Earlier, I alluded to writing a chapter that I never thought I would write, that I couldn't see myself ever sitting down and creating, that people who know me and how I feel about the dynamics in this show wouldn't believe I was writing if I had told them, that no matter how much a direction needed to be taken, that I of all people would stubbornly refuse to go.
This is that chapter.
Walter was acting strange around her. Even in her foggy state, Florence could tell. He kept glancing her way, and making a point to look away when she tried to make eye contact. When she asked him how he was doing on the code he was writing, his answer of "what? Nothing. I didn't do anything," was suspicious even to the most socially awkward genius in California. Paige too was sending her glances, as well as similar ones shot Walter's way. It made her uncomfortable. It was as if everyone else had a secret and she was the butt of a joke she didn't know existed.
It was either that or sympathy looks. She didn't like that idea, either.
Toby and Sylvester were in the loft – the former almost certainly trying to antagonize her husband with the bird. He was saying new phrases now, things the doctor had taught him. Florence supposed that meant Super Fun Guy was only going to get more annoying as time passed. But time, for her, was passing slowly. She supposed a plus side of that was it would be longer before the bird became unbearable.
Unbirdable, Toby would say. She hated herself for thinking of that.
It was nearer the end of the day, a day that dragged, a day that featured awkward questions about trips to the hospital that she'd never taken, when Walter pulled her aside after another glance between him and Paige that Florence was almost amused at, considering both the O'Briends seemed to believe that she hadn't seen said glance.
"I have to talk to you about something," he said.
Her anxiety spiked. That was never a good way to start a conversation. She attempted to inject some humor. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Last time you had to talk to me about something it got weird."
He smirked. It made her feel better. The smirk faded quickly. It made her feel worse. "Well," he said, "I suspect this is not something that will result in you falling in love with me."
"Hey," she said. "I was never in love wi – "
"The ten year anniversary is coming up," he said. "Of…of my sister. Her passing, rather."
Florence nodded.
"I'm sure you know that. Being Sylvester's wife."
"Yes."
"Well, here's…here's the thing." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It seems that my brain has been, uh, sort of…confusing things. Since Megan was his wife and now you're his wife and you had Tilly in an anniversary year like this it seems I've sort of…started projecting feelings. The way I feel about Megan, to the way I feel about you. And Toby thinks that's why I've been so protective of Tilly."
"Because…you think she's Megan's child?"
"No. Not…not consciously. It's more of a…I've been hit on the head a few too many times."
"I'll say."
"I'm sorry. Paige just told me I had to tell you and apologize for the way I've been – "
"Walt, hey, no worries," she said. "Things have been intense lately. Stuff gets crossed and complicated."
"I thought you would think this subject uncomfortable," Walter said. "I appreciate – "
"Oh, it's definitely uncomfortable," she interjected. "But you're dealing with a lot. Paige mentioned your TBI. I'd be a jerk to give you a hard time about it."
"Well." He nodded. "Thank you. And I am sorry if I made you feel awkward or…if lines were crossed in my vigilance over you and Tilly. I will try to be more conscious of what's appropriate."
She smiled. "Thank you."
She hadn't thought Walter inappropriate. But it felt like an appropriate response to his apology.
"Walt?" Paige appeared in the door to the kitchen. "Amber is running a low grade fever…I don't mean to interrupt this, I know you were building up to it."
"No, we're finished," he said. He looked back at Florence. "Thank you. For being such a good friend." Looking back at Paige, he walked to her, offered his arm, and they disappeared around the corner.
By the time Florence wandered back into the common area, Toby seemed to have left, too. Sylvester was at his chalkboard, working on some math she knew she should recognize, but didn't. He smiled when he saw her. "Hey, wifey."
She gave a small smile. "What are you working on?"
"Just some stuff to keep my mind off things. I get jittery when I go a day without seeing Tilly."
She knew Sylvester wasn't making a jab at her. But it still felt like one. Florence pushed that feeling down. It didn't belong there.
"Walter seems to be going through a lot, too."
He nodded. "He told me about some of it. How he might not ever be back to where he was."
"He just told me some other stuff, too. I don't really know how to process it. I don't know if I can." She sighed. "It requires going back to our crash." She rolled her lower lip under her teeth. "So much would be different if not for that damn trip. But we got greedy. And competitive. We had to win."
"It's for the greater good."
"I know. But…" Florence started to cry. It was distressing to her how easily she could start crying now. "If we hadn't gone on that trip…if I hadn't jumped to go help afterward…"
"You can't do that." He pulled her close. "You'll eat yourself alive if you focus on the what ifs."
"But I am. I am focusing on them. I don't know how to stop it."
"I wish you would go talk to someone."
"I'm talking to you."
"But I…" he trailed off. "Okay. Okay. You're talking to me."
"I feel so hopeless, Sly. Nothing makes me happy or excited, when all sorts of things used to. I haven't felt this way since…" She cleared her throat. "Since before you and I were together. And I…I don't even want to go see Tilly. The thought makes me tired. And then I feel guilty, and I want to cry, all over again."
"Don't ever feel guilty, Lori," he said, kissing the top of her head. She wanted to shudder, so overcome with emotion as she usually was, especially lately, when he held her. But this time, it was different. This time she was so acutely aware of how much she relied on him. Depended on him. Required him.
Sylvester Dodd's wife, they called her at the hospital. Tilly's mother.
Hell, apparently to some people she was frickin' Megan O'Brien.
She pulled away from her husband, leaning over and resting her arms and forehead on the table.
"It's okay," Sylvester said. She felt his fingers on her back. "Just breathe."
"Stop it," she said, straightening up, crossing the room to sit on the couch. "Just stop it."
"Okay." He was looking at her curiously. "What would you like me to do?" He tipped his head. "I know we're both going through this with our daughter. But I can't imagine what you're feeling. Just tell me what to do. I'll do it. You know you're everything to me, Lori." He watched her. "What do you want?"
She let out a long sigh, a heavy and pained one, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I want…"
Sylvester came and sat beside her. Their hands rested in the space between them, barely a centimeter apart.
"I want you to touch me."
He lifted his hand, ready to cover hers. With that action, she had an epiphany. A terrible one.
"But you can't."
Sylvester froze. "…I don't understand."
God, oh God. Florence took in a long breath, steeling herself. "I don't remember much about being rescued, or what happened the first day I was in the hospital. But I remember everything else. Every detail of when she was born. How cold the floor felt. How uncomfortable it was. I was scared, and I was crying, and Paige had me and was trying to calm me down. Walter was holding my hand, and my pinky had crossed over my ring finger. The diamond cut into my skin. No one noticed. Not even me." Florence reached over to her bag, pulling it toward her across the coffee table. It felt heavy. It seemed like it took a year to get it within reach. She pulled her deodorant out of it. "Do you see this?" Sylvester nodded, appearing confused. She rotated it, so a darker colored mass stuck to the side was visible to him. "This deodorant has had gum stuck to it since our flight East." She paused. "It isn't my gum. And I don't even care." She dropped the deodorant back into her bag. She thought the cap came off. She didn't bother to check. "I should care. But I don't." Sylvester was looking at her bag with a slight feeling of disgust on his face. "Exactly," she said. "I've lost my ability to give a shit about that. And…" her heart felt like it was being squeezed. "That's not all I've lost." Her throat felt as tight as her heart. "I've lost me, Sylvester."
"You haven't lost you. You're in there. You just need to learn how to find you in there." He reached for her hand again, and it killed her to pull it away. You won't get this out if you let him touch you. "Florence," he said, "things will improve with time. Scorpion is getting to the bottom of the crash. Tilly is getting closer each and every day to coming home. Ralph called Paige this morning. He may come visit soon. Things are looking up."
"Yes. Things are moving on. Things are looking up. For Scorpion. For Ralph. For Patty, probably. For you. Even for Tilly. But me?" She gave a subtle, almost not noticeable, shake of her head, and her words were almost too quiet to hear. "I've been lying on the floor of that plane for the past two months."
She saw his face change. She stumbled on. "I can still feel that diamond pressing into my skin. I can feel the vomit on my lips. I can feel myself fighting my own body. I'm tired and my head hurts and I think I'm going to die, and so is she. And in a way, I think I did die. I'm not me anymore. I'm your wife, or I'm Tilly's mother." She shook her head. "And that's all I can think about now whenever you hold me. I'm defined by you. By our relationship. People think of me and they think of you immediately, but they can think of you without thinking of me. I'm your everything – to – me before I'm anyone else."
"Lori. You're scaring me."
She stood up. "I don't think I can do this."
He stood, too, his face pale. "Do…do what?"
"This. Us." She wiped her eyes. "I can't be your everything – to – me. I can't be anything to you until I'm something to myself again. Until I'm Florence, before anyone else."
"I love you," he blurted, as if there were a million other things he wanted to say, but that one rushed to the forefront.
Her eyes were hot. Her heart almost couldn't beat, the constriction was so severe. She could barely get words out. "That's asking too much of me."
She had to go, had to get out, had to go somewhere that wasn't here. She turned on her heel, heading for the door. She heard Sylvester call out her name. He called out again when she didn't answer. This time, she stopped, standing facing the door, her back to him. He spoke again.
"Is our marriage over?"
She knew she was making that face people made when they ugly cried. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Please don't ask me that."
