I Can't Be Your Friend
Gil Grissom sat down heavily in his desk chair, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. He could feel a migraine coming on, and, with a sigh, remembered that he had left his medication at home. Glancing at the clock, the graveyard supervisor quickly calculated how many hours were left to shift. He cursed under his breath as someone rapped loudly on his closed door.
"Come in." He called, collecting himself.
A shy, green-eyed girl opened the door to his office. "Dr. Grissom, sir, I have a package for you." As if in offering, she held out a small, innocent- looking office envelope. His eyes narrowed. Another package? This had better not mean another double shift.
"Thank you, Cassie. I'll take that." He held out a hand and she crossed the room to place it timidly in his hand before scurrying out.
Curious, Grissom reached for his letter-opener, cut the flap away, and dumped the contents out. A small cassette tape and a folded piece of paper clattered to the desktop. He opened the letter,
Grissom:
I don't know where to begin. I think it's time I told you everything-if not for your sake, then for my own. It isn't fair for me to keep ignoring you, and it isn't fair for you to keep-for lack of a better phrase-stringing me along. This song says everything in words that I can't express. I'm at home. If you have anything to say to me after you get through this, call me. I'll be up.
All my love, Sara
Fully enticed, Grissom pulled the tape out of its case, slid it into the tape deck that always sat on the corner of his desk, and pushed play. For a moment, there was no sound; then the strains of a song he'd never heard before, a country song, began to waft through his office.
This might come as quite a shock
But I've given it a lot of thought
This thing that's come between us can't be ignored
I've taken all I can
And this is where it's gotta end
I can't be your friend anymore
And I can't be accused
Of not being there for you
How many nights have you shown up at my door?
I hope you understand
That this wasn't in my plans
But I can't be your friend anymore.
And it's killing me to know you
Without having a chance to hold you
And all I want to do is show you
How I really feel inside
You can run to me, you can laugh at me
Or you can walk right out that door
But I can't be your friend anymore
So, baby, now it's up to you
Do I win or do I loose
Will my heart fly or lie broken on the floor?
Well, take me as I am
Cuz I wanna be your man
But I can't be your friend anymore.
And it's killing me to know you
Without having a chance to hold you
And all I want to do is show you
How I really feel inside
You can run to me, you can laugh at me
Or you can walk right out that door
But I can't be "just friends" anymore
We can't be "just friends" anymore.
He stared at the still-running cassette player until, after a long time, the crack of the play button announced the end of the tape. Silence filled the room once more, but he didn't notice. The shock of what he had just heard was still settling in. He jumped when someone pushed open the door.
"Gil? What are you doing in here?" Catherine strode into the office, looking worried. "I've been wondering where you were. Are you alright?"
"Fine." He replied, looking up at her. Quickly, he removed the tape from the player and fumbled around his desktop, trying to find Sara's note before his well-meaning-but-nosy friend and colleague did. Unfortunately, she was too quick for him. She snatched the paper right out from under his nose and unfolded it, reading quickly while Grissom fidgeted in his seat, waiting for the lecture that was sure to come shortly.
She looked up at him. "When did you get this?"
"About an hour ago." He mumbled.
"And?"
He looked up at her and blinked once. "And what?"
"And what are you going to do about it, Gilbert Grissom?" She folded Sara's note again and crossed her arms over her chest, looking quite imposing for as small as she was.
"I haven't decided." He said dismissively, pretending to rifle through a stack of papers that had been sitting on the corner of his desk for weeks.
"Oh, come on, Gil. How long are you going to keep doing this to her? Do you really think that she's going to wait forever for you?" She tossed the paper back down in front of him. "No one can make this decision for you. You know that. Do what you think is right. Do whatever you think you have to. Do whatever you want. Just DO something." With that, she spun on her heel and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Grissom stared at the closed door for a few moments, then turned the tape he still held over and over in his hands. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he set the cassette tape down and pulled his phone from his pocket, punching the familiar numbers.
"S-Sidle." Sara's voice was breathy, strained.
"Hi, Sara." He winced. His voice was no better. "Uh.you said you wanted me to call you?"
Silence. Then, "yes."
"I got your package."
"What did you think?" She asked timidly. She cradled a hot cup of coffee in her hands and sat down on the couch, listening to his silence. She closed her eyes. //That was stupid. I should have known better.what have I done?//
"I.I really liked it."
She sat up so fast that the coffee sloshed from her mug and splattered down the front of her oversized white tee shirt. She cursed softly, trying to shake the scalding liquid from her skin.
"Are you okay?" His voice was startled.
"Fine, fine, I just spilled my coffee. You liked it? Really?"
He nodded, though he knew she couldn't see it. "I really did. You know.you.you're right."
"I am?" Then, realizing how stupid that sounded, she sputtered, "I mean, I just thought that." She gave up, feeling like a seventh-grader on her first date.
"Yes. I realized something tonight."
"What's that?" She asked, finally beginning to relax. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.
"That I have been stringing you along." The words were tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. He realized, suddenly, that he'd known all of this, all along. "I've messed up, Sara. I'm so sorry." He paused.
"It's okay, Griss. I forgive you." She replied softly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
"Let's do this right, okay? Do you.do you want to get some breakfast with me?" He asked in a rush, as if afraid of her rejection.
"I'd love to. Pick me up here at end of shift, okay?"
"I'll be there." He promised, feeling relieved. "Bye, Sar."
"Bye."
And he hung up, feeling better than he ever had.
Outside the door, Catherine pushed off the wall and strolled off down the corridor. //It's about time.//
___________________________________________
The song is "I Can't Be Your Friend" by Rushlow. I know that this story is rather short, but it's a one-shot and the first story I've ever posted. If you really want to do my fragile writer's ego good, hit the little "go" button down there by the "review" box and leave me a little note. Thanks, everyone!
Gil Grissom sat down heavily in his desk chair, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. He could feel a migraine coming on, and, with a sigh, remembered that he had left his medication at home. Glancing at the clock, the graveyard supervisor quickly calculated how many hours were left to shift. He cursed under his breath as someone rapped loudly on his closed door.
"Come in." He called, collecting himself.
A shy, green-eyed girl opened the door to his office. "Dr. Grissom, sir, I have a package for you." As if in offering, she held out a small, innocent- looking office envelope. His eyes narrowed. Another package? This had better not mean another double shift.
"Thank you, Cassie. I'll take that." He held out a hand and she crossed the room to place it timidly in his hand before scurrying out.
Curious, Grissom reached for his letter-opener, cut the flap away, and dumped the contents out. A small cassette tape and a folded piece of paper clattered to the desktop. He opened the letter,
Grissom:
I don't know where to begin. I think it's time I told you everything-if not for your sake, then for my own. It isn't fair for me to keep ignoring you, and it isn't fair for you to keep-for lack of a better phrase-stringing me along. This song says everything in words that I can't express. I'm at home. If you have anything to say to me after you get through this, call me. I'll be up.
All my love, Sara
Fully enticed, Grissom pulled the tape out of its case, slid it into the tape deck that always sat on the corner of his desk, and pushed play. For a moment, there was no sound; then the strains of a song he'd never heard before, a country song, began to waft through his office.
This might come as quite a shock
But I've given it a lot of thought
This thing that's come between us can't be ignored
I've taken all I can
And this is where it's gotta end
I can't be your friend anymore
And I can't be accused
Of not being there for you
How many nights have you shown up at my door?
I hope you understand
That this wasn't in my plans
But I can't be your friend anymore.
And it's killing me to know you
Without having a chance to hold you
And all I want to do is show you
How I really feel inside
You can run to me, you can laugh at me
Or you can walk right out that door
But I can't be your friend anymore
So, baby, now it's up to you
Do I win or do I loose
Will my heart fly or lie broken on the floor?
Well, take me as I am
Cuz I wanna be your man
But I can't be your friend anymore.
And it's killing me to know you
Without having a chance to hold you
And all I want to do is show you
How I really feel inside
You can run to me, you can laugh at me
Or you can walk right out that door
But I can't be "just friends" anymore
We can't be "just friends" anymore.
He stared at the still-running cassette player until, after a long time, the crack of the play button announced the end of the tape. Silence filled the room once more, but he didn't notice. The shock of what he had just heard was still settling in. He jumped when someone pushed open the door.
"Gil? What are you doing in here?" Catherine strode into the office, looking worried. "I've been wondering where you were. Are you alright?"
"Fine." He replied, looking up at her. Quickly, he removed the tape from the player and fumbled around his desktop, trying to find Sara's note before his well-meaning-but-nosy friend and colleague did. Unfortunately, she was too quick for him. She snatched the paper right out from under his nose and unfolded it, reading quickly while Grissom fidgeted in his seat, waiting for the lecture that was sure to come shortly.
She looked up at him. "When did you get this?"
"About an hour ago." He mumbled.
"And?"
He looked up at her and blinked once. "And what?"
"And what are you going to do about it, Gilbert Grissom?" She folded Sara's note again and crossed her arms over her chest, looking quite imposing for as small as she was.
"I haven't decided." He said dismissively, pretending to rifle through a stack of papers that had been sitting on the corner of his desk for weeks.
"Oh, come on, Gil. How long are you going to keep doing this to her? Do you really think that she's going to wait forever for you?" She tossed the paper back down in front of him. "No one can make this decision for you. You know that. Do what you think is right. Do whatever you think you have to. Do whatever you want. Just DO something." With that, she spun on her heel and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Grissom stared at the closed door for a few moments, then turned the tape he still held over and over in his hands. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he set the cassette tape down and pulled his phone from his pocket, punching the familiar numbers.
"S-Sidle." Sara's voice was breathy, strained.
"Hi, Sara." He winced. His voice was no better. "Uh.you said you wanted me to call you?"
Silence. Then, "yes."
"I got your package."
"What did you think?" She asked timidly. She cradled a hot cup of coffee in her hands and sat down on the couch, listening to his silence. She closed her eyes. //That was stupid. I should have known better.what have I done?//
"I.I really liked it."
She sat up so fast that the coffee sloshed from her mug and splattered down the front of her oversized white tee shirt. She cursed softly, trying to shake the scalding liquid from her skin.
"Are you okay?" His voice was startled.
"Fine, fine, I just spilled my coffee. You liked it? Really?"
He nodded, though he knew she couldn't see it. "I really did. You know.you.you're right."
"I am?" Then, realizing how stupid that sounded, she sputtered, "I mean, I just thought that." She gave up, feeling like a seventh-grader on her first date.
"Yes. I realized something tonight."
"What's that?" She asked, finally beginning to relax. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all.
"That I have been stringing you along." The words were tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. He realized, suddenly, that he'd known all of this, all along. "I've messed up, Sara. I'm so sorry." He paused.
"It's okay, Griss. I forgive you." She replied softly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
"Let's do this right, okay? Do you.do you want to get some breakfast with me?" He asked in a rush, as if afraid of her rejection.
"I'd love to. Pick me up here at end of shift, okay?"
"I'll be there." He promised, feeling relieved. "Bye, Sar."
"Bye."
And he hung up, feeling better than he ever had.
Outside the door, Catherine pushed off the wall and strolled off down the corridor. //It's about time.//
___________________________________________
The song is "I Can't Be Your Friend" by Rushlow. I know that this story is rather short, but it's a one-shot and the first story I've ever posted. If you really want to do my fragile writer's ego good, hit the little "go" button down there by the "review" box and leave me a little note. Thanks, everyone!