Hey, all! You guys are fantastic and I appreciate the lovely reviews. They cheered me up quite a bit. ;)
Princess Oats 435: Thanks for the Weezer story! My Weezer story is...one day I bought "The Green Album" and I liked it so I bought the other 3 Weezer albums. So that kind of sucks as a story. Yours was better. I love hearing about crazy roommates. ;)
All right. So here we go again. I'm kind of having the worst day ever and my worst nightmare may very well become a reality in the very near future. So I'm sort of freaking out and thanking god for Excedrin Migraine...and if you could review some more, that would be terrific. The combination of several cups of coffee and several doses of Excedrin (which has the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee) has made me sort of shaky and numb...so review and allow me to feel something aside from jittery? You are all AWESOME and I thank you. ;)
Chapter 11: Kissing the Lipless
The last time the phone rang it had been Julie Cooper, calling with an elaborate story involving peach-flavored condoms, Viagra, and Caleb. Needless to say, she did not jump at the chance to answer it when it rang again ten minutes later. There was always that underlying hope, though, that it would be Seth calling. For this, she grabbed it on the last ring.
"Hello?" Sandy and Seth made fun of her hello sometimes because it was so perky. Normally the mockery annoyed her but she would have given anything to hear Seth's high-pitched mimic answer her. Instead she heard Teresa.
"Hey, Mrs. Cohen." Teresa. Calling to reclaim Ryan? She kind of wanted to vomit. "This is Teresa. Um, Ryan's friend? From—,"
"Hi, Teresa." She snapped out of her paranoid trance. "How are you doing, sweetie? Ryan told me what happened. I'm sorry."
"I'm okay. I'm sorry about Seth." Kirsten did not enjoy exchanging condolences over lost children with a sixteen-year-old.
"Thank you," she said stiffly, mentally beating the small part of her that blamed Teresa for Seth's disappearance. Small pieces of her blamed a large variety of people, from Sandy to Styx (for writing that god-awful song about sailing away).
"How's Ryan?" Teresa asked.
"He's good. He starts school in about a week." She paused, thought of Ryan playing video games in the next room. "We've really missed him."
"Could I talk to him?"
"Of course." Now Kirsten's aggressive mind was telling Teresa that there was no way in hell that Ryan was moving back to Chino. She had a bad feeling. She called out to him, informed him of his phone call, and waited until she heard him pick up before she joined Sandy in the living room. He was listening to Sinatra and doing a crossword puzzle and he smiled distractedly when he saw her come in. "Ryan's on the phone with Teresa," she said resignedly, sitting next to him on the couch. He looked up quickly, reaching to turn down his music.
"What does she want?" Kirsten shook her head.
"I don't know. We didn't talk for very long." They both paused to think, Sandy absently drawing spirals on the border of his puzzle. "No good can come of this," Kirsten stated dramatically, and Sandy couldn't help but laugh.
"Let's just wait until he gets off the phone before we start sensationalizing, okay, honey? Maybe she's just calling to say hello." Kirsten rolled her eyes and he took her hand. "You never know, right? Come on, help me out here. Forty-three down is killing me." She gave a halfhearted glance down at his puzzle.
"Chanel. 'Designer Coco' is Chanel." He glanced up at her, amused by her prompt reply.
"Genius," he mumbled, scribbling it in.
"Are you making fun of me?" she asked. He smiled, brushing her hair away and kissing her neck.
"Never."
"I don't understand how you can't be worried by this," she said, unfazed. He kept kissing her, moving down to her collarbone.
"Just wait and see, honey," he mumbled.
"Twelve across is 'alcove'," she pointed out absently, reading over his shoulder. "And I think eight down is 'isotope'. And fifty-six down might be 'ultimatum', but I'm not sure." He penciled in the answers and promptly focused his attention back on kissing her.
"Genius. What'd I say?" She finally gave in, smiling and kissing him back. A few minutes later, she heard a familiar clear of the throat and jumped off of Sandy's lap, blushing. Ryan stood awkwardly behind a nearby chair.
"Hey. Sorry."
"How's Teresa doing?" Sandy asked, never nearly as embarrassed by these interruptions as Kirsten was.
"Um, you know. Not great."
"Understandably." Kirsten felt her heart sinking.
"She wants me to come and visit her," Ryan added, confirming Kirsten's fears. "Tie up some loose ends." Sandy saw his wife tense up and discreetly put his hand over hers.
"Are you going to go?" he asked. Ryan shrugged, looking away.
"Yeah. I mean, I guess. We have to...settle things. With her mom. Or...I don't know. She's my friend. I know that sounds stupid, but I've known her forever." Sandy smiled.
"Doesn't sound stupid to me. When are you going?"
"I was thinking maybe tomorrow. Unless..."
"Well, I've got to work. But Kirsten, you'll be here, right?" She knew what he was doing. Not-so-subtly coaxing her into being okay with this.
"Yeah. You can take my car," she offered absently. He smiled.
"Thanks. I'm gonna go...do stuff." They watched him leave.
"She wants him back," Kirsten said softly.
"We don't know that," Sandy said with exaggerated nonchalance.
"Yes, we do, Sandy."
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At around midnight, she watched Sandy sleep as she lay awake. He never had problems sleeping, even with potentially critical situations on his hands. He tossed and turned and sometimes mumbled to himself, but sleep always came. She was the opposite and sat up, apprehensively playing with her hands. Teresa wanted Ryan back. One of his oldest friends. The mother of his potential son, who, albeit, was dead. But still. How could he say no? Sandy mumbled something in his sleep about nuclear physics and she quietly got out of bed and put on her robe. Two hours ago she had promised Sandy that she wouldn't meddle, but she knew that she had to do what she was about to do. She went outside and knocked on the door of the pool house.
"It's open," Ryan called out, and she stepped inside.
"Hey," she said awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did I wake you?" He was holding on of Seth's video games and shook his head.
"Nope. Just, ah..." he waved the game around and then set it on his bedside table, "messing around. Couldn't sleep. What's up?"
"Actually...I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow."
"You need the Range Rover? Cause I was thinking, and I'm fine to take the bus," he offered.
"No, no. The car is all yours. I just...wondered if you might want some company." Ryan stared at her for a minute and she struggled to explain herself. "It's a long drive, and people seem to prey on my car, if you'll recall that incident at the end of last summer. I just...if that's going to happen again, I'd rather you not be in the actual vehicle. You could get poisoned by the spray paint, or..." She was rambling. She knew it. Seth was quite the bad influence. Eighteen years of etiquette training and filling in awkward silences at her parents' parties and she was blathering on about aerosol.
"Do you want to come because you think I won't come back?" He caught her off-guard and she didn't have the energy to make herself sound convincing.
"That's part of it."
"I'm not going to run away, Kirsten."
"I know," she said quietly. "It's just...you never know what..."
"I promise," he said earnestly and she smiled, reaching back for the doorknob.
"Okay. Good night." She turned to go.
"Hey, Kirsten?" When she faced him he was blushing slightly. "I don't need a warden, but company would be good."
Called to see if your back
Was still aligned and your sheets
Were growing grass all on the corners of your bed
But you've got too much to wear on your sleeves
It has too much to do with me
And secretly I want to bury in the yard
The grey remains of a friendship scarred
You told us of your new life there
You got someone comin' around
Gluing tinsel to your crown
He's got you talking pretty loud
You berate remember your ailing heart and your criminal eyes
You say you're still in love
If it's true what can be done
It's hard to leave all those moments behind
You tested your metal of doe's skin and petals
While kissing the lipless
Who bleed all the sweetness away
--The Shins, "Kissing the Lipless"