Adagio

Part XI

Dinner was…nice. Well, that’s honestly the best word to describe it. I suppose it was a little on the surrealistic side, since I hadn’t really thought things through enough to picture what might actually happen at dinner but…it was…nice.

Grissom and I really didn’t get much of a chance for private conversation, and were often the subject of more than one curious stare or comment but overall I think it went well.

My family had booked a room at an intimate Italian bistro to celebrate the christening. Grissom sat beside me in the chair to my right with a polite smile hovering on his lips. He was still wearing the deep blue dress shirt that he’d worn to the station and matching dress pants but he’d added a black tie and dinner jacket to the ensemble that did magnificent things to his eyes. Every now and then that smile he was wearing would broaden to a laugh and he would look over at me and we would share a moment before he turned his attention back to what was being said. At first, he seemed a little uncomfortable and spoke very little…almost as if he were trying to get a measure of the people seated with him before he opened himself up…but, after listening for a while he felt brave enough to slip in a few comments of his own, despite the fact that I could see he was still a little tense. It was a different side to him that I hadn’t seen before, this social shyness, and my heart went out to him.

Unseen by the others, I slipped my hand underneath the tablecloth and tentatively clasped his, trying to send him a little support. I didn’t know if that would make him even more uncomfortable but instead of pulling away, he gripped my hand a little tighter and relaxed enough to laugh at one of my cousin’s awful puns. It seemed to be a turning point. Between that and the wine that was delivered to the table a few minutes later, I really think Grissom started to enjoy himself. Nobody seemed to notice when I picked up my fork in my left hand to eat just so I could maintain that contact or if they did they were wise enough to not to comment. In between appetizers of fresh salads and heaping pasta entrees he made simple small talk and got to know the people who had accepted me as one of their own when I was seventeen.

It was fascinating watching him interact with the people I cared most about in the world. More fascinating still to see how well he fit in. Though I took my turn, joining in the discussion when I felt I had something to say, I was just as content to listen; to let the conversation swirl around me as I watched the byplay of expressions and body language. When talk turned to sports and cooking, I grinned as he became more animated, learning he was a passionate cubs fan and a considerably well accomplished cook.

I think I actually groaned when the cooking information had come out because he turned to me with a very strange expression and I had to explain myself. “I can only imagine what you thought of the stuff I made you when I was in Vegas.”

“You let Sara do the cooking?” Lexie asked, aghast. “It’s a wonder you managed to get back on your feet at all.”

“I’m not that bad,” I tossed back. “I have managed to survive on my own for years now.”

“Yes,” Lexie said blandly. “As long as Sara has a phone and a take out menu she can cook with the best of them.” The table went up and Lexie sent me a wink. “Actually,” she continued, “she’s a pretty handy baker. Her cookies are something else. I think that she does well there because she has to follow a recipe and doesn’t let herself get distracted. Her sweet tooth refuses to let her ruin baked goods. Regular food bores her. Hard to believe she’s both an accomplished chemist and physicist.”

It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before and since it was hard to argue with the truth I turned to Grissom and said, “I have much better things to do with my time than watch water boil. Take out’s faster, tastier and there’s no clean-up. Much more efficient.”

Grissom nodded, accepting my point but countered with, “True. However, there’s something so deeply satisfying and sensual in preparing a meal from scratch with your own two hands. The aromas of fresh ingredients, the flush of heat from the stove, the textures of the food you’re handling…it’s a process that involves every one of your senses and is never the same experience twice.” His gaze had found mine again, the reflection of candlelight flickering in their depths making them dance, and I was hard-pressed to formulate a response to his statement.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way before,” I finally managed, taking a sip of wine to coat my suddenly dry throat. “We’ll have to arrange a time for you to show me exactly what you mean. I may change my opinion altogether.” There was another moment that no one else seemed to want to interrupt and then the waitress appeared with our desert menus and talk centred on that for a while.

When the topic of conversation turned to work, specifically mine and Grissom’s as I knew it eventually would, I shifted a little in my chair, suddenly uncomfortable. I didn’t mind discussing my work with my family but I kept the more horrific aspects under wraps preferring to highlight the scientific side of things rather than the brutal underbelly. I didn’t know if Grissom would be able to do the same. Let’s face it, I knew from personal experience that he lived for the set-up; the gruesome little ‘surprises’ he staged in his lectures were proof of that. I think I actually held my breath when he made his first response…what’s more, I’m pretty sure he knew it, but as it turned out I needn’t have worried. Though his verbal contributions were peppered with strange and exotic anecdotes, he steered well clear of anything that might be judged as too much for dinner conversation.

I brought it up later, when we were walking back to the hotel. The streets of San Francisco were dappled with spots of summer rain; the sounds of the traffic hushed. The air had cooled considerably so we’d decided to let Lexie and Zach have use of the car while we meandered our way through the park. Other couples strolled and laughed as the sounds of a tenor sax rippled sweetly through the dark.

“Someone must be playing up ahead,” he said, searching the path for the musician. “He’s very good.”

“Yes.” The notes to ‘Stardust’ continued to play and I couldn’t help but think how perfectly they suited the night. “Do you know this song?”

“A little. Nat King Cole, right?”

“Yes. It’s one of Zach’s favorites. He used to put it on the stereo on nights like this in the summer and he and Lexie would dance…” I smiled. “I used to love watching them. Boy, suddenly I’m very homesick.”

“Well, the good news is that you’ll be much closer to them with the transfer.”

“Yes. I can visit anytime I’d like. I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been away for too long. What about you? You’ve been in Vegas for about four months. Homesick yet?”

“I miss the beaches. Used to surf until I took one dive too many and wrecked my knee but I still liked walking along the shores and swimming in the waves. I miss Sunday dinner at my mother’s house.”

I allowed myself the pleasure of trying to picture him there. “Family thing?”

“Yes. She holds a standing invitation to one and all but it’s mostly just my cousins, their kids and my aunt and uncle. I used to man the grill.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said sincerely. “I didn’t have that growing up until I got placed with Lexie. You’re very lucky.”

He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe you were adopted. You all seem very close.”

“We are. I got lucky too. I don’t know what I would have turned out like if it hadn’t been for them. They’re very special people. Oh, which reminds me, I wanted to thank you…for what you did earlier.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes. I know it must have been the last thing you wanted to do but I’m so glad you were there to share dinner with us.”

“I enjoyed myself, got to know you a little better; had a great meal and good company. I can hardly complain.”

“Still…you were wonderful. I mean, the flight up to see me…the dinner. Not only did you put up with my family’s incessant chatter and questions but you were sensitive enough to censor your comments when you were talking about your work. I really appreciate that.”

“Ah. Well, I learned a long time ago that not everyone appreciates the beauty that is the bug regression timeline, or the charm of a perfectly executed autopsy.”

I giggled softly. “Go figure.”

He nudged me gently with his elbow. “Had you worried, didn’t I?”

“Well…”

He chuckled. “Don’t bother with the polite lie. The look on your face was enough to warn me to keep things light.”

“That obvious, huh?”

He stopped in a small pool of light cast by one of the decorative streetlights to look straight at me. “Let’s just say that you have a very expressive face.”

There was a small stone wall lining that section of the park. I leaned back against it, still in a teasing mood, and folded my arms. “That’s strange.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets but took a step closer. “Why?”

I licked my suddenly dry lips. As always his nearness caused strange things to happen to my insides. “I’ve always been told I’m extremely difficult to read.”

He shook his head, and came another step closer. “Maybe for some. Not for me. There are moments when I feel I know what you’re thinking before you do.”

“You seem sure of yourself,” I said, my voice a little breathy, knowing I could have said the same thing about him.

“You’re a passionate person. Your emotions run high when your heart is involved. It’s not that difficult at all.” He was really close now, so close I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes from my slumped position.

“Prove it,” I challenged him softly. “What am I thinking right now?” My arms lost their fold and reached out to brace against the stones at my sides; my body language open and casual. My heart was beginning to pound. A part of me wondered if he could hear it. A part of me was demanding to know what the hell I thought I was doing, but I couldn’t help myself. I watched him intently, daring him to take advantage of my invitation.

He took his time answering, raising one hand to cup the back of my neck through the strands of my curls. “Dangerous thoughts.”

My lips parted, barely moving as I said, “You sound so certain.”

“I am.” His thumb traced the line of my jaw…his touch so light I wondered briefly if it was really there or if I was imagining things.

“H-How?” I stuttered, almost afraid to breath for fear of wrecking the moment.

He leaned in, his lips almost meeting mine and whispered, “Because I’ve been thinking them too.”

I remember there was rain; falling gently from the sky almost as hesitant as the first brush of his lips against mine; that the subtly spiced tang of his aftershave tickled my nose as I drew him closer. I remember gasping as he wrapped his arm around my lower back, trapping me against the hard stone wall and the swift invasion of his tongue into the smoky hot depths of my mouth. I can remember clutching at his shoulders, my skin crawling with need as I tilted my head to take him deeper, and all of it accompanied by the sultry tones of the sax in the mist. But mostly I remember how naturally we fit together and the heart-breaking realization that I’d never felt so alive before in my life than I was at that moment in his arms.

And when he pulled away endless minutes later, I suddenly remembered all of the reasons I promised myself we could be nothing more than friends and I know he was thinking the same.

We stared at each other brokenly; two people who understood how much they’d shared but had no idea how to go on from that point. I had my secrets…he had his doubts…it was hardly a solid foundation on which to build.

I buried my head against his chest, trying to hide from the truth but it found purchase in words that had to be said and there was no escaping it.

He sighed, enveloping me tighter in his embrace. “This isn’t smart.”

“No, it isn’t but I’m finding it hard to care right now.” I rubbed my cheek against his jacket, absently memorizing its feel and texture. “I know there are a million reasons why we shouldn’t but they don’t measure up to the one reason why we should.”

“Sara, I-I’m not very good at this. Relationships, I mean. I’ve – I’ve never…they don’t work for me. I always end up screwing them up by saying the wrong thing…or being incapable of saying anything at all. I forget things and I sometimes get so obsessed with my research that I disappear into it for days at a time and I’m just too old to change. I could promise to try to change but it wouldn’t be fair because I doubt I’d ever be able to keep it.”

Knowing I could parrot most of what he’d just said, I whispered, “Then why did you come?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away.”

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” I said, holding fast when he tried to pull back.

“I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t fair to either of us, but I had to see you.” He dropped a kiss into my hair and when I shivered managed to pull back enough to see my face. I don’t know what he read in the burning depths of my eyes but I know it wasn’t good. “See, I’m screwing this up already. You’re sad…and hurting and-I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“But it did and…we have to figure out what to do about it.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything we can do about it.” He backed away, returning his hands to his pockets and paced a step or two before turning suddenly to say, “Sara-you scare the hell out of me.”

His statement totally took me by surprise. “I-what?”

“You’re the last person I think about before I go to bed and the first thought that enters my head when I wake. I sit in my kitchen, drinking coffee picturing you sitting on the stool across from me and it takes my breath away. I can’t wait to get home from work to call you…to hear how your day went and to hear you laugh at one of my stupid jokes. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“It’s gotten so I can’t sleep until I get your call. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you since I left Vegas.”

“We’ve got so much against us. The distance…the difference in our ages…it can’t last, Sara.”

I shook my head impatiently. “I don’t care about any of that. It has no bearing on how we feel.”

“Not to mention the fact that we’re at totally different places in our lives right now,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I just don’t see how this could work. But when I’m near you…”

I nodded. “I know how you feel. It’s the same for me and...I’m scared too. I know I’m not ready for this but I want it so much that I’m willing to risk it.”

“And I’m not. I don’t want to lose you, Sara and I have the worst feeling that if we…if we tried to build something here we’ll end up destroying each other. Our friendship is too important to me. I couldn’t bear it if I screwed this up. Sounds crazy, right?”

“No, sadly it doesn’t.” I swallowed the lump that had mysteriously gathered in my throat. “I’m very much afraid of the same thing. But you’re not looking at this the right way. You’re trying to make it something more than it is. Look, I’m not usually like this. I don’t ask men I just met out for coffee. I don’t have a lot of close friends because I don’t bond easily. I tend to be very reserved and very careful about the people I let into my life because I’ve been hurt too many times to count by people I’ve trusted. I’m always on my guard, second-guessing everyone and everything around me. I don’t know how you slipped under my radar and I don’t care. I just know that you’re here…now…and you make me happy…and I don’t want you to go.” I kissed his lips, trying to play the seductress but terrified that I was coming off as naïve and desperate. “Change your flight.”

“Sara-“

“One night, Gil. Just one.”

“And what if one night isn’t enough?”

I actually laughed. “It won’t be.” And as quickly as the laughter rose, it died because it wasn’t funny anymore. “We both know it won’t be, but we’re here and…” I took a deep breath before asking, “Does it matter?”

He took my lips again, stealing my breath as he muttered, “No…but only because I’m too weak to let it.”