Moira

Anna Stern reflects in short stories the way things happened. (Seth/Summer, Seth/Anna)

Rating: M- merciless usage of the "F" word. MUHAHA Kidding? I think some profanity and EXTREMELY slight sexuality. I'm not sure. This new rating system scares the fack outta me.

Author's Note: This Story kind of came to me, forgive me for it's 1:11 AM and I'm exhausted. This story came to me as I was contemplating some of my own teenage drama, amd was like whoaaa. I've never done Anna viewed and centered story, I know this sounds a littlecocky but I'm more of a Summer girl, I can relate to her in an almost scary way. So read it, see what has happened. Maybe I've gone completley insane. The story is told in short stories and memories. It is a blurry vision of someone recollecting. Reviews would be so lovely.

October 23rd 2009

Rain collects a little bit outside the window. It's raining, again. The puddles collecting along the window ledge and the beads running down in messy streaks down the cold glass. I'm sitting on the couch, the lights are all out, but the grey light peaks through the open window. Today is October 23rd 2009. It is 4:41 P.M. I sit on the white couch, barefoot, half waiting for him. Half knowing today he won't come home.

My life, contrary to popular belief or to the outsiders who may look at this, is not depressing. I have no sudden urge to shove a bottle of pills down my throat; I have no deep desire to cut my wrists in the bathtub and watch beautiful pigments of paint like blood float against the antique pearl-rimmed 4,000 dollar edges. But maybe that isn't my style. My skin looks pale against the white cloth, my toenails curl up against myself, trying to find a little bit of warmth.

This apartment is freezing. And that, this, is my life. Somewhere in-between an array of insignificant details, haunted by one not so insignificant event.

Today, October 23rd, 2009 at 10:43 P.M. She died.

You might be thinking, well fuck, get the hell out. That's what most people think. They walk in and think what a sad girl, woman, I am. I've never been one to really care what people think. Caught up in what people's opinions of me has never been my scene. When I met him again, I thought it was fate. I was completely convinced, this was destiny. My hair was longer, dyed a little darker, he almost didn't recognize me.

Wearing white slacks and caring coffee on that fall morning I'd recognized him in two million and one places, there was no where I wouldn't of. Insignificantly. Insignificantly, my hair was long. Significantly, his eyes were. Broken. The Seth Cohen freshness I'd loved so much, that sparkle, and innocence he kept in his eyes was completely gone. I'd never of dreamed of seeing him here, but then again I'd always dreamed of it. But the boy almost passing me, with the exact same curly hair falling into his eyes, was a boy who might still have matched his driver's license photo perfectly, but everything else was completely different. I'd said his name of course. I still wonder what would've happened if I'd let him pass.

If I'd just kept on walking, and let him not notice me...

I guess I'll never know.

A Little Story About Fall

That fall turned into an endless puzzle. Like jagged pieces, that didn't quite fit together. Still I wouldn't give it up. We went to get coffee. We walked up and down the grey sidewalks of Boston and wore scarves. It was familiar to him, and sometimes I swore I heard him laugh eerily similar to meaning it.

We sat in old ice cream parlors and ordered hot fudge sundaes at the first signs of cold, and ran in the park as the first snow fell on the browned grass and naked trees.

Did he tell me? Of course he did. He told me an uncomfortable amount of time. The exact details, I will never know. His details, I know word for words. Sentence for sentence. And yes, we did have sex. Finally. The "chemistry" Seth and I longed for in our relationship did hit it's high points. We were sickeningly adorable.

He laughed again.

He smiled. Witty words started to spill out of hit tongue again. We did things like build snowmen.

Seth did tell me he loved me. We moved in together and did things people in love do. We ate Sunday morning breakfasts, and stayed in and watched The Goonies. We got our own Christmas tree, and I told him, that we didn't have to go back for Christmas. That maybe, it would be too much. I was every bit as supporting as anyone could ever dream of me being.

And One About Summer

No Summer Roberts did not commit suicide. She did not die of some tragic heartfelt long becoming cancer that slowly overtook her while everyone helplessly watched. She did not overdose on drugs, or choke on her own puke at a raging house party, laying helplessly on the floor for hours.

She died like 23,000 other teenagers did every year. She was turning the corner, on her way to home from having dinner with the Cohens, and as she entered the freeway a truck turned her way without looking. Her car was hit it straight on. She was rushed to the hospital with internal bleeding, and massive trauma. She died 3 hours later.

I never asked Seth what he said to her in the hospital, because he did get to.

She was dying, and there was nothing they could do. To be really honest, I never wanted to know. I guess the answer is in why he moved as far away as he could from home as he could the next fall.

That answer, kind of, breaks me everyday.

We got married. July 21st, 2009. He proposed in the park, after we were walking back from class. I was the only one. The ring on my finger was proof. It became almost a constant battle. I, was fighting for Seth against the girl I'd always fought for him against. But somehow, I knew I was losing. It wasn't like this in the beginning.

My paranoia didn't get the best of me then. It was like the broken part of Seth had become me. There were two sides of me now. Pre- After Summer-Seth-Anna still had the old Seth's ideals, naivety and innocence. This was poisoning me.

The stories here become short. They aren't ones I play in my head. They mostly end with me and without substance. We moved to Seattle last spring, after we both graduated. As I sat on the floor unpacking. I came across an unfamiliar grey striped box. It was untouched and still taped up from what looked to be like forever ago, a little dusty even.

Jabbing my scissors into it I found the story that would forever hang unfinished. I put my fingers on it, delicately. My heart caught in my throat. Everything seemed to almost stop.

Silky and fresh, not worn and new, was Summer's wedding dress.

I never told you Seth and Summer were supposed to get married?

Oh well, they were.

After high school. He had proposed that September when the prospect of not being separated for college came up. They were going to live together in San Francisco. It was going to be a late summer wedding. I even got an invitation. I am everything she was supposed to be, but so much less.

So, so, much less.

InDreams

I sit here on October 23rd the day that will never go unlooked as long as I live this life. My toes curl against the couch and I wait for Seth to come home. It's raining hard now.

I do not need your sympathy.

Do not feel sorry for me..

This story is mine, and mine alone. I'm sharing it with you because I can, because I should.

The end doesn't end with me crying alone in the kitchen or running away from home. Because I am home, loving Seth is all I can really do. I am caught in the web that chose to catch me, that I chose to be tangled up in. I alone am responsible for my fate. This fate.

When he comes home, I will let him be with her for awhile. He may never say goodbye. I will never give up on him though. Because this may not be the way it was supposed to be, but it is the way it is.