DILEMMA
Mention of characters from 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte and 'Psycho' by Robert Bloch.
Songs: 'Have I told you' (sung by Rod Stewart) and 'You made me so very happy' (by the Union Gap)
I apologized to Dr. Stevens for missing my appointment at the body farm, but he was still pissed. He had set a body apart for my study and I had been taking weekly notes on its 'progress'. By missing one day, I was seriously compromising the study.
"What's so important that you can't come, Gil? Don't tell me you're with some chick celebrating St. Valentine's Day-"
"I'm not." I said truthfully.
"Good." He said dryly. "I'm sick of this holiday, Gil. Most of my volunteers are rescheduling their assignments for next week in order to celebrate that damn day! You'd think that after seeing what lovers do to each other, they'd be more discouraged, huh? What about you? What excuse do you have?"
"I can come on over later." I said evasively. "Four o'clock?"
It was a half-hearted offer but he accepted it.
And all along I was aware of Greg's gaze on me.
The euphoria I'd felt at beating Dennis, didn't last much. His words were still very present in my mind, and every time I glanced at Greg, I was reminded of something else that I had to deal with: That conversation we had at the donut place. I'd tried to ignore it but it was at the back of my mind, and I guess it was at the back of his mind too: I saw it in his eyes -something was still bothering him, but he wouldn't say what.
Still, I was glad I'd stayed; it gave us a chance to do quiet, domestic things like cooking lunch and eating in front of the TV, and taking a nap in his bed.
When I woke up, I was lying on my side and he was behind me, his arm loosely wrapped around my waist. I smiled to myself. I like it when he spoons me in bed, but it took me quite a while to get used to it. It used to make me feel vulnerable and I hated feeling his breath on my neck, but now having him so close was reassuring.
There's only one thing I like more, when we're lying like this: Watching him.
So, that Sunday afternoon I turned until we were face to face. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling faintly. He wasn't asleep, but he wanted to be lazy. Hey, that was fine by me.
We spent the next couple of minutes in silence, touching each other very lightly - little caresses that were not meant to arouse- he touched my chin and my cheek, while I caressed one of his wrists, feeling the steady beat of the blood in his veins. I found it soothing.
I was usually satisfied with our non-verbal communication; but it had been an unusual day, and there was something bothering me.
"I didn't know you liked basketball." I said.
"Mmmmh." He barely acknowledged my words.
"Do you?"
"Not particularly." he mumbled after a while.
I thought about that for a moment.
"So… you didn't want to watch that game on Friday?"
"Mmmh, no; not really."
"But you acted as if you were looking forward to it-"
"Yeah." Greg mumbled, "Poor Dennis." He said as an afterthought.
"Poor Dennis?" I repeated. After our conversation, I didn't feel charitable towards Dennis the Psychologist.
Greg opened his eyes at last.
"He doesn't have many friends." he mumbled.
"So you were only acting like a pal?"
"Uh, huh," he nodded, and then he yawned.
I mused on these words for a moment.
"What about baseball?" I asked.
"Mmmh? What about it?" he asked.
We had gone to several baseball games together and he'd always said he'd had a god time; now I was wondering whether he'd been honest.
"Do you like baseball?" I insisted.
"Baseball is ok."
"But do you like it?"
"I guess," He said, closing his eyes again. "Sports are ok," he said dismissively, "I just don't share some people's passion for them."
Crap. And here I thought he really liked going to those games!
"So," I said, "All those times you came with me to a baseball game, you were only trying to be a pal?"
Maybe it was unfair of me to ask that. He had never acted like baseball was the greatest spectacle on earth, after all; he had never ooohed and aaahed the way he did with Dennis and his basketball tickets.
Greg looked at me.
"I like those games," he said, "I like to watch you."
"To watch me?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "I like to see you watching the game. It's about the only time I see you lose all your inhibitions-"
What?
"My inhibitions-" I repeated, and I raised myself on one arm, "My inhibitions?" I asked indignantly, "Hey, I've let you-" I started to protest, "We have- we've been-"
I was trying to say that I wasn't inhibited, but I was failing miserably; I couldn't even mention the things I'd done with him.
"Hey, it's not what you think." He said quickly, "I'm not saying that you're sexually repressed, Grissom! That's not what I meant, baby. On the contrary; you're very giving." he added, and paused until I was mollified. Then he grinned smugly, "But of course, it's hard to be repressed when you're with me, huh?"
"Yeah." I admitted reluctantly, "But you said inhibitions-"
"Yes, but I was talking about the way you act when you're at work, or anywhere else." he explained, "You're self-contained, and in control of your emotions all the time. You have to be, I guess," he added as an afterthought.
"Greg-"
"Hey, I understand," he said before I could say anything, "It's just part of who you are. It is frustrating sometimes." he admitted, "But when you watch those baseball games…" he smiled wistfully, "You just- explode. You scream; your feelings are out there and your face showcases every emotion – frustration, anger, joy, euphoria, expectation… I like that. You love the game and I enjoy the show, baby."
He punctuated that last phrase with a kiss on my nose.
One kiss and I stopped asking any more questions. It was getting late, and what little time we had left, we didn't want to spend it discussing Dennis or the fact that I'm repressed everywhere but in bed.
We barely saw each other over the next two days; we were swamped with work. It wasn't until Wednesday that I was able to get him to work a crime scene with me.
We were processing a room in a really cheap motel. The last occupant had been killed in a car accident, but he was a suspect in a kidnapping case; we needed to establish whether he had kept his victim in there.
We were doing the bathroom. I was carefully picking up hairs and toenails from the floor when he spoke.
"Do you want me to rent a tuxedo?"
I looked at him. He was taking samples of what looked like blood spatter on the wall, (the bathroom was so filthy, it could have been mere grime.) He wasn't looking at me, and for a moment I wondered if he had spoken at all.
"Why would you need a tuxedo?" I asked.
"You know, for the big night."
Oh.
Oh, yeah. Friday night. The night I was supposed to have plans for.
And here I thought he had forgotten all about it.
"No," I said, returning to my task, "you won't need a tuxedo."
"Oh. Do you want me to wear my Armany suit then?"
I paused. I like that suit. He looks seriously handsome in it.
"You won't need a suit." I said, somewhat regretfully.
"Oh, it'll be casual attire, then?" he asked, "Cool." After a pause, he asked, "How casual will it be?"
"Greg, don't worry about the clothes."
"Hey, I like to be prepared. If we're going to some restaurant-"
"We're not going to a restaurant."
"Oh. Ok." He said good-naturedly, "So… do I have to pack anything?"
"No."
"You said we were going out." He reminded me; "If we're not going to a restaurant and I don't have to pack clothes…" he looked up, "Hey!" he grinned, "Are we going to a nude beach?"
I didn't even answer this time and he chuckled.
"Ok, no nude beach, then." He said. And suddenly he got serious again, "It's blood, Grissom." He said, "Human blood."
"It might not be related to our case." I pointed out
"I know." he looked around, "This place looks like it hasn't been cleaned in months. Hey, either way, we've got us a crime scene. Unless someone shaved a little too close and bled all over-" He added humorously.
I labeled my evidence.
"Let's go."
"Hey," he said before I opened the door, "If we're staying home, I can whip up some dessert."
I gave him a skeptical look and he chuckled.
"All right, all right. I can buy dessert. Strawberry cheesecake? Or some Loving Bear donuts?"
"It's all taken care of, Greg," I said patiently, but making a mental note to get dessert.
I still wasn't sure about my plans for the 'big night', but at least I had the night off. I'd told Warrick a convoluted story about needing Friday off, and he had taken pity on me.
"Sure, Griss." He said with a knowing smile that bothered me. He acted as if he knew what I needed the night off for.
On Friday night I picked up my cell phone and took a couple of deep breaths. I was going to do something I'd never done before and I was nervous. I'd chosen not to go to a restaurant because I still couldn't be that open about our relationship, yet I knew that going to a restaurant would have been easier than doing it all by myself.
This is it, I thought. After tonight, things will have changed one way or the other.
I was still in my office when I called Greg.
"I'll pick you up in half an hour," I said and hung up before he could ask anything.
He had been pestering me with questions about our night off. He wanted to know about this place we were going to, and the food, and the clothing; when I didn't answer, he questioned my decision to pick him up instead of letting him drive on his own. I was glad Friday night had come, if only because the questioning would cease.
He was waiting for me on the sidewalk, in front of his building. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, just as I had suggested.
"Here," he said, handing me a square package wrapped in red paper. "This is for ya. Don't open it 'til Monday, ok?"
My first impulse was to say something like 'you didn't have to do tht', but I didn't. I said 'thank you' and forced myself to take the gift. I'm still learning to accept gifts from him. I mean, he gave me things from the beginning, but now he doesn't have to lie to get me to accept them.
He smiled when he noticed that I was discreetly patting the box, trying to find out what it was.
"So, where are we going?" he asked.
"I'm not telling you yet." I answered, putting the gift on the back seat.
"Let's go, then."
"Ok, but first…" I took something out of my pocket. I held up a strip of black satin and asked him to turn around. "I have to blindfold you."
He froze.
"Is this for real?" he was stunned.
"Yeah, why?"
"You are playing games, Grissom?"
"Just turn around," I insisted brusquely, but he didn't move. "What? Don't tell me you've never worn one of these, Greg; I took it from your damn toy box."
He obediently turned, but he kept moving, making it difficult for me to cover his eyes.
"Hey, babe? You're not into bondage, are you?" he asked.
I snorted but didn't say anything.
"I mean," He continued, "It's ok, if you are- I'd just like to get a little warning before you do something like this-"
"I'm not into bondage, Greg," I said dryly.
"Well, I'm still not reassured." He muttered.
"Hey, don't you trust me?"
"I trust you with my eyes wide open, Grissom." He said, "Besides, what if you want to be a dominant? That could be a problem, you know? I'm not cut out to be a submissive, Grissom." He said firmly, "And we can't both be dominants; that's not how it works-"
Sometimes I really don't know whether he's being serious or not.
"It'll take me an hour to get there, so please sit quietly." I said after I finished covering his eyes.
Then, as quietly as I could, I got my gift back and started unwrapping it. He immediately noticed the rustling sounds.
"What's that? You're cheating!" he protested, blindly reaching out for the box.
"Mmmmmh, chocolates-" I teased, keeping the box out of his reach, "Yum." I added, choosing a big fat truffle.
"I told you to wait until Monday!" he said morosely. "You should have waited-"
I shushed him with a kiss and half a truffle.
It actually took me less than an hour to get 'there' but I kept driving past. I drove around the same block about six times until I finally decided to just go ahead and enter the garage.
"Where are we?" he asked when I finally stopped.
"You'll see." I said. I helped him out of the car, guided him through the garage and down a hallway. I opened a door and closed it behind us.
At last, I took the blindfold off him.
"Here we are."
He blinked and his expression fell.
Uh, oh. Using the blindfold had been a mistake. It had only built up his expectations until he must have thought I was taking him somewhere- well, somewhere different, I guess; noisier, maybe.
His initial reaction was one of disappointment that was quickly replaced by puzzlement.
"Where are we?"
I hesitated for a couple of seconds.
"It's a friend's house." I said.
We were in the backyard, a large paved area that was mostly in the dark, except for a circle that I'd chosen for our celebration. I'd hung several strings of festive lights over there; I'd installed a grill, a couple of large, flat rocks to sit on, and also a fiberglass waterfall, one of those little monsters that are supposed to create an aura of relaxation but only make you fret about the waste of water.
Greg looked at this only briefly; he was more interested in the two-story building behind me. It was in the dark, but maybe that's what made him more curious.
"Is that your friend's house?" he asked. I silently nodded.
After a moment, he looked back at the area that I had selected for dinner.
"What's with the wall?" he asked.
Ah, I should have known that a curious guy like him would insist on looking beyond the area that was under my control. He was staring at the high wall complete with razor wire that made this innocent yard look like a prison. It did look sinister under the moonlight.
"Oh." I hesitated, "It's nothing. My friend's neighbors weren't happy with his pet collection and he had to put that wall up-"
"Pet collection?"
"Yeah. Hey," I said, changing the subject, "want to help me with this cooler?"
"Sure," he said good-naturedly, "Hey, there's a fountain over there." He said at last, "Cool." He put the cooler near the grill. "So, a camping trip in the middle of the city, huh? I mean, I assume we're still in the middle of the city."
"We are," I nodded. "We didn't have enough time to go to a real park, so-"
"So we ended up at your friend's patio." He finished. He looked at me, "So, who is this friend?"
"It's-" I cleared my throat, "It's, hum, Dr. Stevens."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"The guy from the Body Farm." He said.
"Yeah."
"Now that's a good friend," he commented. "He's letting you use his home for a romantic weekend." He said, looking closely at me, "Unless he doesn't know."
"Hum. No." I said, "I mean, he does, but-" Oh, for crying out loud, why didn't I anticipate these questions? Of course, he was bound to be curious! And why couldn't I lie more quickly, at least? "I'm, hum, house sitting, and-"
Yeah, I'm pathetic, sometimes.
And yet, Greg didn't say he didn't believe me; he merely stared at me.
"And he lives alone, huh?"
"Yes." I nodded.
"With his pet collection," he added, in case I'd forgotten.
"Uh, huh."
He frowned, "What I don't understand is why I had to wear the blindfold."
"Well-"
"I mean," He said, looking around, "I thought we were going to play some sex games-"
"Sorry."
"Nah, it's ok." He said, generously, "Hey, at least we have privacy."
He wasn't too thrilled, but I was sure he was going to like the food. I had taken some of his favorite dishes and adapted them for the occasion -sausages, barbecued chicken, vegetable kabobs, corn tortillas, corn on the cob, a couple of slices of strawberry cheesecake, and a pot of his favorite coffee.
He explored the grounds while I cooked.
He kept walking in and out of the ring of light I had provided, making it difficult for me to keep an eye on him.
"There's a patch covered with gravel here," he said at one point. "Do you know what it's for?"
"It's for the pets, I think."
"Well, this is peaceful, Grissom." He said when he finished his exploration, "Just a bit too quiet if you ask me." He sat on one of the rocks, but he grew restless again. "Do you need any help with that?"
"No. Sit down and relax." I said, "If you want music, there's a CD player and some discs over there."
"Not Pink Floyd, I hope," he said as he peered at the boxes.
I smiled to myself. Those were his records. I was trying to keep him happy.
"Keep it down, Ok?" I asked, "The neighbors are a bit touchy."
Later, Greg opened a couple of beers while I heaped food on a couple of plates. I handed him a plate and he handed me a bottle.
"Mmmmh, sausages." He said appreciatively, "Just don't blame me if I fart later, ok?"
"It's ok." I shrugged, "We're going to spend the night in the open."
He was carefully folding a tortilla so the filling –sausages, salsa, lettuce, and slices of avocado- didn't spill out, but my words made him pause.
"In the open?"
"Yeah," I gestured to the tent. "I have a couple of sleeping bags in there."
"A couple of-" he frowned, "You mean we're not sharing?"
"Uh- no."
"Geeze, Grissom." He said, shaking his head in disappointment, "You really haven't grasped the meaning of the words 'romantic evening', have you? We're not supposed to sleep apart on a night like this." He said, "We're supposed to eat, slow-dance, and go to bed together."
"I don't dance." I frowned.
"Ha, don't I know it." He muttered before taking a big bite of his tortilla. "What, no butter?" he scowled after a moment.
"Butter?"
"For the corn, Grissom. Shit," he muttered, "I knew we shouldn't have told you about my father."
It was mama Asty who did. She told me that Andrew Sanders had died of a heart attack when Greg was only a toddler. "Up 'til then we didn't even know what cholesterol was, but my son-in-law's family had a history of heart trouble." She said as she showed me pictures of Greg's dad. "My daughter had to go back to work, while we took care of the children."
It was a moving story, but I was more overwhelmed by the fact that Greg looked so much like his dad.
It was a wake up call for me and from then on I'd been trying to monitor his cholesterol intake. That meant serving him turkey instead of pork sausages, and corn on the cob with no butter. Maybe he was right when he said that I was being unreasonable, but I just didn't want him to drop dead at 35.
"Give me that," I said. "The best way to eat corn on the cob is by rubbing a little salt and lemon juice on it," I said, doing just that, "Try it now."
He reluctantly munched on it.
"Hey, this is tasty." He said admiringly.
I was pleased by his reaction.
"We used to eat them like this in Guatemala." I said, "Sometimes it was the only food we'd trust. We were so paranoid-"
"Hey, you were in Guatemala? When?"
I hesitated. I hadn't planned on mentioning this to him –or to anybody.
"Years ago." I said.
"Were you there on vacation?"
"No. There was a forensic investigation going on and I volunteered for a month." Greg leant forward, turning his whole attention to me. I reluctantly told him the rest. "Amnesty International was investigating the massacres committed by the military in the early eighties."
"And why were you paranoid?" he looked expectantly at me.
"Because we were working in really isolated areas, with no protection," I said, "The civilian government had promised its cooperation, but up there in the mountains, the military were still in charge; they made it clear they would let us work as long as we didn't use any evidence against them." As I spoke, I realized this was something that still bothered me, "The work was heartbreaking," I added, "Survivors of the massacres would sometimes identify family members from the bits of clothing that remained on the bodies. Teenagers identified their fathers' belts, old women recognized the clothing they'd sewn for their kids, and-" I stopped abruptly. "And this is not the kind of conversation one has during a romantic dinner,' is it?" I asked sheepishly, "Sorry."
"Hey, it's ok." He said quickly, "I don't mind. I think this is the first time you've told me anything about your past-"
"Is it?" I frowned. "Well… if you want to know anything about me, all you have to do is check out the files."
It was a stupid suggestion, and the incredulous look he gave me told me exactly what he thought of it.
We stared at each other, and just when I thought he was going to say something –something probably devastating for me- he looked down and continued eating.
I suddenly realized that he always did that. He did or said something that made me pause, but instead of pursuing it, he backed off. I'd always been grateful to him for doing that, but not that night. I'd been acting selfishly all along and maybe it was time for me to stop doing that.
'This is it' had been the words at the back of my mind all day. We'd have to talk sooner or later.
It took me a while to approach the matter, though. It wasn't until we were eating the cheesecake that I said anything.
"Are you disappointed, Greg?"
"Disappointed?"
"That I brought you here, instead of taking you to a game or a restaurant?"
"Oh, man-" he sighed, "I reacted badly, didn't I? Sorry," he said, "Look, I have really bad memories from the camping trips I went to when I was a kid." he shook his head, "Seeing this tent brought it all back to me. But I like this." He said reassuringly, "I like the food and the music." He added meaningfully.
"I'm glad." I said, picking up the coffee pot. But instead of pouring myself a cup like I'd intended, I paused and looked at him. He was doing it again, wasn't he? He was being a 'pal', saying something nice just to make me feel better.
Well, we couldn't go on like this. I put the pot back on the ground.
"So, Greg," I said slowly, "Will you tell me what this thing that I wouldn't understand is?"
He stopped chewing for a moment.
"I'd like to know." I said as sincerely as I could.
"Grissom-" he started, "It was nothing-"
"You've got to tell me," I said. And then I grinned, "I've been good to you all night," I said, "I got you sausages and cheesecake -"
He looked at me.
"Cholesterol-free sausages and cheesecake," he said slowly, "Just like the donuts from 'Loving Bear', right?" He smiled faintly, "See? That's why I don't wanna talk about this. You take care of me, Grissom." he said, "I don't want to sound like an ungrateful SOB-"
"You won't," I said reassuringly, "Go ahead. Tell me."
Greg carefully put down his empty plate on the floor.
"Look, I was pissed that night, ok? My friends had been asking me to go to their parties, I wanted you to come with me, and I knew you were going to say no-"
"You know I rarely go to any parties, Greg."
"It's not the parties, Grissom." he said. He looked down, "It's just- sometimes I have the feeling that you'd rather be anywhere but with me. No matter what we do, I think deep down you'd rather be home reading a book." He looked up, but he avoided me all the same; he was staring at the two-story building behind me. "And you have hundreds of books, Grissom. That's hard to compete against."
I didn't react to his words until I belatedly realized that I'd stopped breathing.
I exhaled.
And then I got angry.
"Wow." I said coldly, "So, according to you, I'd rather stay home and have sex with my encyclopedias?"
"Oh, come on," he snorted, "that's not what I meant-"
"I don't think anyone could use a Thesaurus as a sexual aid, but hey, you're the one who knows all about sex toys-"
"Ah, forget it," he muttered, "I knew you wouldn't get it."
"Hey, I'm trying, Greg." I said, "But it's hard to understand why a book would hold such a threat-"
"I know," he mumbled.
"Besides, when I'm home, I'm always alone," I argued, "I don't have a dozen friends and ex-lovers dropping by or calling me up, offering to get me a date-"
"How do I know that?" he asked calmly.
"What?"
"How do I know you're alone? I've never been in your house."
Oh, so that was the problem. Crap. He'd never been inside my place, except for that one time, months ago. And he'd been drunk, so it didn't really count-
"Look," he said, "You have a hundred interests." He started. "Those books, the Body Farm, your bugs…"
"You have a hundred interests too." I interrupted.
"It's different-"
"It's not-" I argued.
"Look," he interrupted, "The truth is… I need you more than you need me." He said quietly, "I believe that every time you go home and close the door, you make the rest of us disappear. You don't need anyone - at least, there's a huge part of you that doesn't, Grissom. It's a part that craves silence and solitude." he added, "I mean, you can turn away any time you want-"
"So can you." I interrupted.
"But I don't want to." He said, "You're a part of my family now, and you're a part of my home. You're even a part of my friends' lives-" he scoffed, "They're always asking me about you, you know? It pisses me off, because most of the time I don't know what to tell them. They ask me about your home and your books, and about your butterfly collection. And my female friends-" he rolled his eyes, "They're half in love with you, for God's sake. They keep asking me if you were ever married-"
"I've never been married." I frowned. "You know that."
"Yes," he nodded, "But on the other hand, I don't; not really," he added. "Who knows; maybe you have a wife hidden in the attic or in the basement-"
I gaped again and he reddened.
"I watched Jane Eyre and Psycho the other day," he explained sheepishly.
I guiltily remembered that I'd watched the same movies at my place. I could have stayed and watched them with him, but I'd told him I had something else to do.
Anger overrode guilt.
"Greg?" I asked incredulously, "Do you believe I have a mad Mrs. Grissom in the attic or a mummified one in the basement?"
"No," he muttered reluctantly.
He looked like he was really sorry he'd said what he said.
"Look -" he started but I interrupted him.
"So, what you're saying is that I don't share things with you, and that you don't know me."
And how could he? As Dennis had said, there was a wall around me - it protected me but it kept others out.
We stared at each other for a moment, and then –as always- he backed off. He cleared his throat.
"Is it ok if I pee out there in the woods?"
I had some difficulty letting go of my anger but I made the effort.
"There's a bathroom." I said, pointing to a spot behind me.
I didn't turn as he walked away.
I took a deep breath.
Now that I was alone, I looked around. It was a beautiful night; quiet and starry; just right for a romantic celebration. It was a pity that I'd messed things up.
"Hey, Grissom?" he said when he came back, "There's a weird zoom coming from somewhere in the house-"
"Yes." I nodded, "It's the pets. They sleep next door."
"What does this guy keep, bees?"
"Giant cockroaches." I said.
"Whoa, can I see them?"
"Tomorrow."
Tomorrow, I thought, if you're still here.
"So, Grissom," he said, sitting on the floor this time, "Are we going to sing Kumbaya?"
He was smiling again, but now I knew what was hidden behind that smile –fear.
"No," I said calmly, "But we need some exercise. We're going to climb a mountain."
It wasn't a mountain, but a spiral staircase at the back of the house.
"What are we doing here?" he asked as we got to the roof.
"We're going in there," I said, gesturing to a little room in the corner. And then I couldn't help adding, "It's time to feed the pets, Greg."
"Really? What do you feed them?"
"Human flesh." I said calmly.
He stopped on his tracks. When he turned I almost laughed. His expression was priceless.
"Human-" he gulped.
"Uh, huh." I said as unemotionally as I could, "Think about it, Greg." I paused, "Nobody knows you're here."
He gaped at me. We stared at each other and I kept a straight face for as long as I could.
"Shit, Greg." I scoffed at last, "I'm only joking!"
"Ah, you're a bastard-" he said breathlessly. "Hey, laugh it up, bugboy," he added when he saw me smirk, "I'll have my revenge-"
Seeing him so relieved pissed me off.
"Did you really believe I was going to harm you?"
"No." he said quickly, "But…"
"But you don't know me." I finished for him.
We stared at each other in silence.
It looked like our romantic night was going to end in disaster, but he backed off yet again.
"So, what are we doing here?" he repeated.
I motioned him to follow me into the little room; it didn't have a roof yet, and we had a beautiful patch of stars on top of us. At least this part of the night would go well: I had installed a telescope in the middle of the room.
He was pleasantly surprised.
"Whoa, Grissom," he said, "A huge phallic-like artifact pointing up?" he grinned, "Are you trying to put ideas in my head?"
"Yeah," I replied dryly, "Star gazing."
We were supposed to take turns looking up at the stars, but he was so full of enthusiasm that I let him monopolize the telescope. I was content with leaning against a wall and watching him.
I looked at him and started to think of all the things that had happened since he'd entered my life. He had turned it upside down in only a year. This guy was my lover, but he was also my best friend. My forgiving best friend. My forgiving, patient, loving, best friend-
I was going to lose him one of these days, just as Dennis had predicted, unless…
I took a deep breath. This is it...
"Hey, Greg?" I called out, "I love you."
He glanced at me.
"I know, Grissom." He said good-naturedly.
"No, you don't." I said softly. "You have no idea-"
He must have realized I was serious. He slowly turned his full attention to me.
"You don't realize what you've done to me, do you?" I asked. "I've lived alone for most of my life." I said, "I got used to being secretive," I admitted, "There are huge parts of my life that I've kept under wraps for so long that I can't even think about them, much less talk about them." I confessed, "I've kept people away from me because it's so much easier- And yet, somehow I couldn't keep you away." I shook my head, "I let you take over my body, and that was difficult enough, but… the idea of letting you inside my home, my privacy… It's hard for me, Greg. It's not that I don't trust you," I said quickly, because by his expression alone I could see that's exactly what he thought; "It's just that… My home is the home of the man I was before all this happened, and- I don't know if I want you to see it." I admitted. "But you have to know that whoever I was… or whoever I am when I close the door… it's not who I am when I'm with you. I like this person that I become whenever you're around."
"Do you?"
"Yeah." I nodded ruefully, "Even when I do silly things like getting jealous every time your friends call-"
"You get jealous?" he smiled widely.
"Oh, yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "Sometimes I want to smash that damn answering machine against the wall-"
"Oh, man," he snorted, "you've been suffering a lot, then. But why didn't you say anything?"
"Because," I sighed, "I want you to keep seeing your friends. I don't want your world to shrink around us, Greg. Having friends and outside interests will help you keep your sanity. Otherwise, your life will only consist of me and the lab."
"Oh, man, don't you see? I also need you to keep my sanity." He said, "C'mere," he said, pulling me for a bear hug.
"You're not doing this just to make me feel better, are you?" I asked, letting him hold me.
"Hell, no." he scoffed, "I'm going to make you pay for your sins."
I smiled and wrapped my arms around him.
"All right." I said, accepting my fate. We stood like that for a while, just holding each other. Then, before I lost my nerve, I whispered, "Do you want to dance?"
"Uh? Sure." He said, "Wanna go downstairs?"
"Uh, huh." I said, "We can dance here."
I held him tight and then I did the cheesiest thing I've ever done. I sang.
I lost at love before
Got mad and closed the door
But you said, 'try just once more
Now we're having so much fun
We danced (actually, we only moved around in a slow circle) while I sang, (not always in tune). Greg was too stunned to do anything except let me move him around.
You treated me so kind, I'm about to lose my mind
You made me so very happy…I'm so glad you came into my life.
'Cause you came and you took control
You touched my very soul
You always showed me that
Loving you was where it's at
You made me so very happy
I'm so glad you're into my life-
"See what you make me do?" I asked gruffly.
"Uh, huh," he nodded, wide eyed. He was looking at me as if he hadn't seen me in a long time. Well, sure; how many times had he seen me knowingly and voluntarily make a fool of myself like this?
And the worst part was, there was another song in my mind trying to get out.
Have I told you lately that I love you?
Have I told you there's no one else above you?
Fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness
Ease my troubles, that's what you do…
"Sing me another!" he insisted.
"Oh, no," I said, reddening, "Those are the only love songs I know,"
"Aw, come on-" He was enjoying this; he loves to make me squirm.
I was going to say an adamant 'no', but then I thought... oh, what the hell.
"I'll sing just one more,"
"Baby, baby… I'll get down on my knees for you…"
And I did just that.
He screamed and I cringed. The neighbors were not going to be happy- But I didn't care, as long as he was happy.
I caught him and lowered him to the floor and held him, until he got his breath back.
"Oh, man." He whispered in my ear after a while, "I take it back, what I said earlier; this is romantic."
"What, sitting in a dusty room with your pants bunched around your ankles?"
"Yep. In your arms, under the stars-" he started and then he scoffed, "God, I'm so lame. One orgasm and I get all mushy."
We sat in silence for a while.
"So, you get jealous," he muttered in my ear.
"Uh, huh."
"So, when you and Dennis were acting like kids you were actually-" his voice trailed off.
"Jealous," I admitted, "I thought it was obvious-"
"Not really. It was more like watching two wolves fighting over a piece of meat -"
We chuckled.
"Do you still love him?"
Even I was surprised by the question. I had never asked that before; to me, that's the kind of question that invites trouble –or lies.
"You mean, Dennis?" he asked and I nodded. "We're friends." He said simply, "We go way back, Grissom. That doesn't mean I want to sleep with him again," he added pointedly.
"You wouldn't?" I insisted.
"Nah" he said firmly, "Being with him was just so exhausting-"
"He exhausted you?" I was surprised.
He chuckled.
"I don't mean that he had more endurance, Grissom," he said, "What I mean is…" he hesitated, "Look, I don't think Dennis is comfortable with who he is. Maybe none of us is," he added thoughtfully, "There's always some secrecy involved in a gay relationship, right?"
"I guess," I nodded cautiously; "You and me would never be able to work together if anyone found out-"
"Yeah, but on the other hand, that doesn't mean that I can't be spontaneous and touch you when we're at the job, does it?"
I narrowed my eyes.
He had done that a couple of weeks ago, during Eckley's monthly meeting. The conference room had been filled to capacity and we had both been forced to stand up at the back. Suddenly, someone called out my name: Teri Miller.
She pushed her way though the crowd until she was standing next to me.
"Hello, Gil."
"Hello, Teri." (Greg told me later that I had used my throaty, seductive voice –whatever that is) "Long time no see."
"How've you been?" she asked.
That's when I felt Greg's hand on my butt.
"Fine," I answered with difficulty. I couldn't move away; Greg's hand was firmly wedged between me and the wall.
Teri kept talking and asking questions and all I could do was to answer in monosyllables while Greg felt me up. He was calmly staring ahead as if Eckley's speech really interested him, but his attention was on me.
I was pissed, but later we just laughed about it.
He was smiling now. He knew exactly what I was thinking.
"I promised I wouldn't do that again." He grinned.
"Good,"
"…As long as you don't flirt with her."
"I wasn't flirting-"
"Please," he rolled his eyes, "You were squirming and blushing like a school boy while she talked to you."
"That's because you were fondling me!" I protested. "I was nervous!"
"Oh." He paused, "I forgive you, then."
"Thanks," I said sarcastically, "But what does this have to do with Dennis?"
"Well… There was nothing spontaneous about his feelings, Grissom. I mean, you look at me, and that's enough to get you going. But Dennis… to him, being gay is like putting on a mask. Literally. All those leather goodies you saw in my toy box… he needed to wear them in order to get things started. By the time he was ready I just wanted to go to asleep," he rolled his eyes again.
"I thought he was a fun guy."
"He did like to go out, but he didn't believe a couple of guys could stay together, or be faithful to each other." He shrugged, "That pissed me off."
"You're better off without him, then." I said firmly.
He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. Then he playfully bit my jaw.
"Ow." I protested (not too strongly, of course)
"Do you want me to take care of you, now?" he whispered, his hand already working on my belt.
"Tomorrow, Greg." I said, caressing his cheek. I could already feel the little hairs starting to sprout on his jaw. Tomorrow it would feel rough against my skin…
Oh, yum, I thought.
He seemed to know what I was thinking, because he lowered his voice.
"Are you sure?" he asked huskily.
"Oh, yeah." I said, firmly pushing him at arm's length, "I don't want to go down those stairs on wobbly legs."
I took the sleeping bags and unfolded them.
"I still can't believe this." He said mournfully, "Separate beds, Grissom?"
I ignored him.
"Here," I said, handing him a toothbrush.
"This is my toothbrush!" he glanced at me, "Did you also pack my Loving Bear condoms?" he teased.
"Yeah, and your Loving Bear hemorrhoid cream too," I retorted.
"Hey, I don't have any hemorrhoid problems!" he protested.
I chuckled and followed him to the bathroom.
We brushed our teeth in silence.
I had packed his condoms indeed; and some clean clothes too.
Tonight there would be no romance –I didn't want to scandalize my neighbors- but tomorrow, it would be another story.
I smiled to myself.
Tomorrow I was going to take him inside at the crack of dawn. I still didn't know what I'd offer him first -bed or breakfast- but I was going to be ready for both.
When I started making my plans I didn't know whether I'd go through with this part –hence, the blindfold- but now I had no doubts whatsoever. I was determined to do it. I'd open up my home to him.
I'd tell him all about my pets, and how my neighbors had been so freaked out by them that I had to put up that wall. I'd also explain to him that the gravel patch at the end of the garden is the area that I use to train them for the races.
Then, I would present him with a key to my home –a key and the code to my security system.
After that I'd either take him to bed, or cook some pancakes and eggs while he brewed some coffee.
And on Sunday, I'd go with him to Robin's and face those friends of him that scare me and amuse me at the same time…
I was happy and optimistic. Our relationship had survived and I had survived Valentine's Day.
I felt invincible.
Greg spat toothpaste into the sink.
"Hey, baby?" he said. "I forgot to tell you. I need you to take a couple of days off in May."
"What?" I frowned, "Why?" I asked.
"It's my family reunion." He said, "My cousins have heard all about you, and they would like you to come along."
"Family reunion?" I repeated. "Another one?"
"Yep," he smiled, "It's one of our family traditions."
He winked at me.
Uh, oh.
Here we go again.
TBC The morning after…