lostladyknight
Pathologist
Okay everyone I have another fanfic for you all to read. This one is a multi-chapter story and I do intend to give you guys regular updates.
This one is Yo!Bling and some Sara!Drama mixed in. But it will, eventually, be turning into a Sara shipper too.
Umm... not much else to tell you, I don't think. Please let me know what you think. And please tell your friends about it if you like it.
~Written by LostLadyKnight and her better half Bauerfreak~
Symphony of Change- Chapter 1
I’ve spent the last two hours staring at the quarter inch think line of paled skin that wraps itself in a complete circle around my left ring finger. The discoloration in my skin acts as a shining reminder of all of the deformities I have in my life. The tan line is a slowly fading reminder of the two years I wore a gold band on that finger, a glittering symbol of the lies that perpetuated my life. The only distraction I find from dwelling on my failed marriage, wounded heart, and broken spirit are the one hundred and four black and red cards and the multitude of green, red, blue and various other colors of casino chips that I share at this table with two strangers and a dealer who, over the last few days, I’ve come to learn is referred to as ‘Slim.’ I allow my eyes to break the trance they’ve formed with that particular part of my anatomy long enough to study the two cards I have before me on the table, pound back another shot of tequila, and gesture to the dealer I’d like a hit. I’m unsure which I should feel worse about in my life, the fact I married a woman I couldn’t love, or the gambling habit I’d almost defeated, almost.
A little more thought and the continued careful study of the place of absence on my finger leads me to a conclusion I can live with for now. Though many people have been hurt as the result of my gambling, one I’ll never forgive myself for, I feel no shame in the fact that I’ve returned to one of the former Braun casinos in search of a rush, a not-so-cheap thrill. No, all of my shame lies in the knowledge that I rushed myself into a marriage with a woman I didn’t love and doomed both of us into a life that would, best case scenario, end with us being older, on the verge of leaving our prime, bitter, and divorced.‘Welcome to hell’ I think to myself as I pound back another shot of tequila and push the remainder of my chips into the center of the felt table. A last ditch attempt to save the remaining spoils of my paycheck. Turned up in front of me I see a queen of diamonds and I secretly peek beneath it where I find burrowed the five of clubs, after consideration of the dealer’s six of spades showing I feel confident in gesturing for a hit when my turn comes around. The seven of clubs, naturally, twenty-two points and bust. One more shot pours its way down the back of my throat as I stand and begin to navigate my way out of the casino, following close behind me is a private demon telling me that there is something horribly wrong with my life, that something is missing.
Despite all my angst, the person my mind keeps settling on has been a secret object of my desire for years...Catherine. Cath. She's been there with me through the ups and down, unknowingly forming a bond between the two of us over the years that I am constantly wondering whether it could turn into something more. Friends turned into something more all the time, but it never seemed to be a possibility with the two of us. She's been my coworker, my boss, since I've known her. When I'm drunk is when I really believe that something more could happen between us. After wallowing in my own self pity for what I assume is only about half an hour longer, I get it into my slightly inebriated mind that it would be a good idea to go visit Catherine.
Being a CSI, I am well aware that even an arrest will get me fired from my job, so I smartly call a cab, which promptly shows up at the front of the casino minutes later. In this town, they've got cabs all over the place for this very reason. I stumble in, my head still spinning from the shots I've taken in a too short period of time, and give the cabbie Cath's address. I check my watch and notice it is almost one in the morning. The middle of the day for us night-shift CSI's, but her daughter Lindsey might be sleeping.
Catherine’s off tonight. Both of us are. After you’ve worked so many hours without taking time off in a given month, they make you take two nights to yourself. Catherine and I both worked our max, probably because we didn’t have anything else waiting for us. Ever since we stopped being friends our social lives have both plummeted into this pit of nothingness. I would, with anyone else, be worried that I would be an unwelcome obtrusion at this hour, however if I know Catherine, and she hasn’t changed that much in the past two years, I know this isn’t so. She’ll be up, even when she’s off she can’t sleep at one in the morning. She’ll be sitting behind the screen of her computer in the office at the back of her house. She’s probably wearing those gray sweat pants and some skimpy white t-shirt, and those thick black framed glasses that look so sexy on her when her hair is straightened.
Her porch light is on, and always is, because Cath is always prepared for anything that could happen. As I get out of the cab and pay, I wonder just how happy she'll be to see me. Maybe she'll even be pissed that I showed up on her front porch, but in all my drunkenness, I don't care. Slowly, I make a special effort to go around the lawn, stepping instead on her driveway and sidewalk, so as not to disturb her perfectly manicured grass. My specially trained ears, however, notice a curious sound as I approach the porch. I stop in my tracks, and look to my left, down the side of Cath's house, and I hear it distinctly now. A rustling of the bushes. Assuming I have a perpetrator on my hands, I reach for my gun, but realize I don't have it with me, of course. I'm not on shift. Instead, I holler loudly, "Hey!" and whistle at whoever is over there. I hear some frightened whispering, one I identify as a male, and the other a female. "Come out of there!" I tell them.
I’m about to plunge myself into the bushes and grab the people within them when I see a streak of black hair light out like a man on fire. After a moment’s hesitation I decided to turn my attention to his abandoned friend, in the bushes. I reach in quickly and remove a squirming teen, but not just any squirming teen - the blonde hair and blue eyes belong to Lindsey. I quickly divert my eyes as I realize that she’s wearing a skewed bra but no shirt, and allow her to cover herself before either of us speaks.
“Lindsey, what the hell?” I ask.
“I could ask you the same thing War-rick” she hasn’t called me Warrick in years, I’ve always been ‘Rick or Uncle ‘Rick.
“Your mom’s gonna be livid when she sees what you’ve been out here doing” I start to tell her but she cuts me off before I can continue.
“What makes you think she’s not going to be livid to see you? You’re drunk, and she hates you.”
I sigh heavily, somehow not surprised that Lindsey knows so much about her mother's social life, or lack thereof. Lindsey and I have been buds since she was a little girl. I suspect she knows I have a thing for her mother, but her insightfulness frightens me a little at this moment. Realizing she's trying to change the subject from the fact she was fooling around with what looked like a much older guy in the middle of the night without her mother's permission, I got back on her. "Where's your shirt?" I ask her, knowing this wasn't going to look good if Cath answered the door to this. Lindsey rolls those blue eyes and turns around to the bush, and retrieves a skimpy blue tank top that doesn't seem to cover her up any better when she turns around with it on. "Thanks for ruining my evening." She spats under her breath, maneuvering past me towards the door.
Lindsey pushes into the front door, which for only a split second, reveals a fairly well lit house. I lean forward to try to follow her through the door when it slams in my face and I all I hear is the muffled sound of “Mom, someone left a pile of trash on our front steps again.” Apparently she didn’t even try to hide the fact that at fifteen, she was coming home in the middle of the night. I guess she knows that my next step will be to tell her mother exactly what had gone down in the yard. She decided not to try to sneak in, but to blatantly announce herself, for the pleasure of a jab in my direction. I feel wounded. There was a time when she worshipped me. Now all I am to her is the drunken coworker of her mother, someone they both used to trust, and now apparently don’t.
From on the porch, I hear the muffled sound of Catherine, sounding confused on somewhat irate. I wonder if I should leave to give them some privacy, since obviously Cath wants to tear her to shreds, but I decide against it for Lindsey's sake, hoping that one day she'll understand why it's not a good idea to make out with guys in bushes. I ring the doorbell, and after some delay, an angry looking Catherine answers the door.
"Warrick?" She says my name with a certain amount of disgust. I raise my eyebrows a little in apology, knowing this didn't look that great, showing up on her doorstep at one a.m. Before I have a chance to respond, she turns back to her wayward daughter, who is currently brushing out some of the tangles in her blonde hair, with a slight tinge of her mother's reddish color. "Did Warrick have to bring you home?" She questions her fifteen year old harshly.
I can see Lindsey’s angry face twisting into a retort that can only get her into more trouble, so before she has the chance to say ‘why don’t you ask him’ I lean forward and, bailing the kid out of a lot of trouble, say “No, no, Cath it was nothing like that.”
“It wasn’t?” Catherine asks me, her voice betraying her anger, confusion, and relief in one breath.
“No. Lindsey was, uhh...” I can’t decide if I should lie for the girl and save face in her eyes, or if I should tell Catherine the truth and quell the anger I can tell she’s felling towards me. If I dime the kid out, Catherine will be so angry with her she won’t have the energy to maintain the rage towards me that she’s trying to hide.
I decide that even though Lindsey will probably hate me, her mother needs to know what she'd been up to. Since I like the kid, I decide to cover up some of the truth, at least the part about her having her shirt off. I have to earn at least some brownie points with the teenager, even though with her comments about me being trash, perhaps she doesn't deserve it. She was a teenager - not exactly the most apologetic time in anyone's life. Lindsey's eyes are tearing into me, silently begging me not to tell on her, but a look at her, conveying this was needed; it was for her own good, though of course she wouldn't understand.
"She was outside, with some guy kissing" I blurt out. "I was just coming to see you, and..."
I'm cut off by Catherine's angry voice, directed at Lindsey. "Chad?! Are you sneaking around with Chad again, young lady?"
I mentally cringe as I see Lindsey prepare to make teenager mistake number one. Yelling back at your mother is never a good way to get yourself out of trouble, and I’d pretty much just given her a ‘get out of jail free card.’
“Well, I wouldn’t have to sneak around with him, Mom, if you’d just let me date whoever I want” the kid retorted.
I can tell this isn't a fresh problem between the mother and daughter, who had been through so much together over the years, and not one that could be easily and peacefully resolved. For some, all the drama brought them closer together, but with Lindsey, it seemed to cause her to resent her mother. Catherine is about to answer her back, when she remembers that I am standing there.
"We'll talk about this later." Cath informs her, causing the teen to roll her eyes. "Go to your room and get to bed. You've got school tomorrow." Lindsey glares at her mother, then at me, and promptly begins to climb the stairs to her bedroom, immaturely stomping every step up.
We regard each other for a few moments, neither really speaking. I can tell that the anger, hurt, and whatever that other emotion is isn’t all because of Lindsey. I’m starting to feel a great deal of regret in coming here. All I’ve done is brought Catherine grief. I step inside and close the door behind me despite my urge to walk back out the door and go running into the night like, Chad was it? Like Chad himself had. I know that the two of us can’t go any longer without speaking so I finally settle on a befuttled apology.
“I’m, uh, sorry I came like this, and caused so much trouble.”
Catherine's chest puffs out, and then she lets out a loud, dramatic sigh as she turns and starts walking towards the cream-colored couches in her living room. She runs those long, delicate fingers through her light red hair, evidence of her stress, which I'm still guessing is a combination of Lindsey's behavior and my presence.
"No need to apologize," She lies, and I follow her, assuming she doesn't mind if I stay for at least a few minutes, since she hasn't kicked me out the front door. "I guess it was good timing that you found Lindsey." She picks up the half-filled wine bottle sitting on her coffee table and pours herself another quarter-filled glass. "Lately, I haven't been able to keep track of her. I assumed she went to bed hours ago."
“You know how kids are when they start dating someone new” I say, trying to console Catherine a little bit. “They think they’re the only person in the world that matters.”
Catherine doesn’t speak. She just looks me in the eyes for a few moments, holding my gaze. I can tell she’s trying to size up the situation, trying to decide if she really wants me here at all. I have hope though, because I can see her face soften as she looks at me, and I can see her eyes lighten. For yet another time in my life I’m thankful that she could never stay angry with me for very long. For a moment longer she looks at me, and then as though she decided to forget her rebelling teen, she asks “So, why’d you come here anyway?” To my delight her words were simply curious and didn’t hide any disdain or annoyance, and to my pleasure she doesn’t look away after she’s done speaking.
My original plan of coming over here seems so childish and juvenile now. I momentarily lose my train of thought, getting caught in the midst of her gaze, the way her make up-free face makes her look even more beautiful, her tank top hugging her in all the right places. Why had I thought it was a good idea to come here? What did I hope to achieve? To tell her I was head over heels in love with her, and expect her to say the same to me; that all the dramatics and angst we'd gone through was just a bad dream, and we were set to live the rest of our lives together? Yeah, that sounded idiotic, now that I had the chance to sober up just a little bit.
"Um..uh.." I stumble, scratching above my eyebrow nervously, "I was just thinking about you." I realize I sound like a middle schooler, crushing on the head cheerleader.
I feel my face start to redden when her eyebrows and face contort in surprise. Now, I want to crawl underneath her couch and hide for the next year, hoping she'll forget that idiotic line of mine. I feel the need mounting inside of me to apologize, but she beats me to it.
"Really? And just how often do you think about me?" By the look on her face, I can tell this is slightly entertaining to her. It's not fair the way guys and girls interact. Guys make themselves out to be idiots for the amusement of their female counterparts. I’m still a little drunk, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself, or else I doubt I would have had the courage to say the words that next came out of my mouth.
“Maybe a little more often than I should.”
She doesn’t speak. She’s telling me, by not saying anything, that she wants me to continue on. I am a little bemused at the idea that women, even without saying anything, always maintain the control in situations where men could be branding themselves with mortal embarrassment. I search her eyes for the inspiration to know what the right thing to say next would be, but all I find is the desire to kiss her. I divert my attention to her hair, still on a quest for the right words, but simply find the need to be lost in it. Then, for some odd reason, I feel that a glance to her chest would show me the right path, but it doesn’t. All I find there is the exhilaration of wondering what it would be like to caress her breasts. Finally, in an attempt to dig myself out of the hole I put myself in, I divert my attention to my own flesh, to the pale band of skin that had me so enraptured earlier this evening. It’s here that I found my motivation to speak.
“I guess... I think about the way things used to be. I think about what we used to be, and I think about how much I miss it. I think about how much I hate that even though neither of us have gone anywhere, it feels like there’s a thousand miles between us.”
Catherine's eyes have been on me the entire time, something I haven't had the courage to mirror myself. I look away, searching on the floor for...I don't know what, then I finally venture a glance at her face. Her expression is regretful - but of what I’m not sure. Regretful of the same things I am? That I let her get away one too many times, and that I fear I may be too late? Or regretful that I came over tonight in the first place? Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, in attempt to form some sort of polite response. I'm sure she's going to put me down, but her answer gives me a small inkling of hope.
"Warrick, um. I'm not sure what to say other than...I miss things too, but I'm not sure if we can ever get back to that place we were. Too much has happened."
“I know that.” I do, I’ve always known it. As a matter of a fact I’ve known that we would never have what we did before the moment she noticed the ring on my finger, so long ago. I should have told her, or talked to her about it. I should have at least involved her in some way, it’s not like I thought she wouldn’t care, or want to be there for me.
“I guess I didn’t come here to change it all, but to say that I’m sorry. Sorry for all of the things I said or didn’t say, and for letting this happen.”
“Warrick...” she tries to speak to me, but can’t find the words.
It would be polite, if two decent people who hadn't hurt one another were standing here instead of us, for Catherine to say it was alright, that it wasn't my fault, but I know she can't find it in her to say that. She shouldn't have to, because I'm the one that's screwed things up between us, with all that Tina confusion. I can tell she doesn't want to hurt me by telling me the blatant truth - that I'd hurt her worse than any other man, more than Eddie even.
"Cath," I stop her, my voice low. "It's okay. I shouldn't have come." I clear my throat and turn around, heading for the door, hoping that she'll stop me and I don't know what. What do I expect? For her to run after me and kiss me like they do in the movies?
"Warrick." She calls, her voice tinged in tiredness. I turn as I reach the door, and she comes around the side of the couch. I wait for her to continue, and she stands right in front of me. "Maybe we should talk about this some other time. When you're not...um...” ‘Drunk’ I mentally add for her.
“Goodnight” I tell her. There is so much more I have to say, but this feels like the right thing to say. I’m elated, slightly, at the idea that she didn’t hit me in the face for saying what I did. Or that she didn’t tell me I was all to blame, even though we both know it’s true if she’d have said it I would have been crushed. Maybe now that it’s all out in the open our friendship can start to heal. Once the door is closed behind me I begin walking up her road, and remove my cell phone to call a cab.
As I trudge along after I've made the call, I can't help but feel there's a load off my chest, but some of it is still there. It had been a simple apology, and my grandmother had always told me that actions speak louder than words. Now that I'd promised change and expressed interest in patching things up, I have to prove it to Cath. Prove that she means the world to me, and that I care for Lindsey too. Tomorrow, when all the alcohol clears my head, maybe I'll think up a master plan about how to get Cath back into my life permanently, even if it is just friendship. With all the crap I've pulled, I might just have to live without the possibility of ever being romantically involved with the beautiful, amazing woman I had wronged. As the cab pulls up, I promise myself, and Catherine, tomorrow.
This one is Yo!Bling and some Sara!Drama mixed in. But it will, eventually, be turning into a Sara shipper too.
Umm... not much else to tell you, I don't think. Please let me know what you think. And please tell your friends about it if you like it.
~Written by LostLadyKnight and her better half Bauerfreak~
Symphony of Change- Chapter 1
I’ve spent the last two hours staring at the quarter inch think line of paled skin that wraps itself in a complete circle around my left ring finger. The discoloration in my skin acts as a shining reminder of all of the deformities I have in my life. The tan line is a slowly fading reminder of the two years I wore a gold band on that finger, a glittering symbol of the lies that perpetuated my life. The only distraction I find from dwelling on my failed marriage, wounded heart, and broken spirit are the one hundred and four black and red cards and the multitude of green, red, blue and various other colors of casino chips that I share at this table with two strangers and a dealer who, over the last few days, I’ve come to learn is referred to as ‘Slim.’ I allow my eyes to break the trance they’ve formed with that particular part of my anatomy long enough to study the two cards I have before me on the table, pound back another shot of tequila, and gesture to the dealer I’d like a hit. I’m unsure which I should feel worse about in my life, the fact I married a woman I couldn’t love, or the gambling habit I’d almost defeated, almost.
A little more thought and the continued careful study of the place of absence on my finger leads me to a conclusion I can live with for now. Though many people have been hurt as the result of my gambling, one I’ll never forgive myself for, I feel no shame in the fact that I’ve returned to one of the former Braun casinos in search of a rush, a not-so-cheap thrill. No, all of my shame lies in the knowledge that I rushed myself into a marriage with a woman I didn’t love and doomed both of us into a life that would, best case scenario, end with us being older, on the verge of leaving our prime, bitter, and divorced.‘Welcome to hell’ I think to myself as I pound back another shot of tequila and push the remainder of my chips into the center of the felt table. A last ditch attempt to save the remaining spoils of my paycheck. Turned up in front of me I see a queen of diamonds and I secretly peek beneath it where I find burrowed the five of clubs, after consideration of the dealer’s six of spades showing I feel confident in gesturing for a hit when my turn comes around. The seven of clubs, naturally, twenty-two points and bust. One more shot pours its way down the back of my throat as I stand and begin to navigate my way out of the casino, following close behind me is a private demon telling me that there is something horribly wrong with my life, that something is missing.
Despite all my angst, the person my mind keeps settling on has been a secret object of my desire for years...Catherine. Cath. She's been there with me through the ups and down, unknowingly forming a bond between the two of us over the years that I am constantly wondering whether it could turn into something more. Friends turned into something more all the time, but it never seemed to be a possibility with the two of us. She's been my coworker, my boss, since I've known her. When I'm drunk is when I really believe that something more could happen between us. After wallowing in my own self pity for what I assume is only about half an hour longer, I get it into my slightly inebriated mind that it would be a good idea to go visit Catherine.
Being a CSI, I am well aware that even an arrest will get me fired from my job, so I smartly call a cab, which promptly shows up at the front of the casino minutes later. In this town, they've got cabs all over the place for this very reason. I stumble in, my head still spinning from the shots I've taken in a too short period of time, and give the cabbie Cath's address. I check my watch and notice it is almost one in the morning. The middle of the day for us night-shift CSI's, but her daughter Lindsey might be sleeping.
Catherine’s off tonight. Both of us are. After you’ve worked so many hours without taking time off in a given month, they make you take two nights to yourself. Catherine and I both worked our max, probably because we didn’t have anything else waiting for us. Ever since we stopped being friends our social lives have both plummeted into this pit of nothingness. I would, with anyone else, be worried that I would be an unwelcome obtrusion at this hour, however if I know Catherine, and she hasn’t changed that much in the past two years, I know this isn’t so. She’ll be up, even when she’s off she can’t sleep at one in the morning. She’ll be sitting behind the screen of her computer in the office at the back of her house. She’s probably wearing those gray sweat pants and some skimpy white t-shirt, and those thick black framed glasses that look so sexy on her when her hair is straightened.
Her porch light is on, and always is, because Cath is always prepared for anything that could happen. As I get out of the cab and pay, I wonder just how happy she'll be to see me. Maybe she'll even be pissed that I showed up on her front porch, but in all my drunkenness, I don't care. Slowly, I make a special effort to go around the lawn, stepping instead on her driveway and sidewalk, so as not to disturb her perfectly manicured grass. My specially trained ears, however, notice a curious sound as I approach the porch. I stop in my tracks, and look to my left, down the side of Cath's house, and I hear it distinctly now. A rustling of the bushes. Assuming I have a perpetrator on my hands, I reach for my gun, but realize I don't have it with me, of course. I'm not on shift. Instead, I holler loudly, "Hey!" and whistle at whoever is over there. I hear some frightened whispering, one I identify as a male, and the other a female. "Come out of there!" I tell them.
I’m about to plunge myself into the bushes and grab the people within them when I see a streak of black hair light out like a man on fire. After a moment’s hesitation I decided to turn my attention to his abandoned friend, in the bushes. I reach in quickly and remove a squirming teen, but not just any squirming teen - the blonde hair and blue eyes belong to Lindsey. I quickly divert my eyes as I realize that she’s wearing a skewed bra but no shirt, and allow her to cover herself before either of us speaks.
“Lindsey, what the hell?” I ask.
“I could ask you the same thing War-rick” she hasn’t called me Warrick in years, I’ve always been ‘Rick or Uncle ‘Rick.
“Your mom’s gonna be livid when she sees what you’ve been out here doing” I start to tell her but she cuts me off before I can continue.
“What makes you think she’s not going to be livid to see you? You’re drunk, and she hates you.”
I sigh heavily, somehow not surprised that Lindsey knows so much about her mother's social life, or lack thereof. Lindsey and I have been buds since she was a little girl. I suspect she knows I have a thing for her mother, but her insightfulness frightens me a little at this moment. Realizing she's trying to change the subject from the fact she was fooling around with what looked like a much older guy in the middle of the night without her mother's permission, I got back on her. "Where's your shirt?" I ask her, knowing this wasn't going to look good if Cath answered the door to this. Lindsey rolls those blue eyes and turns around to the bush, and retrieves a skimpy blue tank top that doesn't seem to cover her up any better when she turns around with it on. "Thanks for ruining my evening." She spats under her breath, maneuvering past me towards the door.
Lindsey pushes into the front door, which for only a split second, reveals a fairly well lit house. I lean forward to try to follow her through the door when it slams in my face and I all I hear is the muffled sound of “Mom, someone left a pile of trash on our front steps again.” Apparently she didn’t even try to hide the fact that at fifteen, she was coming home in the middle of the night. I guess she knows that my next step will be to tell her mother exactly what had gone down in the yard. She decided not to try to sneak in, but to blatantly announce herself, for the pleasure of a jab in my direction. I feel wounded. There was a time when she worshipped me. Now all I am to her is the drunken coworker of her mother, someone they both used to trust, and now apparently don’t.
From on the porch, I hear the muffled sound of Catherine, sounding confused on somewhat irate. I wonder if I should leave to give them some privacy, since obviously Cath wants to tear her to shreds, but I decide against it for Lindsey's sake, hoping that one day she'll understand why it's not a good idea to make out with guys in bushes. I ring the doorbell, and after some delay, an angry looking Catherine answers the door.
"Warrick?" She says my name with a certain amount of disgust. I raise my eyebrows a little in apology, knowing this didn't look that great, showing up on her doorstep at one a.m. Before I have a chance to respond, she turns back to her wayward daughter, who is currently brushing out some of the tangles in her blonde hair, with a slight tinge of her mother's reddish color. "Did Warrick have to bring you home?" She questions her fifteen year old harshly.
I can see Lindsey’s angry face twisting into a retort that can only get her into more trouble, so before she has the chance to say ‘why don’t you ask him’ I lean forward and, bailing the kid out of a lot of trouble, say “No, no, Cath it was nothing like that.”
“It wasn’t?” Catherine asks me, her voice betraying her anger, confusion, and relief in one breath.
“No. Lindsey was, uhh...” I can’t decide if I should lie for the girl and save face in her eyes, or if I should tell Catherine the truth and quell the anger I can tell she’s felling towards me. If I dime the kid out, Catherine will be so angry with her she won’t have the energy to maintain the rage towards me that she’s trying to hide.
I decide that even though Lindsey will probably hate me, her mother needs to know what she'd been up to. Since I like the kid, I decide to cover up some of the truth, at least the part about her having her shirt off. I have to earn at least some brownie points with the teenager, even though with her comments about me being trash, perhaps she doesn't deserve it. She was a teenager - not exactly the most apologetic time in anyone's life. Lindsey's eyes are tearing into me, silently begging me not to tell on her, but a look at her, conveying this was needed; it was for her own good, though of course she wouldn't understand.
"She was outside, with some guy kissing" I blurt out. "I was just coming to see you, and..."
I'm cut off by Catherine's angry voice, directed at Lindsey. "Chad?! Are you sneaking around with Chad again, young lady?"
I mentally cringe as I see Lindsey prepare to make teenager mistake number one. Yelling back at your mother is never a good way to get yourself out of trouble, and I’d pretty much just given her a ‘get out of jail free card.’
“Well, I wouldn’t have to sneak around with him, Mom, if you’d just let me date whoever I want” the kid retorted.
I can tell this isn't a fresh problem between the mother and daughter, who had been through so much together over the years, and not one that could be easily and peacefully resolved. For some, all the drama brought them closer together, but with Lindsey, it seemed to cause her to resent her mother. Catherine is about to answer her back, when she remembers that I am standing there.
"We'll talk about this later." Cath informs her, causing the teen to roll her eyes. "Go to your room and get to bed. You've got school tomorrow." Lindsey glares at her mother, then at me, and promptly begins to climb the stairs to her bedroom, immaturely stomping every step up.
We regard each other for a few moments, neither really speaking. I can tell that the anger, hurt, and whatever that other emotion is isn’t all because of Lindsey. I’m starting to feel a great deal of regret in coming here. All I’ve done is brought Catherine grief. I step inside and close the door behind me despite my urge to walk back out the door and go running into the night like, Chad was it? Like Chad himself had. I know that the two of us can’t go any longer without speaking so I finally settle on a befuttled apology.
“I’m, uh, sorry I came like this, and caused so much trouble.”
Catherine's chest puffs out, and then she lets out a loud, dramatic sigh as she turns and starts walking towards the cream-colored couches in her living room. She runs those long, delicate fingers through her light red hair, evidence of her stress, which I'm still guessing is a combination of Lindsey's behavior and my presence.
"No need to apologize," She lies, and I follow her, assuming she doesn't mind if I stay for at least a few minutes, since she hasn't kicked me out the front door. "I guess it was good timing that you found Lindsey." She picks up the half-filled wine bottle sitting on her coffee table and pours herself another quarter-filled glass. "Lately, I haven't been able to keep track of her. I assumed she went to bed hours ago."
“You know how kids are when they start dating someone new” I say, trying to console Catherine a little bit. “They think they’re the only person in the world that matters.”
Catherine doesn’t speak. She just looks me in the eyes for a few moments, holding my gaze. I can tell she’s trying to size up the situation, trying to decide if she really wants me here at all. I have hope though, because I can see her face soften as she looks at me, and I can see her eyes lighten. For yet another time in my life I’m thankful that she could never stay angry with me for very long. For a moment longer she looks at me, and then as though she decided to forget her rebelling teen, she asks “So, why’d you come here anyway?” To my delight her words were simply curious and didn’t hide any disdain or annoyance, and to my pleasure she doesn’t look away after she’s done speaking.
My original plan of coming over here seems so childish and juvenile now. I momentarily lose my train of thought, getting caught in the midst of her gaze, the way her make up-free face makes her look even more beautiful, her tank top hugging her in all the right places. Why had I thought it was a good idea to come here? What did I hope to achieve? To tell her I was head over heels in love with her, and expect her to say the same to me; that all the dramatics and angst we'd gone through was just a bad dream, and we were set to live the rest of our lives together? Yeah, that sounded idiotic, now that I had the chance to sober up just a little bit.
"Um..uh.." I stumble, scratching above my eyebrow nervously, "I was just thinking about you." I realize I sound like a middle schooler, crushing on the head cheerleader.
I feel my face start to redden when her eyebrows and face contort in surprise. Now, I want to crawl underneath her couch and hide for the next year, hoping she'll forget that idiotic line of mine. I feel the need mounting inside of me to apologize, but she beats me to it.
"Really? And just how often do you think about me?" By the look on her face, I can tell this is slightly entertaining to her. It's not fair the way guys and girls interact. Guys make themselves out to be idiots for the amusement of their female counterparts. I’m still a little drunk, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself, or else I doubt I would have had the courage to say the words that next came out of my mouth.
“Maybe a little more often than I should.”
She doesn’t speak. She’s telling me, by not saying anything, that she wants me to continue on. I am a little bemused at the idea that women, even without saying anything, always maintain the control in situations where men could be branding themselves with mortal embarrassment. I search her eyes for the inspiration to know what the right thing to say next would be, but all I find is the desire to kiss her. I divert my attention to her hair, still on a quest for the right words, but simply find the need to be lost in it. Then, for some odd reason, I feel that a glance to her chest would show me the right path, but it doesn’t. All I find there is the exhilaration of wondering what it would be like to caress her breasts. Finally, in an attempt to dig myself out of the hole I put myself in, I divert my attention to my own flesh, to the pale band of skin that had me so enraptured earlier this evening. It’s here that I found my motivation to speak.
“I guess... I think about the way things used to be. I think about what we used to be, and I think about how much I miss it. I think about how much I hate that even though neither of us have gone anywhere, it feels like there’s a thousand miles between us.”
Catherine's eyes have been on me the entire time, something I haven't had the courage to mirror myself. I look away, searching on the floor for...I don't know what, then I finally venture a glance at her face. Her expression is regretful - but of what I’m not sure. Regretful of the same things I am? That I let her get away one too many times, and that I fear I may be too late? Or regretful that I came over tonight in the first place? Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, in attempt to form some sort of polite response. I'm sure she's going to put me down, but her answer gives me a small inkling of hope.
"Warrick, um. I'm not sure what to say other than...I miss things too, but I'm not sure if we can ever get back to that place we were. Too much has happened."
“I know that.” I do, I’ve always known it. As a matter of a fact I’ve known that we would never have what we did before the moment she noticed the ring on my finger, so long ago. I should have told her, or talked to her about it. I should have at least involved her in some way, it’s not like I thought she wouldn’t care, or want to be there for me.
“I guess I didn’t come here to change it all, but to say that I’m sorry. Sorry for all of the things I said or didn’t say, and for letting this happen.”
“Warrick...” she tries to speak to me, but can’t find the words.
It would be polite, if two decent people who hadn't hurt one another were standing here instead of us, for Catherine to say it was alright, that it wasn't my fault, but I know she can't find it in her to say that. She shouldn't have to, because I'm the one that's screwed things up between us, with all that Tina confusion. I can tell she doesn't want to hurt me by telling me the blatant truth - that I'd hurt her worse than any other man, more than Eddie even.
"Cath," I stop her, my voice low. "It's okay. I shouldn't have come." I clear my throat and turn around, heading for the door, hoping that she'll stop me and I don't know what. What do I expect? For her to run after me and kiss me like they do in the movies?
"Warrick." She calls, her voice tinged in tiredness. I turn as I reach the door, and she comes around the side of the couch. I wait for her to continue, and she stands right in front of me. "Maybe we should talk about this some other time. When you're not...um...” ‘Drunk’ I mentally add for her.
“Goodnight” I tell her. There is so much more I have to say, but this feels like the right thing to say. I’m elated, slightly, at the idea that she didn’t hit me in the face for saying what I did. Or that she didn’t tell me I was all to blame, even though we both know it’s true if she’d have said it I would have been crushed. Maybe now that it’s all out in the open our friendship can start to heal. Once the door is closed behind me I begin walking up her road, and remove my cell phone to call a cab.
As I trudge along after I've made the call, I can't help but feel there's a load off my chest, but some of it is still there. It had been a simple apology, and my grandmother had always told me that actions speak louder than words. Now that I'd promised change and expressed interest in patching things up, I have to prove it to Cath. Prove that she means the world to me, and that I care for Lindsey too. Tomorrow, when all the alcohol clears my head, maybe I'll think up a master plan about how to get Cath back into my life permanently, even if it is just friendship. With all the crap I've pulled, I might just have to live without the possibility of ever being romantically involved with the beautiful, amazing woman I had wronged. As the cab pulls up, I promise myself, and Catherine, tomorrow.
I'm anxious for the next part to see what happens with Lindsey.