Sara looked over the list in her hands and tried to remember if she’d forgotten anything. She trotted through the house and at her side, Dante accompanied her from room to room. Sara spoke out loud, trying to stay organized; Grissom teased her about her habit of doing a walkthrough every time she made a list but she liked the kinesthetics of it. “Okay, for the living room, carpet deodorizer, Kleenex, furniture polish and Windex—“ she looked with good-humored frustration at the wavy streaks along the bottom of the windows then glanced at Dante, who wagged his tail. “I wish we could teach you to wipe off your nose smears. I thought it was bad when it was just Fig smudging up the glass, but I was wrong.”

Her tone was gentle, and Dante wagged his tail harder, pleased at the sound of it. He’d done a lot of growing in the past five months and had filled out to be a beautiful, albeit slightly clumsy dog. Sara continued, moving into the hallway and heading for the bathroom, still talking to herself. “ . . . Next room-- toilet paper, more Pepto Bismol since I used up the last of it, bar soap, disposable razors, toothpaste, tampons—“

She stopped so suddenly that Dante bumped into her and snuffled a little. Sara tried again. “Tampons . . .” Her steps quickening once more she stepped into the bathroom and reached for the mirrored cabinet, pulling it open. The unopened box of Playtex sat there on the top shelf. Sara bit her lip and slowly closed the door; Dante circled around her, sensing a change in mood. Sara looked at herself in the mirror, then shook her head slowly.

Sara moved out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice now, a timbre higher than her usual one. “Swiffers, cough drops, Imitrex—“ Giving up, she sighed and dropped herself onto the bed, flopping down on her back and letting her head hang over the end. Dante circled around the bed and quickly began licking her ear; she pushed him away gently, smiling at the tickle even though her thoughts were far away. Figaro, who was curled on the pillows, looked up disapprovingly at the disturber of his sleep. Sara closed her eyes for a moment, then rolled over onto her stomach.

“Tampons.”

Dante whined softly, and looked at Sara longingly. He knew he wasn’t allowed on the bed, but there was something about her voice that bothered him. He carefully put his paws up and looked at her, waiting for the ‘no’.

She patted the spread; swiftly Dante scrambled up and stretched out next to Sara, moving as close as he could. She stroked his head for a moment, then felt the press of Figaro on the other side of her, curling up there. For a moment Sara felt almost overwhelmed by the simple comfort of being between the two of them. She let herself feel the sweet wordless support and gradually she sat up to pet them both.

Figaro purred, his loud motorboat sound steady and soothing. Dante, still delighted at the forbidden thrill of being on the bed let his tail thump gently, but kept very very still, his nose snuffling a little every now and then. Sara drew in a deep breath. “New item on the list, guys. I’m trusting you not to mention anything to Grissom until I’m sure. Are we good on that?”

Dante lifted his head and thrust his muzzle into Sara’s hand while Figaro yawned elaborately, showing off his little white fangs and raspy tongue. Sara climbed off the bed and steeled herself for shopping at Corti brothers.

*** *** ***

It took forever. She drank an entire bottled water in the car, and had made it a point to buy another one for the trip home; even so, her bladder stubbornly refused to fill. Sara shopped, filling her cart up as she cruised the aisles, deliberately NOT thinking about it.

That was hard to do. Impatiently she scooted down the detergent aisle, back up the soup and rice aisle and moved along the one filled with shampoo and conditioners. Near the end she slowed down, looking at the feminine products for a moment, then began to study the boxes next to them. So many choices—some with a single, some with two, most promising a 99% accuracy if used correctly and all of them more expensive than Sara realized. She hesitated, then picked up one of the brands she recognized, one with two, justifying her selection with the thought that Grissom would appreciate her thoroughness.

As she passed the stomach remedies, particularly the bottles of bright pink, Sara felt a new sense of queasiness, remembering her upset stomach. It had begun bothering her about three weeks after her she’d gotten that horrible cold and curled up for three days with the heating pad and box of Kleenex. In hindsight, the timing didn’t seem coincidental now. Light-headed, Sara scooped up a single bottle and pushed on, suddenly feeling a little pressure on her bladder, among other places. She made her way through the checkout, loaded the groceries in the car and drove home, still working hard on not thinking about IT, which now had capital letters in her mind.

Even though she had to go to the bathroom pretty badly by the time she reached home, Sara deliberately put the groceries away first, with Dante lounging in the kitchen keeping an eye on her. When nothing more needed to be shelved, stored or unpacked, she finally picked up the rectangular box from the table, turning it over in her hand and slowly peeling the cellophane off of it.

“I guess it’s time, huh?” she mentioned to the dog.

The problem started when she reached the bathroom and Dante slithered in determinedly. Sara looked at him, and then glanced at the sink; Figaro was sitting on the rim of the sink, trying to smack the drips from the faucet with his paw. She gave a frustrated sigh, shifting the box from one hand to the other. “No. Guys--outside, both of you. This is a very private moment for me, and although I’ve occasionally allowed you to be in here, this is NOT one of those times.”

Both animals ignored her.

Dante set his front paws up on the sink and snuffled at Figaro, who reluctantly moved over, walking gracefully around the rim of the sink. Sara scooped him up so quickly he gave an annoyed ‘Mrrrrup?’ and at the same time she hooked two fingers under Dante’s collar. “Out—“

Lightly but firmly she herded them out and closed the door, ignoring Dante’s soft whine. Sara pressed her back to the door, sighed, and then moved to wash her hands and determine her fate.

Five minutes later Sara opened the bathroom door. Dante rose to his feet, shoving his nose under her hand, his tail wagging furiously. Absently Sara petted him, and moved down the hall into the living room, automatically sitting on the sofa there, staring at nothing.

When Figaro trotted in and leaped up to settle on her lap, she did nothing.

When Dante lay down not at, but ON her feet, she did nothing.

The three of them stayed that way for a long time, and Sara gradually became hyperaware of the moment. Of Dante’s soft breathing, and Figaro’s comforting weight; of the sense of being alive, with two other living things within reach; of fragile tender life going on around her, next to her, over her and in her.

Finally Sara sighed, and at the sound of it, both Figaro and Dante looked up at her expectantly. She flashed her gap toothed grin at them both, reaching a hand to each and petting them.

“Thanks guys. Needed that.”

Figaro stretched out his chin, eyes closed. Dante gave Sara his soulful look of pure love.

Outside she heard the steady footsteps of Grissom coming back from his trip to the courthouse, and carefully Sara rose, feeling a sweet, scary fluttering all through her stomach. She pressed a hand there, then looked up as he came in the door.

“Sara?” he asked, catching her odd expression, the hand on her stomach.

She grinned more widely.

END