Chapter 10
They arrived at the cafeteria in the central hall of the hospital. The restaurant itself was small, at least for Las Vegas standards. The room was quiet, only two couples were sitting at the tables, and a group of the medical staff seemed to be having a break; they were laughing and drinking coffee. He moved a chair aside from a table-for-two and carefully pushed Sara into position at the table. He put the lock on the wheel, so that she wouldn't roll away.
He stood still. 'Do you want a cup of coffee?'
Sara shook her head. 'No coffee for me. I'm not in the mood for it, and… the hormones have changed what I like… I haven't drunken coffee since… well, since before I was pregnant, I don't like it anymore. Could you order tea for me?'
Grissom was surprised, Sara used to be a caffeine-junkie, she lived on it, but when he thought about it, he remembered that he hadn't seen her drinking coffee for a very long time. I should have noticed that she was pregnant, or at least that she was acting differently. What kind of boss am I, that I don't notice these things? He sighed, looked at her and smiled. 'Of course I will bring you tea.'
He walked over to the counter, and pushed the bell that was on the desk: the waitress was absent.
'Coming!', he heard from behind the curtains of the back of the room, and in a couple of seconds, a young woman appeared, Grissom saw that she was really young, almost still a minor. She wore a navy-blue shirt with the logo of the restaurant on it, and a white apron around her waist. A red cap covered her head, but her eyes were still visible. She smiled at him. 'What can I do for you?'
'I want to order a cup of coffee and a cup of tea.'
The waitress nodded and took two cups from the sink, one made from glass, the other made from clay. She poured coffee from the carafe into the mug, and placed the glass cup under the machine. Hot water filled the glass. She placed both cups on the tray, laid two spoons on the saucers, with two cookies. 'Do you want milk or sugar?' Grissom shook his head. 'No, thanks'
The waitress turned around, and grabbed something from the unit. She looked back at him and showed him a box full of teabags. She smiled at him. 'What flavour do you want?' Grissom wasn't sure which one to choose, so he turned to Sara.
'What flavour do you want?'
She shrugged her shoulders, as a sign that either she didn't know or didn't care. He thought that the first one was more likely. 'You may make that decision for me, I trust you.' The smile on her face seemed sincere, not teasingly or fake.
Unsatisfied, he looked at her. She smiled back at him, this time she was teasing him. She knew that she had to decide herself. She looked up, like she thought she could find the answer in the air. When she looked back at him, she knew what she wanted. 'Do you have Darjeeling for me?'
Grissom looked in the box and found what he was looking for. He put the teabag on the tray and looked at the waitress. He paid for the two cups and walked back to Sara. He placed the cups on the table. 'Here you are, madam.' She smiled at his words, took the cup of tea and placed the teabag in the water. She waited until the water became darker, took the bag out of the tea and laid it on the saucer. She took a sip of the tea and nodded; she liked the tea.
Grissom wanted to move to the subject they had to talk about, but wanted to go to there in a less painful way. He looked at her deeply, without smiling. Her head moved down, she knew what was coming. She inhaled deeply and looked at him. He could see that she wanted to avoid the subject again, but he was not going to give up.
'I'm a good listener. You can tell me, I won't interrupt you. I have time, Sara... take as much as you need.'
She bit her lip. 'I don't know where to start… and I still think that it's not worth telling. They're both dead… they say that it's best to leave the dead, dead, right?'
'Sara… please...'
She laid her head in her hands, rubbed her forehead and finally looked back. 'Okay… I'll tell you… I… I can't remember a time when my parents were happy, but… if I looked at the photos, I could see… that they must have been… a long, long time before I was born.
I... The first time I remembered that they were... fighting, I was 3 years old. I don't remember it completely... but I still hear the screaming. My mum... protecting me, yelling at me to get upstairs. I did what she said and I... remember how frightened I was, sitting in my room, holding my toy to my mouth, waiting 'till the screams ended. When I went downstairs, they acted like nothing happened.
I... got used to the screams late at night, I just put my pillow on my head and tried to fall asleep again. I got used my mom's tears... when I got older, I didn't see or hear it anymore. I just thought that it was normal, I used to live with it. Things got worse as I grew older and he started to drink more. When my dad had drunken too much he used... well, he had control when he was sober. When he was drunk, he was just blind, nothing could stop him. Even the smallest things, like gestures, or words would make him so mad... he was beginning to get very violent...
Usually, my mum just added an extra band-aid... wore more make-up. She put a smile on her face, and everything was fine again. But when... I think I was six... the wound on her head... it wouldn't heal... it wouldn't stop bleeding. My dad... he left, my brother... was smoking, or drinking, at least he was not there. It was just me and my mum, so I freaked out, tried everything, but I couldn't make it stop... That was the fist time I called the ambulance... and the first time I lied to the doctors. They... asked me what happened, and I couldn't stop the sound of my fathers words in my head. He had told me never to talk about what happened at home, if I did... he would leave mommy, and I didn't want my parents to be apart.'
A deep frown appeared in her forehead. Her fingers touched her eyes, it was almost like she wanted to wipe away the tears that were not there. She stared off in the distance, shivered and looked at Grissom. When she saw the look in his eyes, full of pity and disbelieve, her attitude changed. She shook her head and it seemed almost that she was going to scream. She breathed in and calmed down, her eyes closed.
'What could I have done? I was six, only six years old. I just didn't want my parents to be apart... I know, it was bad, I shouldn't have lied, but... what could I have done? They would have questioned my dad, he would have denied... and he would leave my mom, I was convinced about that...I know... it would have been the best for both... but, I needed my dad... and my mom. What could I have done?'
She looked at him, her eyes were red with tears. Grissom grasped her hand over the table. 'Hey... it's not your fault. Never blame yourself for what happened, Sara. Never blame yourself, you couldn't have done anything.'
Sara swallowed and looked away from him. She bit her lip, 'I know... but, I... there must be someone to blame... I know that I was wrong... I know that I don't have to blame myself...' She whispered. 'I... continue... okay?' Grissom nodded and she coughed softly.
'I said that she had hit the door with her head when she had fallen off the stairs... My mom was in her bed for a week... she had a concussion. My dad worked... very hard, at our restaurant, my brother was away, he was always away when my dad had beaten my mom. He was with friends. And I had to do all the housecleaning, my dad told the school that I was ill, it was the first time he did it. I vacuumed, cooked, took care of my mom, did everything my mom would do... I was six, for God's sake! That week, my dad took me aside and talked to me. He told me that everything that had happened was my fault, that they were happy before I was born, everything was my doing. I drew all the attention to myself, that's what he told me, he was so mad... If I wanted my dad not to leave the house... I had to shut up about everything, all the things had to stay in this house.
I remember the look in his eyes... it was so full of anger, and I was so afraid. I just nodded, said that I wanted to do anything he wanted. I wanted to talk to my mom, but couldn't... From the outside... we all seemed a perfect family. But I knew better. The world kept on turning... until that day. When I came home... on 11 february... I was nine... I remember that day like it was yesterday. My mom was standing there, in the middle of the room. Blood all over her clothes, her eyes wide open. She wouldn't say anything to me, she didn't even look at me, she didn't see me, or she pretended not to. I asked her what was wrong, she told me nothing. I was afraid, I cried, ran away and stumbled over my father's feet. I looked at his face, laid my hand on his chest... he was dead, his whole shirt was covered in blood, eyes wide opened, staring at nothing. I turned to my mom, sat next to her, held her tight. She still didn't respond...
The police came, hours later. They... serpartated me from my mom... and I couldn't say anything to change it. They took me to the hospital... checked me up, then it all became dark. The days I spent there... I don't know anything about it anymore. I wasn't allowed to see my mom... she was in prison, I was... crying for her the first few days. I went to a foster home... and that was the best thing that happened to me.
My mom... she... died in prison... three months after she stabbed my dad. I didn't go to her funeral... the shrinks said that I was not ready... The last time I saw her was that day. I didn't have the chance to say goodbye... My fosterparents... Kerry and Rowan... they were the first people I felt... safe with... they didn't push me, they just waited until I was ready to do things... And my sister, fostersister, Jena... she's 6 years younger than me. She is like the sister I never had. For the first time, I had someone who really trusted me. When I was.. crying, she came to me, and comforted me... she was the first person who cared about me, without consequenses... without wanting something back.'
She looked at him, and he looked back to her. She smiled at him. 'That's my lovely past...' She tried to sound like it didn't mean anything to her, but he saw that it did. He knew that she was not done yet, but she would never say that herself. 'And... justice?'
'Justice... I lost my mom, my dad, even my brother. I lost everything... and for what? Just because my mom couldn't take being hurt anymore. Just because my dad couldn't keep his fists off my mom. He never hurt me, if that's what you want to know. And you ask me about justice. Me. Justice would have been that I was born in another place, or another time. I think it was wrong what my mom did.. but I can understand it. It was self-defence... she couldn't leave him, she needed him, she was too afraid to lose us.'
'And your brother?'
'Died in some gang-fight... when I was ten.'
A deep silence fell between them. She dried her tears with her arm and looked up into his eyes, he had cried too. 'Gris... I'm just afraid... that I will make the same mistake as them... that, no, I'm not afraid that you will hurt me, but... I haven't known love in the first years of my life... I... want to give love to this little one, but I don't know I can... I just... want you to understand me...'
'Of course I understand you... and I'll try... not to hurt you... in any way. I'm... glad you told me.'
Sara nodded. 'Yeah... I'm... thankful myself... now you.. know.' She closed her eyes for while. 'May I... hold you? Kiss you? I... need to... well, nevermind...'
She looked away from his glance, but he didn't gave up. 'Sara... of course I will...' He put his chair close to her wheelchair and placed his arms around her. 'Is this okay?', he whispered in her ear. She didn't say anything, but the silence told him that this was more than okay. After a long time, Sara was the first one to say something. 'Gris?'
'Hm?'
She waited until his arms let her go and looked at him. 'I... well, the doctors told me that I could go home in... a couple of days. I'm still under medication, but don't have the IV's anymore... just pills, and if everything's okay and I find someone to care for me... I am allowed to go home in two days or so... so I was wondering... could you drive me home and take care of my... laundry and, well... check me up so now and then?'
'Sara... you still need to ask that? Of course I'll be there... but I don't think it's a good idea that you're home alone. I'll be there with you... at least for the first week... I hope that's okay with you.'
She looked up, it was clear that she was surprised by his words. 'You're serious? I... can take care of myself... you don't need to-'
He cut off her words. 'Sara, you can't. You're fourteen weeks pregnant, you can barely stand on your feet, I don't want to talk about walking. You had a serious trauma, you have almost died. Do you really think that I would let you go home alone?' She looked down. 'Sorry.. I think you're right... I can't make it on my own, and if you want to do that, it's okay...' She smiled when she noticed his reaction, he had not expected her to agree, at least not without a fight. 'I know that I can be stubborn, but that doesn't mean that... well, I really think that I can't make it on my own... you're right about that.'
He moved his thumb to her lips, and touched them. It wasn't his intention to start kissing her, but when she started to kiss him, he didn't try to stop it. She looked up in his eyes, when he looked back he saw the fire; her dark pupils almost burnt him. She didn't have to say anything to make him long for a more intimate moment. He bent his head to hers and kissed her lips, or tried to: she just looked the wrong way and his lips ended up at her nose. Both of them started to laugh, this clumsy moment erased the tension between them, but just for a short time. His head moved to her ear, and he whispered some words in it. Sara moved her lips to his lips, but stopped when her head was only a few millimetres away from his. 'You may finish...' She moved forward, tilted her face to the side and took his head with her hands. They started to kiss, fast at the first, but when they realised that both of them wanted this it became passionate and intense. When they stopped, they looked at each other, and for the first time in a long while, neither one of them felt insecure or uncomfortable. She smiled at him. 'Thank you.'