A Few Days in Chicago Chapter 5
Sara did not sleep. Alcohol always kept her awake—not a good thing, she knew. Too often, she had become the care taker, the driver and decision maker for those to drunk to do those things because she was not falling into a stupor. Tonight was no different. It took a long time before she arrived at that place of drowsiness with sleep evading her grasp. She left the bed, finding a spare blanket in the closet and wrapped herself in its warmth.
Moving a chair near the window, she opened the thick drapes to a snow covered landscape. Below her, men and machines in miniature moved in a silent ballet, lights flashing as streets were plowed and sidewalks swept. Around her, stars and city lights twinkled in a cloudless sky. She curled into the chair and let her thoughts go places that she would never allow her body to venture.
The words of her inebriated lover—and he was her lover—concerned her. For months she had refused to form that word in her brain or with her lips. He cared for her, she knew that. He enjoyed having sex with her. He enjoyed talking to her, showing her new things. But last night, in the way his body moved into hers, in the total intimacy she felt as he held her afterwards, his thumb moving against her palm, she realized she loved this man. And tonight, she cried silent tears.
Sara had so little experience with love. Her parents had taught her how to fight, how to escape in books, how to hide her feelings, but not about love. She had boyfriends, usually wanting more from her than sex when they learned she was smart, but there was never love in those experiences. She thought she had loved a foster mother at one time, but when there were half a dozen other kids vying for the same attention, love was not something that managed to develop.
With Grissom, curiosity got her to kiss him that day after burying the dog. Boldness on her part made her suggest a motel room and what followed was total surprise—she had learned that sex was more than the physical act she had experienced. Thinking about that afternoon made her smile even as tears ran down her face. And he returned, the vineyard, the wedding, even the trip to the emergency room, and he still wanted her. No one had ever wanted her. She swiped her eyes and curled tighter into the chair.
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Grissom woke to a cold empty bed, barely remembering how he got there except for Sara. He remembered her hands removing his shirt and shoes, but she was not in bed. The bright gray dawn caused his eyes to squint and blur images as he attempted to focus while he tasted the morning-after of too much wine, too much brandy. No wonder Sara had moved from the bed—he found her cocooned in a chair.
Quietly, he brushed his teeth and showered and made coffee. She deserved better, he thought. He had watched her interact with his colleagues—she ignored the flashy ones, the pseudo-intellectuals, the pompous, arrogant men who wanted to be the center of important discussion. Instead, she gravitated to the quiet ones, the young men who were new to this meeting, to a somber older woman who came every year and said little, but was an expert in her field of beetles. One or two men had tried to flirt, openly doing those things that men do, and Sara had withdrawn, appearing at his side for awhile until another conversation pulled her away.
Dear God in heaven, he prayed, why did I find her now? Why is she fifteen years younger than me and why does her age trouble me? Why will she not talk about herself? Why does she refuse to say one word?
He returned to the chair. "Hey, Honey." He started to pull her up, but she stretched like a kitten. "Did you sleep all night in the chair? Was I that bad?"
She rubbed her eyes and stretched again. Amazing, he thought, she was not stiff or cramped from sleeping in the chair.
"I couldn't sleep when we got back." She giggled as she unwrapped the blanket. "You were out hard and fast." She wrapped the blanket around them both. "I watched the snow machines and the lights and drifted off." She had found the place against his shoulder where she fit so perfectly.