A Case of You

Disclaimer: Title is by Joni Mitchell and part of the plot and some of the lines overlap with her song by the same title. CSI and CSI characters belong to CBS et al. The actual story and the idea behind it are mine. However, I’m not going to copyright any part of the story or make any money from it.

PART 1
The bar is dark and I use the blue light of the mute TV to sketch by. The back of a coaster is rapidly becoming filled with small reproductions of you. The black ink scratching the lines of your face on the soft off-white cardboard. I carefully keep my canvas from becoming soggy on the sticky, wet bar. This isn’t the nicest bar I’ve ever been in but it’s quiet and quiet is something I crave right now. No people. No people to bother me. No people to keep my front up for. Of course no people also means no you.

We were becoming friends and it had felt good. So good. Maybe a little too good. I tried not to let it show. I tried to let you set the pace, you were the one after all who had once intimated we weren’t going to be friends. I tried to give you space. But apparently, I have failed. Or maybe it’s something else. Who knows?

First came the sms: ‘Sorry can’t make it cul8’.
Second, the incredulous look as answer to my question accompanied by an indignant: ‘That’s private, Sara.’
Third: the ‘no’ to my breakfast invitation. You didn’t even look up.
Fourth on the list: we were back to square one, cold shoulders, bitchy remarks and all.
Fifth: the built-up hope leaves biting tears in my throat every time you’re near.
And finally, I’m here: shifting through the images of what happened in my head and drawing you on a cartoon coaster.

The bartender walks over and puts another beer in front of me. ‘Shift change,’ he says, ‘I’d like to settle up.’ I’m never quite sure whether they do that to get their tip or for some administrative reason, but I pay my three beers and tip him. Then I go back to my sketching. Music plays softly in the background; Joni Mitchell singing Big Yellow Taxi. The irony scrapes along my raw nerve endings bringing tears to my eyes. I blink them away.

‘You want some fresh ones?’ the new bartender asks. She cleanses and carefully dries the bar around the spot where I’m working, before taking a couple new coasters from a stack behind the bar and placing them next to my hand. I look up to thank her for her thoughtfulness, but freeze. She’s studying my drawings upside down intently, picking up the coaster she turns it around and holds it closer.
What truly catches my attention though is her mouth. She has a mouth like yours. Your lips always seem a little crooked when you smile. I used to think it was caused by an accident or something, but now I’m not sure. It could be a complete fluke or perhaps if you two were standing close the similarity would prove to be caused by my imagination.

I hold out my hand without saying a word. I want to, but know that anything I say right now would make this into a big thing and I still hold out hope that the situation will dissolve into nothing.
She hands it back to me. ‘These are good.’ Her eyes bore into mine. ‘You must care for her.’ Casually she wipes the rest of the bar, washes some glasses. ‘What’s your name sug?’ she asks with barely a glance my way.
I have to swallow before I can answer, apprehension tingling in my throat, ‘Sara.’

‘She’s told me about you.’

Blood roars in my ears as it rushes to my face, my heart sinks into my stomach pounding wildly. I’m shocked, I’m stunned, and my eyes water with the force of the blow.

‘You work together right?’ the woman continues. When she doesn’t get an answer, she looks up, comes closer and as she notices the slowly dropping tears concern fills her eyes. ‘What’s wrong? Did something happen?’

I manage a shrug, but this obviously doesn’t appease her.

‘Is Cath alright?’

‘Yeah,’ I croak. ‘Yeah, she’s fine.’

‘Did you have a fight with her?’

Your facial similarity is clearly no fluke. This must be your sister. ‘I have to go,’ I mumble sliding of the barstool. Fishing in my jeans pocket for some money, I drop a five in front of her and reach for my coaster.

She’s quicker though and captures it between her hand and the bar. ‘You’ve paid already,’ she tells me calmly. ‘Sit down, let me buy you a drink.’ She pours a beer with one hand, it’s a bit sloppy, and sets it in front of me. I hesitate. ‘I’m not my sister, but I do know her well,’ she tries to tempt me. It works, I sit back down. Offering me her hand, she releases the coaster. ‘Nancy.’

‘Hi.’

She tells me about you, about herself and listens as I tell her about you, about me. She knows how to win my trust. Although I’ll probably regret my honesty with her by nightfall, it is not just induced by the alcohol. I’m a little fuzzy around the edges as I look into my fifth empty glass contemplating you. ‘She has such fire, but it’s contained you know, at least… mostly.’ I fall silent as I remember the times when it wasn’t contained, when you lashed out, when you burned me.

‘Well,’ Nancy starts to say. But I go on with my own train of thought, reluctant to have it interrupted.

‘It’s what I like about her, she doesn’t seem afraid.’

Nancy snorts. ‘Sara, two things:’ she waits until I look up. ‘Two things, one: if you like the fire, you’ll have to decide whether you want to be close or look on from a safe distance. Because if you’re close, you’ll get burned. It’s the nature of the beast. Secondly: Cath is plenty scared. But she hates it, so she’ll ignore it best she can.’

She turns around, starts making a fresh pot of coffee, and puts on the kettle preparing tea. What she said makes sense. Do I want to risk getting burned? Because I will. One thing I can say about you with certainty, once I’m in, I’ll be in. You’re loyal to a fault. That’s worth getting burned for, that’s worth staying for. The question though is ‘how do I get in?’

Nancy puts a large mug of tea in front of me. ‘Drink your tea, you should go to bed.’

She’s caring without being soft or condescending, making it easier to accept, her perceptiveness warming a part of me that the tea never could. It’s been a while since someone has been this nice to me without wanting something in return besides some basic politeness. I smile my thanks shyly.

‘You mean in with Catherine?’ Nancy says referring to my question.

I shrug, suddenly embarrassed.

‘The only advice I can give you is: go to her, stick with her. If she doesn’t want you there, she’ll tell you to get lost. If you back off every time she bitches, you might as well quit now; you won’t get in anyway.’

As I get up to leave a little while later, I hesitate but decide to leave the drawing. I don’t need it. I don’t need the mute testimony to my apathetic attitude. I’m going to get up in your face and stay with you until you explicitly tell me to piss off.

Nancy picks up the coaster and studies it again. ‘You love her, don’t you?’

I can feel my cheeks heat.

She looks up at me and gives me a little smile. Again I’m struck by the odd similarity. Aside from your mouths, you two actually look quite different. Nancy is a little fuller, a little softer around the edges, rich dark hair framing her face. Beautiful without the hint of wildness that makes you so alluring.

‘That might just be what has her scared,’ she says, her head tilted speculatively. ‘Sara, if you have the guts, if you think she’s worth it? Let her tell you differently.’

Lyrics to A Case of You
Lyrics to Big Yellow Taxi

Part Two: Say What You Want