A/N: Hmmm….have had serious writer's block and also a heap of exams, remember that us folks down here in the Southern Hemisphere still have half a semester left of the uni year, while the rest of you Northern Hemisphere people have just started!
Not entirely sure that I'm happy with this chapter but after such bad writer's block I'm happy to post anything. Hopefully this chapter captured the mood I'm trying to create, sort of an awkward, unsure and unfamiliar sense for the Cohen Clan. Must state also that this chapter starts at the end of the day and it's Seth looking back at the day. I think the editing of this chapter may be awful as well, please forgive spelling and grammatical errors but I felt like my brain has melted after these past couple of weeks.
Also, there are two sets of lines from two of my favourite movies. A billion hugs and kisses for the first person to find them both.
Chapter Four
"Our son just called me a bitch."
Seth folded down his book and looked his wife over. "You're not a bitch. You're bitchin', but you're not a bitch."
Summer laughed.
Newport was ultimate Groundhog Day; Bill Murray could be seen lurking around the beaches, humming Sonny and Cher songs to himself. Nothing had changed, everything stayed the same.
Nothing had changed. That was all he thought, all he could think. Newport was the same.
The cab drove through the back streets, while the meter ticked upwards and Moonlight Mile by the Rolling Stones played in his head.
"Daddy," whispered Manhattan, curling her hands into his and holding it tight, "Daddy, these houses are so big."
This was only the back streets, the numbered streets. He knew what the cab driver was doing, they were tourists from New York, they didn't know their way around Newport.
That's what the cab driver was thinking anyway.
"Wait till you see Daddy's house," Summer muttered.
The Cohen Clan were New Yorkers, his kids were New Yorkers. They had never left the state of New York, had never seen mansions, only stood outside Park Avenue penthouses and wondered what it looked like inside.
Until now, he supposed.
Halle smiled at him. "I can't wait to see Grandad and Grandma again," she laughed.
Summer used to have a friend back in New York, a tall, tanned French Canadian girl called Pascale, who would come over on Saturday nights and sit on the floor and watch Simpsonsreruns with him and Summer, while she sipped Diet Coke and Vodka. She had the longest, darkest, straightest hair he had ever seen and liked to sing Simpsons songs to herself after she drank too much.
Once she turned up when Sandy and Kirsten were visiting, late one Saturday night when the twins were just five, Manhattan only six and James not even born. She thundered in her stilettos and New York/rock star styled fashion, carrying a bottle of Diet Coke and wearing a new tongue ring.
"I come bearing gifts," she said shiftily in her sly, French styled accent.
Sandy and Kirsten weren't used to these New York blooded type of people and the evening was spent discussing politics, which Pascale hated doing, and having formed, forced conversations. Sandy and Kirsten left about eleven and Summer headed immediately for the vodka.
"Time for a drink," she announced.
"Time for Saturday Night Live," Pascale announced, nodding her magnificent head.
Seth opted for a beer. He liked his Saturday nights. He liked his New York friends with their tongue rings, shifty personalities and unannounced visits. He liked his New York life.
"Your parents, they are strange?" Pascale giggled, her left eyebrow raised.
Summer giggled but Seth just shook his head. "They're my parents. I love them. We're just a bit different now."
That was nearly three years ago; the last time Sandy and Kirsten visited New York. They had never even met Baby James. And his Cohen Clan had never visited Newport.
He just smiled at Halle. "I bet they can't wait to see you either."
The cab finally pulled up into his old street, the meter ten dollars more than it should have been. An old Shins song played on the cab's radio while Summer hesitantly paid the expensive cab fare.
"We should've told him to stop going through the back streets. He was just ripping us off because he thought we were tourists," she hissed to Seth as he heaved their suitcases out of the boot.
Seth just shrugged. "Who can blame him? All the kids have the heaviest New York accents I've ever heard. Besides, he was alright…he had good taste in music."
Summer just rolled her eyes.
His Cohen Clan lugged their suitcases up the hilly driveway, Seth's childhood home towering in front of them, his childhood…
Halle stood poised outside the front door, her grin big and wide. Manhattan stood half-hidden behind her mother's skirt, James sat happily on Seth's hip and Zeppelin stood off to one side, looking disinterested.
"I'll knock," Halle laughed and knocked the beat of her favourite song, The Nosebleed Section.
They waited for a few minutes, Summer's eyes never leaving Seth's. She looked scared. He knew she was remembering the last Thanksgiving they had spent here. Years ago, back in their senior year. She and Seth spent the miserable morning at her house, then left at lunch to spend the rest at his. Wait, let's knock, she told Seth nervously. It's my own home, he laughed, we can just go right in. Summer's frightened eyes begged him not to complain and she said softly, Let's just be polite. I want Kirsten to know that I can be polite. He didn't have a reply for that and he knocked, knocking the beat of a Death Cab song. They both stood there in silence for a few minutes and he began to felt nervous, although he couldn't say why.
Later after that Thanksgiving, Summer curled up on his bed. She realised to herself that maybe she didn't really have a family but Seth did, and his was perfect. I want a family, she told Seth, her eyelashes wet with tears. You can have mine, he told her desperately, because he would do anything to stop her crying.
Years later, they were back in the same place, doing the same thing. Groundhog Day. Nothing had changed. Except this time, Summer was returning with her own family.
She smiled triumphantly at Seth.
Kirsten swung the door open, her excited face matching Halle's.
"Sandy, they're here!" She called out behind her.
Sandy jogged into the hallway.
"Come in, come in," she grinned, her smile cracking her face. "You guys took forever!"
"It was cab driver," Summer replied awkwardly. "I think he thought we were tourists so he…"
"Took you through the back streets?" Sandy asked knowingly. "See, that's why you should have let us pick you guys up."
"Oh we couldn't have," Summer smiled politely.
His Cohen Clan stood in their massive hallway uncomfortably in silence. Zeppelin stood in the open doorway, his face blank and impassive. Manhattan still hid behind her mother's skirt. Halle edged closer to Seth, reaching out for his leg.
Seth shifted James on his hips.
"This is James," he said proudly, breaking the silence.
"Hello Jimmy," Sandy said and reached out for him, wincing at the word Jimmy. "You did that to annoy me Seth, I swear."
Kirsten smiled at Summer. "Come and put your stuff down, you must be pretty tired, flying cross country with four kids."
They followed her silently down the hallway, Halle's and Zeppelin's large, wondering eyes taking in the house. Sandy chatted nonsense to James, swinging him to and fro.
The kids collapsed down in the airy living room, remaining quiet the whole time.
"Who wants drinks?" Kirsten clasped her hands together.
"I'll help," Summer followed.
Seth sat gingerly down on the couch, cushioned between Zeppelin and Halle. Sandy sat down on the other side of Zeppelin and grinned, passing James back to Seth.
"What'd ya think Zepp?" He laughed to Zeppelin.
Zeppelin shrugged.
Halle frowned at her twin. "We've never seen houses like this in New York Mr Sandy…sir."
Sandy laughed. "I'm Grandad; don't call me Mr Sandy…or sir."
Halle nodded.
Seth picked at a nail on his hand. His house as he remembered it had never been this quiet. There was always him and Ryan, and before Ryan, it was always him playing music or his dad watching television, his bellowing laugh echoing through the house.
Sandy frowned and opened his mouth in confusion.
"Drinks!" called Kirsten cheerily.
Summer came out carrying a tray of what looked like glasses of milk and what had to be Diet Coke. It was always Diet Coke in their house, at Summer's insistence. Coke is bad enough with the caffeine and the sugar, at least this has no sugar.
"Milk for Zeppelin," Summer passed to Zeppelin.
"Diet Coke for us!" Halle gleefully sang. She and Manhattan slurped noisily.
The unwritten rule for the Cohen Clan kids was that if you got a glass of milk, it was time to "buck up solider". It basically meant that if you got a glass of milk, that one parent didn't like your attitude and you wouldn't be allowed any Coke until you changed it.
Zeppelin eyed the milk grouchily.
"What I have done?" He growled and handed the glass back to Summer. "It's you that should be drinking this."
He stood up angrily. "Where's the bathroom?" He barked to Seth.
Seth stood up, tall and imposing, reaching his full, six inch and two feet height. "I'll be glad to show you," he said through clenched teeth.
Zeppelin rolled his eyes. "I'll find it myself." He stalked out of the room, leaving a room full of tense, silent people.
Summer smiled faintly. "He didn't want to leave his home. He's just a bit angry at me for taking this job."
"Yeah well, he's only seven years old. And what a mouth!" Seth grouched. "He shouldn't speak to you that way!"
Summer patted his hand. "I know," she said gently.
"He's just…he's just…too rude!"
"I know," she said gently again.
Sandy looked on with an amused smile. "He's just like you as an angry little kid, Seth."
Manhattan giggled behind her hand.
"I was never angry!"
"Before Ryan?" Kirsten teased.
Seth rolled his eyes.
The afternoon was spent discussing memories, histories of their lives, from both sides. The kids stood in rapture of Sandy's stories about Newport lives and Manhattan and Kirsten went off and had a quiet conversation about something they wouldn't discuss with anyone else.
Zeppelin spent the time wandering silently around the house, peering into this room and that, finally settling himself in Seth's old room. He lied nonchalantly on his back on the blue carpet, staring at the ceiling for hours, before pouring through Seth's old C.D. collection.
Summer spent the later part of the afternoon preparing dinner.
"I'll make my famous Indian curry," she promised.
"Your kids eat that?" Sandy asked.
"We lived in Queens Dad; it's hard to escape other nations' food. One of our neighbours was Indian and he'd invite us over for curry night, every Wednesday."
"He was a forty-five year old, pot bellied school groundskeeper and he told me all his recipe secrets," Summer said proudly. "I couldn't cook before him. Then I started to cook Indian and then I got into Thai and Vietnamese and Seth's favourite, Italian."
"I love a good fatty, cheesy ravioli," he replied.
"Our Indian neighbour had the total hots for me," Summer said haughtily.
Halle laughed. "He was so into you Mommy."
Sandy just smiled. "Good to see you haven't changed Summer." He paused then glanced at Seth. "Interesting family dynamic you've got going here, by the way."
Seth just poured some coconut milk for Summer and stayed silent.
Ryan came over around six, the dinner being served on the table.
"I came at the perfect time," he laughed, rubbing his hands together.
Newport was the ultimate Groundhog Day and Ryan hadn't changed.
But he seemed more comfortable within himself.
"Uncle Ryan!" Halle and Manhattan squealed.
Zeppelin sat reluctantly at the table, while he watched Halle and Manhattan squabble as to who could sit next to Uncle Ryan at the table.
He frowned at his plate.
"I hate curry, I don't want to eat this." Zeppelin pushed the plate away.
Summer paused while serving herself. "I made this for you Zepp, it's your favourite."
"Well I don't like it anymore." Zeppelin took a bite then frowned. "It tasted different when we were in New York. It tasted…better."
His dark, Summer-like eyes were daring Seth, he could tell. His father thought that Zeppelin was like him, but Seth knew better. Zeppelin was allll Summer, at her angriest.
Ryan sat uncomfortably at the table, while the rest of the table sat in silence. Seth's eyes never left Zeppelin.
"Apologise," Seth said quietly.
Zeppelin glared at him and left the table, stomping away.
"Leave him," Seth sighed, when Summer started to get up.
Zeppelin was allll Summer, at her angriest. And Summer at her angriest could only be dealt with in one way. Just be left alone.
The dinner was spent discussing plans, excited smiles on all of the faces, drinks poured, a chatty Summer and Ryan laughing loudly.
"So you guys are coming to my place after this?" Ryan smiled.
Kirsten shook her head. "No, everyone spend the night, I want a full house again. Plus, everyone has drunken too much to drive."
"I'm not drunk," Summer insisted, then giggled.
"Mommy, you're the biggest drunk I know," Manhattan said shyly and jokingly.
Manhattan was too much like Kirsten and Ryan, Seth always thought. A quiet, shy little thing who tended to say less and think more.
An evening wasted away, sounds of people talking loudly and fast, trying to catch up on missed years of conversations. Halle and Manhattan fell asleep on the couch around eleven, the television playing infomercials loudly.
Summer collapsed onto Seth's old bed at eleven-thirty, where Zeppelin laid half asleep.
"I'm sorry Zeppelin," she whispered to him, stroking his head gently.
Zeppelin stared at her. "You don't care about us, you just care about making money from your stupid job. You're a bitch."
Summer laid frozen for what seemed like hours but was only really a couple minutes. She slunk out and crept into the guest room, where Seth was curled up on the bed, reading an old Stephen King novel.
"Our son just called me a bitch."
They spent their midnight sessions talking softly, like they used to do in New York.
"Except there's no humidity," Summer noted.
"We always said that we hated the heat," Seth replied.
"We were lying," Summer said quietly.
Around one am, Summer cried a little. Because it hit her that New York was a past life. And she didn't know how she felt in her new one.
"I'm stuck," she sobbed a little.
Seth kissed her.
"We'll have fun tomorrow. We'll move into Ryan's pad and you can have a whole house to control and redecorate."
"I can redecorate his house?" Summer's eyes gleamed excitedly.
"Hey, he said it was everyone's house now. So I don't see why Ryan wouldn't mind."
They both laughed sourly.
The clean sheets tangled their ways through their legs and caused creases on their legs.
"I'm stuck too," he told her softly.