Ch. 3: Bud-wise-er or Grissom-no wise-er? [gris pov]
I enter the brightly lit kitchen unnoticed. Sara has her back to me washing something in the sink. I'm somewhat shocked by her degree of comfort in a coworker's home. Nick certainly doesn't mind her wandering around either. She cannot visit too often though. When she arrived she was more professional and only now becoming slightly comfortable with her surroundings. Then again it could be her current state of mind, or a combination of both.
She seems so isolated anymore. Every time I look in her direction, she seems so far out of reach as if she is wandering an oasis on another world. The others have noticed too. I know this because they tell me. Every so often after a case is finished, Nick or occasionally Catherine will come to me with their concerns. They say she's really quiet and distant most of the time as if something is really bothering her. Warrick is the only one not forthcoming about his time with Sara, but I've begun to notice that he is more watchful and protecting in his own way. Luckily, she doesn't seem to mind most of the time.
It is ridiculous that I need my team members to spy on someone I should be observing myself. I am her supervisor, aren't I? It's not my place to be her security, but I should be there if she needs to talk or help getting through a case. Perhaps, she has finally reached the burnout point I stressed about when she came to Vegas. I've seen it happen. However, it is also conceivably possible that her current mood has nothing to do with work and a lot to do with me personally. Yes, even I cannot be so blind.
I won't even go near her anymore. The distance apart was working to my advantage until I realized I lost exactly what I treasured. I miss her beside me, I miss the level of compatibility we share, and I miss her mind working in tune with my own. If she only knew how much I miss her.
When we do collide she's always a step ahead of me ready to surprise me with her words. Regardless of the topic she always says something to catch me off guard. The first example that comes to mind is the invitation to dinner. It was too sudden and definitely at the wrong time for me. What was I supposed to say? There were just too many things happening. I couldn't handle it all at once. Of course, I didn't try for her sake or for my own, and I'm reminded of this almost daily.
You know, she claims she talks too much around me but honestly I think it just seems that way because I remain so silent. Any of the things circling through my head right now could have been said and she would have understood.
I smile ironically to myself. So much could have been spared if I only...
"Nick, you know you're supposed to clean the refrigerator at least once in awhile, don't you?" She asks drying her hands on a dish towel.
"Uhit's just me." I croak.
She turns around and for an instant I see a spark of surprise in her eyes, and then it is gone. She drops her eyes, and moves to the island counter.
"Did you find something?" I ask urging my feet to move toward the fridge (I actually didn't notice they stopped).
"Well I found a cucumber that seems fresh enough."
"You should eat more than a cucumber if you haven't eaten all day."
Finally she'll look at me. "This will suffice."
I let it go. It is much safer to agree than to argue. I open the refrigerator. She seems to be right: there isn't much in here, less for a vegetarian, and cleaning it out may not be a bad idea. Sure enough on the bottom shelf in the back is a half empty six pack. I grab one beer and close the door.
In silence, I move around the kitchen looking for a bottle opener. Not here. Or here. Where...? Without a word she steps in front of me taking my drink away from me. With a hard twist, she removes the cap and hands the bottle back to me.
"They don't really sell the bottle cap beers anymore. They are all twist caps." She shrugs. "It is really too bad because the seal is weaker and the beer doesn't taste as good after any long amount of time, but I guess when you're trying to get drunk you can always get the next one opened faster if it doesn't require a bottle opener."
"Thanks." I say. "I don't really indulge too often on beer."
"Let me guess, you're a scotch man and you probably like it neat."
I can't help but be impressed. "Very good."
She simply turns back to her slicing as if I'm not standing there. As I begin to turn away I have to stop myself. It's my turn to impress her. I put my hand over hers taking the knife. Her hand is cool compared to my own.
"You shouldn't saw through your food. See you're loosing all the watery insides and seeds. If you slide the blade towards you in one motion there is less mess."
I hand the knife back to her after demonstrating. She takes it slightly uncertain of something.
"Not to mention, the less slippery your hand becomes the less likely you'll get cut." I raise an eyebrow.
"Thanks. I'm not really an expert on the subject."
I point to her hand. "I noticed. You've got slicing scars on your left hand."
We both smile a nervous smile, but it seems familiar. We are pleased with each other's deductions like not so long ago.
"Well thank you for the tip."
I nod. "I wouldn't want such a good CSI to get hurt."
She pauses. "No I guess not."
She finishes quickly, a bit too quickly without looking at me. She retrieves a bottle of salad dressing before dumping a select portion on the sliced halves now residing in a bowl. Suddenly I feel like an outsider or a complete stranger. The air in the kitchen isn't as it was a few seconds ago.
Her sudden shift in mood makes me nervous. What did I do? What do I do?
"Do you need help cleaning up?" I say in a strained voice, no longer sure of myself.
"No. I got it." She says shortly while wiping the countertop. She gets a fork, then walks passed me towards the living room where a burst of hearty laughter originates.
When we get back to the poker table they know something might be wrong but don't say anything. After a few questions from our host we start our game again. No one speaks for the next three hands. I really don't mind and no one else seems to care either. Sometimes too much talking ruins the game. I know light banter leads to insightful facts that can win a game, but after what happened in the kitchen I don't want the noise.
I glance around the table and don't know why I'm here anymore. Nick asked me to come before Halloween so I really didn't know what I was getting myself into. I marked the date down to appease him and Catherine, who by the way told me it would be good for me. Little did I know how the weeks would unfold and how horrible it can be to attend a social poker game.
"It's almost eleven o'clock. Do you want me to see if Dick Clark has a report from New York?" Nick asks after the long break of silence. Even his voice seems wilted by our lapse into tense silence.
"Sure, I love Dick and watching the ball drop." Catherine says, then begins to giggle. "There are two words I didn't think I'd use in the same sentence."
"Think about what you just said period."
I look up at the sound of Sara's voice. I didn't expect her to be so eager to jump into something that was clearly the opposite of her disposition.
"You just said, 'I love Dick and watching the ball drop' ."
Warrick and Nick chuckle under their breath. Even I cannot resist a smile. Sometimes Catherine likes to relax too much when alcohol is offered.
"Okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly the right thing to say but his balls are legendary."
Warrick and Nick are the first to go doubling over the table in fits of laughter.
"Catherine!" Sara scolds but without much conviction. Soon she starts giggling so hard her face turns a lighter shade of pink. It makes me pause in my own mirth to appreciate her beauty. I can't believe only minutes ago she seemed so miserable. Maybe the quiet lapse helped us calm down and fall back into a light mood again.
"Grissom could you hand me the remote?" Nick asks tapping me out of my gaze as he wipes the tears from his eyes.
I hand him one of a series of remote controls, while Catherine tries yet again to recover from her sentence blunders.
"I was referring to the thousands of dollars put into the light effects for the New Year's Ball." She takes a deep breath. "There got through a whole statement without a mouthful of Dick's and balls."
Sara leaned on Nick for support as she held her sides while Warrick shook his head in amazement.
"I think that was on purpose." I say trying to sound disapprovingly but when I chuckle lightly into my hand, it really doesn't sound too convincing.
Catherine raises her head from the table and dabs at the corners of her eyes. "Okay, that was premeditated but the other two were by pure accident."
Nick turns on the large television soon showing a endlessly growing crowd in New York's Times Square. "Look at all those people."
"I was there once." Warrick says staring at the screen.
Sara turns in her chair, avoiding me as I watch her. "Really? Me too."
Now I realize she's trying to push away what happened in the kitchen, or everything while she is forced to be here. This casts a solemn dismal feeling over me. If she's hiding how she actually feels, then it must be really bad. Sara was always the person who would suffer alone rather than trouble others with her problems (a lot like me).
"Yeah it was elbow to elbow people and freezing cold." Warrick says breaking my train of thought.
"The confetti is amazing though. The whole show is breathtaking." She mentions. "I went once thought it was enough for me though."
"Who did you go with, Sara?" Nick asks.
"College friends. It was fun, but it's like Warrick said, there are just so many people." She got up and disappeared into the kitchen with her empty bowl.
"Who did you go with Warrick?"
"Oh, I went with my sophomore girlfriend. We got separated twice because of the people. It's crazy man."
"I bet." Nick turned the volume down but kept it on. "Well we got an hour to go before bringing in the New Year."
Warrick starts toward the kitchen. "What do you have for snacks, Nick?"
Nick gets up slowly. "Let's go see. Do you two want anything?"
"No thanks, Nick." I say.
Catherine shakes her head as she rises from her chair.
I decide I should stretch as well. These foldout chairs aren't really that comfortable for sitting in for long periods of time. I think my whole rear end is numb.
"You know I really think this has been a rough year for all of us."
I turn to Catherine. She is sitting quite peacefully in a large overly stuffed recliner. I decide to listen to what she has to say. She can really talk a lot about nothing, but she also has great insights to practically any situation you could get into. Her personality is almost as if it was written for some television show.
"Eddie died in the spring, Hank cheated on Sara a few weeks later, the lab blew up and Greg got hurt, Warrick's credibility was put to the test, Nick leaked important information on a serial murder, and you..."
She looks over at me.
"And you didn't tell the team about your hearing loss, and as far as I know you don't plan to..."
"It's resolved Catherine. There is no reason to tell them now." I whisper but somehow I'm still stuck on the part where Hank cheated on Sara. I heard that was the case and thought it was true, but it's different when it is said as a fact.
"Well you should have told them in May." She allows her head to drop back. "Especially Sara. She should've been there or at least know."
I'm taken aback by her advice. Catherine of all people know it is different with Sara. I quickly shake it off though. Her statement is further testament to the alcohol in her system. She probably doesn't even know half of what she thinks she knows.
"Anyway those are just the headliners. That is still not to mention the small everyday tragedies that made the year worse." She touches her throbbing temples. "A rough year indeed."
I frown, thinking about it. Yes I suppose it has been particularly an off season for everyone. Almost as if everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I collapse onto the sofa in deep thought about the mistakes I've made and the hardships that have occurred. I don't know how long I sat there hung on the past, but before I knew it Nick returned to suggest one more round of cards to reclaim his money.
_tbc_