Howdy! Hope everyone is having a tolerable summer. Our weather is going from cold to hot to rainy to hot to cold ... Fortunately, I enjoy staying inside. It gives me more time to write, my favorite past time.
I wanted to thank everyone for their lovely reviews - Peggiegg (Chapter 5 - better late than never), Sarafly, Sarahmuk, Torcan (Sara wasn't at the Saturday dinner), was spratlurid quimby, stlouiegal and Nancy1.
This part is a bit long but I couldn't figure out where to cut it. It's all from Grissom's POV.
Onward ~
Part 44 – 2 weeks later
Grissom
It's like I was never gone.
Well, let me amend that. Three days after I was back it was like I was never gone. Those first three days though . . . Actually, it was two days before the first day so three days . . .
I should probably go in order.
2 days before Day 1
Sara. Almost made a really big faux pas there.
I had two days before I was due back at work. Dinner with Catherine had gone off without a hitch which left me with time to relearn my own special brand of puzzled obliviousness that I try to exude at all times. Well, most of the time anyway. I started with Hank who was easy to impress then moved onto the Kids. Success again. Pleased with myself I tried it on Mom and Paul . . . and failed miserably. They made me laugh not a minute in. (It was Paul's imitation of Ecklie that undid everything. He's never even met the man and had him down pat.) If I couldn't make it through with a fake Ecklie I'd never be able to pull it off with the real one. And, sometimes, I just needed to be able to do that. Shame on me, I know.
So when they finally behaved, we started again and that's when the nerves cropped up as a very important point hit me like a bus – my illusion of mystery was gone. My team, Catherine's team now, knew an awful lot about me and that just set off teeming thoughts of would they judge me, give me funny looks, talk behind my back or to my face or even want to work with me at all. I mean, I'm the guy that asked someone to kill him and when I get back on scene I'm going to have to endure questions and looks and pointed fingers from cops, onlookers, the press, the victim's families. Hell, I may only find solace with the DB.
When those convoluted thoughts hit the tics and roiling stomach twisted me into knots and improved sales of Rolaids and Ginger Ale in my vicinity. And in my haste to keep my stomach right where it should be, I'd forgotten something very important.
"You've told Sara about your new position, right?" Mom asked.
I nearly choked on my Rolaid and Paul had to smack me on the back a few times before I stopped coughing.
"Shit," was the first whispered word I could utter.
"Ah, that would be a no," Paul answered for me. Mom merely shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Downing the rest of my Ginger Ale, I glanced at the clock. 7:00pm. She should be in bed if she wasn't on a triple. I still had two days before I was scheduled back. I shouldn't bother her this late. Maybe I should've had Catherine tell her. No, no I couldn't do that. It was my responsibility to let her know instead of just springing it on her in front of everyone. That was the old me. The new me would step up, take the bull by the horns and tell her. Simple as that.
"Gil?" My eyes snapped over to Paul. "You, ah, going to call her or just stare at the clock all night?"
"Um, call her?" Inwardly, I cringed at the ringing indecision in those words.
"Yeah, so she's in the loop like Catherine," he reminded me. "So Ecklie doesn't get in her face, piss her off and she's beats the crap out of him."
"Right."
"And don't forget Jim," Mom added in.
"Yeah." I glanced between the two. "I'll send her a text." Paul stared at me. "In case she's sleeping," I quickly added while he reluctantly nodded.
My finger was barely off the send button when my phone rang. I seized up at the sight of her name. But just for a moment.
"Do you sleep with your phone in your hand?" I asked catching her off guard.
"Ah, no."
"That's the second time I've gotten a lickety split call back from a text. You should be asleep."
"Well, I was in bed," she tried to explain.
I just shook my head then saw Paul raise his brows and lean in close. Giving him a narrowed gaze, I headed toward my bedroom, closing the door on his 'spoil sport' that drifted down the hall.
"Seriously, Sara. You should be asleep not answering a text."
"But, well . . ."
"That's all you have?"
"Give me a minute. Geez." For some reason that made me grin. "Okay, I answered my phone because . . .
"Because?"
She huffed. "Because you called. Okay?"
My heart did a little dance and I had to sit down on the bed.
"Gil?"
I cleared my throat. "That's a, a pretty good excuse."
"I thought so."
I was smiling now. It was a good feeling.
"I, ah, called because I was going to invite you to an early walk with Hank but it's supposed to rain all morning so I've changed my plans."
"Um, okay."
Oh, she's not used to me changing my plans. Seemed normal to me now.
"I know," I answered. "Me being spontaneous. Go figure." She giggled then. "Okay, this is good. You're laughing."
"You're making me nervous, Gil," she stated and I settled down.
"Right. Okay."
God, I was so nervous. This was my own decision and a good decision, too. I needed to get away from being the face of CSI, to take back the quiet of solving mysteries and doing for others what I'd done for Mitch and Clara. Get the bad guy. Give those who need it resolution.
"I'm stepping down as Supervisor and leaving that job in the capable hands of Catherine."
"For how long?"
That was her serious voice, all levity gone. "For the foreseeable future."
"So, what exactly does that make you?" came the question, a bit of worry tinging her voice.
"I'm going back to my old position of Field Officer."
"Field Officer."
"Yeah. I was Jim's Field Officer when he was supervisor. I loved it."
"Is this something the Sheriff pushed on you?" she asked, the worry in her voice heading toward mad.
"No. This was all my idea. And here are the reasons. One," I began holding up a finger, "I don't want to be pushed back into a job that buried me in paperwork and Ecklie. Two, I really didn't like that job. I wasn't good at sitting all night going through files when all I wanted to do was be on a case. And, three, I really, really want to have time to start doing experiments again."
"So there's no other reason?"
"If you're speaking of what I euphemistically call my 'time away', that is not on my reason list. It's merely an asterisk, a footnote if you will. I learned a lot about myself, Sara, and how much my job wasn't very much fun anymore. But, when I worked with Conway's team in L.A., when I met Simon, I rediscovered my love for the puzzle and I can only enjoy that when I'm not in charge. Do you understand?"
"Of course." I could hear the relief in her voice. "Gil, you don't need my understanding or anyone else's. You must do what makes you happy and if that's standing in the rain at the body farm for hours on end watching a blow fly then do it."
"That's what I was thinking," I added excited all over again. "It's been four years. Four years since I truly immersed myself in an experiment. I miss it. I suppose that sounds juvenile. I mean I'm nearly old fart status and I still want to discover why things work."
"That's because you've always had the capacity for wondering. That's one thing about you that's never changed."
"That's nice. However, I was expecting you to either denounce that I was a juvenile or, at the very least, an almost old fart."
She laughed out loud and quickly started to make amends to which I interrupted her.
"Too late. Apologies are not accepted if they have to be dragged out of you."
"You're pouting aren't you?" she asked.
I fiddled with a piece of lint on my pants. "Maybe."
"Is it a full pout with the trembling chin and teary eyes or just the bottom lip pushed out."
I sighed. "There's no point in doing a full blown pout if you're not around to see it." She chuckled some more and that wiped my pout away.
"Thank you for telling me," she said. "I was worried you weren't coming back at all."
"Why?"
"Why?" she repeated, a bit exasperated. "Gil, there are too many reasons why you might choose not to come back for me to just pick one."
"Try."
"Okay. Simon."
"Simon?"
She sighed. "When you told me you'd been adopted into the Remington family, I figured you'd be staying there. Your mom and Paul are there. Simon's there."
"But you're here," I answered without thinking damning my mouth and her silence. "Okay. That's a good way to put a damper on things. Sorry about that but I've been thinking about what I would miss if I stayed in California and, truthfully, you were on that list. So shoot me."
"Gil, that is . . . Thank you for that."
"Which part? The shoot me part or . . ."
"That I'm still a part of your life. You'll never know how much that means to me."
I heard her sniff and rubbed at my own eyes. "Well, I mean it. I'm still not sure about things but I do like being in the same city with you even if I'm a little gun shy."
Geez, why don't you just stop talking!
"Um, do I need to act stunned?"
"What?"
"When you announce your plans to the team. Do I need to act stunned?"
Knowing Sara as I do, this asking me something completely different from what we'd been talking about was a safety mechanism. In the past, I would've felt bad about bringing anything up. Surprisingly, this time I didn't. In fact, it made me feel stronger.
I shook my head. "They'll see right through your act."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You mouth has a tendency to flop open and that's so over the top acting. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't win a Tony for that performance."
"I bet you I can pull it off," she declared.
"Oh? What's the bet?" I asked, intrigued.
"Breakfast. I'm cooking."
"You're cooking?" I asked not meaning to sound so stunned but, well, I was.
"That's right, mister."
"Hmm."
"Coward."
"Name calling. Shame."
"Well? Are you game?"
I grinned. "You're on. If you are outed by the end of shift, you owe me a homemade breakfast."
"And if no one does?
"Then I shall bow to your thespian ability and return the favor."
"Very well. I accept."
"Good. Now go to bed. I won't have Catherine yelling at me for keeping you up to all hours."
"Yes, Mr. Field Officer, sir." I was pretty sure she was saluting.
"That's better. I'll see you in a couple of days. Can't wait to see how much trouble I can get into."
"Ecklie's been seen mumbling to himself and making multiple visits to the Sheriff's office. I'd steer clear of him if you can," she warned.
"That doesn't sound like much fun." A surprised laugh came through the phone. "Now, Sara, go to bed."
"I can't wait to see you at work," she said softly, making me feel all warm and happy.
"I can't wait to be seen."
"And I'm glad you're staying because I'm here," she said so quietly I almost missed it. "Sleep tight."
"Night."
Ending the call I stared at the phone then fell back onto the bed.
I could've called her on that comment. But I didn't dare because then I'd have to have a definitive answer on whether or not I'd be able to take her back. I knew I was leaning in that direction but needed everything to go slow. I needed to be in charge and decide for myself if it was something I could do again.
Propping up my head, eyes fell on the framed photo sitting atop the dresser that used to sit next to the bed. Rising, I made my way toward it and ran a finger over Sara's face, taking in that special smile, a smile I thought I'd never see again. Yet I had - when she held me in the store and in the ER, when she helped me home from our session and when I held her hand at the restaurant.
A shiver ran through me and I looked away trying not to remember how it felt when I moved it the first time, pretty sure its next stopping point would be a box tucked away in the closet. Taking a deep breath, I looked back at the photo then hastily grabbed it, marching over to my bedside table. Hesitating as my mind flashed FATE like a neon sign in my head, I shook it off and put that photo back where it belonged. Then I waited fully expecting the roof would cave in, the world would end, something catastrophic would occur. But nothing happened. The roof stayed where it should, my heart was still beating (a bit faster, I admit) and I could hear Mom laughing in the other room.
Smiling at myself, I headed toward the door to join in, opened it and promptly stumbled over two balls of fur and a big Boxer loitering on the other side. Landing with a thud on the floor, I saw Paul leap out of his chair and hurrying toward me as Hank and the Kids smothered me mews and barks. And through it all I couldn't help but laugh. If this was as harsh as Fate was going to get, I could live with that.
Day 1 - Back at Work
With a little hitch in my get-along (Dad always liked to say that) after bruising my hip on the floor, back to work I went. There were two things I learned this day - how much the team missed me (those gifts were, not only so unexpected, but thoughtful as well) and how all the laughing I did trying to regain my detached calm resulted in an unexpected carefree attitude. And it didn't take long to manifest. About 15 minutes actually.
After all the welcomes and hellos and white cake with chocolate frosting (how did they know about that, Sara?), Catherine brought the team together and made the announcement - I was temporarily holding the position of Field Officer and she would remain supervisor. The happy smiles soon disappeared followed by a shocked moment of silence. (Including Sara's open-mouthed look. I was right. It was totally fake. I surely would win the bet.) Then the questions started flying and I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I was planning to answer each and every one. I'd even opened my mouth to start when Ecklie made an appearance complete with a self-satisfied look on his face.
"So, couldn't take the pressure, huh, Gil?" he said smugly.
The room grew silent, eyes darting between me and him.
I turned then shrugged. "Not really, no," I answered.
Then I grinned.
Oh, that made his lips purse and those beady little eyes flared, attempting to bore a hole in me.
"I recommended against you returning, Grissom," he whispered harshly, a barely suppressed anger simmering beneath those words.
I leaned in towards him. "I figured you would," I whispered back then grinned again.
Well, that just pissed him off.
"You're an unstable individual, Grissom, and I will do whatever it takes to get you fired. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly." And now I was smiling. I couldn't help it. "Anything else?"
Softly growling, yes, growling, he stiff legged it out of the room and that just made me happier still. I even chuckled. When I turned back I was hit with worried looks. You know, the kind that shout 'I think there's something wrong with him and we should probably run away.' I sighed.
"Let me tell you the same thing I told Catherine. I need to feel my way back, slowly. If that means staying a Field Officer forever, so be it. All of you know I never liked the paperwork demons associated with being Supervisor and I wasn't that good at the job anyway. And all of us know that Catherine is much better at schmoozing than I am. Feel free to admit it now. It won't hurt my feelings."
My attempt at levity sat there like a blob. Then they began to nod, then shake my hand and simply accepted it.
It was sort of a letdown. I wanted to be able to tell them that if I've learned anything from all of this hoo-ha it's that my life is my own to change as I see fit. And just that one thing makes me feel more confident about all the other things that I might like to alter in some way or another. But then I figured they'd corner me at some point during shift and make sure I was 'okay'.
So, with assignments in hand, off they went leaving me behind with Sara who was grinning like mad. She thought she'd won the bet. That is until Catherine walked up.
"Sara, you really need to work on that shocked face. I didn't buy it for a minute. Gil, let me show you where you'll be working."
Tossing a triumphant look at her, I sauntered out. The only sound behind me was laughing.
CSICSICSI
Fortunately, I'd spent all of my first shift getting caught up on open cases files, organizing my new workspace (a large closet on the way to the bathroom – very convenient) and generally getting reacquainted with a place I know very well. It felt good. I even caught myself smiling a lot that first night and didn't bother to wonder why. So when the shift was over, I packed up, grabbed my jacket and was ready to head over to Mac's for a team breakfast, when I made the mistake of walking out to my car . . . through the front door.
"Dr. Grissom? How are you feeling?" Oh, boy.
"How does it feel to be back?" Great.
"I hear you're not the supervisor anymore?" How do these people find this stuff out?
"Aren't you afraid you're going to slip again?"
That last one made me stop as I tried to quietly get past them. Turning around, I spotted the young woman who'd shouted out the question.
"Would you repeat that please? Yes, you," I pointed, trying to remember her name and failing.
"Derry Benet from 8 News Now. Dr. Grissom, aren't you afraid that what happened to you before will happen again?"
Everyone fell silent, microphones and cellphones pointed in my direction waiting for me to . . . What? Come unglued? Unhinged? Un-something? Instead I smiled which caused a few raised eyebrows.
"No, I'm not afraid of that happening again."
"Why? Nothing has changed. You still don't have any extra help and you have the specter of your hearing in Los Angeles hanging over your head."
"But something has changed, Ms. Benet," I said. "I've changed."
"How so?"
I chuckled then. Those brows rose higher. "I discovered that my work is not my life and that my life is mine to retake. I plan on doing that with great gusto."
That was not the answer she, or anyone else, was hoping to hear. Oh, well.
"But what about Ms. Sidle?" she added.
"What about her?" Here it comes.
"Well, she's the cause for . . ." She trailed off as I held up my hand.
"I hold no one responsible for my presence in the store except myself."
"But there has to be . . ."
"No, Ms. Benet, there doesn't. Too many times people blame others for their own faults because they can't face up to what they've done. In this case, it was all me. Fortunately, I recognized that I needed and had help and would like to thank those people if I may."
"Ah, okay," she stammered and my smile widened.
"Dr. Philip Kane for helping me understand that talking about things really does work. Sheriff Elam for allowing me the time to make my own way. My mom and good friend, Paul Jeffries, for rising to the occasion. Simon Remington and his family for believing in me. And, most of all, to Captain Jim Brass for taking care of things when I couldn't."
"You left out Ms. Sidle?" a man shouted off to the right. "Is there a reason for that?" Snottiness reigned in his tone. I kept my smile. Barely.
"No reason."
"There's always a reason, Dr. Grissom."
I narrowed my eyes, my smile wavering slightly. "Ms. Sidle is an exceptional CSI and a good friend. I hold no ill will toward her and neither should you. We were just two people on different wavelengths for a time."
"Does that mean you're getting back together? Wouldn't that be unwise?" the same man shouted.
I was really not liking him right then.
"Don, is it?" I asked and he nodded. "I suppose it would do me no good to inform you that any answer to that question is none of yours or anyone else's business. It would be like me asking if you plan on telling your wife you have a mistress. Would you answer such a question?"
All the color faded from Don's face. Hmm. Hit the nail on the head, did I? My smile was back.
When Don remained mute I turned back to everyone else. "Anything else because I'm late for breakfast with the team." I waited a moment. "Okay, then. Thank you for your time. And have a good day."
I turned, waved then walked off hoping I'd make it to the car before they caught me again. But no one followed. Glancing over my shoulder, I found out the reason - they were all shouting questions at Don. As I ducked into the car I figured he'd get me good at some point but I didn't really care.
I didn't.
That's been one of the best changes I've made – I don't care what the press thinks or says. In fact, I don't really care what anyone says save Mom, Paul, Jim, Simon and, of course, Sara. (I probably shouldn't leave out Catherine because, some way or another, she'll find out and I'll never hear the end of it.) And Catherine.
Day 2
This was the day I experienced an 'oh' moment arrived at while walking with Paul in the park. As soon as I got home (they'd been pretty easy on me so I was actually getting off on time), we took Hank out to chase after his dog friends. Paul had been chattering on about our soon-to-be trip to the body farm, all excited about seeing dead bodies and bugs.
I'd been listening, really, but then I thought about the perfectly heated blueberry Pop Tarts Sara had made for me when I'd skipped lunch informing me this was not the homemade meal she'd promised, just an appetizer. Her giving me that explanation then smiling made me want to kiss her. I stared at her for a good 30 seconds before her waving hand registered. When I snapped out of it I still wanted to kiss her.
Not sure how I made it through that shift.
No, I didn't kiss her.
It would not have been appropriate at work.
And, officially, we aren't a couple . . . yet . . . just . . . not . . .
I told her I was gun shy and I am. It's not as painfully restricting an idea as it once was but I still need to feel my way, not only with the job but with Sara.
With me, actually.
The job is fun again; the conundrum that is evidence is intriguing. It seems I still truly love being a CSI especially now that I don't have to be in charge. (Although I'm sure Catherine isn't too keen on everyone coming to me with questions. I deflect back to her as often as I can.)
Sara is a convoluted section of my psyche that is slowly untangling. Little things like holding her hand in the restaurant, watching her from a distance or returning her smile are all adding up on the pro side of my 'should we get back together?' list. They sit on that side because a bit of happiness settles in my gut when they happen. So far the con side has only a few left. And I'm finding that I want the pro side to keep growing.
"Gil?"
Slowly, I looked up seeing Paul about ten steps ahead of me. My brow furrowed. I'd not only lost the conversation thread but forward movement as well.
"You all right?" he asked as he walked toward me.
What a loaded question. "Yeah?"
He smiled. "You've always been a deep thinker, Gil. I hope you don't zone out like this when you're driving," he quipped with a smile.
I grinned. "Not as often as you might think."
"Good." We started walking again. "So, you want to tell me what's caused this moment of deep thinking?"
"Sara." Why hide it? He'd wheedle it out of me anyway.
"Ah."
"Yeah."
"So, are they good thoughts?"
My grin became a smile. "Yeah."
"Most excellent." I raised a brow at that. "I'm trying to be trendy."
I chuckled. "In answer to your question regarding my deep thinking," I began, "I'm finding that my worries are lessening when I think about moving forward with a certain female."
"Catherine? You're going after Catherine?" he exclaimed, a scared look on his face. But he couldn't keep up the act for long. In fact, he barely finished speaking before he started laughing.
"Ha-ha. Very funny."
He grabbed my arm. "It is, isn't it?" he asked between giggles. He wiped at his eyes. "She'd be a handful, that's for sure."
"Oh, she is," I answered as we again started walking.
"She told me about her former career."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. It's my face, you know," he said, completely serious. "There's something about it because wherever I go people tell me things whether I want to hear them or not."
"You listen," I said. "You've always been a good listener."
"That's true. And I don't judge. I may question, but never judge. That's one of the things I took away from being a minister."
"And I truly appreciated that," I stated as he turned a questioning look on me. "Because neither you nor Mom judged me, at least, vocally, I found my way back. I never would've made it if I'd stayed here."
"Jim was here. Catherine."
"And Sara." I shook my head. "The pressure was immense. I don't even like to think on what may have happened if I hadn't gone home."
We were silent for a moment, Hank barking up a storm as he ran toward us.
"We would've come here once we found out, you know," Paul said.
"You wouldn't have found out," I answered as Hank slid to a stop in front of me. Bending over I poured water in his bowl then rubbed his head.
"If you say so."
Boy, that was cryptic. I debated on whether to ask or just wait for him to spill since I was sure mom had her contacts. I always thought it was Jim but would never pry. She needs her secrets like everyone else. Or it could've just been her sixth sense. You know, that thing all mothers seem to have. Or it could've been the guilty look on my face because I never wanted to upset her by doing something stupid.
And yet wasn't that exactly what I'd done just a few months ago.
"I can hear you thinking," came Paul's voice.
I clipped on Hank's leash, emptying out what remained in his bowl. "I believe I have an award somewhere for the 'loudest thinker'."
"You still have that?" he asked.
Standing, I glanced at him. "I kept all of those things from you."
He looked amazed. "That's . . . well, that's just . . ." His eyes grew glassy. "You've tongue tied me, Gil. I don't know what to say."
I was surprised at his response. Could it be, after all these years, he didn't know? Well, now was my chance to fill him in.
"You've always been there, Paul. Always," I began. "You never backed away or told me you were too busy. You were always willing to listen, to offer your hand or your shoulder or anything I might need. I was so desperate for help after Dad died but afraid to ask. And I didn't have to because you stepped right up for both of us." I paused a moment then decided to just say it. "I've always thought of you as my second father, Paul. I've relied on that especially over these last months. You are very important to me. I thought you knew that."
He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I do know that, Gil. I've always known that and I've been very grateful for your trust in me."
I couldn't help it. I hugged him. And he hugged me back.
It's one of the best feelings in the world when it comes from someone you love.
Hank's inquisitive whine broke up our 'love fest'. Wiping at our eyes, we chuckled away our embarrassment and headed back home, the words 'body farm' cropping up again with glee.
Day 3 to 2 weeks later
This day, it . . .
Hmm.
Come to think of it nothing earth-shattering or people tiptoeing around me occurred on Day 3. The day began and ended like all those regular days (before I fell apart). Perhaps I should amend myself again and say two days after I came back it was like I'd never been gone.
Oh, wait. There was something. Sheriff Elam instigated a no, or lesser, overtime schedule for those CSI's who had a large amount of it on the books unless the case was a media monster. Of course, that meant that day and swing would be taking on more since nightshift had the most overtime. And since all of us hate to give up our cases to someone else, I'm pretty sure that won't work. But, as Mom often says, it's the thought that counts. I'd still like to know where that came from. Sara suggested it had something to do with my impromptu press conference where I thanked the Sheriff. All I know is that it pissed off Ecklie even more. We passed each other and he gave me the evil eye and I heard him grumbling all the way down the hall. I giggled for at least a half hour on and off over that one.
Now it's two weeks later and I've already worked overtime three days straight and am pleased to announce that I've not thought once about quitting. I've managed to do not one but three experiments (one of them helped close a case), organize my article writing schedule and moved Arthur into my new office. (He seems delighted.) The Kids love Catherine's gift of their own condo (I think Hank's jealous) and I'm considering doing some remodeling for them. When I mentioned this particular plan to Nick I was on the receiving end of great amusement at my own expense.
"You're crazy, man," Nick informed me as we walked through the Lab.
"Why?" I answered. "I think carving holes near the ceiling and putting up a pathway for the Kids would be great for them. They can move from room to room without having to touch the floor, finding new ways to leap upon unsuspecting visitors. They'll love it."
All he did was laugh and shake his head. That didn't sit well.
I pursed my mouth and looked straight ahead. "That was the same response I got from Catherine. Apparently, neither of you are cat people."
"Griss," he tried but all I gave him was a raised hand then marched into my office and shut the door.
He was very apologetic the rest of the shift and even came by later with plans he'd made. Very good plans, I might add.
He's coming over on Sunday.
In the meantime, I'm trying not to think about the day my house guests decide to go home 'cause I'm thinking it might be soon now that I'm back at work and happy. The Kids and Hank are going to miss them . . .
Who am I kidding? I'm going to miss them.
It's been such a great comfort to have them here, to know if something were to tweak me a little sideways they'd be able to nip it in the bud and get me back on track. It's not that I sit around and worry that will happen but, since I know it can, there's a small part of me that's now hyper aware to the signs.
So to curtail such signs, I'm using my newly reawakened feelings of being useful and delighted and scheduled a rollercoaster trip for Greg and myself to thank him for his gracious gift. His little nervous tic that surfaces when we're working together is abating. He even smiled at me yesterday. I believe we've rounded the proverbial bend.
And I've just learned there's going to be a butterfly exhibit at the zoo next month. The last time I sat surrounded by butterflies I learned a great deal from Simon. This time I'm thinking of asking Sara.
I wonder if I'll learn more than I thought possible?
The man seems happy. Is there anything that'll make him come apart at the seams or is that behind him for good? Will he, finally, deck Ecklie? Will Sara accept his invitation to the exhibit? And will Hank be able to relax if he thinks the Kids will unexpectedly drop on him from above?
The answers to these questions are ahead of us, or behind us if there's a time warp or something.
Hope you enjoyed this part. Please leave a review. :-)
