Ohio [think close margins and unknown outcomes]
She hasn't told him about the thoughts of leaving the company and doing something that is not entirely based on exposing lies. He'll tell her that this is not all they do—that emotions and their outward traces are much more complex than this. But that's the whole point: emotions are one hell of a complex structure. Hers are anyway.
One day she feels like walking up to him and just getting it over with. But the next she feels like holding on to what they built and finding the good bits in it again.
Like a swing state; going this way or the other. Nobody can tell before the big day has finally come.
Utah [think reddish sandstone so out of this world]
He has strange dreams. Of public swimming pools, of long corridors he is running along without ever reaching her, of gigantic neon-colored rubber balls squashing him and knocking the air from his lungs, of red deserts that he is crossing and finding out that the rocks are covered in blood.
He wakes up a little disheartened every time, but he goes on. It's what he does.
Maybe it's the punishment for his behavior of the last few months. It's coming to get him.
Texas [think one star on a flag blowing in the wind]
She's gathering some papers from the big conference table where they had just gone through the staff briefing. She stops to look at him and he comes to a halt, too. Almost afraid of what she has to say.
"Stop making allusions to the staff that we might need to fire people, Cal. Their loyalty is all we have."
"They're all grown up," he retorts, "they can handle to truth."
She agrees with a murmur and disagrees at the same time. "They can, but there's a tipping point at which loyalty breaks."
Blue is for loyalty, white is for purity, and red is for bravery. She can't help but think about these three colors and their symbolism.
Oregon [think bald eagles circling the seacoast]
He knows she did not only talk about their employees. Their loyalty is all we have.
My loyalty is all you have. That's what she was saying between the more obvious lines, reminding him of standoffs in the hallway, cat(s) and mouse, and being clean like a whistle. Loyal to a fault.
He's in her personal space and keeping her at arm's length at the same time. Even to him that's a mystery. He feels sorry and then he doesn't.
Alis volat propriis—She flies with her own wings. One day she might do it without him next to her.
New Jersey [think flashy, blinking lights – well yeah, a bit like Vegas]
She sees them sneaking out together a lot recently. Either to work a case behind her back or to sleep together. Possibly even both.
For the longest time she has wondered what exactly he sees in Wallowski, but the thoughts are just bringing her down and in the end—so she concluded—there might not even be an answer. Not even one he has to offer.
She finds a receipt from Atlantic City in his car, while adjusting the passenger seat, and somehow knows he didn't go alone. She lets it drop back to the gap between the seat and the door and never mentions it.
Wyoming [think least populated state]
She called him. (After 911 that was.) Did she ever consider anyone else? How many people could she have potentially called? Was it because he is her partner, the one working the case with her, or because she needed him at that exact point in time?
He lies awake pondering these questions.
North Carolina [think hurricane season]
Therapy is going well. There's less of hearing Claire's voice and more of accepting that she is not responsible for the horrible outcome of a case gone wrong. Nobody could have predicted that direction.
She still struggles with thoughts about having done a personal favor on company time, though. Cal does it all the time, mixing personal things and business until it gets oh-so-complicated, but when she does it, it ends in disaster.
Like a hurricane hitting you unprotected.
Arizona [think millions of gallons of water held back at Hoover Dam]
"For how long are you going to openly deceive her with me and toy with her feelings?" Wallowski asks behind him without any emotion he can detect in her voice.
He just grunts, pushes back the duvet until he can sit up and search for his clothes on the floor.
"I think it's quite funny how much you tend to believe that nobody knows what's going on in your head."
She's not giving up, is she? "Good thing you apparently know me so well."
She snorts again. "I know that the amount of emotions you're holding back behind that ever-so-cool and nonchalant façade will one day break like a dam. I'm still undecided whether it will be beautiful or something to fear."
Georgia [think having a dream and letting freedom ring from Stone Mountain]
He asks her if she wants to have takeaway lunch with him down at the Lincoln Memorial, and it can only be because he feels bad about something. She knows him. She just doesn't know what it is yet.
He says little and she has to pull the words out of him each individually, it seems. So she settles for the silence and it's actually nice sitting on the steps with the sun on their faces, looking down at the reflecting pool.
Like freedom.
Connecticut [think land of steady habits]
He hasn't answered any of Wallowski's calls lately, and yes, it's all quite childish. She informs him with a text message that she's going to Connecticut for a couple of weeks to help her ill mother who lives on the brink of Bridgeport.
He's not sure why she's telling him that, because they are neither an item, nor does he want to know.
He deletes the message and thinks about the controlled water delivery of a dam.