It's for the reviewers like Dulcey- who tell me that Kirsten is not allowed to die. Dulcey, would you believe that many people share your thoughts on this?
Kandyshipper – "your are scaring the hell out of me and I care way too much about this particular character."
Rachel Carter 2428 – Which made me laugh out at loud at 230 in the morning, by telling me she "hates me" than says, "keep going."
Princess Oats 435 – whose ramblings I do not mind.
I love the reviews guys keep it up.
Ps. Note: This chapter wasn't the easiest for me to write, I somewhat toiled slightly with idea's, wrote them, deleted them, its not easy to have such a wonderful character struggle, then coupled with the reactions of people who love her more than anything hear what everyone I'm sure now knows isn't good news. No I don't have any issues with people in New York, I just love how they say New York. You'll see. And for the record, personally, I don't think Sandy was always the goody goody fella, especially not in college, and not before meeting Kirsten. He has a good heart and a good head on his shoulders he just had some demons. Or else why would he take Ryan home and always say with a sheepish grin, "You married me." Oh and the cars? Yeah that's the actual pricing for the cars, if you look up the range rover you will find that it can pretty much do anything but make coffee for you! Eh, enough of my ramblings. Vamanos'.
------
If you love me, you'll forgive me.
-Closer
------
This is it; life will never be better, or sweeter than this.
-Sweet November.
------
Sandy heard the words "Well, Mrs. Cohen you…." And then he heard absolute quiet.
Total silence.
It was like in 'Saving Private Ryan,' the biggest war scene Tom Hanks is crashed out on the beach, bombs exploding everywhere, people yelling, people dying, and he couldn't hear anything.
Except the only difference was the doctor was delivering the biggest bomb that he, Sanford Cohen, had ever heard in his life.
He watched the doctors mouth move and yet no sound came out.
Yet somehow he managed to comprehend every single, solitary, fucking word.
He watched her face shine and she smiled, and then it fell with the utmost fear. Her haunting blue eyes darted to his and for a second he held her gaze and then dropped it to the floor.
She wanted him to say it was going to be okay, that it would all be okay, they would make it through this just fine. But this time, Sandy couldn't give anyone guarantees. He couldn't even guarantee that he, himself, would be okay.
He watched Ryan's confused face, go completely blank, like a chalkboard with no writing on it.
Ryan then stood up and watched the chair flew backwards across the room. He was looking to punch the doctor in the face as if to say, "Way wrong answer."
The poor handsome doctor who's name Sandy didn't even catch, hunkered down and took a few steps backwards.
Sandy's hearing returned in time to catch these words, "I'll leave you with your thoughts now, and I'll be back in a few hours or so to discuss where we go from here."
Gee thanks a lot, fuck-face.
He watched Caleb stride over past him and hold Ryan from running full force after the doctor. Ryan pulled away immediately and Kirsten's hand caught his wrist and she pulled his confused body down to sit on the bed with her. She whispered something to him and he relaxed and looked at her expectantly. He wanted her to tell him that it was a mistake, but she couldn't.
A mother's presence is soothing, even amongst midst and confusion.
Even amongst a war.
God, the room was getting smaller wasn't it?
Hot even?
He tugged at his shirt collar, knowing if he stayed any longer he was going to be sick himself.
He needed to punch something.
He sighed and he pulled his hand out of hers before he even realized what was going on. He leaned up, kissed her forehead and walked out the door. He managed to mumble, "I need to get some air. I'll be back."
She watched him go, and sighed before looking up at Ryan's astonished face.
"Where is Sanford going?" Caleb's regal voice asked the question that echoed everyone's mind.
"He's got to clear his mind, dad," she whispered hoarsely.
"Clear his mind? I'll clear his mind for him. He should be here with you."
She chuckled and Ryan looked at her with an amused expression on his face.
She was laughing? Right now, in time Kirsten Cohen, who had been given unbelievable news, WAS LAUGHING?
He looked at Caleb for an answer, since Sandy wasn't there.
He shrugged.
"Dad, Sandy is the most rational thinker on the planet, when it comes to everyone else but me. He's getting it out of his system. Trust me, he'll be back."
The three of them turned and watched as Sandy Cohen walked down the hallway like a broken man.
------
Walking down the painfully bright corridor he bit his lip and then clucked his tongue in his mouth as if to say, some decision.
Yep. Some decision.
Decisions.
Plural. Meaning two. Or one? Did he even have a decision?
Oh what the fuck!
He shook his head. His thoughts would eat him alive if he kept this up.
Somehow he walked out from the hospital, over the road and down to the beach. 'Gotta love Newport. If these rich bastards don't have a beach at every window, well than life was over, as they knew it.'
Who was he kidding? He loved his house; he loved his life, his kids.
He loved his wife, he loved her more than life itself. He valued her life more than he valued his, he would trade places with her in a heartbeat.
Kirsten changed his life around, she made him think, she made him rationalize and she made him realize that he didn't have to run anymore.
It was a far cry from shabby, beat down Bronx that could have been his life.
Thank God she took a chance on him. He let her in his heart and she showed him how loving someone could change your life. And how losing someone could reevaluate everything.
He walked down the huge sand dune and when he finally was at the bottom he looked out over the ocean. The normally bright blue water was a frightening black with no sunlight, but there was a full moon so the water held a midnight blue tint where the moon reflected off its surface.
There was a huge metal 'No lifeguard on duty, swim at your own risk' sign.
How about punch at your own risk?
He stared at it, the thoughts running through his head like steam engine.
Tick Tock, Mr. Cohen, your wife's pregnant.
BAM, thunk.
Mr. Cohen, your wife has cancer.
POW, thunk.
Mr. Cohen, I'll think I'll leave you with your thoughts now.
He wanted to strangle that little bastard even though it wasn't his fault.
WHAM, thunk. BAM, thunk. KA-POW, thunk.
He started wailing on it, the satisfying metal let out a loud 'thunk' whenever his fist connected with it.
Bashing signs was soothing because not only do they make noise, you can see the dents that you left. As if that somehow made you feel powerful, significant, like nothing mattered that for a second power coursed through you that you held the power to dent that sign. He wished he held power over other things, like diseases.
How truly ironic life was.
Kirsten was pregnant.
And she had cancer.
Yeah, pregnant and cancer, the two words in the English language that almost certainly didn't belong together in the same sentence.
Life and Death.
Or total death.
Or total life.
His hand was throbbing and already bruising, so he decided to kick the sand instead, thinking hell, there were four ways this could go really.
She could lose the baby, and then they would have to deal with the cancer and the emotional plunge of the losing the baby.
She could die and they would have the baby instead of her. That would at least keep him going.
They could both die, and that would eventually kill him and tear the family apart.
Or the latter and the one he liked most, they could live and make it through all of this.
He looked up at the sky, "You know something, God. It's times like these where I should ask you for help, but it's time's like these that I really fucking hate you."
------
Caleb had walked out of the room.
She turned to Ryan. "See, my dad thinks that I met Sandy in class. Which is somewhat true, he was in one of my classes. But it was in a bar, and then later a bar fight where I actually met Sandy. Maybe not a bar fight, more or less I somewhat rescued him."
Ryan raised his eyebrow at the comment.
"Maybe that's why he brought you home Ryan. He saw a younger version of himself, always solving everything with a fistfight. You and Sandy are truly cut from the "same deck," as he would call it. When I first met him and he carried this burden upon his shoulders the only thing he knew was how to run away or fight. Then he would come back with apologies out the wazoo. In time he learned that running away and beating the shit out of everything wasn't the answer. Just like you."
Ryan gave her a curious look.
"He hasn't done this in forever, but while we're waiting for him to cool off and return, let me tell you how I met him."
-----
She was out at the local hang out bar and she had a few drinks, giving her a nice solemn buzz. Not enough that she couldn't function or walk but enough to feel good and forget about the hectic school week. She had come here, to this school, against her father's wishes but in the end he had still supported her. The bank account she had up this way held enough cash that she could go buy the hottest luxury car if she wanted to, for shits and giggles, and then tomorrow her dad would see she spent that much money, shrug, and then transfer some more.
She supposed he thought of it like a game.
Casting her glances across the room she saw most of her classmates, including him.
Sandy Cohen.
He was quiet, and on occasion they spoke to each other in class or in the hall, but he never once made her feel uncomfortable like the other guys that hounded her and asked her out time and time again.
She didn't know it but every time someone asked her out, he would pause and wait for her answer.
She felt comfortable around him, and when he saw her in the bar he came over and said a nervous hello.
"You're jumpy. I've never seen you jumpy before," she noted.
"Um, I try not to do the whole drunk, crowd, thing cause it' doesn't' work out for me much," he muttered.
"Uh huh," she raised an eyebrow and he blushed and grinned bashfully, his head down and hair flopping into his eyes. Damn his accent.
Meeting her eyes he shrugged. "Sometimes I'm not the most well liked person because I'm from New York." She grinned, he didn't say New York. He said New' Yark.
"Well Sandy Cohen, I like you just fine."
He grinned. "Good to know."
He looked around the room at the envious pissed off looks from the other college boys and frowned. "I should be going, I'm more than likely already due for an attempted ass-kicking for talking to you. Lucky for me I didn't bring my friends so I'll have to kick their ass's myself."
She looked around.
Mitch.
In honest reality she was sure he probably could. However they would gang up on him and cheat, but he would give his all.
"Yeah that asshole can't take the hint."
He smiled again at her and she couldn't help but grin back.
"I'll be seeing you, Ms. Nichol."
"Goodnight, Mr. Cohen."
------
Yep. He was going to pay. This was so childish and high school like. First off he was no longer in New Yark as he liked to say, he was in CALIF-OR-NIA. Big difference. And yet the same leeching people seemed to be here. Dumb little rich bastards who were here on Momma and Dad's cash flow. Well, at least all the bullies think alike. It must be like a bully club or something. Our Motto: PICK ON THE OUTSIDER, OR THE ONE MOST LIKELY TO SUCCEED AND GRADUATE.
Mitch and his gooneys, they threatened anyone who talked to her because Mitch wanted to date Kirsten and she flat out refused him.
Time and Time again.
A hand pressed down on his shoulder and he turned, swinging.
He connected with a lot of things that night, shoulders, faces, collarbones, and someone's head.
But eventually they had ganged up on him and he was furious for it. So he went down swinging.
And that's when Kirsten walked in.
Literally walked in. "Mitch. I swear on my father, you touch him again, Ill have you thrown away in jail for life."
Startled looks where passed her way, but they saw she was serious so they heeded her warning, leaving the kid who was their age, flat out on the ground.
"Ah Christ Sandy. Look at you!" She bent down to help him up.
The amount of fury that surged through the young man's eyes was staggering. He flinched away when she bent down to touch him and when his eyes met hers they held sorrow and anger, an outrageous amount of anger.
She pulled away from him slowly. He didn't even recognize who she was. This man wasn't just fighting Mitch and his goons.
He was fighting past ghosts.
She sat down on the ground next to him and gentle touched his face. "Sandy?"
This time he recognized her and his eyes flashed an apology. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "My apartments a few blocks from here, can you walk?"
He shrugged and then very slowly stood up. He grimaced, "I'm fine."
"Like hell you are. Please Sandy, come with me."
"I don't need your pity." He began to walk away sluggishly.
She marched in front of him. "I don't pity you. I want to help you and I want you to come up to my place. Now."
He searched her face for a true answer, the 'Yes I do pity you please refuse my offer,' answer.
But it wasn't there. And his apartment was all the way on the other side of campus and then a few blocks.
She helped him limp to her place and she ushered him inside. He sat down on her floor and leaned against the couch.
"You don't have to sit there." But he waved a dismissive hand. He just had to sit and this is where he happened to collapse without looking so conspicuous.
Leaning his head back on the cushion he closed his eyes.
Kneeling down beside him, she heard his labored breathing and became concerned. She tugged at his shirt and he flinched away.
"Don't coddle me. I'm fine."
She looked at him. Out of all the men who had asked her out, this man here was the only one to ever visit her apartment. He was the only one who had ever even been up inside her apartment. But he was also the only man who didn't make her feel uncomfortable. She liked him.
She liked him a lot.
She didn't say anything but walked back into her room and grabbed an old T-shirt of Jimmy's, they were about the same size, and a pair of his old Nike shorts that she had stolen because she liked them.
She tossed them to him they smacked him in the face and fell down to his chest. A tired arm blindly reached up to feel what had been thrown.
"Go take a shower Sandy. You're staying the night."
He raised an eyebrow and managed to mumble, "Now who's hitting on who?"
She chuckled and smiled that beautiful smile that would later melt his heart.
He managed to get up and do what she asked. He raised an eyebrow to the clothing.
"Ex boyfriends'. They're comfy to sleep in."
He nodded. The questions of 'Why do women always do that?' entered his thoughts.
The heat felt good and he groaned at the large bruises forming on his body. Down over his ribs were starting to turn a shade of blue, over his chest, right in the middle of the sternum was a sickening black and you could easily see where the knuckles had hit. Over his shoulders and back, one of them had been wearing a ring, and you could see the small gashes from it on his body. He was going to be a mess.
They didn't touch his face. That was good thing.
Stepping out of the shower hurt like hell and when he opened the door he came face to face with her. Well more or less face to forehead.
She looked up at him and then took advantage of his calm state and lifted his shirt.
She winced.
"Oh Sandy."
Her eyes welled up with tears for the amount of pain he must have been in and she gently picked up his shirt more and moved around to his back. Everything was turning into one large, dark, rainbow bruise gravitating from light blue, yellow-green, and finally black.
"You need to go to the hospital."
"No, I don't. This is nothing compared to what I was used to." He hung his head.
She frowned and then she realized the boy from the Bronx had fought everyday of his life.
She never understood why she did what she did in that instant. Maybe that was the moment she fell in love with Sandy Cohen, when he stood there in front of her, like a child, his head down to his chest admitting defeat and just waiting for the next beating or berating of his life.
She took his hand and led him to her bedroom and he was to tired and achy to care. He laid down his body weary and thankful for the soft bed. To his surprise she crawled in with him.
"Kirsten no. No, no, I don't want you to be uncomfortable; you have done enough…" he winced, his attempt to site up thwarted by a sharp pain.
"Shut up Sandy. Let someone take care of you for once," she muttered.
He closed his eyes and she moved closer to his body, and placed a hand soothingly on his chest.
"Rest for a while Sandy. You're safe with me, I'm not going anywhere."
He smiled and took her smaller hand in his, placing it over his heart, which was thumping wildly.
"Kay. I'm sorry..."
"No apologies tonight."
He nodded and fell asleep.
------
That was the exact moment Sandy Cohen chose to rush back into the hospital room with a single rose and an apology on his lips.
"I'm sorry honey. I'm so sorry."
She smiled, looking at Ryan, and then looking at him and reached her hand out. She took his hand in hers and ran a finger over the bruised flesh.
"Feel better?"
He looked away guiltily.
"No."
"A dock?" She indicated to the bruising of his hand.
He shook his head. "A sign."
Her eyebrows raised and her mouth tightened. "Mmm."
That was the all-knowing 'Mmm.' the type of 'Mmm,' that only mother's can do. The I hope-you-learned-you-lesson, 'Mmm,' the your in big trouble 'Mmm.'
Ryan knew that 'Mmm,' very well, the shit could hit the fan at any time so he chose that moment to say he was going to call Seth. Sandy stopped him. "Go wake him up and bring him here. Don't say anything. Your mother and I will tell him."
He flushed. He still sometimes hadn't gotten used to Sandy calling her his mother. He did it with such ease like Ryan had lived there all his life.
But she was. Just like he was his father.
"Okay."
"Honey, drive safe. Please?" Her voice echoed concern and worry.
"I will."
He left the room.
-----
Face Off.
She eyed him.
He glared at her. He was waiting for her to yell at him, but instead she simply patted the bed beside her and all was forgiven.
Sort of.
She twisted the rings on her finger. A nervous habit that played out time and time again.
She sighed and looked at him, her eyes asking his, what do we do?
He looked back into hers, a feeling of helplessness traced his features and she knew what he was thinking. There was no way she was having this baby.
"Sandy, I'm tired. I'm aching. I don't want to argue," her voice .
Yep. She knew there was going to an argument.
He sighed deeply and then resigned, pulling the chair as close to her bed as possible.
He took her hand in his and laid his head on the bed. Her fingers played with his for a few moments before stilling and her grip relaxed.
He looked up at her, his eyes filling with tears, he took her limp hand and brought it up to his cheek, the wetness from his cheeks soaking onto the back of her hand. He laid his head on the bed again and silently wept for his wife and unborn child.
'If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.'
------
Ryan sat in the Range Rover, his hands placed on the heated steering wheel. He laughed smartly to himself, the first time he ever sat in this car he was amazed. When he asked Seth what the monthly payments are on this car Seth laughed nervously.
"Uh dude, we don't have monthly payments."
"Huh?"
He chuckled, "My mom wrote a check and paid the thing off at the dealership."
He raised his eyebrows. "Whoa," he whispered.
Later that night, Ryan used the Internet to look up the vehicle, The 2005 Land Rover Range Rover Westminster, MSRP $ 85,355.
Yep, Eighty-Five Thousand Dollars for one car.
For one car that didn't EVEN get good gas mileage. Eighty-five buck-a-roos. The car had more features than he even knew what to do with.
So since he had looked up her car, he looked up Sandy's series 7 BMW. It ranged from sixty-to-one hundred and odd some grand.
They had probably crossed the 'I's and dotted the 'T's without a second glance.
He shook his head, simply amazing.
------
He probably sat there an additional ten minutes before he put the car in drive and drove off towards the house.
Seth.
He envied that kid sometimes. Rich, great house, wonderful parents and no one ever hit him in his life.
Now he had that life too.
And now this.
He wasn't exactly sure how Seth was going to react, most of the time if something was bothering him he would sit up in his room with Captain Oats.
He pulled in the driveway and opened the front door, Seth had gotten dressed and the phone was in his hand.
"I was just going to call you, man. What's going on?"
Ryan stared blankly and cleared his throat.
Seth knew.
He knew it was bad news.
------
"Time to go," Ryan echoed solemnly. He didn't want to go.
Sandy looked down at the baby reluctant to let her go. He placed her in the bassinet and stood.
Sandy straightened out his suit, and that was the first time she got a look at his face. Then, she knew, she knew by the way he looked and the way he acted that she had died.
He straightened out the invisible wrinkles of his suit and walked to the kitchen.
Seth's voice was hoarse when he spoke, "Dad, the limo's out front."
"I'll be there in a minute, son."
He rummaged around in the closet and found what he wanted, alcohol, 80 proof- to be exact. He looked around nervously but no one was in the kitchen so he tipped the bottle back and drank deeply, emptying nearly a quarter of it before he grimaced and stopped.
He straightened up his suit again and inhaled deeply. His hand ran through his long hair and then over the beard that had been accumulating on his face. Fuck shaving.
Walking out into the living room and through the front door he called shakily to Rosa who watched in the doorway, "We'll be back."
She gave a small smile and nodded.
And then her death will truly be permanent.
Walking outside he put on his sunglasses and looked at Seth, who was holding the door of the limo open.
He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, gave a tight smile and climbed in.
Sandy stared out the window the ride there thinking of nothing but her, how much he missed her.
How much he hated everything now.
How much he positively hated coming home to an empty house, an empty bedroom and his kid's stony faces. Whenever he was home they followed him around, or one of them would peek in on him now and again whenever he was in his study and ask a mindless question like, "Dad, Should Vegetarians eat animal crackers? If you could bungee cord in space, would you ever stop? If someone with multiple personalities threatens to kill himself, is it considered a hostage situation?"
Stupid mindless questions, Seth would ask. Ryan would just peek his head in now and again and when he was satisfied he would quietly walk out of the room.
They just wanted to make sure he was okay, and for their own peace of mind that he was still there. That he hadn't left them too.
Most of the time he spent with the newest little addition. Whether he would crash on the floor of the baby's room sticking his hand up through the crib railing and having her little hand grab hold of one of his fingers or whether she fell asleep on his chest on the couch and he would fall asleep there with her.
The limo stopped, The Newport funeral home.
He hesitated before opening the door of the car and stepping out into the dismal gray day. At least the weather was cooperating with his mood. He would have been highly irritated if it was bright and sunny.
The last showing was at three. It was only two o' clock. They had to be there early again, for the whole town was likely to show up and then follow them to the cemetery.
Caleb insisted this and Sandy had only made the decisions in blind faith. He was too much at a loss.
He cast a glance over his shoulders and his boys were slowly getting out of the limo. He waited for them to catch up with him and they both gave him looks that broke his heart. They didn't want to do this either. Seth stopped dead.
"Dad, I … No… I can't see her. I can't do this…" His face was crestfallen.
"Seth. Look at me, Seth. I don't want to do this either. Believe me," his father's deep steady voice broke.
Ryan looked at the floor. He knew Sandy was dangerously close to crying.
"Lets just go do this and we can go home," he said the word home as if it was the last place he wanted to be.
They all stood there, jaws locked, muscles twitching, and then Sandy put his arms around both their shoulders and led them into the parlor.
------
Kirsten awoke with a start. She trembled, her body was freezing and her gown was soaked again. She went to move her right hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead and she lifted his as well, waking him.
He was slightly disoriented but he looked at her concerned. He watched her tremble and her face glowed with perspiration. Her fever was back and it showed in her glassy eyes. She shivered again and pulled the thin sheet up around her.
He sat up stiffly before he leaned up and kissed her forehead, savoring the moment with her.
She leaned back against the pillows to tired to do anything other than take comfort in her husband. She wanted nothing more than to be back at home with him, curled up in their soft bed, her back safely against his chest, one arm tucked around her, the other hand she would place against her cheek and fall asleep. Not in some dismal hospital bed wondering where their lives where heading.
She looked up at him and saw the expression of fear and then he quickly masked it with a smile and kissed her lips. She watched as he retreated to the bathroom and brought out a wet cloth and dabbed at her forehead, her neck and her collarbone. She shivered as the air touched her clammy skin.
She was exhausted, and her body ached like there were little men at every joint with a hammer and every time her heart beat one of those little men pounded at a part of her body, like right now, her back and legs.
He too was exhausted; the day to come was going to be long. There were going to be needles, doctors, tests, more needles, decisions to be made, and everything that he didn't want to think about. He just needed to focus on her.
She closed her eyes against his touch and grasped his hand tightly. He sat down on the bed with her and she leaned into him. She felt his arm go around her and for the moment she was safely tucked against him, listening to his heartbeat thump reassuringly in his chest. With her body against his, their hands entwined together she fell into a troubled sleep.
Nothing could harm her when she was with her savior.
------