They climbed to the loft.
Not Walter – he went to go get Amber. He'd offered to stay; Allie was always delighted to add one of the grandchildren to her and Cabe's nightly tradition of Movie Time. But Paige had said no, go get her, "and please don't put her through any tests when you get her home. She's probably tired."
Walter looked like he wanted to protest, but his Adam's Apple bobbed, he pressed his lips together, and said, "yes, dear."
"Tests?" Florence had asked.
"Those sorts of things you do with toddlers, games that are fun for them but show the parent or care giver how much they've learned."
"Ah."
The fourth stair from the top creaked badly. It had been the noisy stair as long as Florence could remember, but it was much louder now.
"Hello, weirdos."
Both Paige and Florence ignored Super Fun Guy's greeting. While most of the things he said were taught by Toby, most of which were used to torment Sylvester, that little bit of the bird's training had been Happy's doing.
"Okay," Paige said, pulling a chair out from the desk and gesturing toward it. Florence didn't move. Paige raised her eyebrows and gestured again. Florence sat. Paige pulled another chair from the corner, the rolling one, and sank down onto it. "I think we're alone, now."
Florence suddenly felt uncomfortable. Paige wanted to talk about things. She didn't want to talk about things.
"Do you want to talk about things?" Paige asked.
Maybe she needed to talk about things.
"I know Toby's the therapist and Walter's brain is most closely wired with yours, but I've been told I'm a good listener."
"I don't know how much help you could be," Florence said. "No offense."
"None taken. But can I ask that you try me, first?"
"I just don't know what you could do. I've lost myself, my identity. I've let myself be defined by my relationships to other people. And until I can figure out who I am without them, I don't think anyone can help me."
Paige was quiet a long moment. "Can you name ten facts about me?" She asked.
"Of course. Would you like them alphabetical, or in the order they come to me?"
Paige gave a little laugh. "Order they come to you is fine."
"Okay. You like to sing. You're good at it. You prioritize safety over bells and whistles when it comes to your vehicle. You're fluent in Spanish. You used to like going to the beach but now it makes your survival instincts kick in, so it's not relaxing. You're a good swimmer. You like cinnamon in your coffee. You love wearing rings. Sometimes you stick your finger into the peanut butter jar. You like to dance, but you're not very good at it." Florence paused, counting in her head. "Oh, that was eleven things. I've failed the challenge."
Paige shook her head, smiling. "No, that's good. Did you notice that nothing you just said involved my relationship to any one person?"
"Oh. Sorry. You're married to Walter. You have two children. One is a twenty – "
"No, no, no," Paige said, shaking her head. "You've pulled away from Sylvester because you think you aren't a person without him. But you love chemistry. You like to be in shape, but you hate jocks. You mainly just go to Kovelsky's for their fries. You're a big fan of puns. And science jokes. You don't like the nickname Flo because the Smash Mouth song came out when you were ten and people started using it to joke that you were a lesbian and that turned into bullying, and now you still don't like the nickname but you've decided you do like the song. You have a soft spot for dogs. You love ice cream. See? I can rattle these things off. Things that have nothing to do with your relationship to Sylvester. Or any of us, really."
"It doesn't…bother you when you're introduced as Walter's wife?"
"Being Walter's wife is one of my favorite things, Florence."
Florence knew that was true, even though anyone with an I.Q. greater than zero could tell that his diagnosis had strained them somewhat. She recalled a conversation she had with Walter and her and Sylvester's wedding. They'd talked about how both of them were, to many people, not fit for marriage. Or even for close friendships. Society considered them obligate weirdos. Obligate loners. They'd both gotten married not due to finding someone to pity them, but because their spouses wanted them just as much. Paige knew how much she'd helped Walter become a better person, but she also considered herself so very lucky that the man who hadn't believed in love but still had so much love to give had fallen in love with her. And then he'd learned how to use that love to make her better, to balance out their weaknesses with their strengths. Paige's relationship made her more of herself, not less.
"How do you do it?"
"Firstly, I'm healthy. I know it's none of my business, but you aren't." Paige raised her eyebrows. "And one thing I've learned from my years of being a single parent is that sometimes, relationships with other people should be the most important thing. Because they aren't all created equal. I'm a mother. So is my mother. But she was manipulative and often absent. There are mothers, but there are good mothers, bad mothers, attentive mothers, selfish mothers, mothers that are failing but still try. I don't mean this in some anti-feminist 'women should want to be a good wife and mother above all else' way. I mean that whether you want to be a successful business person, or scientist, or pilot or FBI agent or anything else, or none of those things at all, who is there for you when you come home at the end of the day? Can you call the name plate by your door when you have an unexpected expense and need to word vomit? Can your six – figure car hold you when you're scared? Will your landscaper visit you in the nursing home?" Paige licked her lips. "It doesn't have to be romantic relationships. Some people do fine without them. Or paternal or maternal. Some folks never have those, either. But you have to have somebody. Our relationships with other people – even down to as simply as how we react when we accidentally bump someone in a crowded hallway – is what defines us. And it's what we should be most proud of. At least, that's what I think. Being a good person, having a circle. When I run into people from the restaurant, or old clients of Scorpion, they ask about Ralph. And I could tell them all the successful things he's done, or mention his relationship when he's in one, because that's what everyone expects. They ask about your children and you start rattling off their accomplishments, giving their damn resume to people who they may not even remember ever meeting, ticking off as many imaginary boxes as you can to make them fit into the cookie cutter idea of what's successful. Schooling, job, partner, kids. It's stupid."
Florence couldn't help but wonder if Paige's passion on this topic had anything to do with Walter's obsession with what percentile Amber's cognitive development was in.
Paige continued. "When people ask about Ralph I tell them what a compassionate person he is. I tell them how glad I am that he and Patty are such good friends. I tell them he's kind. I express how lucky I am to have him in my life. And you know what they always do? They ask if he's seeing anyone. They ask if he wants kids. They ask what his current position is and if there's room for advancement – and then they suggest different ways he can advance, people they can put him in contact with, like his whole damn purpose is to level up, level up, level up. Relationship, career, your current state is not enough, you always need to be more. Well, we're all trapped on this godforsaken rock hurtling through space and none of us are getting out alive. We have to do what makes us happy, and be with who makes the hard parts easier. Having someone to lean on doesn't make you weak. We all have weaknesses, and we all have weak moments. They're going to happen whether we let everyone in or shut everyone out. And I know I'd rather have someone to help me than have to face everything alone." Paige had been leaning forward as she spoke, but now she sat up straight, stretching her back. She settled back down. "If you decide Sylvester isn't that person, I understand. If you decide that person is actually multiple people, I understand. If you want that person to be one or more of us, same thing. Your support system doesn't have to include romance at all. But I think tonight has shown that you need something. I think we all do." She reached out, taking one of Florence's hands. Florence tensed, but only momentarily. She'd realized when Walter held her how much she missed contact with other human beings. "You can stay here tonight. I know you've been hopping between places. Please stay here, get some rest, where we know where you are. We want you to be safe, Florence. If we can't help you be happy right now, at least let us help you be safe.
She didn't want to stay here. She wanted Sylvester. She wanted to go to the apartment and be held by him. She wanted to forget the past few weeks had happened, to undo them entirely.
But was that smart? Was that right for her? She still felt lost. And now she was wondering if Sylvester would even still want her, would be able to forgive her for something like this. What if she thought things through, decided the life she wanted to live was the life she was considering giving up, but that life wasn't an option for her anymore.
Paige rose. "I'll get you something warm to drink. And I'll be back in the morning, before work hours. I'm sure no one will mind if you need some more time off. We're in limbo anyway, while we wait on the answers."
The answers about the plane crash. The answer of whether or not homicide would be one of the charges. The answers on if Tilly would make it.
Florence knew what Paige meant by the answers. She was grateful to Paige for not stating them.
Paige disappeared down the stairs. Florence pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them, wishing something would break the silence, because it was loud enough to make her head want to explode.
A chirp did it, and it made her jump. She'd forgotten the bird was there. He was looking at her, his head cocked. "Remember," he said. "Sylvester loves you."
