Day Fifteen, cont'd
She wanted to run. Running was a skill she'd learned young. Her mother had taught her that running solved everything. When a teacher noticed Olivia's unkempt appearance or a neighbor voiced concerned about Serena's angry shouts, Serena ran. Changed jobs, switched schools, moved to another apartment, another borough, once she'd even moved them all the way out to Jersey to escape prying eyes of people who weren't minding their own business. Olivia had always hoped they wouldn't be so easily hoodwinked. As she grew older, she understood her mother's motives better. The intention had really never been to hurt Olivia, Serena hadn't been trying to hide her treatment of her daughter. No, it was the invasion of privacy that had been the problem. Serena had been trying to hide her own shortcomings, as a parent, as a person. She didn't want people to know that she beat on Olivia when she was drunk because she didn't want people to know she was drunk because she didn't want people to know that she turned to vodka to bury the pain of having been raped. Personal, private information was to be protected at all costs because to reveal that was to reveal herself, to allow the nosy parties to violate her all over again.
As much as Olivia strove to be anything besides her mother, there were things that stuck. Mostly it was the little things, since Olivia had developed an aversion to drinking heavily very young. The way she applied her hand lotion, for instance, the bored way she'd tangle a phone cord around her fingers as she waited for an answer, the way she'd always run her fingers through her hair as she finished brushing it to be sure everything was in place. But one of the big things had stuck too – the running, the ever-present, underlying, usually pre-emptive desire to flee.
Every fiber inside of her was screaming at her to run away. She needed time. She needed space. She needed to wipe her tears away in private until she could fake being unaffected by Elliot's sudden and unexpected rejection.
But for the first time in her life, the urge to run and hide was challenged by another desire, one that, although new, seemed to have just as deep a hold on her. She wanted to hold on, to cling to him, to claw at him until she might burrow under his skin, to dig her heels in until her roots tangled with his. She needed him, damn it, and no amount of running away would solve that. The real issue, however, was that she didn't know how he would react to either choice.
His fierce grip on her hadn't loosened, but his quiet plea for forgiveness had ceased. Her tears were still falling, and she fought with all her strength to keep him from noticing her hitched breaths as she tried to get herself under control. She'd spent quite a bit of time holding onto him, trying to attach herself to him, and she wondered if that was why she felt that unfamiliar sense that staying right where she was the best solution.
Elliot shifted slightly, making Olivia once again lean toward running away. Then she felt the soft fabric of her shirt as Elliot tried to return it to her. The sting of being so pathetic struck her hard. She'd been so scared of letting go of him that she hadn't noticed her missing shirt, although apparently, Elliot had been well aware of it. With the addition of that last straw, the scale tipped firmly toward escape, she climbed to her feet and nearly ran to her bedroom. She didn't even stop to grab her shirt from Elliot's outstretched hand.
She thought hard for several minutes about hiding out in the shower. Elliot hadn't shied away from knocking on her door any other time she'd run from him and she wasn't sure she could face him, at least not until the tears she'd shed over his rejection were dried. But she feared the message that a shower would send. He'd seemed to be apologizing for having been inappropriate with her, and so by taking a shower, she feared she would be telling him that his touch bothered her. And there was another reason she was afraid of the shower, a new idea that bothered her. She was afraid that showering, washing away the memory of Elliot's hands on her, would renew the dirty feeling of Howie's hands on her. She much preferred the memory of Elliot's touch, even if Elliot himself regretted it.
Rather than getting a shower, she simply changed her clothes, tossing aside the wrinkled pants she'd slept in for a pair of jeans and a sweater. The jeans were comfortable, old and worn in, and the sweater was her favorite, soft and warm and somehow reminiscent of Elliot's protective hugs.
By the time she'd dressed, the all too familiar sound of Elliot's hesitant knock had sounded twice. The first time, she'd ignored it, stupidly wanting to spite him while not making herself look more pathetic than she already had. But the second knock made her feel better, knowing he was still there, that he really wasn't planning to leave her. Screwing up her courage, she opened the door and prayed she wouldn't feel compelled to leap back into his arms.
He glanced at his watch, his discomfort convincing her that it was just a ploy to keep from having to look at her. "I –uh-" He winced, as though his next words were going to cause her an undue amount of pain. "I'm supposed to pick up Eli in about an hour. I swapped weeks with Kathy."
She understood why he'd been scared to tell her. She could feel the hesitation, the fear building inside of her. They'd had an understanding; Elliot had agreed not to leave her. And there he was, trying to explain away the fact that he was going to abandon her. She thanked her lucky stars she hadn't tried to hug him since it probably would have made him run without even giving her an explanation. As hurt as she was by the events of the morning, it paled in comparison to the crushing notion that he wasn't going to be there that night when she tried to sleep. It didn't matter if she effaced any sort of dignity she had left, she'd beg. Except when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.
Elliot stood there, staring at his hands as he avoided eye contact. "Do you want to come with me? Or Kathy might be able to bring him here if you'd rather not leave."
So prepared for complete dismissal, his words rendered her mute. She knew that his children meant the world to him; she never expected that she meant enough to compete with spending an extra five minutes with his youngest son. She stared at him, unable to come up with anything to say.
He finally met her eyes, curiosity and concern and fear and worry and shame vying for position. "Unless you want me to leave."
For a moment, she thought that he might be looking for an excuse to get away from her. But as she watched him, she saw the shame win the battle just before he ducked his head again. It was killing her all over again, just like it had when he'd turned her away a few minutes earlier. The last thing she wanted to do was make him feel guilty; it wasn't his fault he didn't want what she wanted. She couldn't blame him for not returning her feelings. "I don't want to intrude, so if you want to go, it's ok."
It wasn't, not really, just thinking about being alone for a few minutes, let alone however long it took her to get back to work, terrified her. She was still certain that the next time she opened her eyes she'd be back there, Howie's helpless and hopeless prisoner. Still, she thought it needed to be said, anything to keep him from realizing how much she needed him. In the past, especially when they'd dealt with Gitano, he'd demonstrated an obvious level of upset whenever Olivia tried to cling to him. The harder she tried to hold onto him, the faster he pulled away.
Her eyes were downcast, giving her the perfect line of vision to watch as his hand moved forward, approaching hers, then stopped suddenly and fell back to his side. She wondered about that, about his instinct, newly developed as it was, to reach for her. She wondered what it meant. She wondered how to encourage it.
"I promised you I wasn't going to leave until you were ready and going by last night, I don't think you're there yet." His hand shifted, almost like he was going to reach for her again, winding up stuffed down into his pocket. "But if you want me to go, I'll go."
Swallowing hard, she looked up. The level of embarrassment she'd face if she tried to seduce him again would be unfathomable, and she knew there was certainly a possibility that she'd do it again, but the panic that threatened at the idea of him leaving was much worse. She had to find a way to make him stay, and hopefully, make it bearable enough that he wouldn't resent every minute of it.
She hadn't left the apartment since she'd been home and with her ability to freak out in the most benign situation, going outside scared her. But she was sure that asking Kathy to bring Eli over would require rearranging their standing plans. And Elliot had already told her how easily he could lose custody of his son. She wasn't about to be responsible for that; she'd just have to suck up her anxiety. Besides, if Elliot was with her, she knew she probably wouldn't be so scared.
She forced a smile, feigning confidence Elliot probably knew wasn't really there. "I'll go with you, if you don't mind. A change of scenery might do me some good."
If he was surprised, he hid it well. He only looked at her, studying her expression for a bit longer than he normally did. "Are you sure?"
Rethinking herself, she tried to guess if he meant for her to say something else. "Unless that'll look bad to Kathy. She won't call her lawyer or anything, will she? Maybe you could tell her we're working or –"
He smiled gently, his face relaxing. "I forgot to tell you. Kathy fired her lawyer. She's willing to split custody with me."
Olivia couldn't help but share her partner's joy and her face broke into a smile. "Really?"
He nodded, shrugging at her. "She finally figured out her lawyer was a psycho." He started walking back to the living room, picking up their jackets on the way. "Took her long enough."
Slipping into her coat, she fell in step beside Elliot. "He's a lawyer. Of course he's a psycho." Nerves overtook her as soon as they stepped into the hallway outside her apartment, reminding her of how vulnerable she was, and she shifted closer to Elliot than she'd intended. She wanted to reach for his hand, so she would have something to cling to, a physical assurance of his protection. She fought the urge and tried to keep the conversation going. "How'd she finally figure it out?"
But as always, Elliot seemed to know exactly what it was she wasn't saying, reaching for her hand and holding it tightly in his. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that it explains that picture in your bedroom."
Without having any idea what his comment meant, she decided to drop it. She was happy enough for the time being, the feel of Elliot's hand securely wrapped around hers soothing away her jitters.
Splintered.4
