Can you really say you overstepped the line when you never acknowledged the fact that indeed you overstepped THE line?
This question had grown a life of its own in Cal's head over the past 3 weeks. Every spare second, minute, or hour revolved around the obsession to find the answer to this question. A little over 3 weeks ago, Cal's world shifted. Or, to be more precise, their world had shifted.
From the day they met, 8 years ago, Gillian Foster and Cal Lightman had entered an endless dance. Protecting a fragile balance between friendship and an inexplicable deeper bond, they had learned to draw and touch a line without overstepping it. Surely, their respective marriages, as well as the reasonable choice and need to maintain a sane professional relationship for the security of their business and partnership, had helped maintain a respectable line over the years. But let's admit it, the Fosters' divorce just over two years ago had started to impact their dance. When the need to maintain an 'ethical' distance to not compromise the faithfulness of a soul disappeared, it was only natural to see them grow even closer. Light comforting touches on each other's shoulders soon had been replaced with close embraces; greetings displayed by dashing smiles had evolved into lingering cheek kisses (you may even say on the corner of their mouth if you were an acute external observer). As the best friends grew closer, their growing physical touches became an obvious testimony of their reciprocal need for one another. Yet their line remained. Their dance, however, had shifted. They initially got involved through a Quadrille, also known as Regency Ballroom Dance, each one had stood on a side of a line, avoiding close encounters while accepting a connection through minor touches. Post the divorce and over the past two years, their dance had changed into a waltz. They kept each other at arm's length but moved closer together, accepting that their dance made them step closer to their line.
The motion of their dance changed again a little over two months ago. Coincidentally (or truly because of causality), two triggers, one from each of their sides, set their new pace.
On one hand, Gill's world had nearly collapsed - the sudden death of a young woman, her dear friend Claire, right before her eyes, had shaken an implacable truth: life does not last. A reminder impossible to ignore that, no, there is never enough time because truly who knows what will happen from tomorrow. On the other end, Cal also was brought to face an implacable truth. His too-smart-to-fool daughter had forced out of him a confession he had hoped to keep at bay (for the sake of the line). Yes, he was indeed irrevocably in love with his partner Gillian Foster… And no, he did not know what he was waiting for.
Two blind souls awoke through two triggers. One truth appeared to both: Life is meant to be lived. And this is how slowly but steadily their dance had grown towards a new rhythm. Concomitantly, Cal and Gill had taken a step towards one another, tightening the embrace of their waltz. Cal had been there to catch Gillian and not let her world crumble; Gillian had accepted his support and hadn't feared their growing proximity. Once again, small gestures and actions were forming the proofs of a newly found stage in their relationship (albeit this stage remained hard to name). Light cuddling/snuggling sessions on a couch (in his or her office) at the end of stressful days were becoming more common. Nothing too shocking from an external eye, simply two close friends sitting close to one another, an arm resting lazily around a shoulder or a hand lightly set on a knee. Dinner and lunch, at a restaurant or at one of their homes, also had picked up pace. It was always easy to find a business matter, or even a pressing scientific need to discuss a new research to justify the multiplication of these delightful encounters without raising the troubled question of 'how much time spent with your best friend classifies as too much time to be indeed only a best friend.' On these occasions, one may also notice that light touches also had been an increasing variable of their physical proximity. It was not uncommon for Gill or Cal to grab the hand of one another to walk through a door or on a very short distance. While they were discussing or sharing a meal, you would more than often notice a hand applying a light squeeze on their counterpart's hand or forearms.
On the surface, the nature of their relationship hadn't changed. Partners and best friends remained the adequate titles, even though it seemed their bonds had grown even closer. No clear traces of romance, meaning the line was still standing. Yes, life was too short, Cal and Gillian both had realized it, but yet had not seemed to want to vocalize the underlying reasons for their profound and ever-growing proximity, too scared to make the first move, to step over the line.
Three weeks ago something changed, the trigger of a long-lasting question in both their heads: Can you really say you overstepped the line when you never acknowledged the fact that indeed you overstepped THE line?