likely to always remain a dream, but he admired her for still dreaming it. It was something that kept him going as well.

He spent the rest of the afternoon walking the small streets up to her practice in Capitol Hill, checking out stores, cafés and art galleries on the way. He studied the shop window of a jeweler when something caught his eye and he went inside.

He picked up the silver charm from a show case and inspected it. Behind him a saleswoman approached.

"That's a very nice one," she confirmed.

"Yeah." His fingers ran over the little bird, its outline reminding him of the those back then in his other life. And at the same time he remembered something he had found in one of the boxes in the storage unit. Something that was a perfect fit.

"Is it for someone in particular?"

The question caught him off guard and he wasn't really in the mood to chat, so he just nodded his head and moved away to signal that he wanted to pay for it with his newly acquired own money.

"Do you want it wrapped?"

"No, thanks."

She just placed the talisman in a little bag and handed it to him over the counter. "Have a good day," she said.

It was definitely getting better, he thought. Maybe it was even meant to be a great day—depending on how the evening would turn out. He left the shop contemplating about where to take her out for dinner, about what to say and how to say it best. It was frightening and joyous at the same time.

The silver bird was safe in his pocket, while he made his way over to the tree-lined street that her practice was on. He was a bit early, but ready to wait for her while enjoying the warm rays of sunshine out on the sidewalk.

That was until he saw him.

He stopped in his tracks and blinked, but the picture in the distance remained the same. They were both standing on top of the few stairs leading up to the door of the house, facing each other, talking, smiling.

There was no need to wonder who he was, because Cal recognized him from the photo in Gillian's living room right away. He didn't even have a name—not one he knew of—but now he was here, maybe claiming what was his, and making him miss out. Goddammit.

He watched them for a while. Just standing there. Not able to think or react. Only able to feel the dull pain of it all.

Maybe this meant nothing at all; or maybe it meant everything. He tried to breathe, because right now he didn't know anything about what he was seeing.

But in the end, it was something in their touch that undid him. His hand on her waist, the small of her back, her fingers slowly tracing his biceps, then fumbling with his collar. The intimacy and the undeniable familiarity between the two, that he had believed to exist only between Gillian and himself—not some other guy that had entered her life when he couldn't do a thing about it. Looking at it was like watching his remaining life finally burning down to forsaken ruins and cold ashes.

He first stumbled backwards, then turned around and started walking; briskly and with purpose.

So much for not hitting a bar today.