DISCLAIMER: CSI is the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer.
SERIES/SEQUEL: First part of the 'Love and Anger' series.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Mind Like Compost
By L.
PROLOGUE
Sara could be witty.
She could also be giddy, corny, flimsy, goofy, and silly. She was smart, dangerously intelligent, and clever, but never flippant or disrespectful.
Sara was funny, but she wasn't fun.
Catherine was fun.
Catherine was let's grab a couple of beers and go dancing fun.
Catherine was take your kids to the park and play some ball fun.
Catherine was let your hair down fun.
Sara knew, because she'd been out with her once and they'd had lots of fun. At first.
It was that time, years ago, after Hank, and they'd gone out for some drinks.
They drank a lot of beer and chased them with scotch. All the time Sara talked and talked of Hank, and men in general, and Grissom. And Catherine hmmed, and uhu-ed, and didn't say much of anything really until suddenly she rose to order another round and threw some comment over her shoulder.
"You know, Sidle, if you ever decide to go lesbo instead, you have to promise to call me first".
Before Sara got her breath back, and before she realized she was what-what-what-ing like a fish, Catherine came back with a pitcher and a small tray of shots.
And before Sara got to say that she wouldn't have to call, she was right here, right now, Catherine managed to strike another blow.
"How come you never speak of your family?"
So, Sara told her of her brother and how they lost contact over the years the way you do when you only share memories and not interests.
"What about your parents?" Catherine said.
Hesitation: 0.5 seconds
"They're dead," Sara tried to look suitable sad.
Both knew she was lying, but Catherine was too drunk to call her on it.
"I remind you of her, don't I," Catherine leaned closer and slurred slightly. "Your mother was blond just like me, wasn't she?"
And before Sara could punch her in the face, her smart side prevailed and she selected the bolt option instead.
They never went drinking again.
ONE
Lately, Catherine spent a whole lot of time thinking of Sara and that one night when they went out for drinks.
Too bad she couldn't remember a bloody thing.
And if you think they had trouble working together before that evening, with Eddie's murder and everything, guess how they got along after?
Exactly.
And then suddenly, after Novak, they were good. Sort of.
Sara came through, in a Sara kind of way. No big gestures, no declarations of support or friendship, just an insistent and calm presence, bringing the occasional coffee, saying the occasional kind word.
Catherine didn't get what had made Sara put their differences aside, and truthfully? She didn't care. She just needed a friend and Sara was right there, just like that.
Only problem was, nowadays, Sara and Sofia were walking that tightrope of anger, frustration, and some Grissom competition that just can't be healthy... That same tightrope Sara and Catherine had been dancing on for the last five years.
Catherine wanted Sara angry at her, muttering some stupid insult in the lab.
Catherine wanted Sara infuriated at her, gasping and gawking when one of her little moods were ruined by Catherine's smile and flip of the hair.
Catherine wanted Sara ranting at her, directing all that crazy intensity at her and only her.
She didn't want to analyze why she wanted it, but there you go.
Catherine knew that Sara probably was crazy, hell, she knew Sara was a raving, angry lunatic.
But the point was that Sara was HER raving, angry lunatic.
TWO
Catherine came a little bit late to the scene and found Sara waiting. She'd parked about 200 yards down the road and hurried towards her. They both had their sunglasses on, but she hadn't work in voyeurism for all those years and not learned a little something.
"Hey, Sara," she said as she approached her, "did you just check me out?"
Sara shrugged and smiled that cocky smile of hers. Interesting.
Some time later, after a dreary amount of evidence gathered in silence, Catherine said "How come you're brilliant with this," and made a sweeping motion over the scene, "and so bloody useless with living people? Were you born that way, or is just a natural talent?"
Sara face went blank, and then she answered "I guess it's in my genes".
Full stop.
Something was way off here, and as Sara started to stalk away, Catherine reached out and grabbed her arm loosely.
"Whoa. Stop. Hold it right there," she said, "Time-out. What the hell just happened?"
Sara looked down at the hand at her arm, but Catherine didn't let go. Not yet.
"Gee, I don't know, Catherine," Sara practically hissed, "But since you've got me all figured out, maybe you should tell me?"
She looked at Catherine briefly and then stared off somewhere.
Catherine still held onto Sara's arm, well not really, merely let her hand rest there. Those eerily calm eyes didn't fool her. Neither did the flexing triceps or the clenching of the jaw.
She took a deep breath.
"Sara, I'll shut up, OK? I promise. Hell, our work load is bad enough as it is. I can't have you suspended again, can I?"
That earned her a tiny smile.
"Come on," she said tugging at the arm. "We've got work to do."
After a couple of minutes of silent work, Catherine stretched and looked back at Sara again.
"A conversation with you, Sidle, is like playing hopscotch in a mine field."
Sara laughed out loud.
"I aim to please, Catherine," she said with a grin.
We'll see about that.
"Seriously, though," Catherine added. "If and when you ever want to talk. I'm here, OK?"
A curt nod, "OK".
I'll pry it out of her. Some day I will.
When they were done, Sara grabbed both their kits as well as the evidence bags and walked to the car where she stowed it all in the trunk. When Catherine came over, Sara held the door open and motioned her inside.
"You're not my boyfriend," Catherine said with a smile. "I don't want a boyfriend".
Sara smiled right back and started the car, then put it in gear and took off.
"I have no intention of being your boyfriend," she said.
Interesting.
They drove to the lab in silence.
"You got any plans tonight?"
That got Catherine's attention. Damn, she'd forgotten all about it.
"Yeah, actually," she said. "I've got a date."
"Oh, yeah?" Sara gave her a curious smile, "who with?"
"His name is Ken, and he works as an investigator in the DA's office".
"Cool. Have fun."
"I'll try."
She'd try alright. She'd try anything once.
THREE
Making love to him while thinking of her was a really bad idea.
So when at the lab, Catherine did her best to avoid her.
Sara didn't realize this of course, since it was nothing out of the ordinary.
This particular day, she was sitting in one of the larger layout rooms, staring at the table in front of her and wondering if maybe, just maybe this time she'd taken on too much.
"What's all this?"
Sara turned when she heard a voice from the doorway.
"Paper shreds," Sara answered, "lots of it".
"It's going to take you forever to go through this alone."
Sara looked up. When she saw Sofia smile, she shrugged and smiled back.
Nice. Weird, but nice.
"Yeah, well, I'm used to it."
"What is it?"
"Our suspect in the Donovan case?" Sara rubbed her eyes, "He spent 14 hours shredding the entire contents of his archives the same day his wife was found murdered."
"And you don't think it was a coincident."
"No. We found 12 bins, the large kind, and all containing 30 gallons of shreds." She looked up, "you do the math".
"360 gallons."
"Exactly."
"And what's the plan?"
Sara stretched to reach her now cold coffee on the far side of the layout table.
"I'll iron each and everyone one of these," she winced, "and then I'll try to match them. He wanted to destroy something bad enough and whatever it was, it's here."
"But that'll be quite..." Sofia searched for the correct word, "tedious".
Dull choice.
"Yup."
"How are... How do..." Sofia's face was a mask of almost morbid fascination.
"I recite," Sara mumbled, hoping Sofia hadn't heard her.
"I'm sorry, you what?"
"I recite. Poetry. When I'm bored I recite poetry. Remembering stuff comes easy for me?"
Sara looked up with an almost guilty expression.
"Wow, you and Grissom really are alike."
"No, not really. He's a connector."
Sara spread her palms then widened her arms over all the shreds.
"Grissom's knowledge is like a vast" she hesitated, "... ocean. No, desert. Like an enormous field, covering almost everything. But it's shallow, superficial? He has this incredible talent to connect tiny tidbits of information from all across this huge surface, and then," she locked onto Sofia's eyes with an embarrassed grin, "he starts to dig, to research".
"And you, you're a," Sofia smiled, "a connector too?"
"No," Sara said, "I'm a driller. I cover almost the same space as Grissom," she wondered briefly why she told Sofia all this, "but I don't connect stuff, I stumble into something and I drill. And then I remember everything and anything."
"Everything?"
"Everything, but randomized, non-indexed," she returned her gaze to the table, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation, "but, yeah. I remember everything".
"'It's a pain to remember, but a strain to forget'."
Sara looked up, surprised.
"Yeah, something like that."
Sofia smiled reassuringly and started towards the door.
"Well," she said, "good luck with all of it. You're going to need it".
"Thanks," Sara hesitated, and then made up her mind.
"Hey, Curtis?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, me and Grissom?" she swallowed, "there is no me and Grissom".
"Good to know," Sofia said as she left the room, "good to know".
FOUR
Catherine stopped, and then backed up to look in to the room where Sara stood, still sorting through thousands and thousands of paper strips.
She'd been in there, what, 11 hours straight?
"Hey," Catherine said as she walked up to Sara. "You OK in here?"
Sara didn't even look up, but replied, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine".
"Okaaay..."
Catherine placed her hand on Sara's shoulder and squeezed gently, and then leaned closer to watch her work. After a moment, she glanced at Sara.
"Breathe," Catherine said, "remember to breathe, Sara".
Sara let out an embarrassed laugh and stepped away.
"It's just... I'm exhausted, and I don't like people touching me".
Catherine held her arms up in the air.
"Sorry, my bad, but your neck sure seemed to scream for some attention".
Sara jumped, looking terrified.
"Whoa, slow down, relax," Catherine laughed. "Just kidding, not offering".
She reached for Sara's jacket and moved towards the door.
"If I can't touch you," she said with an amused smile, "can I at least feed you? When was the last time you ate?"
Sara stretched her arms and pop-popped her head to the left, to the right.
"14 hours, eating sounds great."
"Let's go, then."
On their way to the parking lot, Sara kept her eyes on Catherine until she stopped.
"What? My hair look funny?"
"No, you look fine," Sara murmured, "I was just wondering..."
"What?"
"You and this Ken guy," she stopped and looked at Catherine, "it's been a while, are you getting serious?"
"What do you mean," she squinted in the sun, "like exclusive?"
"Yeah."
Catherine reached for Sara's hand and took it with a smile.
"Well, if that was the case," she winked, "I wouldn't be going on this little 'date' with you, would I?"
"Right," Sara said.
"This is what you want," Catherine said, suddenly nervous, "isn't it?"
"OK," Sara looked at their joined hands and shrugged. "Cool".
It wasn't an answer, but it was alright.
FIVE
Catherine and Sara were alone in Sara's apartment.
Sara had said she needed to pick something up on their way to work.
They'd spent the day together with Lindsey, been to a movie, had ice cream in the park, you get the picture.
They'd been doing stuff like that for a couple of weeks now. Nice family things, breakfast before shift, nothing spectacular or dramatic.
Just two friends, hanging out.
Catherine was still seeing Ken, but she didn't have the energy or inclination to see him as often as she knew he'd like to. He was great in bed and he was almost 10 years her junior, and damn that felt good.
So, she'd keep him for a while.
But right now, Catherine realized, as she watched Sara at home, in her kitchen, on the way to her window, walking down the hallway, she was actually quite happy where she was.
She'd played a little hard to get but only to see if Sara meant it, to see if Sara would make the effort.
But so far, Sara had been cool. Way too cool for Catherine's liking.
"Hey," Catherine stood in the bedroom door, watching Sara put some clothes in a duffel bag, "come here".
"What?"
"Sara, come here."
Sara complied, and walked to stand right next to her, their bodies almost touching but only almost, no pressure.
No, never any pressure.
Catherine put her face close, her cheek a breath away from Sara's, savoring the closeness, the intimacy.
"Sara," she breathed, "if you touch me, it's only by accident."
Catherine sighed, then inhaled, "oh, wrists and fingertips..."
Sara closed her eyes.
"Don't hurt me," she whispered.
"No."
Catherine reached up, blindly, slowly grazing the small hairs in Sara's neck, "I don't want to".
"No one ever does," Sara swayed a little, but remained just... beyond, almost but not quite where Catherine wanted her to be.
"Do you even know what you want?"
"Yes," Catherine let her hands fall. "I want you to kiss me, and then I want a date. A real date."
Sara opened her eyes.
"Yes," she said, and then she kissed her.
SIX
And a real date it was: candles and dinner, then dancing, all dressed up.
And somewhere during the night Catherine took Sara's hand and kissed her palm then smiled and said in a sing-song voice,
"You turn down love like it's really bad
You can't give what you never had
Well bless your soul, you can fool a few
But, I know the truth and so do you."
Sara listened with a smile.
"That's nice. What is it," she said, "you made it up?"
Catherine let go of her hand and threw her head back and laughed, hard.
"No, no, no, it's Earth, Wind & Fire" her smile and eyes disappeared to some distant memory, "me and Nancy used to listen to that damn song all the time when we were kids. It drove our parents crazy".
"Oh," Sara laughed and leaned over to peck Catherine on the cheek, "well, it was sweet. Thank you".
Sara chuckled, and leaned back with a smile that said so you don't think I can fool you, huh?
They were both silent, looking at each other for some time.
Their smiles fell away, unnoticed.
"Can I say something?" Catherine said.
Sara frowned.
"Of course, you don't need to ask".
"I knew you'd be different like this," Catherine looked away, a little bit shy, abashed. "But I didn't realize just how different".
"What do you mean?"
"You simply blow me away, Sara," she stated while averting Sara's eyes, "and I'm not used to it."
"What are you saying, Catherine?"
"Don't treat me bad, that's not what I'm asking," she tugged her hair behind her ear. "But don't princess me either."
Paper truth in strings, hearts, and broken things, Sara was quiet.
"Look out your window, Sara," Catherine continued, "everyone's in line..."
She trailed off, so not used to this.
Sara listened without moving.
"Sara," Catherine covered her face with a self-conscious grin, "what I'm trying to say is that I like you. A lot. I really like you."
Sara smiled at this.
"Catherine," she said after a while, "have you ever heard of a guy called Gary Snyder?"
Catherine peeked out. Suddenly 13 years old.
"Who?"
Sara shook her head, as if to clear it.
"I had a lover once," she said, "who used to say that I was like a 12-year girl and a 90 year old woman all in one."
"Go on" Catherine almost held her breath, she did not dare to move.
"No, that's it," she sighed, "I'm not 12 and I'm not an old lady. What if I'm not all that you think I am either?"
Catherine stared at her, what the fuck did that mean?
"Snyder has written a poem called 'On Top'" Sara smiled when Catherine snorted, and then she quoted, "'a mind like compost'".
They sipped their drinks and listened to the music.
Bob Sinclar, love generation, how appropriate.
"Whatever," Catherine said.
"I've never been a big fan of poetry but I can tell you this," Catherine made sure Sara looked her straight in the eye. "Love goes for quite a price".
Sara blinked once, twice then finished her drink.
She threw some money on the table.
"I'm taking you home," she said, "and I'm staying the night. Then we'll see about that".
SEVEN
Catherine carried two steaming paper cups into the layout room to watch Sara meticulously piece strip after strip together.
Catherine glanced at the small stack of taped up documents on the far end corner of the table.
All these hours, and so little to show for it.
She sat down next to Sara and said, "Finish up for the night, I'm taking you home. It's late."
Sara accepted the coffee with a nod and kept on working.
Catherine leaned into Sara and whispered, "I told Ken I couldn't see him no more".
"Oh," her hands stilled, "why?"
OK, maybe not the exuberant reaction she'd hoped for.
"Why?"
"Yeah," Sara looked up, "why did you do that?"
"Because of you, silly" Catherine grinned and bumped Sara lightly, "but I can take him back if you'd prefer that".
They both finished their coffees and threw the discarded cups in the paper bin.
As they walked towards the locker rooms, Sara said, "No, of course I don't want that. It's just," she hesitated, "I didn't want to assume..."
"Assume away, honey."
"OK. Cool."
They rummaged through their lockers and slammed them shut simultaneously then fell into step as they started down the corridor.
When they reached Catherine's car, Sara went straight to the passenger side and opened the door as soon as she heard the wee-bip of the alarm.
"I don't want you for life, Sara," Catherine said as she buckled up and started the engine, "but don't we get along fine?"
"Just dandy."
Catherine was getting more pissed each passing moment, "I told you I'd dumped Ken because I thought that was what you wanted, but obviously you couldn't care less."
Sara placed her hands on the dashboard and took a deep breath.
"I don't understand," she said, "I don't know what you want from me".
"I thought that was clear by now," Catherine said, "I want you".
Sara looked at her with a dispassionate face, her hands were trembling though, and her jaw worked overtime.
"I just want you. To talk to me," Catherine was practically shouting now, "to tell me a secret before you meant to." She glared at Sara willing her to face her. "To make some fucking trouble over me".
She turned left, and Sara looked up, startled.
"Are we going to my place?"
"Yeah, it's Friday," Catherine said, "Lindsey's staying over at some friend's house, remember?"
"Jenna," Sara said with a smirk.
"Right. Jenna," Catherine continued, "and I thought it'd be nice to be at your place for a change".
She parked the car and they both got out.
"But not for life," Sara said, she stumbled with her words some, "just for now. I get it, Cath".
Catherine wanted to shake her, scream, hit her; anything really to make her understand.
"Can anyone make a promise for life, Sara?" Catherine asked, exasperated. "Don't you see, I don't want to set a fucking time table... I just want to do this right".
She shook her head as Sara opened her door and ushered her inside.
Sara tossed her bag and jacket on the couch and turned to Catherine.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey yourself."
Sara moved some hair away from Catherine's eyes and cradled her face with soft hands. She bowed down and kissed her slowly, gently, thoroughly.
Catherine smiled, "Mm, I've wanted to do that all day".
"Yeah, me too," Sara said and kissed her again.
"What about you, Sara," Catherine said as she slipped her arms around Sara's waist. "You haven't said a word about how you feel, what you want..."
She sighed and leaned her head on Sara's shoulder, "this is what you want, isn't it?"
"Can't you tell, Cath?" Sara looked at her, hugging her close, almost fiercly.
"Frankly honey, and I can't believe I'm saying this," she moved away and slumped down into the couch, "great sex isn't enough anymore, I need more than that Sara."
"But I'm here, right here," Sara slouched next to her. "I'm right here, for you. I can't give you more than that."
"Are you?" Catherine put her arm over Sara's slender shoulders and pulled her close, "sometimes I haven't the faintest idea where you are".
"I'm no riddle, Cath," Sara relaxed into her, "I'm not used to this, that's all".
"And you think I do this all the time?"
"Yeah."
Oh, yeah.
EIGHT
"How are you coming along?" Sofia asked, coming into the now familiar room.
"Just fine, I've only got half a bin left..."
Sara motioned to the table where only one relatively small pile of strips remained.
"Wow, that's great work," Sofia said, "You're fast".
"Yeah, well," she shrugged, "I'm persistent."
Sofia pulled out a chair and sat down right next to her.
"So what have you found?"
"Lots, almost too much," she ticked off a list, "bank statements, a prenuptial, insurance papers, and pages and pages of seemingly pointless correspondence..."
She sighed, "Why do people keep all this... stuff?"
"Now what?"
"Now," Sara put her hands behind her neck and stretched with a snap. "I take this to Catherine, and she'll figure out what it all means."
"Ah, Catherine," Sofia raised an eyebrow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's just," she smiled. "You, Catherine..."
"What?"
"Well, I thought..." she looked Sara straight in the eye. "But obviously, I misunderstood."
"Obviously." Sara put her hands in her lap, "Where were we?"
"You were taking all this stuff to Catherine."
"Right. I need her to put it all together, she's good at that. Putting pieces together. People," Sara watched her hands, "she's good with people".
"I guess she is."
Sofia rose, but lingered, reluctant to leave.
"Hey Sara," she said, "I've been thinking".
Sara looked at her with a hesitant smile, somewhat confused and still a little bit annoyed.
"You like poetry, right?" Sofia shuffled her feet, "ever heard of Snyder, Gary Snyder?"
Sara smiled, for real this time.
"Yeah, I think so, why?"
Sofia got that she should get something, but hell if she knew what.
Never mind, later.
"Well," she said, "he's written this poem, it's called `On Top'?"
"Yeah?"
"The things you said before about remembering stuff," she took a deep breath, "and I can't get these lines out of my head, but forget it, it's silly really".
"No, go on," Sara said with a smile and walked up to her, "I want to hear it from you".
"OK," Sofia closed her eyes and said slowly,
"'All this new stuff
goes on top'"
Sara listened and watched as Sofia continued,
"'turn it over, turn it over
wait and water down'..."
Sofia stopped, not quite knowing if she wanted to go on, not quite knowing why she was doing this at all.
I told you it was silly.
"'Watch it sprout...'" Sara said, "'A mind like compost'".
"You know it?"
"Yeah," Sara said, "I know it. It's beautiful. Thank you."
For a moment, Sara looked away with a small smile, Sofia remained where she was, uncertain of where to go from here.
Nice. Weird, but nice.
Who would've thought?
Someone cleared their voice from the doorway, startling them both.
"Am I interrupting something?" Catherine said.
"Not at all," Sara said with a huge smile, "no, it's perfect you're in early. I've got something to show you, come here."
Sofia nodded her goodbyes to the both of them and left.
No one really noticed.
NINE
Catherine and Sara lay wrapped up on Catherine's sofa, watching some stupid, inane TV show. Lindsey was asleep.
"Right there, right now," Catherine said quietly, "Where did you go?"
"I'm right here."
"No you're not. You're off somewhere," she snuggled into Sara's neck. "Where do you go when you do that?"
"You're not making any sense, I'm right here."
Sara moved in to kiss her, but Catherine pulled away.
"I can almost see it happen baby, but I don't understand how, or why..." she sighed as Sara stiffened. "Almost anything, an innocent comment or image can propeller you off to wherever you go. I want to go there too."
She traced Sara's cheek with a feathery finger.
"Is it some kind of safe place," she whispered, "or do you just get lost in memories?"
"Catherine," Sara said while leaning forward with elbows on her knees, shrugging her off, looking calmly back into Catherine's eyes, "the memory of an event is something you construct from bits and pieces: from what you saw and heard and experienced and felt at the time".
She shuddered slightly but continued, "From things people told you afterward, from suggestions and thoughts and implications? All filtered by your attitude, by who you are".
She rubbed her face then drew her hands through her hair, messing it up.
"Elizabeth Loftus wrote somewhere", Sara scrunched her nose as she scrolled to the right place. "We feel attached to our remembered past, because the people, places, and events that we enshrine in memory give structure and definition to that which we think of as our self."
Catherine sat quiet, listened without interrupting.
"If we accept that memory spills over into dreams and imagination, then how do we know what's real and what's not?"
"Well, I don't know about that," Catherine shrugged. "But you can't nerd-talk yourself out of this, Sar."
"What do you want from me, Catherine?"
"I want you to tell me what's been bothering you. I want to know why those cases affect you like they do. I want to know what has happened to you."
"Why, why is that so important?"
"Why?! Because it's what people do, what friends, partners, hell: it's what lovers do. They share."
"Is this your messed up way of telling me you love me?"
"No. It's my way of saying I could love you, if you'd only let me."
"If I'd LET you?" Sara was getting angrier by the minute too, "Who's stopping you?"
"Oh, Sara, come ON," Catherine threw her hands in the air, infuriated, then grabbed Sara and almost shook her, "There's no one else here, you can tell me anything, you know you can trust me".
Eyes locked, no one budged.
"I want to know what the fuck's wrong with you, that's what I want."
Full stop.
"Oh, Cath..." Sara rose, slowly closing her eyes, "I've spent almost 20 years telling myself that it wasn't my fault, that there's nothing wrong with ME, and now you of all people..."
"But, Sara, baby, why would you do that, what happened?"
Sara stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard with her eyes closed, clenching her fists, clenching.
Ready for fight or flight, Catherine couldn't tell.
"Catherine, you're right," she opened her eyes and looked directly at Catherine, "there's just us here, no one is watching. There's no audience".
"Yes, baby, what?"
This was it, she could feel it.
Hell, she could taste it.
"Then why do you require some kind of performance?"
"Oh, honey, it's that what you think this is?"
"I don't know what to think, my head is spinning."
She stalked out of the room, went to check on Lindsey. When she came back all she said was, "She's still asleep".
Catherine was now standing in the kitchen with her back turned, leaning on the sink.
"You know what? I don't think I can do this. It's too much drama, to much trouble. It's all just too much of," she waved her hands whimsically in the air, "this".
"You can't do what, Cath, what are you saying?"
"This. You and me. Us. I can't do us. Not like this."
Sara stared at Catherine's back. She was so still, horrifyingly still.
"You said you'd never hurt me," Sara said in a small voice.
If she could see you now, she'd know.
Or maybe not, it is not time yet.
"No," Catherine said instead, "I said I didn't want to hurt you."
"But you are."
"Yeah," she sighed, shoulders sagging now, showing her age. "I guess I am."
Sara started picking her things together, time to leave.
So, I was alone in this?
"You've had your fun?" Sara all but sneered.
Catherine whipped around, and finally noticed that Sara was seconds away from leaving and it dawned on her that this was not the time for uncertainties.
It never is, Cath.
"Shame on you Sara, for saying that," she said as Sara opened her front door. "Shame on you for even thinking that".
"No, shame on you Catherine," Sara said as she stepped outside, "for letting me think that I would be the one."
The End
Sequel Love and Anger