My eyes have seen more in one life than most people would care to in three lifetimes. I've seen death, birth, tragedy, perseverance, triumph of the human spirit, people I thought I knew sink to all new lows, miracles and other unexplained events. I'm not a spiritual man by nature, I'm more of the thinking of if you can see it, touch it and smell it then its real and there. I'm not really one for psychology and analyzing things to death, but there are just some things in life that make you scratch your head and ask yourself aloud, "What the hell is going on?" as well as the ever popular of mine, "What the hell was I/they thinking?". I ask myself these two questions on almost a daily basis and sometimes I have the answers while other times I just drive myself cross-eyed attempting to sort out my own thoughts. This brings to mind a particular situation that a very close and personal friend of mine was involved in.
When I first met her, Sara, her spiritual light was as bright as I've ever seen in someone so young. She was on top of her game in every way and she worked harder than just about anyone I've ever met. However as her time here in Vegas grew from days to weeks to months and now years, I've seen her spark diminish. Its true that the light that burns twice as bright burns half as long; of this I'm a firm believer, and to see her light going out just pained me so much that I felt compelled to involve myself in the personal hell she was going through, lest she be lost to all of us that loved her most.
I knew she had problems and issues, hey, who doesn't? But maybe I knew to a greater degree because I'd been through some of what I saw her going through during the course of my own life and I knew the signs. She rarely, if ever slept, her diet was abysmal, she was pale and had detached herself emotionally from those around her that tried to help her. At every turn she resisted, saying that she was fine, that all was well and that it was nothing, but I knew she was covering; I'd done it myself at times. With the help of myself and others, after a while, she came around and stopped refusing assistance, thusly beginning the rest of her life, not as a horror novel, but as an inspirational guide to overcoming nearly insurmountable odds.
Bright and full of life was how I'd describe her. Bouncy and energetic would be other descriptors as well. The spark of her life could be seen simply by looking into her eyes. But that was then and this is now, and now she's in need of counsel.
I hate to just show up at her place like this but things need to change, and now. I know she's awake because I've been tailing her all the way from the lab and I arrive moments after she'd let herself into her apartment. Quickly, I exit my car and take the steps two at a time, coming to stop in front of her door. I knock, softly at first, then a bit louder after a minute or so. Finally, she opens the door and I can see why it took her so long to get the door.
Wrapped in a towel, she invites me in and tells me she's just gonna take a quick shower and then she'll be out. This is good because it affords me some time to organize my thoughts. With her in the shower I took the opportunity to do a cursory sweep of her apartment. I couldn't help it. I'm a detective, that's what I do. There are stacks of papers and magazines balanced haphazardly on the coffee table and computer desk. The sink is full of unwashed dishes and for the most part the whole apartment is in a moderate state of disarray. I clean up a bit, not really knowing where everything goes, but putting things where they seemed to belong.
I can hear the shower being turned off and within minutes she emerges from her bedroom clad in sweat pants, an oversized t-shirt and some thick socks; very comfy. As she approaches me I'm in the kitchen standing over a fresh pot of coffee and as I turn round', I hand her a steaming mug of caffeine, which she takes graciously. We move to the couch and for a moment all I can do is just sit there and look at her.
I've never really allowed myself to think of Sara as anything other than a co-worker or friend, but to see her here, right now, my mind wanders into places I'd rather it not be. She's beautiful, I remember thinking to myself. At the same time I find myself wondering why she's alone; without a partner. I know she's got issues, we all do,
but right at this very moment I find myself wishing my arms were wrapped around her in a loving embrace I've only thought about in my dreams. I dream about her often, maybe too often, and its now that my thoughts of intervention turn into thoughts of another nature; a more personal nature.
I must have been looking at her for too long, as she simply smiles at me and asks me what I'm thinking. Not wanting to tell her that I'm thinking of ripping her clothes off and making mad, passionate love to her, I snap back to my real purpose for being there. I turn to her and summon up the courage to accomplish my mission.
"Sara," I start, "we need to talk. I'm worried about you, hon."
She looks at me with a quizzical look on her face and I know she knows what I want to say. Knowing this makes things a bit harder for me; no pun intended.
"What's to be worried about?" she asks
Without skipping a beat, I continue.
"It seems that you're a bit depressed lately. You've become really quiet and really rather withdrawn. It pains me to see you looking so unhappy. I want to help you but I don't know what I can do. Please, let me know what I can do to help you."
She continues to stare at me.
"I'm fine, Brass. There's nothing you can do. These are my problems and I've got to be the one to work them out.."
"You don't have to do it alone. There's no shame in asking or accepting help from a friend. Please, let me help you."
She sits in silence for a long moment before responding.
"I'm not happy at work. The tension, sometimes, is too much to handle. Not to mention the fact that I work with an unappeasable, emotionally stunted, middle-aged supervisor. Its like no matter how hard I try, no matter how much effort I put into my cases and job, its never enough for him to say "Good job" or "Well done". I'm tired of it, Jim. I'm sick and tired."
Seeing the truth in her statement, I sit and think for a minute. I know that Grissom will never change, he's too set in his ways. He's lived his life in his own bubble and he'll never let anyone in, he's too afraid of being hurt and/or burned. That's when it comes to me; she needs a break; a holiday. Since we've both got time, I make the suggestion.
"I've got a place in the woods near Tahoe. What say we take a break so you can recharge your batteries and I can fish."
Oddly enough she seems receptive to this suggestion and a smile presents itself on her face.
"When would this be?" she asks
"A week or two, you know forms and all."
She smiles wider.
"Sounds like a plan. Maybe that's what I need is a holiday to mull things over and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life and how I want to live it...Deal. Lets do it."
TBC?