Notes:
--Chapter 4: Two questions--
December 19; 6 p.m.
Thanks to Mom, I knew that Uncle Gil was almost always at the lab earlier than his job demanded. Usually hours earlier.
Which was a very good thing, because I had to talk to him today, and he wasn't at his townhouse.
I had already checked, after dropping by Trevor's house to pick up the concert tickets for Mom and Uncle Gil.
So I went to the lab, hoping that he would be there this early, and that if he was, he wouldn't be too busy to talk to me. I couldn't stay long, since the last thing I wanted to do was run into Mom.
That wouldn't be very good for "Operation Lindsey's Plan," as Trevor had called it this afternoon when I talked to him on the phone.
I had come up with some lousy excuse about leaving a book at the lab, and had even brought said book in case she wanted to see it.
But somehow, I didn't think she would really believe it.
Well, I'll cross that bridge when and IF I come to it. Which hopefully, I won't.
I walked automatically towards his office, saying hi to Sara on the way. Sara and I weren't the best of buddies, but we got along fairly well.
I continued on my way, then paused and turned around, a thought striking me.
"Hey, Sara. Is Grissom here?"
The dark head swiveled towards me.
"Yeah. In his office. You okay?"
"I'm fine. Just have some questions." I answered, then headed off down the hall.
When I reached his office, I was struck by a small wave of nervousness, then I laughed at myself. It wasn't like I was doing anything hard. Walk in, have a nice little conversation, walk back out. No big deal.
I just hoped that I wouldn't screw it up.
I knocked on the closed door, and opened it when I heard a muffled "Come in!"
He was sitting at his desk, filling out some type of form when I stepped inside.
"Uncle Gil?"
His head shot up, surprised to hear my voice, the corners of his mouth turning upward with a smile.
"Hi, Lindsey. What are you doing here?"
Okay, well, here went nothing.
"I wanted to ask you a question." I said, moving so that I was in front of his desk, then I plopped down in the seat opposite him.
"Did you come all the way here just to ask me something?" He asked, abandoning the paperwork and leaning back in his chair.
"Actually two things. Do you like the Trans-Siberian Orchestra?" I was putting off the harder question for later.
"Yes, I do. Why?"
"The Lambert's - my friend Trevor's parents - gave us two tickets to their concert on the twenty-second. And since you are off that night, I was wondering if you would like to go with Mom. I'm sure you two would have lots of fun. I don't really want to go, and I'm sure Mom would love having you there."
Okay, so maybe I was stretching the truth just a little. Mom didn't even know about the concert yet.
He looked surprised, then thought for a minute.
"Sure. I guess it wouldn't hurt to take the night off."
I had a hard time keeping a huge grin off of my face, but I succeeded.
"Cool! Would you rather me give your ticket to you now, or wait until that night?"
"That depends; would your Mother and I be riding together?"
Ummm...
"Sure. If that's okay."
"That will work. You can just give it to me that night, then. Wouldn't want me to lose it in all this." He smied, gesturing to the loads of paperwork that covered his desk.
"You said you wanted to ask me another question?" He prompted.
"Well," I hesitated "I was going to ask Mom, but then I decided I would rather ask you." I was stalling, and I knew it. I think he did too, judging by his reaction.
"Whatever it is, I'll try my best to answer."
This was going to be one of the most crucial points in the conversation, so I watched his face closely.
"How do you know if one of your best friends likes you as more than a just a friend? I mean, I know you and Mom are just friends and all, but did you ever like or love her?"
Oh, yeah. I love the shock factor. He looked downright startled for several seconds, before remembering to compose himself. He may have been expecting a question about bugs or science or something like that, but there was no way he would have guessed that I would ask him, of all people, a question about relationships.
"Why are you asking me this instead of your mother, Lindsey?"
He was avoiding the question, just as I had figured he would.
"I dunno," I said, shrugging. "I just didn't really feel like asking her."
"Well, I think she would probably be a better person to ask about this kind of thing."
"But I'm already here." I almost whined.
"I'm sorry, Linds, but I really don't know how to answer you. Your mother and I are just friends, and that's all we ever have been."
"But how would you know if she really did like you?"
This wasn't exactly as I had planned it, but it was working. Thank goodness, I had apparently inherited Mom's ability to "think on her feet," so to speak.
"I don't know, Lindsey. As far as I know, she only thinks of me as a friend."
And again, he was avoiding any mention of how he felt about her.
"Well, that's all you really do know until you...know. You know?" I had a feeling that you wouldn't know what on earth I was talking unless you actually felt it.
And he understood exactly what I meant.
"But is there any way to tell unless there is major flirting, or they tell you straight out?"
"Lindsey-"
But I cut him off.
"I mean, I think he does like me, but I'm afraid that I might ruin our friendship. He needs to make the first move if there's going to be any moving. I keep trying to tell him. Does he not notice those small glances. And the way I let him hold my hand that second longer than necessary. That is total 'I like you' flirting, not just the normal way a girl flirts with a guy. How can he not see it?" I pretended to be exaspirated, all the while watching his face for a reaction.
Giving him an apologetic smile, I continued, as if just then realizing that someone was listening to me.
"Sorry, I guess I needed a listening post more than I needed an answer. Thanks anyway, Uncle Gil.
I then hopped up out of the seat and headed for the door.
"See you on Thursday."
"Bye, Linds." He sounded far away, like he was pondering some problem.
He was, of course. If my plan had worked the way I had hoped - and I was pretty sure that it had - he would be wondering at this moment if all those things my Mom did meant that she liked him.
Which of course she did. But he didn't know that.
Yet.
But soon, hopefully, that would change.
TBC...