Forty-SevenPeter and I walked silently from the parking lot into the terminal. It felt like a dream. People distorted, objects blurred, sounds muffled and memories faded. I felt sure I would soon be waking up.
“Well,” he said, “I guess this is as far as I can go.” He stopped abruptly and set my bags down on a nearby cart.
I shook my head and stared at him blankly, realizing I wasn't asleep.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I nervously looked around.
Peter reached over and took me in his arms. “You take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“He loves you, you know, and he understands.”
I nodded, determined not to cry, but it was too late, the tears flowed freely. I pulled away. “I'm going to get your shirt all wet,” I said, brushing his shoulder.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” Peter looked at me; it was
