It was almost eight am as Summer stirred – face first – in the hotel bed, waking to find herself almost fully clothed, Seth's arm wedged uncomfortably into her stomach. The remainders of take out – small silver trays and some plastic forks – lay on the floor beside them and as she tried to sit up the crick in her neck stabbed ruthlessly.
Shaking his arm a few times Summer decided that it must have gone dead from his lack of response, so she rolled over resting her chin between his shoulder blades as.
"Seth?"
"Urghemrgh…" he mumbled into the covers.
"Seth… it's like morning," he reprimanded a little louder.
"I know that Summer, witness me sleeping," he shot back, face still buried in the pillows and the sheets.
She sat up sharply, slapping his back and wrenching away the covers to find him pants-less, but still in his tee-shirt and boxers.
"This feels like one of those really bad morning afters, you know like when you finish all the tequila and someone finds another bottle and a pack of cards and you end up— " she stopped herself at Seth's cocked eyebrow.
After a pause he began, "I told you not to have the Kun Po ribs, but no, and you now suffer the consequences of turning down my almighty advice, my dear," he cracked, yawning.
Summer stayed sitting cross-legged looking slightly offended until he stretched out, arms wrapping around her from behind to pull her down to him.
"You okay?" he asked warmly.
"Yeah," she sighed calmly, "I'm like sorry about yesterday and—"
"Hey, hey," he cut her off, "Times are tough, but anything you need," he freed a hand up gesturing to himself, "we can always mak—"
Now it was Summer's turn to cut him off, a giggle-fit looming behind her lips.
"I'm not dying, Cohen!" she stopped short, shocked by her own bluntness, but recovered quickly, "And I'm still not going to let you use the phrase 'make love'," she rolled her eyes, "you really are like totally old inside aren't you?"
"I told you, Sum, yes. Yes I am. And I like it," he replied proudly.
Their morning was relatively uneventful, as are mornings leading up to the funeral of a family member. Summer began to feel a tight, spinning feeling build up inside her gut – anticipation. She had waited so long to give her mother a piece of her mind, to rail against every feeling of inadequacy that her mother had left her with and now, now that time was finally here and Summer refused to miss her chance. To mess it up.
Dressed in a crisp, black Calvin Klein she walked half a step in front of Seth hesitating slightly as they reached the door of the chapel. It wasn't really a church, but more of a cream coloured room with pews, it didn't feel old or sacred and that relieved Summer a little. To know that her outburst would offend God a little less, not that she believed in God. None of her family did, which was the precise reason that they were in a small cream room rather than a church.
The room was furnished lavishly with snow white lilies, which Seth pointed out – in a whisper over Summer's shoulder while they found their seats – was something of a cliché. If anyone had paid them enough attention to actually listen into the pair's conversation they would have been shocked at their lack of respect.
The service started and Summer found herself pressing her face into Seth's shoulder, the soft fabric welcoming but not helping her to steel her resolve. It was a short dedication to her mother's life and Summer was almost disappointed not to learn anymore about the woman, but what more could you say about an abandoning bitch of a socialite whose biggest hobby was plastic surgery and spas?
When the minister asked for people to say a few words Summer found herself standing. Found herself walking, shaking the old man's hand. Found her own hands to be shaking.
Soon she was standing behind the unnecessary microphone, the rough clearing of her throat filling the room.
"Hi. I, I don't know any of you… but I didn't really know… uh, Joanna," she stuttered uncharacteristically gaze tilting briefly to the coffin as she voiced her mother's name.
Murmuring started up in the pews which were really just rows of seats. Disapproving looks shot towards her and Seth fought the urge to stand up and make some horrifyingly embarrassing declaration. Summer looked so small.
"But, but…" her throat was choked, tears sweating against inside of her eyes.
She stood quietly, trying to force out the words she wanted to say. Mouth open, eyes wide. Summer stood for minutes that seemed like days, and then she ran.
The murmuring became louder and grunts and groans were sounded from the people between Seth and the door as he darted out after Summer, taking no time to send back apologetic glances to the mourners.
Once outside Seth soon found her, looking lost, his hands reached out to cradle her face, his thumb drawing back to wipe away some wayward tears. Sad little rivers coursing down her cheeks.
"Sum…"
"I don't know what I'm doing, I don't—" she sobbed painfully hard, wracking her chest until the tight feeling almost stopped her breathing.
"I like came all the way to New York to make her feel bad and she's not even here. I, all those people…" her breath hitched, "I didn't come to hurt them and I, I missed my chance. I—"
"Shh, it's okay. Let's go home…" he comforted, adding as an after statement, "to the hotel."
Silently the pair walked for a little while to give Summer time to compose herself slightly, sobbing into Seth's side as he tried, once again, to keep unwanted attention from her. His arm shielding her face away from the world as his other hailed down a cab.
Shaking his arm a few times Summer decided that it must have gone dead from his lack of response, so she rolled over resting her chin between his shoulder blades as.
"Seth?"
"Urghemrgh…" he mumbled into the covers.
"Seth… it's like morning," he reprimanded a little louder.
"I know that Summer, witness me sleeping," he shot back, face still buried in the pillows and the sheets.
She sat up sharply, slapping his back and wrenching away the covers to find him pants-less, but still in his tee-shirt and boxers.
"This feels like one of those really bad morning afters, you know like when you finish all the tequila and someone finds another bottle and a pack of cards and you end up— " she stopped herself at Seth's cocked eyebrow.
After a pause he began, "I told you not to have the Kun Po ribs, but no, and you now suffer the consequences of turning down my almighty advice, my dear," he cracked, yawning.
Summer stayed sitting cross-legged looking slightly offended until he stretched out, arms wrapping around her from behind to pull her down to him.
"You okay?" he asked warmly.
"Yeah," she sighed calmly, "I'm like sorry about yesterday and—"
"Hey, hey," he cut her off, "Times are tough, but anything you need," he freed a hand up gesturing to himself, "we can always mak—"
Now it was Summer's turn to cut him off, a giggle-fit looming behind her lips.
"I'm not dying, Cohen!" she stopped short, shocked by her own bluntness, but recovered quickly, "And I'm still not going to let you use the phrase 'make love'," she rolled her eyes, "you really are like totally old inside aren't you?"
"I told you, Sum, yes. Yes I am. And I like it," he replied proudly.
Their morning was relatively uneventful, as are mornings leading up to the funeral of a family member. Summer began to feel a tight, spinning feeling build up inside her gut – anticipation. She had waited so long to give her mother a piece of her mind, to rail against every feeling of inadequacy that her mother had left her with and now, now that time was finally here and Summer refused to miss her chance. To mess it up.
Dressed in a crisp, black Calvin Klein she walked half a step in front of Seth hesitating slightly as they reached the door of the chapel. It wasn't really a church, but more of a cream coloured room with pews, it didn't feel old or sacred and that relieved Summer a little. To know that her outburst would offend God a little less, not that she believed in God. None of her family did, which was the precise reason that they were in a small cream room rather than a church.
The room was furnished lavishly with snow white lilies, which Seth pointed out – in a whisper over Summer's shoulder while they found their seats – was something of a cliché. If anyone had paid them enough attention to actually listen into the pair's conversation they would have been shocked at their lack of respect.
The service started and Summer found herself pressing her face into Seth's shoulder, the soft fabric welcoming but not helping her to steel her resolve. It was a short dedication to her mother's life and Summer was almost disappointed not to learn anymore about the woman, but what more could you say about an abandoning bitch of a socialite whose biggest hobby was plastic surgery and spas?
When the minister asked for people to say a few words Summer found herself standing. Found herself walking, shaking the old man's hand. Found her own hands to be shaking.
Soon she was standing behind the unnecessary microphone, the rough clearing of her throat filling the room.
"Hi. I, I don't know any of you… but I didn't really know… uh, Joanna," she stuttered uncharacteristically gaze tilting briefly to the coffin as she voiced her mother's name.
Murmuring started up in the pews which were really just rows of seats. Disapproving looks shot towards her and Seth fought the urge to stand up and make some horrifyingly embarrassing declaration. Summer looked so small.
"But, but…" her throat was choked, tears sweating against inside of her eyes.
She stood quietly, trying to force out the words she wanted to say. Mouth open, eyes wide. Summer stood for minutes that seemed like days, and then she ran.
The murmuring became louder and grunts and groans were sounded from the people between Seth and the door as he darted out after Summer, taking no time to send back apologetic glances to the mourners.
Once outside Seth soon found her, looking lost, his hands reached out to cradle her face, his thumb drawing back to wipe away some wayward tears. Sad little rivers coursing down her cheeks.
"Sum…"
"I don't know what I'm doing, I don't—" she sobbed painfully hard, wracking her chest until the tight feeling almost stopped her breathing.
"I like came all the way to New York to make her feel bad and she's not even here. I, all those people…" her breath hitched, "I didn't come to hurt them and I, I missed my chance. I—"
"Shh, it's okay. Let's go home…" he comforted, adding as an after statement, "to the hotel."
Silently the pair walked for a little while to give Summer time to compose herself slightly, sobbing into Seth's side as he tried, once again, to keep unwanted attention from her. His arm shielding her face away from the world as his other hailed down a cab.