2: Running in the Shadows
SARA
California
1980
~"It's the time of the season
When love runs high
In this time, give it to me easy
And let me try with pleasured hands-"~
As the record spun on the turntable, blasting out the music, she walked barefooted across the layers of colorful rugs on the floor, feeling the shaggy cotton between her toes, she told Mr. Martin, "I swear, if I have to listen to The Zombie's one more time, I'm gonna burst."
"Where are your parents?"
She stopped and looked up at the tourist who was visiting from out east, the Jersey shore, as she told him, "Dad's helping Mrs. Schneider in 1B and my mom's still asleep."
~"To take you in the sun
To promised lands
To show you every one
It's the time of the season for loving-"~
She inwardly flinched as she remembered the events of the night before. There was a lot of yelling and cursing and someone broke the mirror in the bathroom that she had to clean up this morning. As Mr. Martin dropped his luggage next to the desk, she went behind it and grabbed the guest registry book and had him check-in. She took his payment, handed him a room key, and then led him to his room. 4B.
As she passed 1B, she heard a song playing, "Sunshine (Go Away Today)", as she smelt a familiar smell. Her dad was getting high again and listening to Jonathan Edwards. She didn't know why he was doing it with Mrs. Schneider when he was supposed to have been helping her. Shaking her head, she continued on to room 4B.
~"What's your name? (What's your name?)
Who's your daddy? (Who's your daddy?)
(He rich) is he rich like me?-"~
Upon entering the room, she asked if he needed anything as she made sure her mom put clean towels in the bathroom and soap. Thankful that she did, she walked back into the room where Mr. Martin sat on the bed looking at her.
He then reached out and touched her bare thigh, just above the knee and below the hem of her shorts.
She froze.
~"Has he taken (has he taken)
Any time (any time)
(To show) to show you what you need to live?-"~
She'd wished she could say it was the first time. She wished she could say that she hadn't been so gripped by fear that she was able to turn and run away. She wished she could say that she didn't let him put his dirty hands on her, making her feel just as equally dirty if not disgusted with herself. She wished she could say that her parents helped her and had saved her.
~"Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what
I really wanna know
It's the time of the season for loving-"~
She wished she could say she didn't blame herself, she was only nine and he was an adult, and she had been a victim.
But, she couldn't say any of that.
She tried telling her dad and he smacked her, saying, "Stop it! What's wrong with you? Jesus, you're as bad as your mother. Anyways gotta lie and make up a story to get some poor guy inna jam."
~"What's your name? (What's your name?)
Who's your daddy? (Who's your daddy?)
(He rich) is he rich like me?-"~
He then told her to chill out, take care of the guests, and to stop lying.
Her mom barely registered anything as she stood in front of her, hours later. As her mom hummed and talked to herself while chain smoking a pack of cigarettes, hiding her bruised left eye behind a pair of round boho style sunglasses, she slipped a couple cigarettes out of the crumpled pack and stole the lighter and a few bucks out of her purse.
~"Has he taken (has he taken)
Any time (any time)
(To show) to show you what you need to live?-"~
Going out to the backyard, she leaned against a tree, lit up the cigarette, and as she held the cigarette in a shaky hand and took a long drag, she let the tears out. Staring out over the San Francisco neighborhood, toward the bay-the view having been one of the reasons for the bed and breakfast location-she felt like running away.
~"Tell it to me slowly
Tell you what
I really wanna know-"~
The five dollars she'd stolen from her mom would be put with the rest of her stash that was hidden in a box in her closet, making the total $175 dollars. When she got to $1,000 she would leave.
No one would miss her anyway.
~"It's the time of the season for loving."~
1984
She counted the crumpled bills out on her bed over and over to be certain. Ninety-eight...Ninety-nine...One thousand.
Finally, she had enough cash to get away. In the box were brochures of several different places: Los Angeles, New York, Las Vegas, and Paris. She could pick one and go. The closest was L.A. and she could take a greyhound bus and be there in roughly eight hours.
Outside her door she heard yelling. Her parents were fighting again. He was calling her a crazy bitch and she was accusing him of being part of a conspiracy to reprogram her mind by using subliminal messaging through the tv. She didn't have to open the door and watch to know how it was going to end. Her dad would yell, she would yell back, they would push one another around until someone smacked the other. Then a full-fledged fight would break out, things would get thrown and broken. Then they would settle down, there would be crying from her mom, silence from her dad, a joint would be lit and a bottle passed around until they finally went to sleep.
Then once they were asleep, she would leave.
Going over to her record player, she picked up a 78 vinyl record of Fleetwood Mac and put it on the turntable and dropped the needle. She picked up her headphones and placed them over her ears to drown out the yelling as she laid down in bed, closed her eyes, and dreamed about her future.
~"Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies-"~
Her dreams were of far away places with exotic plants and animals. Sunlight and sandy beaches. Mountain tops and the deep blue ocean.
Just her and someone who, when he saw her, smiled. Someone who liked her. Someone she could read her books with and they could laugh together.
~"And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again-"~
Someone nice.
It made her sad to think that someone like that was a dream. A fantasy.
~"I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)-"~
Opening her eyes, she stared up at the ceiling. She hated her room. The wood paneling walls covered by tapestries, pinned up photos of her and her parents, and her own drawings. She didn't dare spend one dime on anything she actually wanted, like posters. She had some books and records but those were mostly her parents hand-me-downs. She couldn't wait to have her own stuff. Her own books and music, her own house and clothes. Everything around her felt tainted.
~"And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again-"~
Dirty.
She felt like burning it all down before she left.
~"I can still hear you saying-"~
The door to her room was opened and light shined in from the hallway. Looking over at the sight of her mom, she jerked up and yanked the headphones off at the sight of blood and the knife in her hand.
She was breathless, shaky, and wide eyed in shock as she stared at her. "I killed him," was all she said.
Running past her mom, she went down the hall and into the kitchen and saw her dad. Standing, staring down at him as blood pooled around his body, she felt her body go slack as she hit her knees.
Someone-a little girl-screamed inside her head.
~"You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)-"~
1987
~"Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night-"~
Her Physics teacher took a liking to her, and her to him. He was the smartest man she knew and he cared about her test scores and her future. Sticking around after class, she sat on the edge of his desk, books pressed to her chest, long sleeves hiding the scars on her arms, as she talked to him about taking advanced courses so she could graduate early. She was so over high school. So over San Francisco. She wanted out.
She needed an out.
All over the hallways, all she heard were the whispers. They were about her and the clothes she wore, how she always sat alone at lunch, either in the cafeteria or in the library, but the worst whispers were the ones about her family. How her crazy mom killed her dad.
They didn't know that her father had been abusive to the both of them, and a drunk, and a pothead stoner who couldn't take care of anything. They also didn't know that he turned a blind eye and called her a liar when she tried to tell him that she'd been molested.
Her mother, despite everything, ended all that for her. She had saved her life.
Was she still angry about it, sure she was, and at times she blamed herself for what happened. And there were times when the pain got to be too much that she felt like screaming.
Instead of screaming, she snapped.
She found releases in smoking, in drinking, in cutting, but also hitting. It was explosive, but like an addiction, it was needed.
And that was what Mr. Larson was trying to talk to her about: her anger issues.
"I don't have anger issues," tried to tell him, but he didn't want to hear it.
"You beat up Becky-"
"Becky Hamilton was talking shit about me and my mother. She called me a crazy bitch. So, I showed her what a crazy bitch looks like."
Mr. Larson sighed and shook his head, "I don't care what was said, it got you suspended for a week."
"Then help me advance quickly so I can get out of here," she stressed. "I'll take summer school, do extra course work, I don't care. You said so yourself, that I have potential and all I need is guidance. Please, I'll do anything."
"Anything? Then...I am going to need you to help me want to help you," he said as he leaned in closer to her, his hand moving from his desk to her leg.
~"Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies
Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light-"~
Climbing out the bedroom window onto the roof, she saw Nathan sitting, knees up to his chest, as he stared out into the night. His head turned when he heard her knock her foot against the window frame.
"Sara, what're you doin'?"
"Thought I'd join you." She walked over the roofing tiles and sat down next to him. "Since it's my fault I got you grounded-"
"For life."
"-a year. I thought I'd make a peace offering," she said as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and two beer bottles from her jacket pockets. "Ta-da."
He laughed as he took a beer bottle. "You swiped beer and smokes? It's official, you are my favorite foster sista evea'."
They popped the caps off the bottles and clicked them together before taking a sip. She lit up a smoke and passed the lighter over to Nathan and then leaned brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she took in the neighborhood. All the trees and streetlights, and the sounds of the cars racing by on the freeway. She couldn't see the bay no matter how hard she tried. She was too far away now.
And her money was stashed in a pencil bag she kept in her book bag that she claimed held her makeup and feminine products so that Nathan wouldn't mess with it.
"Can I ask you something? Am I nothing more to men than a pair of legs and a vagina?"
He choked on the smoke in his throat. "No, pretty sure you're also boobs and an ass," he said before laughing. She glared over at him and he said, "Hey, I'm just being honest."
"Do you want to have sex with me?"
His eyes shot up and then he smiled as he leaned over and said, "If you're offering-"
She smacked him.
"Ow," he said as moaned into his hand as he rubbed his face. "I was joking!"
"I wasn't," she shot back as she felt the sting of the slap on her palm. She really did hit him hard. "It was rhetorical, idiot," she said as she took a drink out of the bottle.
"Can't believe you fucking hit me." He started laughing again as they went back to smoking and drinking in silence.
~"And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again-"
Staring up at the sky, all she could see was grey. No stars, no moon, just grey clouds. "Have you ever thought about leaving?"
Nathan glanced over at her as he blew out the smoke. He shrugged. "All the time. Nowhere to go, though, so why bother."
"I can leave right now and go to L.A.."
"What're you gonna do in L.A.?"
She shrugged, saying, "I don't know, but it'll be better than being here. I can get a job and you can play in a band-"
"Wait," he said as he looked over at her. "I'm coming with you?"
"I don't want to go alone."
He shook his head at her as he said, "You're crazy."
"I'm serious. Let's just leave."
"Sara," he said as he finished the beer. "I have no reason to leave."
~"I can still hear you saying-"~
She sighed as she felt her conviction rise up in her chest. "I do."
A week later she waited for Nathan at the bus station. Her ticket clenched tightly in her hand, book bag over her shoulder with some clothes, her stash of money, and a few books. Everything else she would get once she got to Los Angeles.
At a quarter past nine in the morning and he still didn't show, she stepped away from the entrance and headed to the buses. She couldn't wait any longer. Sitting in the seat, looking out the window, she waited until it pulled away before letting the tears fall.
She was afraid she'd never see Nathan or San Francisco ever again.
~"You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)-"~
1989
~"And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again-"~
She'd spotted him the moment she left the restaurant. It was the creep who'd been staring at her all night as she served other customers. He never ordered anything but a beer and coffee, all the while watching her. He had dark curly hair cut short, a beard, blue eyes, wore a black suit jacket over a blue buttoned-down dress shirt, jeans and black tennis shoes.
Walking faster across the parking lot toward the corner where she caught the bus, she glanced over her shoulder and saw him behind her. Debating what to do, she gripped her key in-between the fingers of her right hand as she turned around and stopped in front of him.
"Is there a problem? Why are you following me?" she asked as she pulled out her right hand and hung it loosely at her side; ready to stab her key in his eye if she had to.
The man stopped abruptly and hesitated as he looked at her. And then at her right hand. He seemed oddly sure of himself and yet at the same time timid as he stepped back and held up his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"You did a fine job at that." He took a step closer and she lied, saying, "Don't come any closer, I have a gun."
He looked away and then shook his head slightly as he said, "No you don't." Lowering his hands, he said, "You waited on me inside."
"My shift is over."
"But I didn't get a chance to tip you. You left and someone else took your tables-"
She didn't want to relax even though she felt like she could. He was weird, and creepy, and she didn't know him. "I have a bus to catch. You were still drinking your coffee...It's no big deal."
"May I," he said as he pulled out his wallet. He opened it and removed some money, more than 15% of the check. He only had three drinks, and one was a refill, and he was tipping her a hundred dollars.
She looked at the bill and said, "I don't get it."
He obviously didn't either as he asked, "Get what?"
She nearly smiled and at the same time felt like hitting him. "Why the hundred dollar tip? I served you coffee."
"And a beer."
She smirked then. "And a beer."
He looked at her and she saw his eyes go to her smile, and he almost smiled himself. "I like your diastema."
She blinked back at him, in complete confusion. "My what?"
He pointed to his mouth as he explained, "The gap between your teeth. It's called a diastema. Easily fixed with braces. Your parents didn't have yours fixed."
"And that deserves a hundred dollars?"
"No," he said as he shook his head. "It made me appreciate your smile. It brightened my day."
She wasn't sure if he was trying to pick her up or not, but given the fact that he was a man, she assumed it was. "And now you think I owe you? Look, I'm not having sex with you so you can take your money back," she said as she went to give it back to him.
He stepped back again as he told her, "Your bus is here."
She looked over her shoulder and saw the bus approaching; when she turned back he was already walking in the opposite direction to his car. Turning, she hurried to the bus and got on. Sitting down next to the window, she saw him get into his car. It was a black Mercedes Benz.
She got to the apartment and used her key to open the door. The lights were out but a blue hue from the television lit up the living room. Lying asleep on top of the couch was her boyfriend, Justin. Careful not to wake him, she eased the door closed and turned the lock and then hooked the chain. Kicking her shoes off and dropping her bag on the table in the small dining room as she passed it, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.
Leaning against the counter, she took a drink as she stared at the calendar hanging on the wall next to the refrigerator. It'd be two years exactly tomorrow when she ran away from her foster parents in San Francisco. She'd called once, at Christmas, to let them know she was okay. Still alive, she'd told them. They didn't didn't ask for her to come back, but did notify her that they had to file a police report.
Now that she was eighteen, an adult, it was no longer an issue. She didn't think so, anyway, and hoped it wouldn't interfere with her plans. And thanks to the generous tip she'd received, she was now able to take her GED's, or General Educational Development tests. Once she did that, she'd officially have her diploma. Then she could attend college and get a better job.
She wanted to work with animals, maybe in the area of conservation. During the day, she volunteered at the zoo before working nights at the restaurant. It made for long days, and her feet hurt from standing and walking all day, but it was worth it.
"Hey."
She nearly jumped at his voice. Looking over at her boyfriend for the last year, she said, "Hey."
Looking her over as he ran a hand through his hair that was sticking up, he walked over to her and took the bottle from her, saying, "Drinking my beer again," before he took a drink. His cologne was motor oil and grease from working at his job at an auto repair shop; it was on his neck, under his fingernails, and stained his shirt.
"I thought you liked me better when I was drinking," she threw his words back at him as he pushed his leg between hers and held her in place against the counter.
Handing the bottle back to her, he smiled, "Hmm, you know what I like better than drunk you?" She took a drink as he leaned down and spoke into her ear, "Porn star you," as he yanked up the hem of her shirt, running his hands over her body as he kissed her neck.
"Stop, okay, I'm tired," she said as she tried to push him away.
He didn't. He even laughed at her, calling her a tease as he grabbed for the zipper on her pants.
She said no and shoved him again.
He said yes and smacked her.
After that it was a blur. There was yelling, fists flying, more yelling and a crash. Sound of glass breaking shattering her ears as she hit the floor.
She grabbed something; it was solid and round in her hand and heavy as it weighted down her arm, and as he leaned over her to hit her again, she swung.
She was still in a daze when she saw flashing lights out the window and banging against the door. A light shined in her eyes and she was on her feet and then on her back.
Drifting into darkness, she closed her eyes.
When she woke up, a man with curly dark hair and a beard was standing near her. He looked familiar. Recognition dawn as he turned and saw his blue eyes. It was the man from the restaurant. The good tipper.
The room was bright, and white and beige. A thin sheet was over her arms and legs, making her bare skin itch. He pulled out a light, flashed it in her eyes and she pulled back and groaned.
"You're conscious. Welcome back."
Blinking open her eyes, she peered around the room and realized where she was: hospital. Trying to clear her dry mouth of the thick saliva and tightness in her throat, she managed to get out, "Thirsty."
He grabbed a cup and left the room. He returned a moment later with the cup and straw, and two other men. The doctor and a man who had a LAPD badge on his belt. After the doctor took some vitals and asked her a few questions, he left the room.
The good tipper looked at her and said, "Miss Sidle, I'm Gil Grissom with the crime lab. This is Detective Logan. We need to ask you a few questions and I need to take some pictures."
After a few sips of water, she could finally ask, "What happened to me? Why am I here?"
Looking her over, he answered, "You suffered a concussion. Contusion over your left eye. Split lip and bruises over both sides of your face from blunt force impacts." Once his eyes were on hers, he asked, "What do you remember?"
She took another sip, licked her lips, and told him. "He wouldn't stop. I told him to stop...He-he-" As the memories of what happened in the apartment ran through her minds, fragments of blurred images-her and Justin arguing, the screaming making her throat raw, and his fists busting her head as white-hot sparks erupted into pain-she heard her voice crack as the tears fell. "He hit me. He kept hitting. I fell and then-I don't know." She stared at him a moment, trying to take it all in, before asking, "How is he? Justin, is he here?'
He blinked as he heard the question, and told her, "He's dead."
Swallowing hard as her hand started to shake, she bit back more tears as she bit her lip. Oh, God... Justin was dead. She'd killed him.
All she could think about as Grissom took pictures-the evidence of the abuse-was that she was a murderer.
Just like her mother.
~"I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)-"~
She saw him again a month later at the restaurant and once or twice a week for the next five months as she waited on him. It was always the same order: a beer and then two cups of coffee before he left. He never spoke more than his order to her and sometimes he had a sketch pad and pencil. She noticed that he was drawing in it once when she returned to his table before he realized it. He always made sure to close it before she got too close.
The police told her that there would be no charges: justifiable homicide. She had killed Justin in self defense.
It didn't feel justified. She woke most nights covered in sweat. What surprised her was the fact that the nightmares weren't of her killing Justin, but of her doing it again with a knife. She dreamed of stab wounds and her hands covered in blood. She dreamed of his face as she beat him and then killed him.
She dreamed of her mother and father. Of herself as a child.
It was hard to sleep. Hard to even think sometimes. She'd been making mistakes at work and the manager was kind but he also told her that if she made one more mistake that cost the restaurant money then she was fired.
It was a good thing that Grissom tipped her well as she wasn't making nearly as much in tips per week as she used to. He always tipped whatever cash he had in his wallet at the time. It amazed her how much.
One night, she finally asked, "What's with the cash? Last time it was two hundred and sixty dollars, before that five hundred and twenty-eight? What's the deal?"
He took a sip of the coffee as he leaned back in the chair and told her, "The deal is, I play poker once to twice a week. You have my winnings, or what I have left at the end of the night."
She gave a nod as she thought about that and then asked, "So, if you hit a big jackpot, you'll give it to me?"
He finished his coffee and sat it down as he pulled out his wallet. Pulling out a stack of cash, he handed it over to her.
She took the money and filled through it in disbelief. "There's nearly two thousand dollars here."
"One thousand nine hundred and sixty-three dollars to be exact," he said as he stood and grabbed his suit jacket and pulled it on.
"Can you at least tell me why? Is it because you saw what happened to me? I don't need your charity."
He looked around the restaurant, in thought, before saying, "Once, in college, I thought I was in love with a girl. I had no money for her because I spent all my pay on science stuff, things I wanted. So, I played poker to have extra money for her, to buy her things...Now, I still play poker but I don't have the girl, and no one else to spend it on." He looked down at her feet and said, "I noticed you got new shoes."
"Yeah, the uh, old ones were killing my feet," she said as she stared at this man in front of her. He couldn't be real, could he? "Was she in love with you? The girl?"
He shook his head, "No. She started dating my roommate."
"Sorry." He shrugged and went to walk away when she told him, "Have a good night, Mr. Grissom."
Stopping, he turned back and smiled. "Have a good night, Sara. And it's Gil. You can call me Gil," he told her before turning around to leave the restaurant.
She watched him go and then went to clock out. Her shift was over. Going to the restroom, she looked at herself in the mirror, saw the heavy circles under her eyes and the tiny scars on her face that she tried to hide with makeup and yanked her hair back to put into a ponytail. Letting out a breath, she grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and left the restaurant.
She spotted Gil the moment she walked out; he was hunched over his car engine near the far side of the parking lot where she normally catches the bus. She'd seen him leave about ten minutes ago and was surprised he was still there, though obviously not his intention. Approaching from behind, she looked over his shoulder and saw he was using his flashlight to look over the interior of his car engine.
"OM617 engine, one of the most reliable engines ever produced. What did you do to it?" she asked, causing him to straighten and turn his head to look at her.
"I didn't do anything. It won't start."
"And you thought shedding some light on it would help?" He shined the light in her eyes, causing her to push the flashlight away. He kind-of laughed. "Did you check the battery connection?"
He glanced back and said, "It's not the battery. I tightened the wires a few days ago when it gave me the same problem."
She smiled. "Go try starting it. I want to hear it."
He eyed her before doing as he was told. Getting into the driver's seat, he tried to start it and it wouldn't turn over. He was right, it wasn't the starter. She'd heard a clicking noise; reaching over, she fiddled with the wires on the battery. "Try it now." He turned the ignition key and the diesel engine roared to life. As he got out, she told him, "You didn't check the battery connection. The positive wire's loose. You might want to tighten that."
"Thought I did, but...I guess I only thought about doing it and forgot to actually do it." He closed the hood and told her, "Wouldn't be the first time. Thank you."
"Anytime," she went to walk toward the bus stop when he called out.
"Hey, uh, Sara, what are you doing this weekend?"
She stopped walking and turned around to face him. "Well, normally I work on weekends, but I have this really amazing customer, kind-of odd though, who's been tipping me a lot of money, so..."
He frowned a little as he asked, "You think I'm odd?"
She nearly blushed as she laughed. "I used to think you were creepy. Believe me, odd is an improvement."
"Good, then you might say yes if I ask you to go somewhere with me," he said as he stuffed his hands into his pants pocket.
"Depends on where you're going."
"Santa Cruz," he told her as he walked toward her to close the distance between them. "There's a wooden roller coaster, The Giant Dipper, that I want to ride. It's a long drive and we'll have to stay overnight."
"You want to take me to Santa Cruz so you can ride a roller coaster?" She gave it some thought, not much, because…he looked like he actually wanted her to go.
"Is that okay?"
Was it okay? "Are you kidding? Road trip. I'm in," she said with a smile and immediately wondered what on earth was her problem. A road trip with a man she barely knew after what happened with Justin.
The fact that he even wanted to take her even though he knew what she did was a surprise.
He smiled as he gave a nod as he said, "Good. I, um, I-" he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a pen. He patted the other pocket as he said, "I thought I had a card-"
She grabbed the pen out of his hand and took out an order pad from her apron, asking, "What's your number?" Looking up at him, she said, "You seem shocked."
"I've never had anyone ask for my number before."
"No other girls that you thought you were in love with?"
He smirked as he told her, "I don't make the same mistake twice." He then told her his phone number.
"But you've dated others since, right?" she asked once she was done writing her number.
"Took a girl out on a date once in Minnesota, but…"Alas, poor Yorick". It's from Shakespeare. It's, uh-"
"It's from Hamlet and refers to the fleeting nature of human life," she told him as she put his pen back into his inside jacket pocket.
Never once did he try to touch her, and in fact, seemed startled and confused as to why she was touching him. "You read Shakespeare?"
"I do. Nice to meet a man who also enjoys the classics. Did she die? The woman you went on a date with?"
"She didn't. The date did. It was a horrible death. I apologized to her for about a month afterwards."
"Crash and burn, huh?" she said as she tore off the sheet and handed it to him.
"You have no idea." He looked at the number and said, "So, I'll call you Saturday morning?"
"You know what, it's a six hour drive, and if you're okay with driving all night, you can pick me up Friday evening."
"Good thinking," he said with a small smile as he got into his car. "I'll see you Friday."
"Yes, you will," she told him before turning to walk to the bus stop as she felt herself smile.
~"And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again-"~
Saturday afternoon, as they stood in line for the rollercoaster as a warm breeze came in from the Pacific, she watched him. Behind the dark sunglasses she saw his eyes moving as he watched the train of cars pass by along the track. He'd been silent much of the drive, only speaking when he was singing along with her to a song or when he asked if he needed to stop for her: if she was hungry, needed to pee, or wanted a coffee or water.
They had gotten a room for the weekend, two beds, and once in the room he'd showered and then laid down in a bed with a book. She had already showered before he picked her up so she changed into her pajamas and also grabbed the book she brought along, and laid down to read as well. They read in silence until he fell asleep, book on top of his chest.
She watched him for a while as he slept. In all her years of life, she'd never met a man who never tried to touch her, never tried to kiss her or push her down and have his way with her. She never felt at ease with a man, never felt safe or secure. Even with Justin, she was always alert to his moods and his needs to keep him happy. She walked on eggshells to keep the yelling and pushing to a minimum when things got rough. It was only natural for there to be anger when two people were in love, wasn't it? Love and hate went hand-in-hand.
At least, that was what she'd always thought.
Now, she wasn't so sure.
~"I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)-"~
"What're you thinking?" she asked as the roll of cars came to a stop in front of them and the riders got off.
"Helter Skelter."
Well, that was unexpected. As the gate opened and they strapped themselves into the seats, she told him, "The Beatles song? You know, that song isn't about an actual ride."
He smirked, saying, "Sure it is. Helter Skelter is British for a winding spiral slide around a tower. But, uh, it can also mean chaos and confusion. Disorganization. Songs are always up to interpretation. For me, it's about the most confusing, disorganized, and chaotic thing a human being can do, and from what I'm told, it's the best ride of them all."
"What's it called?" she asked as they started climbing up the hill, approaching the first drop fast.
"Falling in love," he told her right before they dropped over the side.
Him with his arms raised up in the air. Her, holding on for dear life.
~"Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)-"~
He talked her into riding the rollercoaster five more times before she finally had enough. As he rode it a few more times, she played several of the fair games and won herself a teddy bear and plastic ring that she put on her necklace around her neck. Laughing at herself for being so childish, she got herself an ice cream cone and sat on the bench and ate it as she waited for Gil to get done being the biggest kid at the beachfront amusement park.
He was smiling as he walked over to her nearly ten minutes later; in his hand was a box of popcorn that he offered to her. She took a handful as she stood. Then, they took a walk on the beach. She stopped to take her sandals off and carried them as he kept his shoes on. She wore shorts and a thin long-sleeve blouse over her tank-top.
"You know that the Pacific Ocean is known to have lower sea surface salinity than the Atlantic."
"Yeah, it's thought to be associated with the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation and deep water formation in the high latitude North Atlantic, which is a phenomenon not present anywhere in the Pacific." Upon seeing the surprise in his eyes, she said, "I'm reading up on marine life and marine conservation. I volunteer at the L.A. Zoo when I'm not waiting tables."
"Is that your area of study?"
"On my own time. Does that interest you?"
"A lot of things interest me."
"You never told me what you do for a living."
"It's not an easy question for me to answer. I'm a, uh, entomologist. When I was younger, I worked as a coroner in L.A. while also attending UCLA. Then I went to the University of Chicago, got my Doctorate, went into Forensic Science and now I'm a crime scene investigator. I've been doing that for the past four years. My specialty is forensic entomology."
"So, you study bugs at crime scenes."
"I study bugs at crime scenes," he repeated as he offered her some more popcorn.
"Morro Bay is probably the best place to see sea otters," she was telling him a few minutes later as the sun started to set over the horizon. "I took a trip there with several other volunteers at the zoo. I'm wanting to take a kayaking trip around Elkhorn Slough, but trying to find the time is a challenge, especially when I work two jobs-"
"Why aren't you in school? Or are you taking classes?"
She looked away from him, out over the water at the setting sun, as she told him, "It's a long story."
"I got time."
Turning to look at him, she said, "I don't."
He looked at her and smiled slightly as he gave a nod. "Fair enough." Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, "Hungry? We can get something here, or, we can go back to the hotel and change, and go somewhere more…"
"Fancy? I'm game," she said as they started up toward the hotel.
They changed, he in a nice button-shirt, blazer, and jeans. She wore a long-sleeve black blouse and jeans. When she exited the bathroom after changing, he had his eyes on her. She instinctively pulled down her sleeves into her palms as she felt slightly uncomfortable with his stare.
Then, he asked, "Can I take your picture?"
She blinked at him in confusion as she saw him grab a camera out of his bag. "You...My what?"
He looked at her again as he took out a lens and attached it to the camera. "Picture."
He had to make it weird. She suddenly felt as she always did around men: helpless. Inferior. Naked and vulnerable. She hated it. It pissed her off.
He pissed her off.
"You can take mine first if you want," he suddenly said as he held out the camera. "It's just a picture."
She suddenly felt stupid. Chill out, Sidle. Shaking her head, she said, "Fine. You can take my picture."
He looked away, like he didn't know what to do. Then, he looked around the hotel room and said, "I don't like this room. I'll take it when we get outside."
Once they were outside, she stood in front of the brick wall of the hotel as he took her picture. He smiled as he headed for his car as he pulled out the keys. "Thank you."
He put the camera in the trunk and then unlocked and opened the passenger door for her. She reached over and unlocked the driver's door for him.
He drove them to a restaurant in the city of Santa Cruz and they grabbed a table. He ordered a beer; she got an iced tea. As they looked over the menu, she felt his eyes on her. Looking up, she saw that he was watching her.
"What?"
"How old are you?"
She raised her eyebrows as she said, "Does it matter?"
Confusion was written all over his face as he said, "For every legal reason I can think of."
Smiling, she told him, "Eighteen."
Staring at her, his eyes roaming over her face, he said, "The makeup makes you look older."
"Oh, gee, thanks." She didn't mean for it to come out as irritated as it sounded. She wasn't offended.
He looked at the table, over his menu, and then said, "Animals and insects use colors for many different reasons. Some to attract mates, others as a warning, and then there are those that use their colors for camouflage. Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote that, uh..."Love of beauty is taste. The creation of beauty is art." I don't know what you're trying to hide from, but...When God creates a masterpiece, it shouldn't be covered up, especially in a poor attempt to camouflage itself."
She didn't know how to take that. Was it a compliment? Or an underhanded insult? Was it both? She had no idea. "Are you saying you don't like my makeup?"
He looked away and said, "I'm saying...You don't have to hide."
The waitress returned with their drinks and they both placed their food orders. Once they were alone, she asked him, "You believe in God?"
He gave a nod as he sipped his beer and looked around the restaurant. She noticed it was hard for him to keep his eyes on hers.
"Why? You're a scientist. God's not tangible. You can't prove his existence."
He looked at her in confusion again. That seemed to be a common occurrence. She was always confusing him. "Science doesn't disprove God either. In fact, the more I learn about science, the stronger my belief. Take for example fingerprints and DNA. Each print, every strand of genetic code, is unique to the individual, never to repeat the same way twice-"
"Except with twins."
"Only because they were created from the exact same egg and sperm from their parents, but they do have their own unique fingerprints. It's impossible to logically conclude that it's all by chance."
"That's not proof."
"Sure it is. Otherwise, it wouldn't make any sense. It would serve no purpose." He took another sip of his beer as he looked away again. "Okay, how about...your existence."
"My existence is not proof of God."
"If proof of God is subjective...then you existing is all the proof I need to have faith."
~"Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)-"~
Again, she was stunned at what she was hearing coming out of his mouth. What really stunned her was the fact that it appeared as if he had no idea what effect his words were having on her, whether good or bad. "Don't you have any concern about the effects your opinions have on the person you're telling them to?"
He looked around, lost in thought, before asking, "How so?"
"Emotionally."
He sat the beer bottle down as he placed his hands on the table. It was hard to read him, but she knew he was struggling. Finally, he said, "All I can do is tell the truth as I know it. If that makes you uncomfortable-"
"I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just trying to figure out what game you're playing."
"Game?" he asked in confusion. "What game?"
The waitress arrived and they both moved out of the way as their plates were placed on the table. She waited for them to be alone again before asking instead, "What do you want from me?"
He picked up a fry as he continued to think that over. It took him a long time to answer her, so she rolled her eyes and started eating. It was after she finished her food, and got a refill on her iced tea, that he spoke again.
"Your friendship, and honesty."
"What?" she asked as she leaned back in the chair and took a drink of the tea.
"That's what I want. A true friendship, one built on trust. The truth. Honesty. "The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives." Albert Einstein."
She sipped on the straw as she tried to remember what on earth they had been talking about. Then she remembered her question for him. "You just now thought of an answer."
He shrugged, saying, "I had a lot on my mind."
"Glad I was patient."
"What do you want?" he asked as he took a drink from the same bottle of beer he's had since they arrived.
She didn't have to think long about her answer to that question. She wanted what she's always wanted since she was a child. Respect. To be listened to and heard. Valued. There were so many things. She didn't tell him any of that, though.
Instead, she smiled and said, "The same."
He gave a nod then pulled out his wallet to pay the check. Then, he looked up at her and said, "You can trust me."
Feigning innocence, she said, "I know."
"Then...why are you lying?" he asked. There was more than confusion in his eyes. He was hurt and offended.
He said he wanted honesty and then she lied to him.
Swallowing hard, she realized her mistake immediately. He actually wanted to know her. She was so used to ignoring herself to make the men around her happy that she didn't realize that he was different. That alone made her force back the tears in her eyes as she got up and walked out.
Getting up, he followed.
He stayed near her but never reached out to stop her. He didn't grab her by the arm. He didn't yell at her for embarrassing him and making a scene. He let her walk away from him. He let her walk alone, ahead of him, as tears fell from her eyes.
A while later, she finally stopped walking. They were a good distance away from the restaurant and car. She had no idea where she was. They were in the middle of Santa Cruz and if he left her there, she would have to find her own way back to Los Angeles.
She couldn't make him upset. When she turned around, he was standing there, hands in his pockets as he looked at the ground. Swallowing around the pain in her throat from her lie, she told him, "I'm sorry."
Without looking up at her, he nodded and said, "It's okay. It was a nice walk. Wish I had brought my camera."
They walked back to the car in silence. She really had no idea what to make of Gil Grissom.
~"Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)-"~
Getting to the hotel room that had a beachfront view from the window, she grabbed her bag and went straight to the bathroom and shut the door.
Her anger at herself, the pain from her life, was bubbling up and she felt so guilty. Disappointed in herself. God, she hated the way he made her feel. Hated that he was so nice. And she wasn't good enough for him. She should just leave. Pack her bag and go. She could get a bus back to Los Angeles. Leave him there alone so she wouldn't have to see that hurt on his face again.
Instead of running away, she cleaned the makeup off her face, took her clothes off, and started the bath as she sat on the edge of it and she fought the urge to take the razor and cut her arm. The pain, the release of it, the adrenaline, would take her mind off that look. Slipping into the hot water, she wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in her knees as she cried.
Then, she felt herself drift. The room around her faded away, as she laid her head on her knees and stared at the wall.
She forgot about the pain, his face, and her life.
Hearing the door open, she looked up and stilled at seeing him standing in the doorway. Just when she thought he was a nice guy, he was going to prove her wrong.
He was still fully clothed and his eyes were on the floor, and the wall, and then they finally rested on her eyes. Not bothering to ask permission, he walked into the room and sat on the edge of the tub. She wanted to yell at him, to tell him to get the fuck out, but her throat constricted and ran dry as he carefully took one of her arms into his hand. He gently lifted it and cradled it in his right hand while he traced over her scars with his fingers.
Stopping on one of them along her wrist, his face twitched as he stared down at the scar. "The radial artery. Any deeper and you would have killed yourself." He looked back into her eyes as he said, "I've seen a lot of dead bodies, Sara, and, if it's all the same to you, I much prefer it if you didn't end up one of them anytime soon."
"Is that why you came in here?" she asked as he moved her arm away.
"It's been over an hour. I knocked. You didn't answer." He was silent for a moment, and then asked, "You seem upset."
"Yeah, I am," she said as she looked away from him. "You asked me to be honest and I lied. You want honesty, okay, here's the truth. My father was an abusive drunk. My mother ignored everything, including me. I wasn't important to either of them. I was so unimportant that they let men do whatever they wanted to me. They taught me that yelling and anger were normal. It's how people showed that they cared."
"I bet you could "spit in the eyes of fools". Life on Mars? David Bowie."
"Except I'm the biggest fool. You know that saying, like mother, like daughter? To top it all off, one night my mother stabbed my father with a knife from our kitchen. She killed him."
He stared at her for a long time. She had no idea what he was seeing that caused him such concern and intrigue.
Then there was only one thing she could think of. She was naked in the bathtub. "Do you want to kiss me?"
He blinked back and slightly shook his head, like she'd woken him out of wherever he was in his head. "I want to take your picture. May I?"
"I'm not in the mood to smile."
"You don't have to," he said as he left the room.
Wrapping her arms around her knees, she rested her tired head on her arms and closed her eyes. She was so tired.
She heard him return and opened her eyes.
He knelt down on one knee and raised the camera to be eye level with her, and then snapped the photo, saying, "There is beauty in every facet of our lives. In all our various degrees, whether happy or sad, there is a lesson learned; a story to tell."
"Who said that?" she asked him.
"I did, just now," he said matter-of-fact.
She laughed. A deep belly laugh. Burying her face into her knees, she shook as she laughed at him. He took another picture.
And when she flipped him off, he took another one with a smile.
Then another.
Some while kneeling, others standing up. He even got on top of the toilet seat to get an overview, he said. Not once did he ask her to open her legs or drop her arms. She could look however she wanted. Angry, sad, happy, laughing, it didn't matter, as long as it was honest.
"What's my story?" she asked a while later.
He had taken a seat on the floor, back against the wall, and held out his camera.
She took it from him and turned it around to take his picture. He'd shaved since the first time they met and had cut his hair. But his eyes were still the bluest she'd ever seen. Looking past the camera and at her, he smirked. She pressed the button and took his photo.
As he took the camera back, he answered, "Only you know your story. You know your beginning, where you are now...and only you know what your dreams are for the future."
"Until reality catches up with you."
He shrugged, saying, "Yeah, well…"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans"..."
"John Lennon," they both said in unison.
"I'll let you get back to cleaning up," he said as he stood.
Once he left the room-without so much as making any sort of move on her-she washed up, dried off, and then changed into her pajamas. He was once again lying on the bed, reading, as she walked over to the other bed.
Sitting down on top of it, she looked at him and asked, "How do you feel about me?"
He barely glanced her way before looking back at the book in his hands. There was no answer but his eyes stopped moving. "What do you mean?" he asked.
She raised her eyes as she said, "I mean...how do you feel? Do you like me? Are you attracted to me?"
He sat the book down on his chest as he looked over at her. His head wrinkled in confusion and there was that distant look again. "There are different types of attraction. You're...intellectually stimulating. You challenge me. I like that. I like you just fine."
"Even though I'm a murderer?"
He picked up his book, Still Life With Insects by Brian Kitely, and went back to reading as he said, "I think that, uh, you were only protecting yourself, and it sounds to me like your mother did her best to save you and herself from an evil man. God is the only one who can judge you, and her, for your actions in the end."
"You're not a religious fanatic are you?" she asked as she picked up her book, Alice's Adventure in Wonderland, and laid down under the covers.
"I'm not a fanatic. I don't believe in religion or in rules dictating my life. I do believe in God, and good and evil. And there are times when evil needs to be confronted."
"Do you ever wonder about being wrong? That your logic is flawed?"
He thought about that and then said, "If I'm wrong, I'll be judged for it. But if I'm right, rewarded. That's how I'll know."
"Know what?"
Without taking his eyes off what he was reading, told her, "Whether or not I'm a good man, or an evil one."
She peered over at him and couldn't believe his honesty. It was pure and without thought, or with a lot of thought, and always the truth. And pure conviction. He truly believed in what he was saying. "Gil…" When he turned his head to look at her, she said, "I've seen evil men, you are not one of them."
His smile was soft and she saw the way his blue eyes lit up in a way she'd never seen in anyone else's eyes before. Those words meant something to him. Her view of him mattered.
Could she have ever truly been in love with anyone else before him?
She didn't think so.
~"Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)-"~
He was still reading when she tossed her book onto the nightstand between them then rolled over to go to sleep. Pulling the blanket up over her shoulder, she tried to relax enough to sleep. With her eyes closed she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was also hard to even out her breathing. She'd been this way before, countless times, when she was either anxious or stressed. Or when she couldn't trust the other person in the room with her. Letting out a breath, she rolled onto her back hoping the new position would help.
It didn't.
She never could sleep on her back. It felt like someone was sitting on her chest. If she fell asleep in this position, she wouldn't wake up. She'd suffocate or her heart would stop. Rolling onto her other side, she opened her eyes and saw Gil watching her.
He didn't look away, as anyone else would do having been caught watching someone. Instead, he kept his eyes on her for a long time, beyond it just being an awkward moment, until she was the one that finally either had to say something or roll back over.
"Am I more interesting than your book?"
His eyes shot up as he said, "If you're not tired. Want to go somewhere? I work nights. I won't be able to sleep until the sun comes up."
Throwing the blanket off her body, she got up and went to change. She was not wandering around Santa Cruz in her pajamas. He surprised her by telling her to grab her bag and belongings. They wouldn't be coming back to the hotel. She didn't ask questions as she grabbed up her belongings, which was only her clothes and book that was the nightstand, and put them back into her backpack.
He grabbed his bag and car keys and they left the room. They got into the car and he started driving.
When they got on Highway 1 and headed south, she finally asked, "Where are we going?"
"Surprise," was all he said as he changed lanes.
She tried not to worry but it was hard not to double check the lock on the door to ensure it still worked. It wasn't like he was proving himself to be a normal person or any less odd. In fact, he had proven himself to be substantially odd. She still didn't know what she was thinking going on a road trip with a man she barely knew. Turning on the radio, she tried to focus on the music and not her racing heart rate as they got further away from Santa Cruz.
It was a long drive, nearly three hours, before he slowed as they rounded a corner. She saw the signs for Pismo State Beach and frowned as she looked over at him. "Santa Cruz had a nice beach."
"I'm not here for the beach."
Once he parked the car along the side of the road in the dirt, she got out and watched as he grabbed a flashlight and his camera from the trunk of the car. Looking around, all she saw were trees, train tracks, a few houses, and that was it. It was dark. They left after midnight and it was now 3 am. He handed her the flashlight. She followed him across the street and along a dirt trail until she saw a sign. Shining the flashlight on it, she almost laughed. At least she was no longer worried he was taking her somewhere crazy.
"Monarch Butterfly Grove?"
"Danaus plexippus," he said as he kept walking. "This is the largest overwintering of the Monarch in all of the Western United States. It's only open from November to February. And the best part, it's open 24 hours. The Monarchs migrate here every fall, travelling south for hundreds or thousands of miles. They feed on milkweeds, which is poisonous to most birds and other animals but for the Monarch, it strengthens and nourishes them. Their predators have learned to leave them alone because the poison remains in their bodies. Anyway, watch your step because some might be on the ground. However, they should all be up in the Eucalyptus trees."
And he was right. When she looked up into the trees, what she thought were brown branches weren't. Once she shined the light on them, she saw the orange and black butterflies hanging upside down from the trees leaves. There were hundreds of them. "Oh...wow."
He snapped a photo and it took her a moment to realize he'd taken it of her. Then, he snapped a photo of the butterflies.
They walked around the trails, him taking pictures and explaining to her the life cycle of the Monarch butterflies, pointing to the cocoons as he spotted them. Some were green, others transparent. She could see their black and orange wings wrapped around their bodies.
"They're about to emerge," he told her.
As the sun came up, they sat under an Eucalyptus tree on a hill that overlooked the dunes and the beach. It was a golden sunrise. Looking up, she saw the Monarchs drop from the leaves and start to fly. Hundreds of them at the same time. Gil was laying on his back, camera in his hands, as he took pictures. Putting the camera down, he put his hands under his head and just watched.
She laid down beside him and did the same. But first, she had to clear the tears from her eyes. It was one of the most stunning things she'd ever seen in her life.
"Thank you," she told him after a moment of watching the butterflies swarm around them in the air.
He reached his arm up into the air and she watched as a butterfly landed on his hand. Holding it over to her, she reached up and let the butterfly walk from his finger over to hers. She couldn't help it, she laughed and smiled. It was the first time in a very long time that she felt happy.
~"Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)-"~
Two weeks later, he told her he was moving. He got a new job in Las Vegas.
Outside the restaurant, standing in front of his car, he reached into his pocket. "Here's, uh," he grabbed a business card with his name on it and written on the back of it was an address in Las Vegas, "my new address."
She smiled as she asked, "You want to be my pen pal?"
He actually started to blush slightly as he handed the card over. "Only if you want to be mine. I uh, I don't have many friends...None, actually. You can be the first."
She didn't know how that was possible, but she knew he wasn't lying. In the moment, with that thought, her heart felt like it was breaking. She didn't know why; it wasn't like they were lovers or anything. They were friends.
He opened his car door. Stopped. Turning back around, he reached out with his hand and touched her face. It was the first time he'd touched her. His hand was warm, and smooth, as he took her face in hands. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on for dear life and never let go. She also wanted him to kiss her. She'd never wanted that so much, so badly, as she did right then.
His eyes weren't focused on her lips, they weren't focused on anything. His thoughts were elsewhere in his head. His thumb smoothed over her left cheek. Then, looking down at her as his eyes came into focus, he told her, "I...I'll be expecting your letters." He dropped his hand and took a step to back away.
Not letting him leave without what she wanted, she grabbed him around the neck and kissed him. His whole body tensed but he responded to the kiss by kissing her back.
Once she let go, he asked, clearly shocked, "What was that for?"
Staring into his eyes, she told him, "Think about it. When you figure it out, give me a call or write me a letter, and I just might visit you in Vegas."
She left him standing there thinking about it as she turned around, fought down the tears, and walked away.
~"Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)."~
TBC...
Disclaimer: Songs used/mentioned: "Time of the Season" by The Zombies. "Sunshine (Go Away Today)" by Jonathan Edwards. "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac. "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie. "Beautiful Boy" by John Lennon.