Mother Dearest

Chapter 4

With April's help, we remove all of the wall tiles and much of the flooring by the time three o'clock rolls around. I'm concentrating on the constant stream of conversation between Laurie and April, and almost miss the sound of my cell phone. Apologizing, I duck out of the bathroom, checking the caller ID.

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Hey," Sara replies warmly, and suddenly I want to leave here. Get in my car and drive straight to Las Vegas, gather her in my arms, and nestle the pair of us under a thick quilt.

"You just get up?" I manage.

"Yeah. How was your day?"

"Good, it was good." I shouldn't be here. I'm putting everything in jeopardy.

"Hard to sleep without you," she says softly.

I sigh in agreement. "Somehow my mom's pull-out sofa doesn't have the appeal that our bed does. Though if you were in it."

"I'd be whining all night about my back hurting," she supplies. "How's your mom?"

"Very well, thanks."

"What've you two been up to?"

I pause for a long moment, not wanting to lie to her. "Um, you know. Just mother and son things."

"Like what?"

"Meals. talking. catching up. that sort of thing."

"Oh." I can hear a note of puzzlement in her tone. "That sounds nice. Is she working today?"

"Yeah, she is."

"So what do you have planned while she's at work?"

Note to self: never fall in love with an investigator. "Not too much. Been fixing some tiles in the bathroom. Actually, honey, I've got grout all over my fingers. can I catch up with you later?"

"Oh. yeah, of course," she says. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry." I can hear someone walking down the hall toward me. "I should go."

"Gil?" Laurie's voice calls out.

"Grissom. who is that?"

"It's, um."

"Gil? Everything fine and dandy?" Laurie's getting closer, and I start backing across the room.

"Grissom?" Sara's voice sounds funny. "Griss, who-"

"It's nobody, sweetie, I'll catch up with you later." Cursing under my breath, I flip the phone shut just as Laurie appears.

"Hey," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine."

o-o-o-o-o

Eventually, April disappears into her room to do homework, and Laurie and I are left alone. I've been practicing what to say in my head, but nothing comes out quite right.

Securing a pink tile on the wall, I let out a sigh.

"Something on your mind?" she asks mildly, looking at me curiously.

"My fiancée."

"Cold feet?"

"No, nothing like that. See. she's sort of estranged from her family."

"Ah," she says, nodding sagely. "And you want her to make up with them before the wedding."

"Ideally, yes. I think if they're not at the service, she'll regret it later."

Laurie pauses mid-caulk, smiling at the wall. "Know something, Gil?"

"What?"

"You're a good man."

Grinning, I continue to tile. She likes me. This will be okay. I'll just wait for the right moment, and then-

Suddenly a shriek of agony rings out, and I turn in alarm, my eyes wide.

"It's okay," Laurie laughs. "April's taking Shakespeare this semester. You'll hear that sound pretty regularly."

"Shakespeare, huh?" Grabbing a rag, I wipe off my hands. "Mind if I take a break, try and help her out? I'm a big fan of the bard."

"Knock yourself out."

o-o-o-o-o

April's door is closed, so I tap on it lightly.

"I'm in hell!" she bellows, and I take that to mean come in.

"Hey," I say, poking my head in. "I hear you're having some trouble with Shakespeare?"

She's sitting at a small white desk, her head in her hands. "He's so annoying," she moans. "Why can't he just say it in plain English?"

"Because it sounds better his way." I venture into the room, glancing around. The walls are mostly bare, except for a collection of party hats tacked over the bed. "Happy New Year 1998," I read aloud.

"I collect New Year's Eve hats," she says, not lifting her head from her hands. "My birthday's January 1st."

"I collect exotic butterflies," I tell her.

"Well, then, you must be really secure in your manhood."

I chuckle, peeking over her shoulder at her textbook. "So which of Shakespeare's masterpieces are you studying?"

She lifts her head, glaring at me with those familiar eyes. "One of his stupid sonnets."

"Which one?"

"Forty-seven."

My heart twists with recognition. "Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, Between my eyes and heart a pact is made-"

April's scowl fades. "That's it! How do you know it?"

"One of my favorites," I tell her, picking up the textbook. "He's basically saying that his love is always with him, because his eyes and his heart work together to keep it that way. When she's in front of him, his eyes can see her and they fill his heart with her image. And when they're parted, his heart sends the memory of her face to his eyes."

"He should just say that, then," she replies glumly. "I can do the hardest calculus problem you can throw at me, but I can't ever figure out what Shakespeare means."

"There's an art to it. The syllables, the rhyming-"

"Feast and guest don't rhyme. Neither do love and move."

"I put this sonnet in a letter once," I say, ignoring her. "Back before my fiancée and I got engaged. I was away in New England, teaching for a semester, and I wanted to tell her how much I missed her. Somehow, Shakespeare seemed to express it better than I could."

She cocks her head. "Why'd you have to go all the way to New England to teach people how to retile a bathroom?"

Note to self: apparently, investigatory skills can run in a family.

"Well," I say slowly. "To be honest, I'm not a full-time contractor. I'm a scientist."

"For real?" Clearly, my coolness factor has just gone way up in this girl's opinion.

"Yup."

"Like. Dr. Gil?"

"Dr. Grissom. I work at a crime lab, specializing in forensic entomology."

"Wow. Is that where you met your fiancée?"

"No, we met a long time ago. When she was a student of mine."

"And you had an affair with her?" For some reason, that too just increased my coolness factor.

"Well, I wouldn't call it an affair, we were both single. We, uh. had a close friendship, and a mutual attraction. and for a few weeks we did-" Catching myself, I shake my head quickly. "You're trying to distract me from the sonnet."

Sighing heavily, she takes the textbook from me. "What's entomology, anyway?"

"The study of insects."

And just like that, I'm uncool again.

o-o-o-o-o

Laurie smiles when I come back into the bathroom. "How'd it go?"

"I don't think she appreciates Shakespeare's way with words," I tell her, picking up a new tile.

"Seems like yesterday I was helping Jack and Sara with their homework," she says, looking nostalgic.

I set the tile back down, wrestling with indecision.

"It goes by so fast, Gil. One day they're learning long division, and the next day they're just. gone."

Enough is enough, I realize. This poor woman has been through so much, and it's gone on long enough. The charade needs to end.

"Laurie. there's something I need to tell you."