Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, except the cheesy bits.
Author's Note: Okay so me watching Euro '04 diligently didn't help the Dutch team much, (wave to my fellow Dutchie out there), but I guess Greece deserved to win. And aww, who felt bad for the Portuguese when they started to cry? Anyway, back to the OC. Sorry for the long wait but my computer ate half of Ch 16 and I was in mourning. You all blow me away with the reviews you leave. I'm getting spoiled here. Oh and Anna, I am officially a David Gray fan, thanks! I'm leaving for London next week so I'll try to get Ch 17 with you by then. Enjoy this, I think the length kind of makes up for the wait…or at least I hope so. Leave me a review if you like. (wow I've tried to upload this 3 times now, let's hope I'm lucky this time)
Lost In Babylon
Ch 16
Don't push me cause I'll fall in love
With whatever you just said
Don't push me cause I'll fall in love
With the way you wear your head
I'd like to say goodbye
To a complicated mind
But when I walk and wave
I'm stalked all day
By California lives
And things I didn't try
Ways you were unkind
And the strangest colored eyes
Nada Surf – The Way You Wear Your Head
A series of loud abrasive knocks wake me out of a distressed uncomfortable slumber and for a few frightening seconds I'm confused by my surroundings. I shut my eyes again for a moment as I start to slowly come out of my haze, and realize that hours must have gone by since it's so light in here. I had propped myself rather inelegantly up against the edge of the bathtub, and had somehow managed to fall asleep in this most painful position. I rub my neck a little in vain, and push my hair out of my face. What had I been doing here again? I glance around and see the small books discarded at the other side of this little space. I don't have time to let things settle down in my mind, because I'm instantly reminded that there's someone in the other room very eager to come in. Another few hard knocks on the bathroom door, followed by a frantic cry by a very distraught sounding Marian, and I can't help but cringe at the desperation in her voice, "Miss Roberts? Are you in there? Are you alright? Miss Roberts, if you are there, answer me!" She tries for command but the woman is failing miserably on all fronts. Losing a patient twice in less than a week isn't something that leaves a good impression, and from the way her voice is going squeaky I imagine she is thinking the exact thing.
"It's Mrs. Cohen." I croak too softly for her to have heard me, as I manage to scramble up to my feet and pick up the books. "Oh God," I hear her mutter a few curses that I can't make out and decide it's time to put her out of her misery. I unlock the door and am almost knocked over when she pushes it back hard. "Woah, what are you trying to do, break down the door?" I try not to smirk but it's so hard not to what with this woman looking like she's about to burst into flames. Little beads of sweat pop up above her top lip and forehead and just the sight of her exhausts me. Her sickly green eyes flick over me, and finally rest a little too long for comfort on my hands…No, I didn't slit my wrists, I want to hiss at her, maybe later. And I really wish I didn't deeply mean that. I swallow my nausea and somehow manage to suppress the need to be cruel to this woman. I can just imagine the look of disgust and shock it would've gotten me though, and that's enough to satisfy for now.
"What were you doing in here? Why weren't you answering me?" She seems to ask a billion more questions, as her face flushes to an unflattering shade of red, and it doesn't matter since I've already shut her out. I don't like her tone, and from what I can tell she doesn't like any aspect of me so we're even in a way. We're locked in some sort of pathetic stare-down and my bolder bits kick in. "Isn't that a little private to be asking, we've only known each other a day." I lick my lips, and smack them together for good measure. I do not like you, nor will I ever. But I don't say that out loud because I'd like to think I'm better than some things. I want to push her out of my way and leave her standing like that…mouth agape and foolishly red in her face. But I don't, I feel cavernous, hungry for her humiliation. Defiance is my game today, people should know better than to mess with me when I haven't had a wink of sleep.
Marian opens her mouth to speak but reconsiders, and a smooth flush of triumph courses through my veins. She kind of looks me up and down, and pushes back a strand of hair into her stern looking ponytail. "I don't have time for this, Mr. Cohen has sent for you."
I try not to react but my heart pounds so hard and loud, I think I might go deaf from the sound. I don't want to think about what I read…what I tried to understand but this irritating woman is picking at my sore spots.
I coil my shaky fingers around the frilly fabric at the bottom of nightshirt, I go on until they ache, until I feel less cowardly…less furious with this woman smirking at me as she notices my new-found uncomfortable state. "He said to come now?" At the last word my voice does this ugly squeaky thing and I wish I could be snarky again. I wish I could be cruel. Power switches sides again, and I feel betrayed. She nods, trying to hide the glee behind her sharp cold smile. I glare at her, my eyes seething at her to shut up…but rationally I know she isn't speaking really, it's my damn paranoia again and perhaps this is me paying for making her twist in the wind.
Her lips quirk into a full out vile smile, "You have to get dressed, there's company today." I am certain my face has turned to a nauseous shade of green, and fear makes me break into a cold sweat. I can tell she's relishing this but I don't speak or move… "Who?" I hear myself whisper meekly and Marian's grin broadens considerably. Thoughts race through my head, images of all those faceless people I've been dreading to meet…and I think of Seth's grandfather, the man who can afford to give people as gifts. And I wonder how he manages to get away with that, how no one even dares to blink at the cruelty of it. Or, and I hold my breath a little, bushy brows come to mind, and I can't decide if I'm thinking of the old man, or…Van Dale wouldn't come, would he? I'm not sure how I feel about any of this, but what's new there?
"She's eager to see you. She's missed you so much, Summer. She wants to say goodbye, properly." I look up at Marian again, who is openly staring at me, no amusement in her eyes any longer. "What did you say?" I snap, too cold, too sharp to brush it off with a laugh. And Marian seems genuinely surprised. I know my fear is showing, but it's hard to hide something that overwhelming.
"Nothing Summer, I didn't say anything." And straight away my ears buzz when she says this, because I know she isn't lying. I know I'm a little loose in my head, I can feel the difference, ever since I read those fragments of my childhood. "I told you what Mr. Cohen told me, that there will be company, I don't know who it is either." Marian can't help herself, the overt pity in her eyes is confirming how insane I really am. And here I thought I wasn't that bad.
Her nurse instincts kick in, because she takes me by the arm, and sits me down ever so gently.
"You didn't mention her?" I try a little more miserable than I had hoped for. Marian shakes her head, not asking who her is, as she morphs into this mute whitecoat. My eyes burn with tears, but I can't seem to weep any more. "You look so pale," and I just look at her when she says this, how is she helping me by saying that? No soothing words from this one, I think oddly when she grows quiet again, and I can't stop myself from wondering if I had imagined the whole conversation. All the malicious looks, the pounding on the bathroom door…the books. I glance down at my hands, and yes there they are, held tight between my pale fingers, all tattered and heavy and so damn haunting.
Her fingers brush along my wrist, pausing at the pulse for a long time and I just won't stop shaking. "Summer, what's wrong? Why are you so upset?" God, I so badly want to confide in her, to rest my head in her lap and tell her that I wish…I wish…
"Yes I'm fine." I manage to push out, and cling a little harder to my diaries when my insides squiggle around relentlessly. My lie feels like a big painful lump in my throat and I try to swallow it away. I try to make myself buy into it. But it's too late, as I can see her sliding away from me, to her supplies most likely. I want to know what my wishes are, I think silently, but nothing on this earth could make me say that aloud. Her needle passes into my skin, flushing all thoughts from me for a moment. I know it won't take long until the blankness will be a little more permanent, comfortingly steady and hard inside my chest, and frankly I am ready for the minute the meds truly kick in. I place my books underneath my pillow and make my way down the winding steps.
"Husband!" I call out, giddy cause I know Marian has taken care of the gloom that loomed over my head. Or at least it will be taken care of, and my arm throbs slightly from where the needle sank into me. "Where are you hiding?" I am nearly skipping, which frightens me on some level because I know I am lying again. If I fake it hard enough, maybe it will stick. I smile to no one and turn into the living room, when my stomach flops at the sight of someone else beside my curly boy. He looks pained, or pissed off, and I almost want to call out to Marian to give him a shot as well.
"Hey", Seth mouths as he moves towards me, protectively shielding me from the stranger's view. Or the stranger from mine, I don't have time to process anything, because he's looking at me so desperately. His hands smooth along my arms and rest on my shoulders, "I need a minute here, maybe you could get a cup of tea in the kitchen." I want to nod but all I give him is this look I learned from Ryan, the one with the endless questions in it. He sighs, weary because he thought I'd be easy. But he knows me, so why would he ever think that? Right? My fake smile is sliding off of me and I don't feel the lust to put it back on.
"Sum," a woman purrs uncertainly, and I want to see this person but Seth just won't budge. I growl fiercely, like a caged tiger and push him away from me. My eyes won't focus, and it's the diaries all over again. Self protection perhaps, but this lady seems without definition, watery blurry lines that make my stomach twist, that is…until she speaks again, and I know her voice, I know her face as the lines push back into place again. I know her.
I look back at Seth, and he is looking dreadful again, somewhere in between rage and despair. "Don't do this!" He threatens her, but the woman is bold, fearless while my curly boy looks on helplessly. And I am clueless until she is standing a foot from me. "Sweetie, it's been too long." Her raven eyes blink with kindness but I can't feel it, and when she has the audacity to tuck a bit of hair behind my ear all I want to do is smack her. Seth says something snide to her, almost spitting it at her, and the lady recoils a little. Perhaps he told her not to touch me anymore, and I couldn't agree more. I feel too feeble to do anything though, and lean a little into his frame. He continues undeterred, "She's my wife, and I can see this isn't helping her, so you need to leave right this minute. And don't ever think of coming to our house uninvited or I'll be sure the judge hears about it."
He isn't sparing me a look though, and I know somewhere in the rational bits of me that he wouldn't be so strong if he saw the state I was in. And as if smelling fear in the air, something feline and predatory takes over her fine features, "I'm still her mother!" Her voice roars with something akin to pride, too inexplicable to me. What's there to be proud of here? I grit my teeth against the nausea, cause I knew that…I knew, in some way. Things have a way of falling apart, one grain of information feels like an avalanche and suffocation seems inescapable. And I never knew that one person could have a dozen avalanches thunder down upon them in a lifetime, I never knew I was that unlucky. I scoff, too silent to be picked up by either one of them, and I'm lying again. I did know.
It's as if time swipes past me and I am left feeling suspended when Seth moves beside me again. His hand drying my tearstained face, he's pressed me to him as his body cushions the convulsions of mine. I feel sick from the speed and slowness of the moment, and the urge to throw up all over her shiny shoes races through my fuzzy head. She's speaking but I can't hear her, I refuse to. I reject her entirely, like she did to me. I just look at Seth, into his eyes and they seem way too dark. What's wrong, I want to ask, I want to soothe but I am dizzy. I realize in an offhand manner that my pulse is breaking records, and the air won't find its way into my lungs. It's too light in my head, too airy somehow; maybe those desperate gulps of air took a wrong turn and landed there.
"What's wrong with her?" I can hear her ask him, disgust makes her scrunch up her nose and I can hear her. Doesn't she realize I can hear her? Why does it hurt me so and I want to rage at her, I want to rage so badly but nothing will come out. "Where's her nurse? God, how could you ever think you could take care of her. You can't, you never could!" And she's yelling at my boy, and I feel too dizzy to do anything about it. I see Marian brush past, I see her become bigger, fitting better into her uniform in a way as she tells everyone off for upsetting her poor crazy patient. Her eyes seem kinder to me now, maybe my gratitude is making them seem milder, but it's like they are offering some sense in their bold color…and maybe if I'm lucky it'll rub off on me. I feel like I'm gliding now, not moving really but rather being pushed away from the action. Finally I'm still, and I allow my nails to dig into the smooth fabric of the couch.
Closing my eyes, a sharp memory of the old man rattles my head. I try to soothe the savage, smooth out the jagged edges of myself. In a way it feels like being back in the Doc's office, trying not to notice things so blindly obvious even to a fool like me. I used to avoid his eyes, ignore the clicking sound of his eager pen being tapped on his oak desk. And as the sound would stifle the little space we sat in every day, I'd just close my eyes and imagine a kinder version of Van Dale. One that wouldn't push me, one that would give out kind smiles like candy and make me feel like it wasn't the end of the world if I didn't say anything at all. But even in my imagination the man was unbelievably irksome in his persistence. Even now I could hear his droning voice, telling me to remember to breathe, commanding me to open my eyes and watch the scene unfold in front of the doorway.
He told me once that people leave because they fear the idea of failure, the probability of pain. We are all like animals, sniffing the air and bolting at the first sign of trouble. I'd meekly answered that I get scared sometimes too, and he'd given me a grave look, discerning something but not allowing me the pleasure of being in on it. Maybe he could tell that sometimes was a lie, that I felt lonely in this place and had no way of ending it. When I thought about it more and more, I guess the Doctor was claiming that I wasn't the only coward alive. That in fact we all were trembling masses of madness. The thought sends flares up inside me, angry bursts of light that make me react fierce to the old man's claims. We couldn't all be shattered, because how would we ever get by? Because I know men, two in fact, who redeem the lot of us, fish us out of whatever hole we try to crawl into.
Marian taps my shoulder lightly, and I think I might have fallen asleep. "Do you need to talk?" Seth walks up behind her, blinking his sad eyes at me, and my nurse gets a little fidgety. I wish I had stayed awake for the show, from the flush on her cheeks she must've given one hell of a show. Embarrassed she says, "Should I call Dr. Van Dale?" Seth shakes his head. Good, I think, but I don't know how certain I am about that sentiment really. I wait till the awkward Marian leaves the room, and turn my attention to my husband.
"Was that…" I want to ask if that was my guest, if he did that on purpose, but it doesn't make sense. I start over, not liking the accusation in that sentence. "You didn't invite her, did you?" But this one doesn't seem any better, from the look on his face anyway. I want to stop asking obvious questions, but sometimes obvious is as blurry as the rest of the shit. He hesitates too long, then gives a forceful shake of his head. His lips are pressed too tightly together, an unflattering look for such a beautiful man. I frown a little, "I read about her in my diary." Seth looks guilty, but I press on. "I don't remember when she left. Tell me." It isn't a request, but he doesn't mind my rude streak. I have every right.
"Your parents divorced when you were in middle school, I don't know exactly when. It's the Newport way to keep these things uhm… behind closed doors for as long as possible. I think you told me once that your mom had left the house a year before that. I don't know Summer, you never wanted to talk about her." I can't stop mulling over the word divorce, he said that before, yesterday… I recognize the nauseous feeling that is catching me off guard now. "I can't blame you though," he smiles, confident in his caring which gives me this funny tossing feeling low down in my belly. "I think loved her a lot." I declare, as a distorted kind of slideshow of memories goes off in my brain, I think I did…I know I did. "But it was just too hard for her." My sweet curly boy looks peeved, one step removed from rolling his eyes at me. I choose to ignore it, it's an art form I possess.
"You don't like her very much, do you?" I get to up to my feet as I say this. I want to touch him, and smooth my hands along his chest, drum my fingers against it in a soft little melody. Meeting his eyes, I try to focus on how luminous they get when he concentrates them on me. It's such a light feeling, one I cling to more than I would ever like to admit to. Seth purses his lips against my forehead, barely a kiss really but it makes me calmer nonetheless.
"I don't like anyone that hurts you." I nod, what do you say to that? My heart snags right away, perhaps he wouldn't like me very much either if he knew half the things I think of doing to myself.
His long fingers rub my knotted neck, and I know I love this man. I am allowing myself to rely on him to not be like the rest of us fearful runners, the one who are too pathetic to check out the danger. "Big bad Cohen," I mumble before kissing his cheek, but he doesn't hear me.
My delicate slayer of haunting parents, of grey and grizzly Doctors, of the whitest of whitecoats. My curly haired dragonslayer with the sad eyes, Seth whispers his adoration into my hair, and I smile up at him. His eyes look a little less tormented and I'd like to think that was my doing. I sweep my mouth over his, realizing I hadn't greeted him properly, hadn't thanked him properly for slaying for me yet again. Our eyes lock again, and this time they glow for me.