Chapter 13: Brand New Colony

When they got back to Newport, a frantic Kirsten entered the house to find Sandy playing video games on the couch.

"Sandy, what's going on?" He looked up, smiling.

"Hey! The road trippers are back early! What do you mean, what's going on?"

"Your message!" His face fell.

"What...message?" he asked, fearing her reply.

"The urgent message you left telling me to call you right away! The one I've listened to at least thirty times! Why haven't you answered the phone?"

"I left you a message?" Kirsten, awestruck, waved her phone in the air.

"'Kirsten, I need you to call me right away.' God, Sandy, what's going on?"

"I...don't know."

"This isn't funny. This is so not funny. I was worried, Sandy! I was driving about forty miles over the speed limit because I was scared out of my mind! You have no idea what it's been like inside my head for the past hour!"

"Kirsten. Honestly. I don't know." The seriousness of his expression scared her and she quickly turned to Ryan and forced a smile.

"Could you give us a minute, sweetie?" He retreated to the pool house and Kirsten faced Sandy. "You don't remember calling me?"

"I've been asleep," he explained quietly. "Can I listen to the message?" She tentatively handed over the phone, scared of this dazed, bewildered man sitting before her. He listened to the message and looked up at her. "Oh, my god."

"What? Sandy, tell me what's going on." He stared into his lap.

"I was dreaming."

"I'm sorry?"

"It was a dream. I had a dream...about Seth...and I called you."

"In your sleep?" She sat next to him, hands carefully clasped in front of her.

"Evidently."

"What were you dreaming about Seth?"

"Not important," he shrugged.

"It's definitely important, honey," she said gently, putting a hand on his leg.

"That must have been some nap. I can't believe I called you."

"Sandy," she said firmly.

"He was dead." Her breath caught in her throat but she masked how scared she really was and nodded slowly.

"And you were calling to tell me?"

"Yes. God, imagine if you'd answered the phone."

"I've never known you to have nightmares before."

"They're never that vivid."

"You have them a lot?" she asked, alarmed. He blushed, looking away.

"No. I mean, just every once in awhile."

"How often?"

"I don't know."

"Often?"

"I guess."

"Nightly?" He didn't reply. She reached over, softly turning his head to face her. "Sandy, you have these dreams every night?"

"They're just dreams." He shrugged, standing up to turn off the Playstation. She watched him, concerned.

"Has this been going on since he left?"

"More or less."

"Why haven't you told me?"

"They're just dreams," he repeated, smiling sheepishly.

"Sandy, you called me in your sleep. These are not just dreams."

"Seth used to talk in his sleep sometimes. Remember? We'd walk by his room and he'd be fast asleep but chatting it up about God knows what."

"I'm worried about you," she said quietly, watching him as he aimlessly reordered a shelf of CDs. "I didn't know, Sandy. You never mentioned anything."

"Hey," he came over, touched her face. "I'm a grown-up. I don't need to run to my mom when I have a bad dream." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. "Or my gorgeous wife. I don't need to run to her, either."

"Maybe we should talk to someone."

"I don't need therapy, honey."

"I think we both do," she said honestly. "Because things like this...they make me hate him. And I hate hating him. I'm not allowed to hate him, but I can't help it." He sat next to her and pulled her closer.

"You don't hate him."

"I know," she said with a shaky sigh. "But we can't keep dancing around this Seth thing. Something has to change."

"Hey, school's starting. That's a change. Ryan's gonna have...annoying teachers and rivalries with water polo players and the inevitable and highly entertaining girl drama that seems to follow him wherever he goes. Big changes."

"I think we need to start seeing someone," she pressed on. "This family needs some serious transformation."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Serious transformation" came in the form of Kirsten being violently ill forty-five minutes before their first therapy session was scheduled to take place. She sat back on her heels, catching her breath while Sandy rubbed her back.

"Wow. I haven't seen you like this since Caleb proposed to Julie."

"I'm not drunk," she protested weakly.

"Bad Thai last night?"

"Maybe." She jerked forward and he whisked her hair away as she threw up again. He gently felt her forehead and frowned.

"I'll call and cancel."

"No!" She held up a hand, blinking hard. "I'm fine."

"You're clearly not fine, Kirsten, unless 'fine' has taken to meaning 'being aggressively sick at nine in the morning'."

"You have no idea how many strings I had to pull to get this appointment, Sandy. Dr. Mercer is the most highly-praised psychiatrist in California. There is no way we're canceling this." She tried to stand up and faltered, grabbing onto the sink. Sandy jumped up and held onto her waist.

"Honey, you can't even stand."

"I'm perfectly fine. Just woozy. Give me a minute. It'll go away."

"Kirsten..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Feeling better already." She smiled forcedly.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"I'm fine." She reached for her toothbrush. "You want to drive or should I?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Something wrong?" he asked, watching her stare dismally up at his sunroof.

"I'm having second thoughts," she said guiltily.

"Oh?"

"What if he...I mean, what if, like, the only way to get on with our lives is to...get rid of his chair at the dinner table? Or clean out his room or destroy all of his pictures or something. I don't want to do that." He smirked, even though she seemed quite serious.

"He's a therapist, sweetie, not Stalin. And even if he were the oppressor you're making him out to be, they'd just be suggestions. We don't have to do anything we don't want to."

"But he's—,"

"The most highly praised psychiatrist in the universe, sweetheart, I know."

"I'm not used to this, Sandy," she said defensively, and he softened and put a hand on her leg.

"Me either. But you've got me there and I've got you there...and if he's a total wackjob we'll bail early, okay?"

"Promise?"

"You have my word."

"Fine." She watched him pull the car into a parking space. "Let's just do this."

I'll be the waterwings that save you if you start drowning

In an open tab when your judgement's on the brink

I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite

Albums back as you're lying there drifting off to sleep...

I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...

You won't have to strain to look into my eyes

I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat

With the collar up so you won't catch a cold

I want to take you far from the cynics in this town

And kiss you on the mouth

We'll cut out bodies free from the tethers of this scene,

Start a brand new colony

Where everything will change,

We'll give ourselves new names (identities erased)

The sun will hear the grounds

Under our bare feet in this brand new colony

Everything will change

--The Postal Service, "Brand New Colony"

And there you have it. Let me know what you think. And I'm just now realizing, Princess Oats, that you used the Postal Service in your AMAZING story, so now it totally sounds like I'm copying. But I swear to god I'm not. It was down to this song and a Strokes song and I saw a picture of one of the Strokes wearing this shirt that was a really miserable attempt at political controversy and it made me so furious that I chose the Postal Service instead. But if you'd like me to change it, let me know. You're the boss. ;)

And also? Sorry I made Teresa's mom such a raving bitch. I mean, I know she's not, like, a saint or anything, what with the covert fakings of baby deaths...but, you know, I played her up a little bit. ::shrug::

Okay! Please review! You guys are awesome!

xoxo