Gil sat, bloated, and watched as Lindsey and Catherine talked about Lindsey's potential boyfriend. Catherine obviously didn't approve, and Lindsey couldn't understand why and she was getting frustrated. Gil felt it was best not to intervene.
"Gil, what do you think?" Catherine asked, looking at Gil for support. Non-involvement just went past his head.
"I…I don't know." He muttered, and Catherine shot him a glare. "I think…it's best to listen to your mother Lindsey. But hey…it's really up to you." He replied, trying to reassure both pairs of eyes staring eyes staring at him, expectantly.
"I'll think about it. Do you guys mind if I go up to my room?" Lindsey asked, and Catherine shook her head. "Oh uncle Gil, are you staying over?" Lindsey couldn't suppress giggles and a smirk.
"Lindsey!"
"Oh it's all right, Catherine. She's just joking." Gil added, bitterly. He saw Lindsey squint her eyes from the corner of his eyes. "I'm not sure. That's up to your mother and me to decide. I'll let you know." He smiled and a confused Lindsey went upstairs without another wise comment and in her own thoughts.
The two sat at the table in silence, as they were done their dinner. Gil glanced at the clock on the wall next to the refrigerator; 8:00pm. He wondered how much longer he could stay, especially alone with Catherine.
"Want a drink, Gil?"
"I'd love one." He replied, and as they got up together, they both reached for the biggest plate to take back to the sink and their hands met. He felt something like a bug crawl along his arm, and he met her eyes which were smiling.
"Let me, please. You make the drinks and I put the dishes away. Deal?" Gil suggested, smiling right back.
"Okay, but you spoil me." She added, pouting. He chuckled, realizing just how much he had missed this air between them, and he proceeded to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Gil glimpsed at Catherine making the drinks and somehow, he lost all track of the bitterness and the heaviness that he carried over from Vegas. To see her, truly in her own element, living a life in which she could balance work with her personal life, was almost cathartic for Gil as he had wished her nothing more. He wished he was carrying a camera, but because he didn't, he stopped and made a rectangle with his fingers in front of his eyes, which framed Catherine and when she looked at him, he made a clicking noise with his mouth.
"Gil?" She frowned.
"I'm taking a mental picture." He replied as he loaded the last dishes. "As a souvenir." After closing the dishwasher and pressing the somehow familiar WASH button, he looked for Catherine, who had moved onto the porch. He obliged and headed outside, closing the glass door.
It was crispy but not too cold, and Gil found himself enjoying the weather of a Seattle fall. Her backyard seemed too perfect, not flawed even in the corner nor the bushes surrounding the house. The square backyard had a barbeque grill on the far side and a table, where Catherine was now seated, with two cups of tea. Gil sat across from her and took a sip of the vanilla nutmeg tea.
"Smells like heaven." He commented, and she hummed in agreement. As Gil revelled in the silence of the residential area, he looked at the stars and smiled.
"Still stargaze, Gil?"
"Just a bit." He replied, spotting a few constellations and a shooting star. He was brought back down to earth by Catherine's hand on his.
"I'm glad you're here. I don't care how, I just know it feels right. I never felt good about…leaving like that, but I…I really had no choice." She told him, and he smiled bitterly.
"I know. I…I just wished you had given me longer notice or discussed it with me somehow." He replied, looking at their joined hands.
"I thought you would. I…I didn't want to tell you because…because I knew you could convince me otherwise, and I couldn't risk that." She said, in a whisper. "You would have been the only one who ever stood a chance of stopping me, you know?"
"I would have?" He asked, in disbelief.
"Gil. How long have we known each other?"
"21 years, just about." He replied.
"Exactly." That was all the answer Gil had needed. Then the phone rang, and Catherine ran in. He perked his ears.
"Yeah, I have Gil over…yeah I'll be sure to tell him…hahaha…I thought you trusted me?" Catherine chuckled. "I know…I love you too. Bye." Ian.
"Ian says he wants to see you before you leave, but he might not be able to. He says thanks again and he adds the fact that he trusts both of us." She told him, as she came back out on to the lawn, smiling. She sat down in front of him, and he had to indulge her.
"So…tell me about this…Ian Gates." Gil told her, jokingly, squinting his eyes.
"Ian? Oh he's just…I guess you could call him foolish for falling in love with me," she started, slightly blushing but smiling now, "but he's just…he's so…I don't know if the word "warm" would do him justice. He treats me like…he treats me like you do, which is very hard to do." She told him as she smiled at him. He chuckled, nervously. As she kept on talking about Ian, Gil noticed that the smile didn't leave her face, and he also noticed that he, Gil, probably looked the way she did, blushing and grinning, when he first met her.
"Tell him thank you for me, will you?" Gil added.
"I will." She winked.
They took their cups inside as it was starting to get chilly. Catherine put the cups in the sink. "So Gil. Are you staying over?" Gil looked at Catherine with a mildly startled expression.
"Well…I…I don't know." He stuttered, causing Catherine to smile.
"Well tomorrow is Sunday and I want to do something special for or with you. Maybe you should save me the trouble of going to the hotel." She replied, smiling. Gil felt his cheeks redden and he feigned a cough.
"Are you sure I won't be a hassle or bother you?" He asked, uncertain. She briefly smiled and came over to him and touched his arm.
"Have you ever been?" She asked, and he knew the answer. "Don't answer that actually."
"I don't have anything prepared."
"Hmm…I don't want to go back…oh. Wait. I might have something. Come on." She hopped to the stairs and up, with Gil walking after her. He hesitated at her bedroom door, but gulped as he tiptoed in. He heard her rummage through her closet drawers and suddenly heard it close as he was taking a look.
It was a spacious room with an ensuite bathroom. The walls were painted dark khaki with white crowning. The carpet was dark grey, which somehow matched the mahogany king-sized bed. There was a TV and next to it was a walk-in closet.
She jumped out in front of him with a navy blue blob of clothing and he saw her smile as she unravelled a pair of sweatpants. His eyes widened as he recognized them.
"Hey…those are my favourite…So that's where they were all this time!" He exclaimed, making Catherine laugh. "I've been looking for them everywhere! Since when did you have access to those, missy?" He asked, under pretence of scolding.
"When I went over that time when we had a black-out… with the thunderstorm?"
"Oh right." He remembered the dark, stormy night of that Catherine knocked on his door with Lindsey and Lily in tow, and still remembered the knot in his stomach. She giggled as she threw him the pants.
"And…no shirts of yours though." She said, as she tried to feign disappointment. "Darn." She acted, and Gil laughed. "I guess you'll just have to go without a shirt tonight." She couldn't hide a mischievous smirk and Gil laughed harder.
"Hey, don't sweat it." He winked, and Catherine giggled. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Go ahead." She replied as she headed back into the walk-in closet. He took his sweatpants and quickly changed inside the bathroom. He took off his new shirt carefully before washing his face. He realized that he couldn't remember the last time he looked at himself reflected on the mirror, but he knew he looked different; his hair was highlighted with more grey and he raised an eyebrow at the loss of mass around his waist. He ruffled his hair and beard before exiting the bathroom, his head full of her perfume emanating from the bathroom and registering in his mind as distinctively Catherine Willows.