Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The
characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't
help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its
premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are
definitely not.
Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it. I've taken liberties with Grissom's, Catherine's, and Lindsey's pasts. I have no idea how old Lindsey is but my guess is about pre-teen. I'm also a Grissom/Catherine shipper, so there are probably elements of that POV here. However, I've tried to keep it toned down because this is primarily a Grissom story.
Spoiler: The Hunger Artist
***** ***** *****
Title: A Permanent Partnership
Author: Laeta E-mail: [email protected]
As Catherine entered the office, Grissom sat at his desk contentedly working on a crossword puzzle from the latest compilation of New York Times Sunday Crosswords. He was completely oblivious to the insistent ringing of the phone. It did not look like he was going to answer it any time soon. Still in the doorway, Catherine frowned as she observed his demeanor. Several of the other members had expressed a concern that he was ignoring them; on at least one occasion, Grissom did not answer respond to any of their questions. She had decided to broach the subject today since it was relatively quiet. However, now, she was more than merely concerned; she was very worried. She had seen this behavior before.
Somewhat irked by the continually ringing phone, Catherine crossed the room and reached across a surprised Grissom to answer it. Smoothly interjecting a small white lie - she was, after all, answering Grissom's phone - she borrowed Grissom's pen and efficiently wrote details on their next case: a human pin cushion.
Hanging up the phone, Catherine leaned against Grissom's desk and gazed at the man in question. She could not help but worry about him. He was and is her oldest friend, her support during the worst happenings of her life. This sentiment went both ways.
She watched Grissom lean back in his chair as she continued to appraise him. Although he was an enigma to everybody else, she could easily see the questions lurking in his posture, his eyes: What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?
The mail cart suddenly crashed into the door of the office. Predictably, Catherine started but Grissom merely sat there, unbothered by the noise, and narrowed his eyes in concern as she jumped.
Suddenly, the pieces fell into the place: Grissom was slowly loosing his hearing. This went a long way to explain the "ignoring".
Sighing, she glanced at Grissom's face and slowly raised her hands and asked: *How long has this been going on?*
She could see the surprise on his face as she signed the words. He clearly thought she had forgotten sign language. She had learned American Sign Language from a very special woman about fifteen years ago. To overcome her grief at the woman's death, she had vowed never to forget and had taught sign language to a growing Lindsey. Eventually, it became a special bond between mother and daughter. It had helped them through the difficult years before the divorce, during it, and the trying times of Lindsey's childhood.
Catherine watched as Grissom washed his hands over his face. Leaning further back in his chair, Grissom stared at the ceiling. She could see the dark circles under his eyes; he was not sleeping well again.
"I don't know. At first, it was so gradual that I wasn't sure. It was just a moment here and there where I couldn't hear anything. Then, I was crossing the street during a case and didn't hear a car. It nearly ran me over. I went to the doctor, Catherine. I don't know when the hearing will completely go. I don't know if any of the treatments will work. I don't even know if I can be a candidate for any of them." Grissom's voice had become a dry whisper.
The agony of not knowing was apparent to Catherine. The need to know everything was part of the reason why she and Grissom had become crime scene investigators in the first place.
Wanting to ease some of his troubled thoughts, she leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. He raised his head from the back of the chair to look at his oldest friend. Looking at her face, he could believe that she would make everything right. She was the only person who knew most of his secrets, could read him like an open book, and was on the same wavelength as he was, that it was almost scary.
"Gil, let's take this one step at a time. Have you told Brass yet? Have you considered your options?"
He was glad to be right. Catherine would help him, just like last time.
Shaking his head, Grissom replied, "I'm not sure how to get the subject into the open." Pausing to reflect before continuing, he mused, "Options? The most logical one would be to retire, isn't it?"
At the uncharacteristically un-sure response, Catherine felt her heart ache. Why did these things always have to happen to the most undeserving people?
Before she could respond, she heard Brass's footsteps coming towards Grissom's office. She quickly signed: *We'll talk about this some more later. Brass is coming. Time to work.*
***** ***** *****
Nodding, Grissom stood and intercepted Brass at the door. For now, Grissom could ignore his own problems to focus on solving another crime. After quickly gathering more details about the human pin cushion victim and hearing about another case - a car was found abandoned with a human head on a spike nearby. Deciding that Warrick and Sara would enjoy the human pin cushion, he, Catherine and Nick went to see the spiked head.
Truth be told, there were more and more patches where his hearing was going. To be on the safe side, he wanted Catherine nearby to help him out. A quick glance at her as they left the lab told him that she knew he wanted her at his side. She shot him a reassuring smile that turned into a cheeky grin.
A glib dare turned down forced Grissom to give the keys to the Tahoe to Catherine. He was grateful; he had been so preoccupied that he could not focus on the details of the case. It was as unusual as things get on the graveyard shift at the CSI. He needed a few moments to go over the case.
The crime scene had already attracted the fourth estate who was calling this a gruesome copy-cat of "Lord of the Flies". Never mind that there were a few key differing essentials.
A cursory glance of the scene told him that this was staged. The questions were: To whom did the head belong? Does the car have anything to do with the head? Why pick this particular place?
Nick began to take the pictures. As he took the shots, Grissom wandered to where a group of kids stood terrified. It was obvious that they had notified the police. Suddenly, every sound dampened to nothing. He could not hear a thing the kids were saying. Trying not to panic, he focused on reading their lips but it was difficult to do in the dim light. As before, his other senses sharpened to compensate for the hearing loss, beginning with smell. Within seconds, his panic dimmed as he noticed Catherine's light perfume gracing the space next to him. Glancing quickly at her, he realized that she had perceived the exact moment his hearing had dampened and came to help him question the witnesses.
Letting her takeover, Grissom turned around to view crime scene once again. Sight was becoming a very interesting sensation. Not caring if Nick was finished with the pictures, he crossed to the car. It was important in some way. He kneeled next to the car on the side closer to the spiked head and waited for Catherine.
Soon enough, she placed a hand on his shoulder and crouched next to him. She spoke quietly while surreptitiously signing the kids' story. *This is neutral turf for the various gangs in the area. Those kids are runaways. They're here to avoid the underground gang wars. This particular car is Switzerland.* She glanced at the spiked head. *The spiked victim there is a defected member of the one of the more powerful gangs. He went to a job - nobody knows what - and didn't come back. The kids heard a big ruckus, hid; when the coast was clear, there was the head.*
As Catherine spoke, Grissom leaned forward, intent. The tire tracks around the car were concentric circles. If the head merely was brought here, then the tire tracks did not fit. There would have been only two sets: in and out.
***** ***** *****
The human pin cushion was a successful tailor named Marilinn Chands. She ran a shop that was frequented by many of Las Vegas's spotlight performers. She was found by actress Shaine David; her last appointment of the day.
Sara's obvious intrigue at the body forced Warrick to give her first dibs on the body. She was in the midst of photographing the scene and gathering evidence. After a cursory glance, he gradually extracted David's story.
David knew the deceased about three years. They met while David was working on a film set in Vegas. For the film's wrap up party, David's new dress was too long. Chands was the area's highly recommended tailor. David liked Chands's work and continued to use her services. She would fly into Vegas for alterings and eventually became Chands's word-of-mouth advertising board. In return for the tremendous boost in business, Chands let David come to her house at any convenient time for appointments: usually in the evening hours when Chands's shop was closed. Over the years, they had become friends and David would sometimes stay to talk over coffee. David's appointment was scheduled for nine-thirty; she arrived at Chands's house at nine-fifteen and discovered her friend's body.
Warrick found Chands's scheduling book open the kitchen table. There were no appointments between three and nine-thirty, Shaine David. Strange for a Tuesday afternoon when any given business usually was very busy.
Joining Sara, Warrick relayed David's statement to her. She had discovered that the needles were placed in pressure point locations. Done correctly, they could produce a healing effect or cause death. Neither knowing much about acupuncture, they finished gathering evidence and returned to the lab to research.
***** ***** *****
Catherine stood to take a molding of the tire tracks. She had noticed Grissom's pre-occupation with them.
"They're in concentric circles, Cath," Grissom quietly replied as he started to write notes about the scene.
Startled at both the sound of his voice and the now apparent design, she asked, "Why would it be necessary to circle an area so many times? Are they looking for something?"
"How about an even better question? Where is the rest of the kid's body?" replied Nick, who had walked toward the head to examine it.
"Nicky, do some investigating on who the victim is," Grissom replied. "Catherine, let's go back to the lab. Warrick's paged me."
As Grissom and Catherine drove back to the lab, she wondered on his future. The obvious solution was, as he said, to retire. The problem was that he was damn good at his job. To lose his expertise and experience would be extremely detrimental to the team. Not to mention that she had gotten used to his constant presence in her life. If he left, she knew she would miss him enough to find a reason to keep him there.
"I thought of another option." Grissom's quiet voice unnecessarily filled the companionable silence in the jeep.
"Better than retiring, right?"
"I hope so." At his hesitancy, Catherine wondered if the option was really better than retiring or, if in Grissom's gentle ways, he was trying to ease his way into a negative avenue.
Trying to lessen his sudden tension, she teased him the only way she knew how, "Gil, today sometime; don't keep me in suspense here."
Glancing away from the road, she knew he appreciated her effort by the humor obviously lurking in his eyes. Yet, still, he did not voice his thoughts. She reached over with one hand to hold his hand.
Sighing, Catherine whispered, "Gil, you know you can tell me anything, right?" At his nod, she added, "Then tell me what's on you mind."
She watched him glance toward her in her peripheral vision and returned the look. He tightened his grasp on her hand and gazed at them before speaking.
"Have you ever watched us working together, Cath? I look at our hands and realized that I never took the time to appreciate just how good we are together. Tonight, I saw what other people see when they watch us work. You know what I'm thinking and I know what you're thinking. Before, when I was talking to those kids, you knew that I needed you to be there, and I knew that you'd find me to fill in the blanks of their statement. I couldn't read their lips in the light and you knew. I was occupied with the tire tracks and you knew. What if -" His voice had turned into a whisper and fell away to nothing with the last two words.
They had returned to the lab and were sitting in the jeep when Grissom's voice died away. Catherine thought quickly and realized that he was trying to say that she would sign officially for him. As long as it was okayed by the rest of the team. Neither wanted this to be underhandedly done; it would seem like he was favoring her.
"You and I are partnered continuously together while Nick, Warrick, and Sara work together on cases; or any combination of you, me, and one of them when the situation warrants it?"
Clearing his throat, "Yeah, as long as it's okay with you and everybody else, of course."
"Of course."
"You don't have to say anything now. This'll affect you a lot, Cath."
Smiling at his evident concern; he was ever the gentleman and worried about her. "I know. How about we solve this case and ask the team their opinions?"
Releasing her hand, he smiled and rubbed the left side of his neck. Catherine could always tell when a migraine was working its unwanted magic. When they first came on, years ago, she had seem them reduce Grissom to a sliver of his usual enthusiasm for information. Over the years, he had gotten some strong medications to alleviate the stark pain. She never knew what they were caused by or why they suddenly came on.
"Migraine?"
"Yeah. It always happens especially when the hearing goes. When they say that the other senses takeover for the lack of one, it's true."
"What about the other times?"
"Usually, they're triggered by something. A smell, a color. Usually, it's something."
"Ah, that solves that mystery." Catherine liked to find out the little things about Grissom's life. Even though she knew his past and the secrets that he kept inside and prompted others to call him "gruesome", she still felt flashes of triumph when he let down his walls for her.
Exiting the vehicle, they walked towards Grissom's office. Warrick and Sara would find them eventually; it was fruitless to look for them. Inside, Grissom walked straight to his desk and started looking for something. Catherine guessed it was the bottle of medicine he kept for the migraines.
Shutting the drawer, he sat in his chair, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes and neck. Speaking to the ceiling, he muttered, "You don't happen to have an emergency stash for me, do you?"
"Here." Catherine handed Grissom a small bottle. Just like she knew he suffered from unpredictable migraines and that Grissom sometimes had a tendency to forget important things in his enthusiasm, she knew to always carry a bottle of the medicine for him. Over the years, he called it his "emergency stash" as a joke or tribute - take it any way - to how well she knew him.
Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. He looked up at Catherine and her heart broke. *It's gone again. The hearing's gone.*
Already, twice tonight. Who knows how many more?
As predicted, Warrick and Sara found Grissom and Catherine going over their current case in Grissom's office. Neither noticed the unusual quiet in the room. They proceeded to de-brief Grissom on their case after Catherine left the room. Again, neither noticed that she never left. She sat behind them on a table in Grissom's line of sight as he read their lips. She caught his frequent glances over their shoulders as she catalogued their case to answer his questions later. In the meantime, she translated their details for him.
Quietly, she got up from the table and proceeded to re-enter the room, in their reference point. Commenting on their case, she watched them race from the room to investigate.
***** ***** *****
"Hey, Nick. Got a minute?" Warrick called out when he saw the said man as he and Sara slowed their pace.
"The pin cushion not working out?" was the distracted reply.
"It's not that. Did you notice anything weird about Grissom?" Warrick's experience had picked up on his boss's more-than-usual unusual demeanor.
Nick looked up and focused his attention. Having not known Grissom as long as Warrick, he could only think, "Weird? When was the man not weird?"
"Haven't been around him most of the night. I've been questioning people about our spike headed victim." Curiosity peaked, Nick added, "Why? What's up?"
"I just think that he's acting quieter than normal. That's all," replied Warrick.
"Quieter than normal? Does the man have a normal quiet?" came Sara's flippant remark.
"Don't you guys have cases into which to delve? It is a better use of your sense of sight."
All three heads whipped around in surprise to find the man in question not five feet from their little impromptu chat. The three younger CSI members stared in shocked silence while they processed acute guilt for gossiping. Immediately, Warrick and Sara fled the scene of their transgression while Nick was left to stomach discomfort alone.
"You have something for me, Nick?" queried Grissom not missing a single beat. There were, after all, murders to solve.
***** ***** *****
The night passed quickly. Warrick interviewed Marilinn Chands's brother who informed him that Marilinn spent Tuesday afternoons with his wife, Daria. Daria had called him about five o'clock to tell him that she had received a call from her office and was leaving for Miami on an emergency business trip. He explained that this occurred on a fairly frequent basis so he had no reason to question her sudden absence. The most useful information gleaned from the man was that Daria was an intern in an acupuncturer's office. Over the years of her employment, she had learned a great deal of the practice.
Warrick placed a call to Horatio Caine of the CSI office in Miami to question Daria Chands, who was the last person to see Marilinn alive and was with her at the projected time of death. The coroner had estimated this to be about four-thirty. This made her their prime suspect.
Caine came through with the sister-in-law. Daria Chands had stated that she was in Miami on a vacation. She had last seen Marilinn the week before to shop for clothing appropriate for Florida. Her flight was at five- fifteen so she and Marilinn had decided to forgo their usual tête-à-tête.
The sister-in-law was quickly apprehended after a fifteen minute conversation between the two CSI members and Daria Chands was already en route back to Las Vegas.
Meanwhile, Sara had drawn the lot to discover the mode of operation for Marilinn's death. Research told her that acupuncture was generally used as an alternative healing practice, but was useful in causing unexplainable deaths. A single pin in a certain location could prevent breathing or stop the flow of blood. In this case, Daria had used her knowledge of acupuncture to first relax Marilinn. Then, she had placed a pin in the location that would cause the heart rate to slow down. Marilinn did not have a chance to fight for her life. One way to describe the murder was that Marilinn had been induced to die in her sleep.
The evidence to place Daria at the crime scene was simple. Each pin head was too small to hold enough information for a fingerprint, but the discarded pins' container held ample proof. Another phone call to Miami led to the detection of the container in Daria's luggage. The Miami CSI office found a perfect match; the container was being shipped to be used as evidence.
Having been working with Catherine so long, Warrick's curiosity told him to find out why she had killed her own sister-in-law in what was obviously a planned scheme. It was simple jealousy. Daria was jealous of all of Marilinn's trips to Los Angeles in order to alter celebrities' clothing. It was her idea of revenge when Marilinn would refuse to allow Daria access to the celebrities.
Daria would be charged with first degree murder. Case closed.
***** ***** *****
The spiked victim turned out to be a Nick case since he eventually solved it. The spiked victim was a Louis Murlowe. He was a known member of the gang known as Vipers. What did not add up was that the kids from the crime scene had said he was a defected member of an unknown gang. Apparently, he was playing a double role in the unknown gang: Murlowe was leaking information about the activities of this gang to the Vipers, who were bitter rivals.
Nick had uncovered that Murlowe's family had been killed by the unknown gang in a shooting spree. He had been out for revenge, and the Vipers had the means. So Murlowe infiltrated the unknown gang. The area of the crime scene was prime real estate for the various gangs in the area because of its locale. Murlowe enticed the unknown gang to come to the crime scene with details of a method to wipe out the Vipers; this would result in less competition for the unknown gang and they would have control of the area. In reality, the Vipers were waiting in ambush to rid themselves of an enemy.
The big ruckus the kids heard was the ensuing fight. When the unknown gang had realized the deception, they had killed Murlowe and stuck his head on a pole as a warning to the Vipers and other gangs. It read: "Do not cross us." Nick was sure that the rest of the body would turn up eventually.
Grissom and Catherine worked on the tire tracks. They spent the night hypothesizing on the meaning of the tracks. With Nick's news, the solution was fairly simple. There was an all-out shooting rampage, but where were the bullets? The unknown gang had, after the Vipers fled in defeat, used a vehicle similar to the cart that gathers up golf balls in a drive range to remove any evidence of the fire fight. Each gang used specific carved bullets, which would dangerously implicate their involvement. This resulted in the concentric tire tracks found at the scene. However, by removing their own bullet shells, they removed the shells of the other gang; thus preventing any justice for either party.
Brass could only take the sequence of events and file the murder into the dossiers for both gangs. If the time ever came when they would have more solid evidence of their dealings, the police could use this incident to detail the horrible actions in which they engaged.
***** ***** *****
The end of shift came quickly for the entire team. The night's cases were fairly simple and solved to everybody's satisfaction. Grissom's hearing dampened a couple of more times during the course of the night but was dealt with easily as he had spent most of the time alone with Catherine.
Everybody was on their way to the normal diner to have their customary breakfast. Grissom was riding with Catherine while the three younger CSI members were going to meet them if they cajoled Brass into joining them. For some unknown reason, they enjoyed irritating the older man into joining them for breakfast. However, Grissom and Catherine were privy to know that Brass found their antics and methods amusing; for all involved, it was a bizarre way to unwind from a trying night.
"Are you going to break the news to them?" Trying not to startle her companion completely, Catherine spoke quietly.
He was studying his menu with his normal intent expression. When he looked up, his eyes were serious and contemplative. His entire future depended on the opinions of Warrick, Nick, Sara, and Brass. "Yeah. It's probably best."
"Gil -"
The rest of the cavalry appeared and the conversation morphed into a teasing mundane repartee. Toward the end of the meal, everybody settled into various drinks: coffee, tea, orange juice, whatever the preference was. At this point, Grissom broke his news and outlined the few possibilities for the future.
Needless to say, the three younger CSI members and Brass were absolutely stunned. In the span of ten minutes, they went from knowing very little of Grissom's history to knowing a very intimate detail.
Sara, ever the observant one, looked questioningly at Catherine. "You're not as surprised as the rest of us. How long have you known?"
"Known that Gil was losing his hearing? Since earlier tonight."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." In other words, how long have you known that Grissom eventually would lose his hearing?
Grissom looked across the table at Catherine and briefly contemplated the various ways in which she could respond. Their relationship spanned much farther back than anybody actually knew. Knowing her, she would not lie but the question was a very heavy one.
Choosing another option, Catherine chose not to answer the pointed question. Instead she returned with, "What do you think he should do? It's up to you and the guys."
Oddly, Sara did not volunteer her opinion immediately, but the flash in her eyes told the older woman that she knew something was being hidden. The other three watched this exchange with unveiled interest until Catherine queried them.
Brass, having known and worked with Grissom and Catherine for a long time, already knew that he would support the permanent partnership of the two. He had observed their ability to run pathways over each other to challenge, to investigate, and to solve every case. They had a rapport born out of their long friendship, life experiences of both personal and professional matters, common goals, and differing interests, hobbies, and opinions. They worked extremely well together and had very few unsolved cases when they teamed up. He would miss their highly entertaining verbal sparring; so it was largely a personal and selfish reason that made him support Grissom's option of keeping his job.
Warrick did not know Grissom and Catherine as long as Brass did, but knew of their genuine concern for each other. It was a constant testament for him that good things existed in life. He needed the continuous reminder when he was surrounded by murder and mayhem. He respected each for their intelligence and ability to get the job done, especially with unreasonable deadlines looming. Yes, he agreed with Brass. The city of Las Vegas needed Grissom's experience. If the circumstances required that Catherine be permanently there to help him, so be it.
Nick was grateful when Grissom offered to intervene when Eckley assumed him to be the prime suspect in Kristy's murder case. He was just as grateful when Catherine took that job instead and Grissom had given her all the time to work on it. Nick was observant enough to know that their actions had saved the public reputation of the lab. However, he knew that neither Grissom nor Catherine had thought of that aspect first; they had only considered the repercussions to his career. Their generosity had prevented a cease of his career; his reputation was maintained. For this alone, he was willing to stand behind Grissom and Catherine. No other superiors would have done what they did without a second thought.
Sara blithely added that she now had something to do in all those hours between shifts; she could learn sign language. Truth be told, she highly respected both Grissom and Catherine. Their dedication to the job was truly inspirational, but they genuinely cared about bringing justice to each of their victims by acting as their voice. Their permanent partnership would allow each CSI member, obviously including herself, to learn and to experience in a far different manner. For a person who needed challenges - basically to feel alive - working with the two senior CSI members together meant every case became a battle of wits. She would take every opportunity to enjoy this.
***** ***** *****
Sara watched as Catherine and Grissom entered Catherine's car and drove off into the desert sunrise. She never did receive the answer to her question. It was highly intriguing to discover a deeper history between the enigmatic mystery called Grissom and the caring persona of Catherine. That is, beyond the usual that everybody knew. Slightly disconcerted that one riddle would remain unsolved, Sara started her car and left to pass the hours until the next graveyard shift of the CSI started.
***** ***** *****
The quiet feeling that always seems to permeate a cemetery was softly interrupted as two pairs of footfalls made their way between the stones. In the hush before the rest of the world awoke, the man kneeled at a simple headstone. He bowed his head and clasped his hands together to say a short prayer to the deceased before whom he kneeled. His companion watched; she was not surprised at his display of religion. She had witnessed it years ago when her friend still had a reason to believe in God.
Standing, Grissom asked, "Do you ever think of her, Cath?"
"Everyday." There was no way he could doubt her answer. It was so simply put.
"What do you miss the most about her?"
"The way she knew exactly how I was feeling." Catherine had been looking at the inscription on the headstone but shifted her gaze to ask her next question. "How about you?"
"I just miss her." He watched the grief subside in Catherine's eyes for a moment; he knew it still showed in his eyes. "I never thanked you for agreeing to permanently work with me."
"It's okay. I know you were. Besides, she would never leave me alone if I didn't do whatever I could to help you. I owe you a lot anyway. "
"At any rate, thank you."
In response, Catherine enveloped Gil in a hug that showed a fifteen year friendship of shared pain and joy and told of a commitment to continue as they always had.
Breaking apart, Catherine spoke lightly to ease Gil of the still lingering grief. "Lindsey asked about her the other day."
"Really?"
"Yeah. For an assignment. She has to write a paper on a courageous woman. She chose her."
"She was brave."
"That she was. Come on; let's go home. You can read Lindsey's paper before she submits it. She's waiting for us."
***** ***** *****
Lindsey Willows Assignment: Courageous Woman Essay
Grandma G is not really my grandmother; but she is the closest thing I have to one. I have chosen to write about her because she was deaf and was still able to communicate and live in the world. She was courageous because she never let her disability deter her from living. I admire her and I love her. Most of all, I wish that she was still alive so I can thank her for the impact she has had on my life.
Grandma G was the mother of my mother's closest friend. My mother and Grandma G met when Mom was a college student. Grandma G's son, Gil, had two jobs so that he could give her the best care possible, but he did not want to leave her with a total stranger when he could not be there. Since college students always need money, he offered Mom a job to care for her. This benefited everybody because Gil trusted Mom and Mom was not a complete stranger to Grandma G.
While Gil worked during the day, Mom would study for her courses and care for Grandma G. Needless to say, they became fast friends since Grandma G fondly remembered the days when Gil was still in school. Some days, instead of studying, Mom and Grandma G would talk. Since Grandma G was deaf, she used sign language and Mom became very fluent in using it. Mom would say that the quiet hours with Grandma G were gifts for which she would trade almost anything.
During this time, I was born and Mom would bring me to Grandma G's house. Some of my first memories are of Mom and Grandma G together. Then Grandma G died and left a big hole in Mom's and Gil's heart. Of course, I know today that she did the same to me, but I was still a baby. As I grew older, I learned sign language from Mom; she wanted to honor Grandma G's memory. Eventually, it became a coping technique during my parents' divorce.
I want to thank Grandma G for being in my life; I feel like a better person for it, even though I was extremely young. She taught Mom how to sign who, in turn, taught me. I know that Mom and I have a unique and special relationship because of it. Although she was disabled, she never let that be a reason to stop caring about the people in her life. If the rest of the world used her as an example, I know that jobs like my mother's would not be necessary.
Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it. I've taken liberties with Grissom's, Catherine's, and Lindsey's pasts. I have no idea how old Lindsey is but my guess is about pre-teen. I'm also a Grissom/Catherine shipper, so there are probably elements of that POV here. However, I've tried to keep it toned down because this is primarily a Grissom story.
Spoiler: The Hunger Artist
***** ***** *****
Title: A Permanent Partnership
Author: Laeta E-mail: [email protected]
As Catherine entered the office, Grissom sat at his desk contentedly working on a crossword puzzle from the latest compilation of New York Times Sunday Crosswords. He was completely oblivious to the insistent ringing of the phone. It did not look like he was going to answer it any time soon. Still in the doorway, Catherine frowned as she observed his demeanor. Several of the other members had expressed a concern that he was ignoring them; on at least one occasion, Grissom did not answer respond to any of their questions. She had decided to broach the subject today since it was relatively quiet. However, now, she was more than merely concerned; she was very worried. She had seen this behavior before.
Somewhat irked by the continually ringing phone, Catherine crossed the room and reached across a surprised Grissom to answer it. Smoothly interjecting a small white lie - she was, after all, answering Grissom's phone - she borrowed Grissom's pen and efficiently wrote details on their next case: a human pin cushion.
Hanging up the phone, Catherine leaned against Grissom's desk and gazed at the man in question. She could not help but worry about him. He was and is her oldest friend, her support during the worst happenings of her life. This sentiment went both ways.
She watched Grissom lean back in his chair as she continued to appraise him. Although he was an enigma to everybody else, she could easily see the questions lurking in his posture, his eyes: What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?
The mail cart suddenly crashed into the door of the office. Predictably, Catherine started but Grissom merely sat there, unbothered by the noise, and narrowed his eyes in concern as she jumped.
Suddenly, the pieces fell into the place: Grissom was slowly loosing his hearing. This went a long way to explain the "ignoring".
Sighing, she glanced at Grissom's face and slowly raised her hands and asked: *How long has this been going on?*
She could see the surprise on his face as she signed the words. He clearly thought she had forgotten sign language. She had learned American Sign Language from a very special woman about fifteen years ago. To overcome her grief at the woman's death, she had vowed never to forget and had taught sign language to a growing Lindsey. Eventually, it became a special bond between mother and daughter. It had helped them through the difficult years before the divorce, during it, and the trying times of Lindsey's childhood.
Catherine watched as Grissom washed his hands over his face. Leaning further back in his chair, Grissom stared at the ceiling. She could see the dark circles under his eyes; he was not sleeping well again.
"I don't know. At first, it was so gradual that I wasn't sure. It was just a moment here and there where I couldn't hear anything. Then, I was crossing the street during a case and didn't hear a car. It nearly ran me over. I went to the doctor, Catherine. I don't know when the hearing will completely go. I don't know if any of the treatments will work. I don't even know if I can be a candidate for any of them." Grissom's voice had become a dry whisper.
The agony of not knowing was apparent to Catherine. The need to know everything was part of the reason why she and Grissom had become crime scene investigators in the first place.
Wanting to ease some of his troubled thoughts, she leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. He raised his head from the back of the chair to look at his oldest friend. Looking at her face, he could believe that she would make everything right. She was the only person who knew most of his secrets, could read him like an open book, and was on the same wavelength as he was, that it was almost scary.
"Gil, let's take this one step at a time. Have you told Brass yet? Have you considered your options?"
He was glad to be right. Catherine would help him, just like last time.
Shaking his head, Grissom replied, "I'm not sure how to get the subject into the open." Pausing to reflect before continuing, he mused, "Options? The most logical one would be to retire, isn't it?"
At the uncharacteristically un-sure response, Catherine felt her heart ache. Why did these things always have to happen to the most undeserving people?
Before she could respond, she heard Brass's footsteps coming towards Grissom's office. She quickly signed: *We'll talk about this some more later. Brass is coming. Time to work.*
***** ***** *****
Nodding, Grissom stood and intercepted Brass at the door. For now, Grissom could ignore his own problems to focus on solving another crime. After quickly gathering more details about the human pin cushion victim and hearing about another case - a car was found abandoned with a human head on a spike nearby. Deciding that Warrick and Sara would enjoy the human pin cushion, he, Catherine and Nick went to see the spiked head.
Truth be told, there were more and more patches where his hearing was going. To be on the safe side, he wanted Catherine nearby to help him out. A quick glance at her as they left the lab told him that she knew he wanted her at his side. She shot him a reassuring smile that turned into a cheeky grin.
A glib dare turned down forced Grissom to give the keys to the Tahoe to Catherine. He was grateful; he had been so preoccupied that he could not focus on the details of the case. It was as unusual as things get on the graveyard shift at the CSI. He needed a few moments to go over the case.
The crime scene had already attracted the fourth estate who was calling this a gruesome copy-cat of "Lord of the Flies". Never mind that there were a few key differing essentials.
A cursory glance of the scene told him that this was staged. The questions were: To whom did the head belong? Does the car have anything to do with the head? Why pick this particular place?
Nick began to take the pictures. As he took the shots, Grissom wandered to where a group of kids stood terrified. It was obvious that they had notified the police. Suddenly, every sound dampened to nothing. He could not hear a thing the kids were saying. Trying not to panic, he focused on reading their lips but it was difficult to do in the dim light. As before, his other senses sharpened to compensate for the hearing loss, beginning with smell. Within seconds, his panic dimmed as he noticed Catherine's light perfume gracing the space next to him. Glancing quickly at her, he realized that she had perceived the exact moment his hearing had dampened and came to help him question the witnesses.
Letting her takeover, Grissom turned around to view crime scene once again. Sight was becoming a very interesting sensation. Not caring if Nick was finished with the pictures, he crossed to the car. It was important in some way. He kneeled next to the car on the side closer to the spiked head and waited for Catherine.
Soon enough, she placed a hand on his shoulder and crouched next to him. She spoke quietly while surreptitiously signing the kids' story. *This is neutral turf for the various gangs in the area. Those kids are runaways. They're here to avoid the underground gang wars. This particular car is Switzerland.* She glanced at the spiked head. *The spiked victim there is a defected member of the one of the more powerful gangs. He went to a job - nobody knows what - and didn't come back. The kids heard a big ruckus, hid; when the coast was clear, there was the head.*
As Catherine spoke, Grissom leaned forward, intent. The tire tracks around the car were concentric circles. If the head merely was brought here, then the tire tracks did not fit. There would have been only two sets: in and out.
***** ***** *****
The human pin cushion was a successful tailor named Marilinn Chands. She ran a shop that was frequented by many of Las Vegas's spotlight performers. She was found by actress Shaine David; her last appointment of the day.
Sara's obvious intrigue at the body forced Warrick to give her first dibs on the body. She was in the midst of photographing the scene and gathering evidence. After a cursory glance, he gradually extracted David's story.
David knew the deceased about three years. They met while David was working on a film set in Vegas. For the film's wrap up party, David's new dress was too long. Chands was the area's highly recommended tailor. David liked Chands's work and continued to use her services. She would fly into Vegas for alterings and eventually became Chands's word-of-mouth advertising board. In return for the tremendous boost in business, Chands let David come to her house at any convenient time for appointments: usually in the evening hours when Chands's shop was closed. Over the years, they had become friends and David would sometimes stay to talk over coffee. David's appointment was scheduled for nine-thirty; she arrived at Chands's house at nine-fifteen and discovered her friend's body.
Warrick found Chands's scheduling book open the kitchen table. There were no appointments between three and nine-thirty, Shaine David. Strange for a Tuesday afternoon when any given business usually was very busy.
Joining Sara, Warrick relayed David's statement to her. She had discovered that the needles were placed in pressure point locations. Done correctly, they could produce a healing effect or cause death. Neither knowing much about acupuncture, they finished gathering evidence and returned to the lab to research.
***** ***** *****
Catherine stood to take a molding of the tire tracks. She had noticed Grissom's pre-occupation with them.
"They're in concentric circles, Cath," Grissom quietly replied as he started to write notes about the scene.
Startled at both the sound of his voice and the now apparent design, she asked, "Why would it be necessary to circle an area so many times? Are they looking for something?"
"How about an even better question? Where is the rest of the kid's body?" replied Nick, who had walked toward the head to examine it.
"Nicky, do some investigating on who the victim is," Grissom replied. "Catherine, let's go back to the lab. Warrick's paged me."
As Grissom and Catherine drove back to the lab, she wondered on his future. The obvious solution was, as he said, to retire. The problem was that he was damn good at his job. To lose his expertise and experience would be extremely detrimental to the team. Not to mention that she had gotten used to his constant presence in her life. If he left, she knew she would miss him enough to find a reason to keep him there.
"I thought of another option." Grissom's quiet voice unnecessarily filled the companionable silence in the jeep.
"Better than retiring, right?"
"I hope so." At his hesitancy, Catherine wondered if the option was really better than retiring or, if in Grissom's gentle ways, he was trying to ease his way into a negative avenue.
Trying to lessen his sudden tension, she teased him the only way she knew how, "Gil, today sometime; don't keep me in suspense here."
Glancing away from the road, she knew he appreciated her effort by the humor obviously lurking in his eyes. Yet, still, he did not voice his thoughts. She reached over with one hand to hold his hand.
Sighing, Catherine whispered, "Gil, you know you can tell me anything, right?" At his nod, she added, "Then tell me what's on you mind."
She watched him glance toward her in her peripheral vision and returned the look. He tightened his grasp on her hand and gazed at them before speaking.
"Have you ever watched us working together, Cath? I look at our hands and realized that I never took the time to appreciate just how good we are together. Tonight, I saw what other people see when they watch us work. You know what I'm thinking and I know what you're thinking. Before, when I was talking to those kids, you knew that I needed you to be there, and I knew that you'd find me to fill in the blanks of their statement. I couldn't read their lips in the light and you knew. I was occupied with the tire tracks and you knew. What if -" His voice had turned into a whisper and fell away to nothing with the last two words.
They had returned to the lab and were sitting in the jeep when Grissom's voice died away. Catherine thought quickly and realized that he was trying to say that she would sign officially for him. As long as it was okayed by the rest of the team. Neither wanted this to be underhandedly done; it would seem like he was favoring her.
"You and I are partnered continuously together while Nick, Warrick, and Sara work together on cases; or any combination of you, me, and one of them when the situation warrants it?"
Clearing his throat, "Yeah, as long as it's okay with you and everybody else, of course."
"Of course."
"You don't have to say anything now. This'll affect you a lot, Cath."
Smiling at his evident concern; he was ever the gentleman and worried about her. "I know. How about we solve this case and ask the team their opinions?"
Releasing her hand, he smiled and rubbed the left side of his neck. Catherine could always tell when a migraine was working its unwanted magic. When they first came on, years ago, she had seem them reduce Grissom to a sliver of his usual enthusiasm for information. Over the years, he had gotten some strong medications to alleviate the stark pain. She never knew what they were caused by or why they suddenly came on.
"Migraine?"
"Yeah. It always happens especially when the hearing goes. When they say that the other senses takeover for the lack of one, it's true."
"What about the other times?"
"Usually, they're triggered by something. A smell, a color. Usually, it's something."
"Ah, that solves that mystery." Catherine liked to find out the little things about Grissom's life. Even though she knew his past and the secrets that he kept inside and prompted others to call him "gruesome", she still felt flashes of triumph when he let down his walls for her.
Exiting the vehicle, they walked towards Grissom's office. Warrick and Sara would find them eventually; it was fruitless to look for them. Inside, Grissom walked straight to his desk and started looking for something. Catherine guessed it was the bottle of medicine he kept for the migraines.
Shutting the drawer, he sat in his chair, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes and neck. Speaking to the ceiling, he muttered, "You don't happen to have an emergency stash for me, do you?"
"Here." Catherine handed Grissom a small bottle. Just like she knew he suffered from unpredictable migraines and that Grissom sometimes had a tendency to forget important things in his enthusiasm, she knew to always carry a bottle of the medicine for him. Over the years, he called it his "emergency stash" as a joke or tribute - take it any way - to how well she knew him.
Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. He looked up at Catherine and her heart broke. *It's gone again. The hearing's gone.*
Already, twice tonight. Who knows how many more?
As predicted, Warrick and Sara found Grissom and Catherine going over their current case in Grissom's office. Neither noticed the unusual quiet in the room. They proceeded to de-brief Grissom on their case after Catherine left the room. Again, neither noticed that she never left. She sat behind them on a table in Grissom's line of sight as he read their lips. She caught his frequent glances over their shoulders as she catalogued their case to answer his questions later. In the meantime, she translated their details for him.
Quietly, she got up from the table and proceeded to re-enter the room, in their reference point. Commenting on their case, she watched them race from the room to investigate.
***** ***** *****
"Hey, Nick. Got a minute?" Warrick called out when he saw the said man as he and Sara slowed their pace.
"The pin cushion not working out?" was the distracted reply.
"It's not that. Did you notice anything weird about Grissom?" Warrick's experience had picked up on his boss's more-than-usual unusual demeanor.
Nick looked up and focused his attention. Having not known Grissom as long as Warrick, he could only think, "Weird? When was the man not weird?"
"Haven't been around him most of the night. I've been questioning people about our spike headed victim." Curiosity peaked, Nick added, "Why? What's up?"
"I just think that he's acting quieter than normal. That's all," replied Warrick.
"Quieter than normal? Does the man have a normal quiet?" came Sara's flippant remark.
"Don't you guys have cases into which to delve? It is a better use of your sense of sight."
All three heads whipped around in surprise to find the man in question not five feet from their little impromptu chat. The three younger CSI members stared in shocked silence while they processed acute guilt for gossiping. Immediately, Warrick and Sara fled the scene of their transgression while Nick was left to stomach discomfort alone.
"You have something for me, Nick?" queried Grissom not missing a single beat. There were, after all, murders to solve.
***** ***** *****
The night passed quickly. Warrick interviewed Marilinn Chands's brother who informed him that Marilinn spent Tuesday afternoons with his wife, Daria. Daria had called him about five o'clock to tell him that she had received a call from her office and was leaving for Miami on an emergency business trip. He explained that this occurred on a fairly frequent basis so he had no reason to question her sudden absence. The most useful information gleaned from the man was that Daria was an intern in an acupuncturer's office. Over the years of her employment, she had learned a great deal of the practice.
Warrick placed a call to Horatio Caine of the CSI office in Miami to question Daria Chands, who was the last person to see Marilinn alive and was with her at the projected time of death. The coroner had estimated this to be about four-thirty. This made her their prime suspect.
Caine came through with the sister-in-law. Daria Chands had stated that she was in Miami on a vacation. She had last seen Marilinn the week before to shop for clothing appropriate for Florida. Her flight was at five- fifteen so she and Marilinn had decided to forgo their usual tête-à-tête.
The sister-in-law was quickly apprehended after a fifteen minute conversation between the two CSI members and Daria Chands was already en route back to Las Vegas.
Meanwhile, Sara had drawn the lot to discover the mode of operation for Marilinn's death. Research told her that acupuncture was generally used as an alternative healing practice, but was useful in causing unexplainable deaths. A single pin in a certain location could prevent breathing or stop the flow of blood. In this case, Daria had used her knowledge of acupuncture to first relax Marilinn. Then, she had placed a pin in the location that would cause the heart rate to slow down. Marilinn did not have a chance to fight for her life. One way to describe the murder was that Marilinn had been induced to die in her sleep.
The evidence to place Daria at the crime scene was simple. Each pin head was too small to hold enough information for a fingerprint, but the discarded pins' container held ample proof. Another phone call to Miami led to the detection of the container in Daria's luggage. The Miami CSI office found a perfect match; the container was being shipped to be used as evidence.
Having been working with Catherine so long, Warrick's curiosity told him to find out why she had killed her own sister-in-law in what was obviously a planned scheme. It was simple jealousy. Daria was jealous of all of Marilinn's trips to Los Angeles in order to alter celebrities' clothing. It was her idea of revenge when Marilinn would refuse to allow Daria access to the celebrities.
Daria would be charged with first degree murder. Case closed.
***** ***** *****
The spiked victim turned out to be a Nick case since he eventually solved it. The spiked victim was a Louis Murlowe. He was a known member of the gang known as Vipers. What did not add up was that the kids from the crime scene had said he was a defected member of an unknown gang. Apparently, he was playing a double role in the unknown gang: Murlowe was leaking information about the activities of this gang to the Vipers, who were bitter rivals.
Nick had uncovered that Murlowe's family had been killed by the unknown gang in a shooting spree. He had been out for revenge, and the Vipers had the means. So Murlowe infiltrated the unknown gang. The area of the crime scene was prime real estate for the various gangs in the area because of its locale. Murlowe enticed the unknown gang to come to the crime scene with details of a method to wipe out the Vipers; this would result in less competition for the unknown gang and they would have control of the area. In reality, the Vipers were waiting in ambush to rid themselves of an enemy.
The big ruckus the kids heard was the ensuing fight. When the unknown gang had realized the deception, they had killed Murlowe and stuck his head on a pole as a warning to the Vipers and other gangs. It read: "Do not cross us." Nick was sure that the rest of the body would turn up eventually.
Grissom and Catherine worked on the tire tracks. They spent the night hypothesizing on the meaning of the tracks. With Nick's news, the solution was fairly simple. There was an all-out shooting rampage, but where were the bullets? The unknown gang had, after the Vipers fled in defeat, used a vehicle similar to the cart that gathers up golf balls in a drive range to remove any evidence of the fire fight. Each gang used specific carved bullets, which would dangerously implicate their involvement. This resulted in the concentric tire tracks found at the scene. However, by removing their own bullet shells, they removed the shells of the other gang; thus preventing any justice for either party.
Brass could only take the sequence of events and file the murder into the dossiers for both gangs. If the time ever came when they would have more solid evidence of their dealings, the police could use this incident to detail the horrible actions in which they engaged.
***** ***** *****
The end of shift came quickly for the entire team. The night's cases were fairly simple and solved to everybody's satisfaction. Grissom's hearing dampened a couple of more times during the course of the night but was dealt with easily as he had spent most of the time alone with Catherine.
Everybody was on their way to the normal diner to have their customary breakfast. Grissom was riding with Catherine while the three younger CSI members were going to meet them if they cajoled Brass into joining them. For some unknown reason, they enjoyed irritating the older man into joining them for breakfast. However, Grissom and Catherine were privy to know that Brass found their antics and methods amusing; for all involved, it was a bizarre way to unwind from a trying night.
"Are you going to break the news to them?" Trying not to startle her companion completely, Catherine spoke quietly.
He was studying his menu with his normal intent expression. When he looked up, his eyes were serious and contemplative. His entire future depended on the opinions of Warrick, Nick, Sara, and Brass. "Yeah. It's probably best."
"Gil -"
The rest of the cavalry appeared and the conversation morphed into a teasing mundane repartee. Toward the end of the meal, everybody settled into various drinks: coffee, tea, orange juice, whatever the preference was. At this point, Grissom broke his news and outlined the few possibilities for the future.
Needless to say, the three younger CSI members and Brass were absolutely stunned. In the span of ten minutes, they went from knowing very little of Grissom's history to knowing a very intimate detail.
Sara, ever the observant one, looked questioningly at Catherine. "You're not as surprised as the rest of us. How long have you known?"
"Known that Gil was losing his hearing? Since earlier tonight."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." In other words, how long have you known that Grissom eventually would lose his hearing?
Grissom looked across the table at Catherine and briefly contemplated the various ways in which she could respond. Their relationship spanned much farther back than anybody actually knew. Knowing her, she would not lie but the question was a very heavy one.
Choosing another option, Catherine chose not to answer the pointed question. Instead she returned with, "What do you think he should do? It's up to you and the guys."
Oddly, Sara did not volunteer her opinion immediately, but the flash in her eyes told the older woman that she knew something was being hidden. The other three watched this exchange with unveiled interest until Catherine queried them.
Brass, having known and worked with Grissom and Catherine for a long time, already knew that he would support the permanent partnership of the two. He had observed their ability to run pathways over each other to challenge, to investigate, and to solve every case. They had a rapport born out of their long friendship, life experiences of both personal and professional matters, common goals, and differing interests, hobbies, and opinions. They worked extremely well together and had very few unsolved cases when they teamed up. He would miss their highly entertaining verbal sparring; so it was largely a personal and selfish reason that made him support Grissom's option of keeping his job.
Warrick did not know Grissom and Catherine as long as Brass did, but knew of their genuine concern for each other. It was a constant testament for him that good things existed in life. He needed the continuous reminder when he was surrounded by murder and mayhem. He respected each for their intelligence and ability to get the job done, especially with unreasonable deadlines looming. Yes, he agreed with Brass. The city of Las Vegas needed Grissom's experience. If the circumstances required that Catherine be permanently there to help him, so be it.
Nick was grateful when Grissom offered to intervene when Eckley assumed him to be the prime suspect in Kristy's murder case. He was just as grateful when Catherine took that job instead and Grissom had given her all the time to work on it. Nick was observant enough to know that their actions had saved the public reputation of the lab. However, he knew that neither Grissom nor Catherine had thought of that aspect first; they had only considered the repercussions to his career. Their generosity had prevented a cease of his career; his reputation was maintained. For this alone, he was willing to stand behind Grissom and Catherine. No other superiors would have done what they did without a second thought.
Sara blithely added that she now had something to do in all those hours between shifts; she could learn sign language. Truth be told, she highly respected both Grissom and Catherine. Their dedication to the job was truly inspirational, but they genuinely cared about bringing justice to each of their victims by acting as their voice. Their permanent partnership would allow each CSI member, obviously including herself, to learn and to experience in a far different manner. For a person who needed challenges - basically to feel alive - working with the two senior CSI members together meant every case became a battle of wits. She would take every opportunity to enjoy this.
***** ***** *****
Sara watched as Catherine and Grissom entered Catherine's car and drove off into the desert sunrise. She never did receive the answer to her question. It was highly intriguing to discover a deeper history between the enigmatic mystery called Grissom and the caring persona of Catherine. That is, beyond the usual that everybody knew. Slightly disconcerted that one riddle would remain unsolved, Sara started her car and left to pass the hours until the next graveyard shift of the CSI started.
***** ***** *****
The quiet feeling that always seems to permeate a cemetery was softly interrupted as two pairs of footfalls made their way between the stones. In the hush before the rest of the world awoke, the man kneeled at a simple headstone. He bowed his head and clasped his hands together to say a short prayer to the deceased before whom he kneeled. His companion watched; she was not surprised at his display of religion. She had witnessed it years ago when her friend still had a reason to believe in God.
Standing, Grissom asked, "Do you ever think of her, Cath?"
"Everyday." There was no way he could doubt her answer. It was so simply put.
"What do you miss the most about her?"
"The way she knew exactly how I was feeling." Catherine had been looking at the inscription on the headstone but shifted her gaze to ask her next question. "How about you?"
"I just miss her." He watched the grief subside in Catherine's eyes for a moment; he knew it still showed in his eyes. "I never thanked you for agreeing to permanently work with me."
"It's okay. I know you were. Besides, she would never leave me alone if I didn't do whatever I could to help you. I owe you a lot anyway. "
"At any rate, thank you."
In response, Catherine enveloped Gil in a hug that showed a fifteen year friendship of shared pain and joy and told of a commitment to continue as they always had.
Breaking apart, Catherine spoke lightly to ease Gil of the still lingering grief. "Lindsey asked about her the other day."
"Really?"
"Yeah. For an assignment. She has to write a paper on a courageous woman. She chose her."
"She was brave."
"That she was. Come on; let's go home. You can read Lindsey's paper before she submits it. She's waiting for us."
***** ***** *****
Lindsey Willows Assignment: Courageous Woman Essay
Grandma G is not really my grandmother; but she is the closest thing I have to one. I have chosen to write about her because she was deaf and was still able to communicate and live in the world. She was courageous because she never let her disability deter her from living. I admire her and I love her. Most of all, I wish that she was still alive so I can thank her for the impact she has had on my life.
Grandma G was the mother of my mother's closest friend. My mother and Grandma G met when Mom was a college student. Grandma G's son, Gil, had two jobs so that he could give her the best care possible, but he did not want to leave her with a total stranger when he could not be there. Since college students always need money, he offered Mom a job to care for her. This benefited everybody because Gil trusted Mom and Mom was not a complete stranger to Grandma G.
While Gil worked during the day, Mom would study for her courses and care for Grandma G. Needless to say, they became fast friends since Grandma G fondly remembered the days when Gil was still in school. Some days, instead of studying, Mom and Grandma G would talk. Since Grandma G was deaf, she used sign language and Mom became very fluent in using it. Mom would say that the quiet hours with Grandma G were gifts for which she would trade almost anything.
During this time, I was born and Mom would bring me to Grandma G's house. Some of my first memories are of Mom and Grandma G together. Then Grandma G died and left a big hole in Mom's and Gil's heart. Of course, I know today that she did the same to me, but I was still a baby. As I grew older, I learned sign language from Mom; she wanted to honor Grandma G's memory. Eventually, it became a coping technique during my parents' divorce.
I want to thank Grandma G for being in my life; I feel like a better person for it, even though I was extremely young. She taught Mom how to sign who, in turn, taught me. I know that Mom and I have a unique and special relationship because of it. Although she was disabled, she never let that be a reason to stop caring about the people in her life. If the rest of the world used her as an example, I know that jobs like my mother's would not be necessary.