Thanks for the read-through, C!
I hear what I think is a faint knock. I mute the television. Silence. I must be hearing things. As I press the un-mute, I hear another knock. Yup, it's my door. I throw my blanket on the back of the couch, sit up and look at my watch. I must have dozed off because a lot of time passed since the last time I looked at the time.
I open the door to Ziva stepping into me with full force. Her arms find their away around me and she just holds me. I don't say anything. I just let her embrace me. My arms envelope her, too. I feel her warm tears saturate my shirt. She squeezes a little harder. Between the tears she talks to my chest, "I saw something today that reminded me of my mother."
I have seen Ziva upset before but never like this. We are hovering above uncharted water here. Neither of us let go, though we did move so I could shut the door. "Isn't this the kind of stuff you share with your signifcant other; you know CI-Ray?"
She steps back from me and gazes into my eyes. The tears still welling up as she speaks. "You are my significant other, Tony." She says it quietly but reinforcing, like why the fuck don't you know that. She just continues to look at me. You are my significant other, Tony. No one has ever said that to me. Not even a person I was ready to share my life with.
"What?" I break eye contact. How is the conversation going to end well?
"Tony. . ." She utters. "Think about it. Sure, we do not always get along. We have said things to each other that have hurt. We pry into each other's lives. But you, Tony, you never give up on me. Never. I've tried to distance myself from you. I will admit it. It does not matter now, you know. I remember. I will not soon forget. You saved me. You. . ." She places her hand over my heart. "You did because of what you have right here." She pokes me. "I know what is inside. It is a shame others do not – maybe you do not wish them to, regardless, I know. For now, it can be our secret."
The tears come again. I kiss the top of her head. I smell her shampoo. I squeeze her closer to me. "What about your mother?" Right now, I'm at a loss for making sense of what she said. "Let's sit down." She sheds her jacket over the chair in the living room, just like she does everytime she's here. "Are you comfortable?" I ask because I sense this is going to be a long night. She doesn't answer.
I scoot into my bedroom to grab her a sweatshirt and some running pants. It's always better to be comfortable. I come back into the living room and she is already laying on the couch, blanket tightly wrapped around her. "I brought these. . . thought they would help your comfortablilty. But it seems I am too late."
"Thank you, Tony." She smiles and disengages from her cocoon. I watch walk to my room, close the door and emerge as a Buckeye. Oh, the college sweatshirts – they never go out of style.
"Alright, so let's have it. What about your mother?"
She takes a deep breath and wipes the remaining tears from her eyes. She settles back in to her cocoon. "When I was eight, she packed our bags and we left my father. My mother always wanted me to play with dolls, wear dresses and, I suppose, just be a girl. I had to take ballet. I just wanted to be like my father; a soldier. I wanted to play with G.I. Joe. My father used to blindfold us, take us into the forest and leave us there - fending for ourselves. I do not think my mother approved. My brother was in Scotland at medical school. In retrospect, my father sent him there. Another pawn. Another plan. Tali, the best of us, was killed."
She pauses for a brief second, sniffling the tears back as she continues. " . . . Sixteen, young enough to not have served in the army or Mossad. I've thought about this, Tony. Maybe she was saved. Not having to go through this – this mess, this war. So we grieve for her. Everyday. She was so full of life. My mother never got over it. I think a part of her blamed my father. My mother didn't see the man my father became. My father put this country ahead of his family. He taught his kids to do the same. He holds those closest to him at arm's length. He molded Ari, he did the same to me. I sometimes wonder if he wanted me to be a boy. Tali was like my mother. Tali looked for the beauty in everything. She inherited my mother's compassion. She had my mother's eyes, their eyes never lied. My mother protected us, I think Tali would have if she had survived. Looking back, Tony – he lied to us. He tried to make my mother see he was doing this because it was his duty. He lost out on watching us grow up, on being a real family, and on really knowing us. I know that my father loved her. I grew up without witnessing love in the open. Never seeing a hug, a kiss, a stolen glance – am I saying it would have changed anything? I do not know. But seeing this woman today, Tony, she loved her husband. She turned a blind eye because their love was enough. I, too, have turned a blind-eye. I have made mistakes when it comes to matters of the heart. Do we learn by examples? Or the lack there of?"
"Oh, Ziva. I don't think I'm qualified to answer these questions. I wish I knew. I'm trying to figure it out, too. Don't doubt your mother loved you. She tried her best. For you. For Tali." I reach over, grab her hand and squeeze. "That's what mothers do."
"Tony . . ." I feel some more questions coming. "Are you lonely?"
"Sometimes. But nights like this, no."
She turns her head to the television indicating she's done talking about her mother for now. "You can press play again."
"I don't think you want to watch this."
"It's Fight Club. It's just what I need."
"Are you looking for a fight?"
"If I was, I can not talk about it. That's rule number one."
"Jesus, Dah-veed. We have a lot of rules to remember, don't we?"
She chuckles. "And I do not even know your rules. I do not know if I want to. Can imagine McGee's?"
"Rule number one for Timmy, 'You can always get a new plug, if need be, so take the computers.'"
"Oh, poor McGee – I thought it be, 'Don't forget the Nutter Butters'"
"That's a good one."
"I know. You are just upset you did not think of it. Do not worry, I will allow you to think you created it."
"You are being too kind . . . And yes, I will keep that in my pocket for the right moment."
"Poor McGee, not here to defend himself."
"He's used to it."
We are both laughing, clearing the air, getting rid of the tears, all while making new memories. "Tony, I do not want to be alone tonight."
"You're never alone." We are silent as we watch the rest of the movie. Sometimes, you don't have to say anything to know everything is going to be alright. Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing.