Solving the Speed Differential Problem: post Risky Business
Paige Dineen couldn't sleep. She brewed herself cup after cup of chamomile tea, she counted sheep, she attempted to read a Homeland vendor approval process guide, she even attempted to listen to a Stanford Theoretical Physics lecture she found on YouTube. Nothing was working. In exasperation, she flipped on the TV and found one of her favorite 90's romantic comedies playing.
Pulling the soft blanket from its usual spot on the back of the sofa, she curled up in it and sighed contentedly. She would be tired at work tomorrow, but at least she would get a chance to catch up on her Meg Ryan time. She had just gotten comfortable when Paige heard the roar of a sports car engine revving in the parking lot just below her window.
"What the–?" Paige jumped up and tied the belt of her bathrobe securely around her waist as she hurried to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, she saw Walter O'Brien, of all people, climbing out of a Lamborghini parked haphazardly in the condo's fire lane. She could fairly see the elation rolling off him in waves. It looked like the idiot had finally succeeded in besting Slavomir at street racing. Paige felt a ridiculous rush of gratitude that Walter was keeping his kneecaps, at least for the time being.
Walter felt Paige's gaze and looked up. He made eye contact and he smiled jubilantly. He had succeeded in winning the race against the Serbian and found that the only thing he wanted to do was share his excitement with Paige. Ever since he had met her, he had craved her physical presence and took every opportunity he reasonably (and sometimes unreasonably) could to be in her physical proximity.
Paige gestured for him to come upstairs. He jogged toward the condo entrance and Paige opened her front door. Walter practically skipped into her living room.
"Walter, what are you doing here at 4 in the morning with a sports car? Are you trying to wake up the whole neighborhood?" Paige was ridiculously pleased to see Walter, she always was, but this late-night Lamborghini drive-by seemed eccentric, even for her genius.
"What if I hadn't been awake? Were you planning to knock on my door in the middle of the night? I could have smashed your head in with a baseball bat if you had done that. It would have scared the daylights out of me."
Walter looked a bit chagrined. "I had not considered that outcome. It would be a wise precaution. I will factor the lateness of the hour in any future calculations before I arrive unannounced." Walter unconsciously reached toward Paige, then abruptly dropped his hand. "I'm not exactly sure why I came. I only know that I wanted to see you."
Paige waved away Walter's compliment, though she was surprised at how it warmed her to hear him express his thoughts so openly. "You know I am always happy to spend time with you…and the team. But boundaries, Walter. Chasing the high you get from risky behavior like street racing and confronting potential hired assassins is really not a rational use of your intellect. Plus it sets an unhealthy example for Ralph."
"Mhrmmm," Walter grunted. "I do see your point. I will endeavor to curb my risk-taking behavior going forward if only to be a better mentor to Ralph."
"Uh-huh," Paige drew out the two syllables, not really believing him. But she decided not to press the issue. Not when Walter was still practically crackling with electricity as he was unable to come down off the high of winning against Slavomir just yet.
"Walter, I was going to watch the last few minutes of one of my favorite movies before you and the Lamborghini showed up. How about you join me?"
Walter contemplated her request. "I think that would be satisfactory. Would you also enjoy a manicure and a therapeutic hand massage?"
Paige smiled. "That would be lovely, Walter. Let's not do any nail polish tonight though. The scent memory of your recent chemistry experiment is too fresh in my mind. I want to enjoy the experience not be grateful we survived a near-toxic chemical cloud."
After a brief pause, Walter nodded in agreement. He retrieved her well-used manicure kit from its customary place in the drawer of the end table next to the sofa.
As much as Paige loved Sleepless in Seattle, she found herself unable to keep her attention on the screen. She let the lines of dialog just wash over her as she reveled in every centimeter of contact between her hands and Walter's.
Walter relaxed as he filed Paige's nails to geometric perfection, then buffed them to a shine. "I have a new massage technique that I developed as I was studying in greater detail the anatomy of the human hand. I would like to try it with you, if that's all right, Paige."
"I trust you, Walter. I'm quite certain that any technique you invented would be remarkable."
Walter gently took Paige's hand in his and moved his fingers expertly over her palm, finding and pressing on a tendon attachment with such precision that Paige felt a warm rush of serotonin flood her entire body from that one movement. She felt a rush of disappointment as Walter removed his hands from hers.
"Walter," Paige breathed. "That was indescribable. Does it have a name?"
He still couldn't quite understand why Paige's approval meant such an inordinate amount to him. After all, she was a normal human and nowhere near as intelligent as he was, but every time she paid him a compliment, he thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. "I've decided to call it The O'Brien Technique. I plan to submit a paper to The Kinesiology Review and hopefully present it to the National Academy of Kinesiology at their fall conference.
"The O'Brien Technique," Paige repeated, "I have no doubt that you will be quite the hit of the conference with it." she shifted on the sofa and rested her cheek lightly against his shoulder.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the feeling of Walter's shirt under her cheek and the fact that he had not stiffened at the contact, but Paige spoke again. "Walter, I've been thinking about our arrangement."
Walter shifted until he was facing her. "What about it? Is this time we spend together unsatisfactory? It seems statistically unlikely that would be the case. But I have learned that where a human element is involved, the probabilities can never be completely accurately calculated." He paused. "Especially with you Paige. You are a statistical outlier that I never anticipated." He touched her cheek softly with his index finger, his eyes lingered over the soft curve of her lips.
Paige had absolutely no desire to continue this conversation, not when he was looking at her like that. But she was the one who started it. She needed to be honest with him. If they were going to have any kind of relationship, whether friendship or whatever this strange dance that they did during these manicure sessions was or maybe even something else, something more.
She pressed forward. "I feel like I am taking advantage of your unselfish nature. You spend all of this time perfecting your manicure technique, even going so far as attempting to create the ultimate nail polish. And now you've invented a new therapeutic technique with real-world applications. You do so much for me. I would very much like to do something for you."
"S-something for me?" Walter stuttered. "I don't know–" he trailed off, uncertain of what to say next.
Paige smiled. "Yes, something for you, Walter. It may be easier to show you than to try to explain it." Paige disappeared down the hall toward her bedroom, she appeared moments later with a black leather case not much larger than a credit card in hand.
She pressed it into Walter's uncharacteristically unsteady hands. He looked at it carefully, "This is very kind, Paige."
"You don't even know what it is yet."
"I don't really have a gift-giving relationship with anyone except Megan. She always insists on purchasing the most impractical trinkets for me. I think the last gift I received that wasn't from her was from my mother the Christmas before we left Ireland."
"Oh, Walter…" Paige breathed. She touched his hand gently. "That's not right. I had no idea."
"There is no need for you to respond emotionally to that fact. I don't. I was merely stating it to explain my discomfort with receiving a gift from you."
"It's really just a small thing. Just open it." Paige encouraged him.
Walter opened the zipper and saw a sleek, minimalist manicure kit for men. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I-I don't understand, Paige, what is this?"
"It's your very own nail manicure kit. You spend so much time pampering my hands and helping me relax. I thought I could return the favor for you."
Walter stared at the small tools in his hand. Paige saw a glimmer of moisture collecting in the corner of his eyes, an expression she couldn't quite decipher on his face.
"There is absolutely no pressure, Walter, we can give it a try. But only if it's completely all right with you. Just let me know if anything feels like too much and I'll stop. If it's really uncomfortable we don't need to do it again. I just wanted to do something so you understand how important you are to me."
Pressing his lips together, Walter nodded hesitantly.
Paige took the small nail file from the case, then took the case from Walter's trembling hands and placed it gently on the sofa between them. She reached for Walter's hand and heard his sharp intake of breath as her skin met his.
She looked up to make eye contact encouragingly and saw the panic in his eyes. "No. No. No. NO." Walter ripped the nail file away from Paige and jumped up from the sofa like he'd been pinched. He paced, moving his arms jerkily, muttering under his breath.
Paige jumped up and moved toward him, feeling helpless. "Walter, Walter, talk to me."
His eyes met hers beseechingly. "Paige, I can't. I want to so, so much with you. I can't remember the last time I wanted something this much. Your touch on my skin, but I can't...I just can't. Not when I'm not the one in control." He drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know how to process these feelings."
Paige blinked back tears, wishing not for the first time, that she could just wrap her arms around Walter and let him feel all of her pent-up emotions and feelings for him.
"Walter, I–"
A beam of light from the rising sun made its way through Paige's front window to gleam off the forgotten manicure set on the sofa.
Walter started as the ramifications of the fact that the night was over flooded his mind. He shook himself as he pushed the flood of unresolved emotion to the back of his mind. "I-I have to go. I have to get Lucky's Lamborghini back before he does something I'll regret." He paused. "I understand what you were trying to do for me. And I do appreciate it, though it was unnecessary. It was simply an unfavorable outcome. There is no reason for the events of the last few minutes to impact anything between us." Walter moved toward Paige's front door. "I'll see you at work in a couple of hours."
Paige nodded, disappointed in herself for her own failure of EQ after attempting to connect with Walter in a different way.
Walter disappeared into the condominium's hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. As he reached into his pocket for the car key, he realized he still had the nail file, Paige's gift to him, in his hand. He smiled at it wistfully, wishing not for the first time that his 197 IQ held the answers that would help him live easily among normal humans.
With the memory of Paige's cheek resting on his shoulder in the forefront of his mind, he tucked the nail file in his shirt pocket for safekeeping. Walter knew exactly where he would put it when he got back to the Garage: into the nondescript little box hidden in his room that held mementos of the most important relationships in his life.