It was no accident this time, their fingers running against one another as she returned the spoon. Such a small, insignificant touch, and yet it left Amber with a smile. She liked that they both wanted to make up for what had been a blatantly stupid and unnecessary burst. Preferably they'd have known what to do, but the fact that they both wanted to get past it counted for a lot. Reassuring, too, that Eric wasn't going to hold her jealousy against her. At least, not now.
But then seconds passed into minutes without a reply to her exclamations. Amber found herself bending her head again, back hunching. Didn't he know what to say? She wasn't asking for magic words. Just a response. If he couldn't do even that, maybe it meant there was nothing that could be done about her insecurities; dealing with it on her own would have to be enough. Don't mention it to Eric because he'll just shrug it off. Fume in silence. Girls out of sight should be out of mind.
Awaiting explanations about exes or jealousy or learning how to take it easy, the mention of his mother's soup came as a non-sequitur. Okay, they'd been more or less talking about soup, but what did that have to do with anything? Again Amber jolted to look up at him. His eyes stared into hers intensely like this was meaningful and she had to understand. She didn't, not really. And yet her heart suddenly thudded; this was important, if for no reason other than because Eric felt so.
Amber didn't speak; the twitches in his face suggested he had more to get out and she didn't want to be the one to dam him up. She'd seen him this miserable before, generally when speaking about his family. Edges of his mouth downturned, frowning-- and, oh. "Oh," she said. Her brain coldly rattled off some of the symptoms: dementia, cognitive dysfunction, decreased motor control. "Eric, that's--"
If her heart had been beating faster, now it crumbled in her chest, faltering. There were no words for this. They couldn't describe how awful it was to loose someone bit by bit, watching an old personality chip away. Christ, she didn't know if this was better or worse than that brother in prison. And what could she say in sympathy? Nothing.
But she wanted to be with him. That much she could do. Amber stood up, lifted her chair, and moved it until it was right next to his; sat down again, drawing an arm over his shoulders. Leaned her head against his, resting their cheeks against each other. It wouldn't heal his mom, but-- being together was a good thing. "I'm sorry," she said, seeking out his hand. Amber remembered his fury this morning, yelling that nothing would make his mom better. She must’ve been sick for a long time. "You must miss her so much."
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But then seconds passed into minutes without a reply to her exclamations. Amber found herself bending her head again, back hunching. Didn't he know what to say? She wasn't asking for magic words. Just a response. If he couldn't do even that, maybe it meant there was nothing that could be done about her insecurities; dealing with it on her own would have to be enough. Don't mention it to Eric because he'll just shrug it off. Fume in silence. Girls out of sight should be out of mind.
Awaiting explanations about exes or jealousy or learning how to take it easy, the mention of his mother's soup came as a non-sequitur. Okay, they'd been more or less talking about soup, but what did that have to do with anything? Again Amber jolted to look up at him. His eyes stared into hers intensely like this was meaningful and she had to understand. She didn't, not really. And yet her heart suddenly thudded; this was important, if for no reason other than because Eric felt so.
Amber didn't speak; the twitches in his face suggested he had more to get out and she didn't want to be the one to dam him up. She'd seen him this miserable before, generally when speaking about his family. Edges of his mouth downturned, frowning-- and, oh. "Oh," she said. Her brain coldly rattled off some of the symptoms: dementia, cognitive dysfunction, decreased motor control. "Eric, that's--"
If her heart had been beating faster, now it crumbled in her chest, faltering. There were no words for this. They couldn't describe how awful it was to loose someone bit by bit, watching an old personality chip away. Christ, she didn't know if this was better or worse than that brother in prison. And what could she say in sympathy? Nothing.
But she wanted to be with him. That much she could do. Amber stood up, lifted her chair, and moved it until it was right next to his; sat down again, drawing an arm over his shoulders. Leaned her head against his, resting their cheeks against each other. It wouldn't heal his mom, but-- being together was a good thing. "I'm sorry," she said, seeking out his hand. Amber remembered his fury this morning, yelling that nothing would make his mom better. She must’ve been sick for a long time. "You must miss her so much."