DILEMMA
Sorry for the delay! I really don't understand why this took me so long! It's not as if I had a life, believe me, I don't. I just have difficulty turning my ideas into words.
Notes: Salvatruchas is the name of a street gang in Guatemala.
The songs excerpted are: 'It's too late' by Carole King, 'November Rain' by Axl Rose, and 'Love Hurts' by Nazareth.
"I put him in a taxi."
Yes! I wanted to jump and raise my fist high in triumph but I held back as soon as I saw the gloomy look on his face; he was clearly not in the mood for a celebration.
I acknowledged his words with a mere nod.
"Here," I said, handing him the Tupperware container, "Robin asked me to give you this."
He took it and muttered his thanks.
I walked around the car and took a deep breath before I got in.
I had braced myself for a fight, but to my surprise, he didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't even glance at me.
I studied him surreptitiously. He was leaning against the passenger door, staring at the opposite wall as if it held some important message. There was nothing there, though; nothing except some graffiti - 'Mueran Salvatruchas!' - written in surprisingly beautiful letters by some gang member with a knack for calligraphy.
Silence rarely bothers me but this time it did; Greg had never used silence to make a point -on the contrary: words are his forte.
Seeing him like this was disturbing to say the least. I wanted to say something or do something about it, but I didn't know what.
It was at times like these that I regretted the way I'd lived my life; I had a profession –several, actually- and I had acquired knowledge, but I'd never learned to deal with people on a personal basis.
I knew very little about love and relationships. I' d read extensively about both in order to understand people who committed crimes of passion, but no textbook had prepared me for this.
Relationships were confusing and exhausting.
The silence got to me after a moment. On an impulse, I turned on the radio, hoping to get some distraction from the news. Unfortunately, what I heard first was an old song:
And it's too late, baby, now it's too late
Though we really did try to make it
Something inside has died and I can't hide it I just can't fake it-
Uh, oh.
I tried another radio station:
We've been through this such a long, long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain
But lovers always come and lovers always go
And no one's really sure who's lettin' go today
Walking away
Was fate trying to tell me something?
I turned off the radio and glanced at Greg again. I couldn't read the expression on his face; he wasn't angry –a feeling I could have easily dealt with- but he wasn't sad either. The more I studied his face, the more I realized that he looked resigned; he looked almost as if-
As if he had reached some decision and was at peace with it.
Oh, no.
I could imagine what that decision was.
I mean, we'd been threading on shaky ground these past two weeks but Robin's party had finally highlighted the differences between us: He liked parties and noise and I did not; he believed in talking things over and I did not. Just as I'd questioned myself for entering a relationship I was ill-equipped to deal with, so had he probably questioned himself for getting involved with me.
Maybe we'd simply reached a point where we needed to go back to our old lives. I knew I missed mine. Back then, silences had been a source of comfort, and I'd been able to close the door on the world without having to worry about someone else's feelings. The idea of going back to that life appealed to me.
Suddenly, the idea of a break up didn't seem so tragic-
I stopped that line of thought; I was surprised at how calmly I was taking the possibility that I might lose Greg. It was hard to believe that after my earlier angst and after all I'd done to keep this relationship going (I'd taken him into my home and I'd sung to him, for God's sake!) I was ready to throw in the towel.
Could it be that my feelings for him weren't as strong as I'd thought before?
Or maybe I was simply doing what I did every time I was confronted with an emotional situation: Put a distance between myself and the source of pain. I had done it so many times that I easily got to a point where I felt nothing.
Or almost nothing: I was vaguely aware of a piercing pain in the middle of my chest.
But that could have been anything, from unbearable sadness, to the beginnings of a massive heart attack. Oddly, neither possibility worried me much. It was as if all this was happening to somebody else, not me.
Maybe Dennis was right; maybe I was only a mere spectator of my own life.
Thinking of Dennis gave me an opening.
"So," I said, "What happened to Dennis?"
Greg glanced at me.
"Nothing," He said evenly. Then he added, "He wasn't that drunk."
Ha, I knew it! Dennis the psychologist had been playing a part all along!
But my sense of triumph was short-lived. After all, I knew that he'd been playing a part, but Greg didn't. To him, Dennis was a friend in need. Just because he had put him in a taxi didn't mean he didn't care.
"You were right," he said after a brief pause. "About Dennis, I mean." he added reluctantly, "He was putting on an act and I fell for it. Talk about being clueless, huh?" he added with a mirthless chuckle.
Before I could make a comment, he continued.
"'Emotional Blackmail'" he recited, "Nice phrase, Grissom." He said, glancing at me. "You made it sound like he's been manipulating my feelings-"
"He has." I retorted.
He held my gaze for a moment and then he looked away.
"I guess," he conceded, "I never saw it that way," he added thoughtfully. "To me, he was simply being Dennis."
"You mean, he was being obnoxious." I muttered.
He chuckled.
"Yeah, I guess that would be the right word."
His light response irritated me.
"Doesn't it bother you that this guy interfered with your relationships?"
"No." he said. "Look," he added when he noticed that I wasn't convinced, "The truth is, I was glad that he interfered."
"I don't believe that."
He snorted softly.
"I didn't believe it either," he said, "But I've been sitting here, thinking about it, and I've discovered some things about myself, Grissom." he said quietly, "You see, all these years I depended on Dennis to get me out of trouble. Every time a relationship of mine went wrong, Dennis was there, providing me with an easy way out."
He glanced at me, "He really had a knack for intervening at the right moment." He said, "Sometimes I was in the middle of a fight and he would call, asking for help. He would be drunk or sick, or in some kind of trouble -it didn't matter; I was always glad that he called. Anything was better than facing an angry boyfriend." He added ruefully. "Maybe that's why my friends hate his guts." He added, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
As Warrick would have said, 'Gee, ya think?'
Greg's generous nature was his worst enemy sometimes. Dennis had probably engineered the fights with those guys, yet Greg never suspected, and he'd never believe it if I told him.
Or would he?
I was wondering whether to tell him, when he spoke again.
"He did it again today," He said, "Dennis knew we were having a fight, so he pretended to be completely helpless. He was giving me a chance to get away and I was only too glad to take it."
"But you didn't get away." I pointed out. "You even took my car keys to make sure you were coming back."
He looked at me.
"Yeah." He said after a moment. "It was a message to Dennis, I guess; a way of telling him I wouldn't stay with him this time. When he saw me walking to your car, he knew what it meant. He was pissed." he added, "We had a little argument, I got him a taxi-"
I had the feeling that it had been more than a 'little argument' but didn't say anything.
"-and now I feel guilty." He finished.
"Why?" I frowned.
"Because..." he hesitated, "Because he needs me more than I need him." He said at last. "And I feel kinda sorry for him."
I didn't believe 'sorry' was the right word.
"I asked you if you still loved him."
Greg was surprised by my words but didn't say anything.
"A week ago, remember?" I waited until he nodded almost imperceptibly, "You never really answered." I added.
I hadn't pointed this out before because I had the feeling that I was better off not knowing. But in my job I'd always championed truth above all else, and it was about time I did the same in my private life too.
It also seemed the right moment to do it, too; I still felt as if I was merely watching this scene unfold in front of my eyes. I was sure that nothing he said would hurt me.
"Just tell me." I said.
He looked at me for a moment.
"I don't love him." He said at last.
Oh. Good.
My hopes went up-
"But sometimes it's easier to be with people we don't love, Grissom." He added.
- my hopes went down.
Greg smiled bitterly.
"Dennis used to say that falling in love sucked-"
Nice guy.
"I always thought he only said it to piss me off, but he was right; love sucks sometimes."
Ok, that was enough.
"I don't get it, Greg." I said impatiently, "If you don't love this guy, then why are you mopping about him?"
"You think this is about Dennis?" he asked incredulously. "It's not, Grissom. This is about you."
I looked at him, hoping he would give me a clue on what was exactly bothering him, but he simply looked back.
"Greg..." I said, "I don't know what you want me to say-"
He snorted.
"Jeeze, Grissom; I don't want you to say anything." He retorted, "If you have something to say, just say it."
Well, when he put it like that- I couldn't think of anything.
Up until then Greg had kept an air of calm detachment that practically mirrored my own; but now he shifted in his seat and turned his full attention to me.
"Just tell me this," he said, "The reason why you don't want to have lunch with Warrick and Sara… Is it because you can't stand the idea of seeing her with another man?"
I hadn't seen that one coming.
I gaped.
Greg looked away, seemingly embarrassed by his emotional outburst.
"I'm pathetic, I know," he muttered morosely. "It sucks, Grissom," He sighed dejectedly, "I never cared this much about anyone, and now I'm acting all needy and possessive… and jealous-" He added, shaking his head in disgust.
I was too surprised to say anything.
He glanced at me.
"I raked my brains these past days, you know?" he said, more quietly now, "I kept wondering why you couldn't face Sara. I kept coming up with all kinds of reasons, but this one actually made sense." he took a deep breath. "And now I have a hell of a dilemma." he said softly, "I mean, I love you, but I love Sara, too. She's my best friend, Grissom." He added more firmly, "She's had a crappy life and she deserves a break. If you love her, then you should tell her."
He looked expectantly at me.
I stalled.
"You assumed all this just because I didn't want to go to La Lumière?"
"And you still don't understand why this is a big deal, do you?" he asked impatiently, "Grissom, for years you were the love of Sara's life. How do you think Warrick feels about that? Hell, how do you think I feel?"
"But I've been with you all this time." I protested.
Greg snorted skeptically.
"You're with me just because I was stubborn and didn't let go until you said yes." He retorted.
Uh, that was true.
"If Sara had tried a little longer or a little harder, you would be with her right now."
Not true. No, not true at all.
He turned earnestly to me.
"Did you ever do something like that, Grissom?" He asked, "Pursue someone despite being told time and time again that they didn't want you?"
That's what he had done; pursue me until I finally said yes.
He didn't wait for an answer.
"Did you practice in front of a mirror," he continued, "Planning what to say and how to say it, feeling a combination of joy and terror at the prospect of saying 'I love you' to someone for the first time?"
No, I'd never done anything like that.
The pain on my chest was spreading, spreading-
He spoke again, but in a softer tone.
"I guess you simply remained on the sidelines, watching as people you loved disappeared from your life. Maybe you didn't believe you could love them-" he said softly "Or maybe you didn't think you deserved to be loved. The fact remains- You never did anything." he paused, "You simply let life happen to you."
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly –very slowly, to ease the pain in my chest, but also to avoid having to speak.
All I could think of was that Greg knew me.
I didn't know if I could deal with that.
"You need to find out what you want, Grissom." he said quietly, "And do something for a change."
"I just want life to be simple again." I blurted out.
I just wanted to be a spectator of my life again. It was so much easier…
But I was bluffing. I knew it, and I guess Greg knew it too, despite the look of apprehension on his face.
I mean, who was I kidding? I liked this life too and it was all because of him.
Now, when I slept alone, I needed to hold onto a pillow to lull myself into believing he was with me. Even at work, I felt better when he was there -up to his elbows in blood, or grime, or even shit- making comments, surprising me with bits of information, or simply keeping a respectful silence.
I couldn't even go home and close the door on the world anymore; too late did I realize that I was doomed the minute I let him inside my home, my last sanctuary. I had stopped being a spectator of my own life the minute I said yes to him;that's what the pain in my chest was all about. The prospect of losing what I had -or what I thought belonged to me- was daunting,
I opened my mouth but fortunately, I didn't say anything. Otherwise, I would have babbled all sort of romantic mush that I would have regretted later.
It took me a while, but I finally found something safer to say.
"Do you remember those gingerbread cookies we baked after New Year's Eve?"
He was understandably puzzled by my question.
"What?" he asked.
"Do you remember?" I insisted.
"Yeah." he nodded, not sure of what that had to do with anything. We had spent an afternoon making a mess in his kitchen; we'd used his grandmother's cookie cutters and some leftover dough from his Christmas party. Later, we'd gorged on dozens of misshapen cookies.
I still smiled at the memory.
"You insisted on baking anatomically-correct gingerbread men." I said.
He chuckled.
"Ah, yes," he said, "I remember yours were especially well-hung."
"I'd never done anything like that in my life." I said. "I never told you this, but… I was glad," I said, "Glad that we were together, I mean. Happy," I added, as if it were a foreign word I'd never pronounced before.
"Ok," he said slowly.
"I love you." I said, and it sounded almost like an accusation. "I thought you knew that."
He nodded reluctantly.
"I did." He said quietly, "I do," he amended, "But I had my doubts." He looked at me. "Look," he said solemnly, "I love you, but there are other things that are just as important as love. Respect, for instance. We have to earn each other's respect, and for that we need to grow up, you and me. And Dennis, too," he added almost to himself. He looked at me, "I started today by not hiding behind Dennis anymore. Now it's your turn."
He looked expectantly at me, and to my own surprise, I started talking.
"I don't know what to say to her." I confessed.
He nodded.
"I mean," I continued, "I'm glad that she found Warrick, but I'm afraid that if I tell her, she'll think I'm just relieved, you know, as if Warrick had got her off my back. That's not how I feel."
"I know."
"I'm not proud of the way I handled my relationship with Sara." I admitted, "Telling her that I'm sorry' doesn't seem enough."
"Well… Sara's the most forgiving woman I've ever met, Grissom." He said, "She'll understand. If you feel guilty, then all you have to do is apologize."
Apologize? I'd never said yes to Sara, and I'd never said no either; I'd only kept her in a sort of limbo –just close enough to enjoy her friendship, but not so close that she could ever get to know me. To say that I owed her an apology was an understatement.
"She'll forgive anything, except your indifference, Grissom." He said.
He was right.
I took a deep breath and after a brief pause- I really needed a moment to gather the courage- I reached for my cell phone. I forced myself not to check on my messages; there was something more important I needed to do -dial Sara's number.
To my surprise, a male voice answered with a court, "What!"
"Warrick?" I frowned, "Is Sara there?" I paused while he angrily reminded me that it was her night off, "I know," I said apologetically –and a bit gleefully, too; I mean, how many times had he called just when I was starting to get cozy with Greg?
"Relax," I added to placate him, "I'm not going to ask her to come to the lab. I just need to talk to her." I waited until she answered, "Hey, Sara?" I said, as casually as I could, "Is that lunch invitation still standing?"
There was a brief moment of silence and then she answered – and I knew she was smiling widely when she did- "Yeah!"
I held the phone closer to my ear, "Thank you, Sara." I said gratefully, "We'll be there." I paused, "Oh, and Sara? It's your night off, so TURN OFF YOUR PHONE!"
I hung up and glanced at Greg. "Are you happy?" I glared.
"Yeah," he nodded casually, "I am." He looked closely at me, "Are you?"
I nodded reluctantly, and then I leant back on my seat and closed my eyes. The phone slipped from my fingers.
"Tired?" he asked.
Ha. Tired was not the word I had in mind. At least the pain in my chest had receded.
I shook my head almost imperceptibly.
Almost. He did notice.
"What?" he frowned.
"Nothing," I muttered, "I just..." I shook my head again, "I never thought I'd do something like this. Ever."
He was silent for a moment.
"You thought being with a guy would be easier than being with a woman." He said.
I looked up sharply.
He smiled faintly.
"You never thought a man would elicit deep feelings from you." He added.
He wasn't asking; he knew it was a fact.
I stared at him. I'd often wondered why I'd said yes to him of all people, and now there was my answer -and in just a few words. It was amazing. I looked at him with admiration, but with some discomfort, too. I mean, it stung to realize that while I was the older man in this relationship, he was wiser in many aspects.
If it was true that we both had to grow up, then I had a lot of catching up to do. As far as emotions went, I was really immature.
"So," he said after a moment, "This isn't what you expected, huh?"
I snorted. That was an understatement.
"I never thought I'd have to talk." I admitted morosely.
Greg smiled.
"You never thought you'd be celebrating Christmas and Valentine's Day-" he said, "You never thought you would be meeting your in-laws -"
"Or your ex-lovers," I added mournfully.
"Ah, poor baby." He commiserated. "You were conned, huh?"
He reached out and cupped my jaw, making me turn and look at him.
"If it's any comfort to you," he said, "I had my own preconceived ideas about you. But I'm glad to say you proved me wrong time and time again."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah… " he said, "For instance, I thought you'd be a clean freak who'd wash his hands immediately after handling my dick."
I snorted loudly.
"Yeah," he laughed, "I was sure you'd keep a stash of wet wipes close by." He said "Or that you would insist on bringing your own sheets." He rubbed my chin, "I thought you would insist on taking a shower immediately after having sex-"
"Well, I would if I didn't end up so exhausted." I said with a glare that didn't carry much conviction.
I covered his hand with mine and held it against my face for a moment. Then I kissed his palm.
"I had my own preconceived ideas about you too." I said, holding his hand in mine.
"Did you?"
"Yeah. I thought you'd be more respectful." I said, "I mean, you keep forgetting that I'm your boss."
He lost his smile and froze. He looked horrified.
"Grissom, I just-"
"And I like that." I interrupted.
"You do?"
"Yeah."
He smiled –the bashful smile that melts me time and time again. I looked away momentarily; I didn't want him to notice the effect it had on me. Instead, I tried to joke.
"Love sucks, Greg?"
He rolled his eyes.
"You're not gonnalet me forget I said that, are you?" he sighed.
"It sounds like the title for a punk love song." I teased, "In fact, it sounds like an old song from the seventies," I added, and I sang plaintively:
Love hurts, Love scars, Love wounds and mars-
Love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain
Love hurts, Ooo-oo Love hurts
He scoffed.
"Hey, if you're going to quote me a song, at least use one from this century."
He'd teased me about my age now and then and I had always laughed along with him, but that day it stung a little.
I didn't say anything. Instead, I idly examined his fingers. I liked them; they were long and graceful, and oh, so capable. They did magic in the lab -and everywhere else. I rubbed one of the little patches of scarred tissue that marred several of his fingers, souvenirs from his days as a lab technician, when despite every precaution he'd suffered burns while handling acids and other dangerous substances.
"You know," I said without looking up, "I'm really not the best thing that could happen to you."
His hand had lain motionless in mine, but now his fingers curled up around mine and squeezed.
"You're doing fine, Grissom." He said. "Really."
"I'm too settled on my ways, perhaps," I mused aloud, "I don't know if I'll ever be able to really open up-"
"I know," he interrupted, and then he added, with an insight that spooked me a little, "You don't have to tell me everything about yourself, Grissom. You don't have to open every door in your home for me-"
What a relief; that was exactly what I needed to hear.
We held hands for a while, too emotionally drained to do anything else.
"So, what do we do now?" he asked after a moment.
"We have to go home and change." I said distractedly.
"I'm talking about tomorrow, Grissom."
I frowned. I thought it was already settled.
"We'll have lunch with Warrick and Sara." I said, "We'll buy them a basket at the deli, and then..." I paused, and then I added as casually as I could. "And then I'll give you your Valentine's Day gift."
He perked up.
"You got me something? What is it?" he asked, glancing at the back seat, as if I had stashed the gift there. "I hope it's something leathery for my toy box-" he added, deliberately bating me.
I glared.
"I'm not getting you any kinky stuff."
"Aw, come on-"
"Hey, I have to think of my own health too, you know. I'm not putting myself at risk just so you can play sick games."
"My games aren't sick." he said with as much dignity as he could muster.
I rolled my eyes and was about to make a joke about Greg's toys, when I realized there was a discussion we hadn't finished.
"What about Dennis?"
"Dennis?" he frowned, as if he'd never heard the name before.
"Yeah, the psychologist." I said dryly. "Will you ever tell me why this guy is so important to you?"
"Jeeze, Grissom, I already explained-"
"No, you didn't."
He looked at me with some indecision.
"Well..." he started, "He's always been around-"
"That's what you always say." I interrupted.
Greg looked at me.
"Ok," he said slowly, "I'll tell you the whole story, then." He paused, "We met in College." He started.
"I already knew that."
"Well, you probably didn't know that he was the coolest guy on campus," he said, "He was good-looking, he was smart, he was at the top of his class -"
Translation: Greg had had a crush on him from the start.
Maybe I didn't want to hear this.
"I knew Dennis," he continued, "Even though he was a couple of years ahead and we didn't take any classes together. But then, he was hard to miss." He added, with a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes that irritated me.
Translation: Greg had had a huge crush on him.
"One night he came to the chess club," Greg said, "We were playing against UCLA. I was the team's captain, and-"
"And he noticed you." I interrupted.
"No, not then," he said, smiling, "I was a nerd, Grissom."
"Weren't we all." I muttered.
"Oh, no; believe me, I was the poster kid for Nerds in America." Greg insisted. He lowered his voice, "I was also a virgin." He said, "Apparently, the only virgin kid on campus," he added, smiling self-deprecatingly, "I mean, everyone was having fun but me. Nobody seemed interested, until Dennis came along."
Oh.
So, Dennis was the first.
Funny; I'd never even wondered or cared about Greg's first lover's identity. Now that I knew, I had yet another reason to hate Dennis.
"Boy, was I flattered." Greg muttered, almost to himself.
There was another piece to the Dennis puzzle. Dennis had saved Greg from freakhood, and for that, Greg would always be grateful. Little by little the full picture was coming together.
"There were times when he was the only person I could count on, you know?" Greg said, "I mean, apart from my family. Being with Dennis was like having a friend, a boyfriend and a therapist, all rolled up in one."
I'd already had a sample of Dennis' therapy techniques, so I didn't find those words reassuring. At the very least, he had made it seem like he was the one constant in Greg's life, while the very opposite was true.
"This guy cheated on you." I said. "Yet you act as if you owed him something."
"Well... I do, in a sense," He said, "I mean, we used to have a symbiotic relationship; we took what we needed from each other and it worked out fine, but we were acting irresponsibly, Grissom." He said. "We kept each other from growing up." He paused, "Then one day I found out that I wanted you, and that was that."
"He did nothing to stop you."
"He didn't think I was serious." He shrugged. "But I was, and I moved on. The problem is that he didn't move on; he still expects me to be there." He looked up, "After all these years, I guess he needs a little time to get used to it. What do you think?"
What did I think? He had to be kidding.
I firmly believed that the best way to get rid off Dennis was to apply the 'band aid technique,' and to rip him off Greg's life fast and mercilessly.
But I couldn't forbid him to see his friend. That would have been childish. And I didn't have it in me to be cruel to anyone either, no matter how tempting. Breaking off with Greg had to be a painful experience but having to do it cold turkey constituted cruel and unusual punishment.
Besides, I didn't want to give Dennis any excuses to continue acting like a victim.
I smiled to myself.
"Well..." I paused, as if I was really thinking it over, "He's your friend and he needs you," I said magnanimously, "As long as he knows you're not going back, then anything you do is fine."
Greg stared at me.
"Thanks." He said cautiously. He had not expected me to cave in so easily.
"You're welcome," I said.
I should have left it at that, but I overdid it.
"We could take him to a basketball game, now and then." I offered, "It will cheer him up, don't you think?"
I was willing to pay for those tickets. I'd enjoy being nice to Dennis…
It would drive him nuts.
Unfortunately, Greg saw right through me.
"You're evil." He muttered, shaking his head in disapproval.
"I'm not evil." I protested. "I'm just..." I shrugged, "Possessive."
He did a double take.
"Possessive?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." He frowned. "You too?"
"Yeah," I said, sheepishly.
He thought about this for a moment and then he smiled faintly, "Ok."
I couldn't believe it; he was actually pleased.
What a relief.
"Possessive." He repeated as I turned on the engine. "I like the sound of that."
TBC
Thank you for reviewing!
OMG, will Valentine's Day ever come?
Yep. I promise I'll finish this story before Christmas.
Next: just a little epilogue…