Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 10
Kirsten sat at the kitchen table the next morning, occasionally sipping her coffee, but mostly staring off into space. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and she hadn't bothered to apply any make-up that morning. She'd gone in to kiss Seth good-bye, which almost set off an all new wave of tears, but she'd held back, for Ryan's sake at least.
Ryan sat across from Kirsten. His eyes were dark and hooded, and he was practically laying face-first in his Lucky Charms. He didn't say a word, didn't even look at her. Kirsten wondered if he'd been put off when she'd kissed him last night. She'd just wanted to show her appreciation for how supportive Ryan had been of Seth.
"Hey, everyone," Sandy said, without his usual cheer. He wasn't going in to work, but he had offered to drive Ryan to school.
Sandy sighed as he filled his coffee cup. He hadn't slept at all, and his body was wracked with exhaustion. He'd probably have to down a couple of dozen cups of coffee before he'd be able to face the hospital.
"Today's the big day," he said, stating what everyone else was thinking about. He walked over to Kirsten, kissed the top of her head, and settled in the seat beside her. "And I, for one, am depressed as hell."
Ryan glanced up at him, his eyes giving away nothing. He obviously recognized Sandy's words as his segue into a deep discussion, and decided he wouldn't take the bait. Kirsten just stared into her cup, not even sparing Sandy a glance.
Sandy was too tired to press on. They didn't want to spill their guts, they'd sit in awkward silence. That was fine by him.
Ryan stood up, grabbing his mug and bowl and washing them out in the sink. He bit his lip and sighed.
"I'm ready to go," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice controlled.
Sandy nodded. "All right." He stood up and downed the rest of his coffee. He stooped down slightly and kissed Kirsten's cheek. "I'll be right out."
Ryan nodded and grabbed his backpack from the back of his chair. "I'll be in the car," he announced. "Tell Seth I said hey."
"I will."
Ryan strode briskly out the front door.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Sandy told Kirsten softly.
"Okay." She looked up at Sandy and gave him a tiny smile. "I'm depressed as hell too," she admitted.
Sandy wrapped his arms around her shoulder in a hug. Their lips met in a loving kiss, the kiss of two people who had been together long enough to know when each other's smiles were full of shit. When they pulled away, they were both teary-eyed.
"He'll be fine," Sandy whispered, resting his chin on the top of her head. "He has to be. God's screwed me enough in one lifetime."
Kirsten snickered bitterly. She knew Sandy was right about that fact at least, but her faith in God wasn't the steadiest ship in the water, and hadn't been since her mother's death. And if there was a God up there, He clearly wasn't keeping score.
Sandy massaged her back with both hands. He kissed the back of her neck tenderly.
"I'll be back," he reminded her, and headed for the door.
"Sandy!" Kirsten shot up in her chair.
"What, what is it?" Sandy grabbed her arm, his eyes full of concern.
Kirsten closed her eyes and sighed. "Sandy, we need to explain all this to Dr. Kim, don't we?"
"Shit," Sandy mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I knew we forgot something."
Seth had only gone to school one day that week, allegedly because he had an important test that he just couldn't miss. Sandy suspected that he probably just wanted to see Summer.
"So, do we call? Set up an appointment?" Kirsten asked.
Sandy shook his head. "Our schedules will be pretty hectic for awhile." He glanced at his watch. "How much time do you have before Caleb's picking you up? We could drop in, tell Dr. Kim about it, then come right back."
Kirsten winced. "Dropping in on Dr. Kim, unannounced? She's not exactly known for her love of spontaneity."
Sandy shrugged. "Well, I'd rather we do it together, and this might be the only chance we get this week."
"Let's do it," Kirsten said. "I'll just leave Seth a note in case he wakes up."
"No need," Sandy replied. "He's sleeping like a baby. Plus, Ryan's waiting. We gotta shake a leg."
Kirsten nodded, and followed Sandy out the door. She slid into the back seat of the Range Rover. Ryan, who was already belted into the passenger seat, glanced back at her curiously.
"Sandy and I need to talk to Dr. Kim," Kirsten told him, staring at her hands resting in her lap.
"Good luck," Ryan told her, smiling gently. "She and I don't have the best track record."
Kirsten smiled a little bit. "You know I'd only been in Dr. Kim's office once before you came along."
"What'd he do?" Ryan asked, as Sandy slid into his seat.
"What are we talking about?" Sandy asked.
"That time we had to go into Dr. Kim's office," Kirsten said, a quiet smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, yeah," Sandy said, a large smile creeping up on his face. He laughed a little. "That was great."
"What happened?" Ryan asked, smiling even though he wasn't in on their little story.
"You know Seth; he's always doing crazy stuff. One day he was in some hippie kind of store at the mall and he dug up this tie-dyed shirt with a huge hippo on it. Naturally, he had to buy it and wear it the very next day." Sandy smiled broadly. "And of course, he couldn't just leave it at that. He carried a sign- a very small sign, mind you, just words written on notebook paper- that said "Save the Hippos," in big, block letters."
"And Dr. Kim called you in for that?" Ryan asked, arching an eyebrow.
Kirsten giggled. "She thought that Save the Hippos was code for drugs."
"I almost burst a gut trying not to laugh," Sandy added. He shook his head. "Dr. Kim is very no-nonsense. She wasn't too thrilled with Seth's "outlandish" behavior."
"He get punished?" Ryan inquired.
"Stern warning and he was told never to wear that shirt again," Sandy told him, his eyes finally losing that dull look they'd had that morning. "Crazy kid, I'll tell ya." He pulled into the parking lot of the school.
"So, I'll see you later at the hospital?" Ryan tried to smile.
Sandy squeezed his shoulder and smiled warmly. He nodded.
"I'll pick you up after school and we'll go straight there," Kirsten told him. "I should be done by the time school lets out."
"Okay." Ryan nodded, taking a deep breath.
"It'll be okay," Sandy assured him. "Seth's a Cohen, a fighter."
"Yeah." Ryan mustered up a smile. "He'll do fine. He'll charm the nurses at least, get some extra Jello cups. He'll make the best of it."
Sandy smiled. "That's right."
Ryan smiled at each of the Cohens. "So..uh, later." He pushed open the door and hopped out. He walked briskly toward the steps up to the classroom wing.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
"Hey, Chino."
Ryan jumped a little bit. He turned around to see Summer leaning up against the school building, her arms crossed, a pout on her lips. She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. She'd clearly been waiting for him.
Summer looked a little different, a little less high maintenance. She was wearing the Bright Eyes t-shirt Seth had bought her at one of the many concerts they'd attended, form-fitting jeans, and pink pumas.
"Scare, ya Chino?" She asked without smiling, but not without any malice. She didn't look angry, just tired.
"A little bit, yeah," Ryan admitted sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You going to see Seth today?"
Summer shivered a little, hugging her arms tighter to her chest. She stared at her shoes and sighed.
"I can't today. My dad's got a thing, some dinner party, and I can't get out of it." Summer bit her lip.
"Okay." Ryan nodded, his forehead wrinkling in mild concern. "You okay, Summer?"
Summer nodded unconvincingly. "It's just scary. Cohen's..different. I never expected to like him this much. I never expected anything like this to happen. It's weird."
"Yeah." Ryan swallowed. "It is."
Just then Marissa came marching up to them, her expression livid, her eyes teary. She stopped in front of them, eyes dancing from Ryan to Summer, as if she weren't sure who to explode at first.
"How could you not tell me?" Her voice was low and angry, and it trembled dangerously.
"Tell you what?" Summer asked, though she had a good idea of what Marissa was referring to.
Marissa ignored her. "All that time we talked on the phone, you never brought up the fact that Seth has cancer?" She practically yelled. The mass of talking students froze suddenly, eyes flicking over to the scene Marissa was creating. "Seth is my friend too. You should've told me."
"He didn't want me to tell anyone," Summer said, backing up against the wall, seeming to shrink into herself. This was not the rage blackout girl that Seth knew and loved.
"You should have told me anyway," Marissa insisted, a tear trailing down her cheek. "I thought you were my best friend." She turned to Ryan suddenly. "And you! I was over there almost every day last week. Did it just slip your mind? Did you forget?"
"Who told you?" Ryan asked, trying very hard not to lose control.
"I had to find out from my dad," Marissa replied spitefully. "He asked me at breakfast if I'd gone to see Seth lately...the poor kid. Naturally, I had no idea what he was talking about. 'Gee honey, I thought you'd know. I thought you and Seth were pretty good friends.' Well, I guess he's not my friend. I guess you're not my friends."
Ryan put a hand of Marissa's shoulder. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He could see Summer out of the corner of his eye. The vulnerability was gone, and all that was left was the thought of murder.
"I suggest you go now," he said, his voice low and serious. He was aware that everyone was watching them. He knew that by the end of the day, the whole school would know about Seth. Shit.
"I just wanted you to know how much you hurt me," Marissa spat. "Maybe I'll stop and think twice the next time I start to consider someone my friend." She whirled around sharply and stormed away in a huff.
The courtyard was deadly silent. Everyone's eyes were glued on Ryan and Summer, who had equally shocked expressions on their faces.
The secret was out.
0000000000000000000000000000000
"Uh, yes. Sandy and Kirsten Cohen to see Dr. Kim." Sandy cleared his throat nervously, as he threw his most charming smile at the secretary. He always felt a little edgy around Dr. Kim, like a kid who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The secretary hit a button on her phone and picked up the receiver. "Dr. Kim, Sandy and Kirsten Cohen to see you." She listened attentively and nodded toward the door of Dr. Kim's office.
"You can go right in. A parent conference was just canceled. She should be free to see you."
Sandy nodded his thanks, and Kirsten and Sandy slipped into Dr. Kim's office. Sandy and Kirsten settled into the two chairs in front of Dr. Kim's desk. Dr. Kim sat rigid in her chair, her hands folded, a blank, but vaguely stern expression pasted on her face.
"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen," she greeted them, nodding to Sandy and Kirsten in turn. "I was about to phone you about Seth's repeated absences. That is frowned upon here at Harbor. I trust there is an acceptable reason for your son's truancy?"
"Yes." Sandy took Kirsten's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Seth has been diagnosed with leukemia." God, it never got easier to say those words aloud. Each time it was like a knife twisting in his gut.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Kim said quietly, a proper look of remorse on her face. It unnerved Sandy just how proper it was. "Seth is an exemplary student, and one of Harbor's brightest."
"Thank you," Kirsten said, with a smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"However, he will need to keep abreast of his studies if he wants to pass," Dr. Kim added.
"We understand that," Sandy told her, nodding. "He's going to be in and out of the hospital for an indefinite amount of time, but we want him to keep up with his schoolwork." He paused. "We've discussed hiring a tutor."
"I think that would be a good idea," Dr. Kim replied. "There are tutors available through the school if you need help finding one. Until then I'll have his teachers drop his schoolwork off at the office, and Ryan can pick it up after school daily."
"That would be great," Kirsten replied with a relieved smile.
"I hope to see Seth back at Harbor soon. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to give me a call." Dr. Kim stood up, and the Cohens followed suit. She shook each of their hands in turn.
"Thank you, Dr. Kim," Kirsten said graciously.
"Tell Seth I said hello," she requested. "I'm very sorry he has to go through such a thing at such a young age."
"We appreciate that," Sandy rasped, feeling a little too emotional to stay in one place. After a formal good-bye, the Cohens exited the office.
000000000000000000000000000000000000
Seth was still asleep when Sandy and Kirsten arrived home. They retreated to the separate corners of the house that they had become used to since Seth's diagnosis; somehow, it was easier to forget when they weren't around each other. The kitchen was Kirsten's territory, while Sandy enjoyed the quiet, impersonal guest bedroom next door to Seth's room.
Caleb soon arrived to pick up Kirsten. She left, gladly abandoning the too quiet house. She needed to throw herself into her work, as guilty as it made her feel afterwards.
Sandy, meanwhile, took up Kirsten's spot at the kitchen counter when she left. He tried to read the paper, but the words blurred and swirled before his eyes. Tears welled up in his eyes as it dawned on him that ever since Seth had been diagnosed, he hadn't been able to function normally. Would he ever be able to function again?
"Shit."
Sandy tossed the paper aside and stood up, trying to keep his breathing even and steady. The last thing he needed at that moment was a panic attack. He walked slowly into the living room and threw himself onto the couch, mentally and physically exhausted. He stared up at the ceiling, mulling over his life.
Sandy Cohen had always done the right thing, no matter what the consequences. Even back when he was a teenager in Brooklyn he always did what he knew in his heart was morally right. He'd gone up against gangs of guys bigger than him, and the scrawny Jewish boy always came out on top. Banged up, bruised, but on top. The only thing that held him back from greatness then was his anger. And boy was he angry. It was easy to be angry when your dad walked out and your mom may as well have. It was easy to be angry when you were brilliant around so much ignorance, but nobody listened to you because you were just a stupid punk kid. And Sandy fell into the trap of anger. People pissed him off. And when people pissed him off, he unloaded all his anger on them. He'd beaten up more people than he'd ever admit to either Seth or Ryan. He still remembered each and every guy he'd hit, and each and every reason he'd hit them. Sandy didn't regret any of the times he'd made a guy bleed. His reasons were sound, and to this day, just thinking about some of them made him angry all over again. Made him want to beat the living shit out of Mickey Turner who stole from the donation basket at the library.....
Sandy thought he'd led a pretty good life. He knew he'd made some mistakes in the past, but he figured he and God had an understanding: what happened in Brooklyn and surrounding cities, stayed in Brooklyn and surrounding cities. He'd found ways to express his anger without using his fists. He passed the bar, and helped those who had nothing. He didn't cheat on his wife, he cared for his sons, he worked hard, didn't drink in excess, smoke, gamble, or watch too much television. So what did he do to deserve this?
000000000000000000000000000000000
Anna Stern took a quick inventory, making sure she had all of her essentials. Tray of lunch, of course; egg salad sandwich and a brownie. Everything seemed in order on that front. Small container of pineapple juice, check. Travel toothbrush, travel toothpaste, dental floss, check, check, check. Lunchtime had indeed arrived.
She scanned the courtyard for a friendly face. Well, there was really only one friendly face around Harbor School, that being Seth Cohen's. She hadn't talked to him in what seemed like forever, but she'd been on vacation for two weeks. It had been a pleasant trip back to Pittsburgh, seeing all of her friends and everything, but she'd missed Seth the whole time. She'd be with her friends and not able to stop thinking how perfect Seth would fit in with them. She was well aware that they had no chemistry, but having him as a friend suited her fine, or would suit her fine. She still needed a little time on that one.
Anna nibbled her brownie thoughtfully. It was hard to act like you were fine alone when you really weren't. Lunchtime always sucked like that.
"Yeah, man, he has cancer."
Anna's ears perked up at the words that had come from some jock sitting behind her. She wondered who they could possibly be talking about. While it was probably not anybody she knew or liked, cancer was pretty sad. Anna had lost her grandmother to breast cancer when she was nine, and it still hurt a little to think about.
"Dude, seriously?" Some other jock asked.
Anna rolled her eyes. She wanted to know who they were talking about. It was that incredible urge to know someone else's business. Once the urge took root, it could never die. Not until she knew.
"Dude, who is this again?" The jock asked.
Anna smiled a little. You could always count on their stupidity. She tilted her head slightly. She didn't want to miss this.
"Umm..that really dorky kid. The one we beat the shit out of all the time..What's his name?"
Anna froze. Her heart skipped a beat. No....
"You mean the one that bagged Summer?"
"Yeah, that one. The emo freak with the bad hair."
Anna swallowed a lump in her throat. No. No. No.
"Cohen. Seth Cohen," the jock spat out finally, sounding proud of himself.
Anna stood up quickly. She wasn't hungry anymore. She just had to know if what they were saying was true. Did Seth Cohen have cancer?
She strode quickly to the trashcan and dumped her whole tray. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest. It couldn't happen. Seth was her friend, and one of the few people in Newport who wasn't a total parasite. He couldn't just go and get cancer. No, it was impossible. Those jocks didn't know what they were talking about. Yeah, that was it.
She entered the student center and spotted Ryan and Summer sitting on one of ugly-ass couches. They both had grave expressions on their faces, and were talking heatedly. Anna knew she should just leave them alone, but she couldn't.
"Hey guys," she said quietly. They looked up at her questioningly. Summer looked like she'd been crying.
"You heard," Ryan said softly.
Anna nodded. "So, it's true?"
Summer nodded, crossing her arms and closing her eyes.
"He didn't even want to tell people yet, but now everybody knows." She sighed. "Goddamn Coop."
"He was going to tell you," Ryan told Anna nervously. "But you weren't home when he called."
Anna nodded. She had a message from him on her answering machine. Something about needing to talk, and how beautiful Tahiti must have been for her, how he wished he could go. It had seemed strange then, but maybe this explained it.
"I'm sorry," Anna whispered. She turned to leave, but Summer stopped her.
"Hey, Anna?"
"Yeah?" Anna paused, her eyes brimming with tears. She really didn't want to cry in front of them.
"Wanna sit down?" Summer asked. Her eyes were glassy, but she smiled weakly.
"I'd like that," Anna responded, and she sat down beside Summer.
00000000000000000000000000000000000
"Seth...Seth..wake up buddy."
Seth groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
"C'mon, cutie pants, let's go."
Seth opened his eyes, perhaps only to roll them at the joke pet name his father called him sometimes just to piss him off. He smiled weakly at his dad, who sat on his bed and looked down at him with mild concern.
"What time is it?" Seth mumbled, sitting up slightly.
Sandy stood up. "It's about ten-thirty. You need breakfast. Then we'll get you packed; maybe play a little Nintendo, then head out."
"Noon, right?" Seth asked groggily. He yawned. God, he was beat.
"Yep." Sandy tried, and failed, to smile. "How are you feeling?"
Seth sighed. "Do you have to ask?" He paused. "A little achy, icky, but I'll be okay. Much like Destiny's Child, I'm a survivor."
"Son," Sandy began, "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but I agree wholeheartedly."
"That's all I can ask for," Seth responded with a tiny smile.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Sandy asked.
"Ah, I'm not really that hungry," Seth admitted with a shrug. "I'd rather not eat."
"Seth, you have to eat something," Sandy told him, concerned. "Now, I know you're nervous, but you won't help yourself any if you don't eat."
"What do we have?" Seth asked, resigned.
Sandy's face brightened instantly. "Whatever the hell you want! In anticipation of this meal, I went out to the supermarket and bought every single food product I could shove in my cart."
"Then I'll have a half pound of lard and some guacamole chips," Seth requested.
"Sorry, ate all the lard while you were sleeping," Sandy said sadly. "But I do have someone's favorite pie downstairs."
Seth grinned. "S'mores pie? For me?"
"You betcha." Sandy smiled down at his son. "You hungry now?"
"A little bit, I suppose," Seth responded, rubbing his eyes.
"All right. But only eat as much as you can handle," Sandy warned.
"Aye, aye, Captain." Seth saluted.
"You're crazy, you know that?" Sandy asked, feeling a warm smile creep up on his lips. "Just get a move on. Time's a-wastin.'"
Sandy watched Seth take tiny forkfuls of pie and eat them. He smiled sadly, but Seth was too engrossed in his pie to notice his father's stare. Sandy couldn't tear his eyes away from him; he was memorizing his face, and how he looked sitting there at the table. When would he be able to sit there again after today? Would he ever?
He's too young, Sandy decided. Seth didn't look old enough to be battling anything potentially fatal. He was still that mop-haired, hyperactive, five year old in Sandy's mind. Sandy wasn't ready to let go.
Seth sniffed, and swallowed another tiny bite of pie. His stomach seemed to be all over the place, and he was really only eating for his father's sake. He tried not to think about what would happen at the hospital, but of course, that didn't work. It was all his mind could focus on. He'd have a day to settle in there before beginning chemotherapy. What was it his father had said to him once, "The anticipation of death is far greater than death itself?" Something like that. He supposed that was how he felt. A large part of him just wanted to get the whole treatment deal over with, so he could go back to his normal, mostly paranoia-free life.
"You better hurry up there, kiddo. We don't have too much time before we have to go," Sandy said softly.
Seth rolled his eyes. "Why must you insist on calling me kiddo? Honestly." He smiled a little bit though, and Sandy mustered up a tiny grin. Seth bit his lip. "I'll go up and pack in one sec." He scarfed down one last bite of pie. "Done," he told him, though there was hardly a dent in the piece Sandy had cut for him.
"All right. Go on. I'll be up in a minute," Sandy told him, grabbing Seth's finished pie and standing up.
Seth nodded and walked toward the stairs. On the first step he remembered that he had to ask his father if they could pick up some batteries on the way, he turned back around, but stopped at what he saw in the kitchen.
Sandy was sitting at the kitchen table, his head lying in his folded arms. His shoulders were shaking up and down violently, and Seth could hear his father sobbing, quiet and controlled, but when he strained, he could just make out the sound of ragged intakes of breath, and shuddery sighs, a sniffle here and there.
Seth swallowed a lump in his throat, his face going as white as a sheet. He slowly turned, almost as if in a dream, and trudged up the stairs.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Doctors and nurses rushed around, all hurrying to get somewhere, passing off charts and files to whomever they passed, who immediately acted according to some unspoken instructions, and bustled on down the hallway. Still, the oncology floor managed to be a somber place. Everyone was very quiet and subdued, and even though they were striding briskly this way and that, they all seemed to be moving in slow motion.
The wall was a mural of the sky, with puffy white clouds, a soft blue background, and golden angels dancing around the border, strumming harps and looking serene. Seth frowned. Was this supposed to make him feel better about the fact that he could die? Was he supposed to believe that heaven was that little fantasy land with the chubby babies jamming on their harps? And what, exactly, did he believe to begin with?
Sandy had his arm around Seth's shoulders. Both of their faces were pale and their eyes red; Seth's eyes from sickness, Sandy's from crying. They took slow, halting steps, as if they were trying to let everything around them sink in one bit at a time. Doctors and nurses who passed by flashed them sympathetic smiles, or encouraging nods, knowing exactly what they were going through.
A pretty nurse pushing a wheelchair with a young boy in it came into sight. The boy couldn't have been more than nine years old, and he looked to be on the brink of collapse. His skin was stark white, and his lips were purple and chapped. He was bald, a truth of cancer treatment Seth hadn't yet been able to confront.
Seth swallowed a lump in his throat. The boy was carrying a prosthetic leg in his lap. He was one of the radiation treated patients. God, he just wanted to get out of there. He shuddered painfully, and looked away as the wheelchair retreated down the hallway, away from him.
Sandy gave Seth a sideways hug, squeezing his son gently to his body. He'd seen the boy too.
"It's gonna be okay," he whispered softly. He maneuvered his head so he could look into Seth's eyes. "Are you going to be okay?"
Seth nodded, but his heart was still pounding incessantly. He knew his body was shaking, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of shame. He should've been stronger than that. He licked his lips and let out a loud breath.
"Yeah..yeah..it's no problem."
Sandy nodded, still unsure. "Okay then."
Seth shrugged his father's arm off of his shoulder gently. He crossed his arms and hugged himself slightly as they continued walking towards the main desk, Seth walking a little ahead of his father.
Sandy watched him walk, his heart clenching in pain. He wanted to do something to make this better for him. Obviously, Seth didn't want him smothering him, or babying him, or asking him every second whether he was all right. But how could he find the balance between smothering and ignoring? How much was too much? What was the right thing to do and say? Could he joke about it, try and get Seth to be more upbeat? What if the jokes crossed some invisible line and Seth just ended up retreating into himself, like back when Sandy used to make little remarks about how he was always at home, and Seth interpreted that as Sandy saying that he was a friendless loser, and he was ashamed to have him as a son? Sandy couldn't take that distance again, especially not in their current situation.
"Seth Cohen," Seth told the receptionist, his voice husky and unfamiliar to even himself. His arms were still crossed tightly, and he only glanced at his father briefly when he came up behind him, before focusing his gaze back on the receptionist.
Seth was quickly led to his room, a spacious, brightly painted room, with a TV in the corner and a large vase of flowers on the long counter by the window. Sandy thought it had to be the most depressing thing he'd ever seen.
"Ugh, look at the crap they have me wearing," Seth muttered in disgust, holding up the blue pajamas and robe they'd set on his bed. "Summer'll flip when she sees these." He gave his father a tired half-grin.
Sandy snickered. The hospital clothes weren't all that bad, but he knew with Summer's astute eye for fashion, she'd absolutely detest the plain, semi-drab, ensemble.
Seth changed quickly, while Sandy examined the small closet in the room. One of his compulsive habits was to organize things in difficult situations. Maybe once they'd sorted out where everything would go, he could breathe easily. He really wasn't lying when he'd told Seth he couldn't breathe an easy breath without knowing he was okay.
Seth's blue duffel bag was stuffed to the brim with books, CDs, novelty items, graphic novels, and hats. No regular clothes, just hats. Sandy took a stack of books and arranged them neatly on the shelf in the closet.
"Any of these you want to keep by your bed?" Sandy asked, not turning around in case Seth was still changing.
"Yeah. The Michael Moore book....and "Desolation Angels," Seth replied, fiddling with the drawstring on his pajama pants. "Okay, I'm decent." He paused. "Bring some comics too, huh?"
"Which ones?"
"Eh, surprise me."
"CDs?" Sandy asked. He grabbed Seth's portable CD player out of the bag and set it on the night stand.
"Any Bright Eyes, Death Cab, Ray Romano: Live, uh....The White Octave ....that's about it for now. The rest you can shove into the closet."
"All right." Sandy set to work, arranging everything neatly. He paused when he took out a beanie copter hat, most likely thrown in as a joke, but he couldn't even bring himself to smile. Hats were still signs to him that said "Everything's changing."
When he was done, Sandy smiled slightly, feeling a little better now that everything was in order. He turned to find Seth staring intently at the bed. His face fell. He knew it had to be a big step, getting in that bed, knowing he'd be stuck there for an indefinite amount of time.
Seth glanced up at his father, and then looked away quickly. "This is it," he said quietly.
"Guess so," Sandy replied, shuffling his weight from foot to foot nervously.
"Well..." Seth trailed off. He pulled back the sheets a little and slid into the hospital bed. Instantly, a look passed over his face: a mixture of fear, relief, confusion, and anger. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it flickered away, replaced with a blank stare. He tugged the blankets over himself.
Sandy settled into the chair next to Seth's bed, sensing his son's discomfort, and perhaps even shame. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
"So...what do we do now?" Seth asked softly. He cleared his throat. "I mean, uh, it's noon so there's really nothing on, unless this thing gets cable, 'cause sometimes they play "Growing Pains" on Fox Family. That's like one of the greatest shows ever, despite the major dorkiness of Alan Thicke. And I can overlook the fact that they had Leonardo DiCaprio on it briefly, because back then he seemed to have some talent. Does this thing get cable?" He gestured toward the television, as he went through the motions of babbling crazily.
"Caleb put in a few calls to the hospital recently, so this sucker probably gets cable..and you probably have a personal masseuse and a private hot tub," Sandy replied. He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "But, if nothing's on, I brought a deck of cards. We could play poker or something."
Seth nodded. "I do enjoy the World Series of Poker. There's this dude, Chris Moneymaker. Can you imagine if your last name was Moneymaker? That'd have to be like a sign from above that you were meant to be rich. Unless, it's like, their idea of a joke and a Moneymaker ends up being a hobo or something. That'd be like-"
"You don't have to do this," Sandy cut in. He saw in Seth's eyes that the more he talked, the more painful it became.
"Okay. Let's just play cards then," Seth said, in practically a whisper.
They played a few hands, not keeping track of who won and lost, and not saying too much, each one wondering what they could say.
"Dad?"
Seth finally broke the silence a few hands later.
"Yeah, Seth?"
Seth cleared his throat. "Do..do you think things'll work out?" He bit his lip. "Because..'cause I saw you crying and umm..it just, I guess it scared me a little. I-I wasn't going to say anything..but I dunno..I kinda need to know."
"Oh, Seth." Sandy closed his eyes. He reached out and grasped Seth's forearm. His eyes opened a second later, and the older man sighed. "Seth, I think that things will work out. I'm scared though, and I'm sorry that I scared you. You have to understand that we all need some time to deal with this. Just because I cried doesn't mean I don't believe you can beat this. I trust God on this one."
"Okay." Seth nodded slightly.
"I'm glad you talked to me about this, though," Sandy admitted.
Seth nodded again.
"Look, will you be okay for a few minutes? I didn't really eat breakfast this morning, and I was thinking of going down and grabbing a donut." Sandy ran a hand through his hair.
"Sure thing, Pops. I think I'll catch a few z's anyway. I need to be rested and refreshed for my visitors later." Seth threw his father a crooked smile, and fluffed his pillows delicately. "See ya in a few."
"Yeah. In a few." Sandy bent down hesitantly, and kissed Seth's temple tenderly. "I know you hate it, but I need to sometimes, okay?"
"Okay," Seth agreed, closing his eyes, preparing for sleep. "I understand."
end of chapter
Chapter 10
Kirsten sat at the kitchen table the next morning, occasionally sipping her coffee, but mostly staring off into space. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and she hadn't bothered to apply any make-up that morning. She'd gone in to kiss Seth good-bye, which almost set off an all new wave of tears, but she'd held back, for Ryan's sake at least.
Ryan sat across from Kirsten. His eyes were dark and hooded, and he was practically laying face-first in his Lucky Charms. He didn't say a word, didn't even look at her. Kirsten wondered if he'd been put off when she'd kissed him last night. She'd just wanted to show her appreciation for how supportive Ryan had been of Seth.
"Hey, everyone," Sandy said, without his usual cheer. He wasn't going in to work, but he had offered to drive Ryan to school.
Sandy sighed as he filled his coffee cup. He hadn't slept at all, and his body was wracked with exhaustion. He'd probably have to down a couple of dozen cups of coffee before he'd be able to face the hospital.
"Today's the big day," he said, stating what everyone else was thinking about. He walked over to Kirsten, kissed the top of her head, and settled in the seat beside her. "And I, for one, am depressed as hell."
Ryan glanced up at him, his eyes giving away nothing. He obviously recognized Sandy's words as his segue into a deep discussion, and decided he wouldn't take the bait. Kirsten just stared into her cup, not even sparing Sandy a glance.
Sandy was too tired to press on. They didn't want to spill their guts, they'd sit in awkward silence. That was fine by him.
Ryan stood up, grabbing his mug and bowl and washing them out in the sink. He bit his lip and sighed.
"I'm ready to go," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice controlled.
Sandy nodded. "All right." He stood up and downed the rest of his coffee. He stooped down slightly and kissed Kirsten's cheek. "I'll be right out."
Ryan nodded and grabbed his backpack from the back of his chair. "I'll be in the car," he announced. "Tell Seth I said hey."
"I will."
Ryan strode briskly out the front door.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Sandy told Kirsten softly.
"Okay." She looked up at Sandy and gave him a tiny smile. "I'm depressed as hell too," she admitted.
Sandy wrapped his arms around her shoulder in a hug. Their lips met in a loving kiss, the kiss of two people who had been together long enough to know when each other's smiles were full of shit. When they pulled away, they were both teary-eyed.
"He'll be fine," Sandy whispered, resting his chin on the top of her head. "He has to be. God's screwed me enough in one lifetime."
Kirsten snickered bitterly. She knew Sandy was right about that fact at least, but her faith in God wasn't the steadiest ship in the water, and hadn't been since her mother's death. And if there was a God up there, He clearly wasn't keeping score.
Sandy massaged her back with both hands. He kissed the back of her neck tenderly.
"I'll be back," he reminded her, and headed for the door.
"Sandy!" Kirsten shot up in her chair.
"What, what is it?" Sandy grabbed her arm, his eyes full of concern.
Kirsten closed her eyes and sighed. "Sandy, we need to explain all this to Dr. Kim, don't we?"
"Shit," Sandy mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I knew we forgot something."
Seth had only gone to school one day that week, allegedly because he had an important test that he just couldn't miss. Sandy suspected that he probably just wanted to see Summer.
"So, do we call? Set up an appointment?" Kirsten asked.
Sandy shook his head. "Our schedules will be pretty hectic for awhile." He glanced at his watch. "How much time do you have before Caleb's picking you up? We could drop in, tell Dr. Kim about it, then come right back."
Kirsten winced. "Dropping in on Dr. Kim, unannounced? She's not exactly known for her love of spontaneity."
Sandy shrugged. "Well, I'd rather we do it together, and this might be the only chance we get this week."
"Let's do it," Kirsten said. "I'll just leave Seth a note in case he wakes up."
"No need," Sandy replied. "He's sleeping like a baby. Plus, Ryan's waiting. We gotta shake a leg."
Kirsten nodded, and followed Sandy out the door. She slid into the back seat of the Range Rover. Ryan, who was already belted into the passenger seat, glanced back at her curiously.
"Sandy and I need to talk to Dr. Kim," Kirsten told him, staring at her hands resting in her lap.
"Good luck," Ryan told her, smiling gently. "She and I don't have the best track record."
Kirsten smiled a little bit. "You know I'd only been in Dr. Kim's office once before you came along."
"What'd he do?" Ryan asked, as Sandy slid into his seat.
"What are we talking about?" Sandy asked.
"That time we had to go into Dr. Kim's office," Kirsten said, a quiet smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, yeah," Sandy said, a large smile creeping up on his face. He laughed a little. "That was great."
"What happened?" Ryan asked, smiling even though he wasn't in on their little story.
"You know Seth; he's always doing crazy stuff. One day he was in some hippie kind of store at the mall and he dug up this tie-dyed shirt with a huge hippo on it. Naturally, he had to buy it and wear it the very next day." Sandy smiled broadly. "And of course, he couldn't just leave it at that. He carried a sign- a very small sign, mind you, just words written on notebook paper- that said "Save the Hippos," in big, block letters."
"And Dr. Kim called you in for that?" Ryan asked, arching an eyebrow.
Kirsten giggled. "She thought that Save the Hippos was code for drugs."
"I almost burst a gut trying not to laugh," Sandy added. He shook his head. "Dr. Kim is very no-nonsense. She wasn't too thrilled with Seth's "outlandish" behavior."
"He get punished?" Ryan inquired.
"Stern warning and he was told never to wear that shirt again," Sandy told him, his eyes finally losing that dull look they'd had that morning. "Crazy kid, I'll tell ya." He pulled into the parking lot of the school.
"So, I'll see you later at the hospital?" Ryan tried to smile.
Sandy squeezed his shoulder and smiled warmly. He nodded.
"I'll pick you up after school and we'll go straight there," Kirsten told him. "I should be done by the time school lets out."
"Okay." Ryan nodded, taking a deep breath.
"It'll be okay," Sandy assured him. "Seth's a Cohen, a fighter."
"Yeah." Ryan mustered up a smile. "He'll do fine. He'll charm the nurses at least, get some extra Jello cups. He'll make the best of it."
Sandy smiled. "That's right."
Ryan smiled at each of the Cohens. "So..uh, later." He pushed open the door and hopped out. He walked briskly toward the steps up to the classroom wing.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
"Hey, Chino."
Ryan jumped a little bit. He turned around to see Summer leaning up against the school building, her arms crossed, a pout on her lips. She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. She'd clearly been waiting for him.
Summer looked a little different, a little less high maintenance. She was wearing the Bright Eyes t-shirt Seth had bought her at one of the many concerts they'd attended, form-fitting jeans, and pink pumas.
"Scare, ya Chino?" She asked without smiling, but not without any malice. She didn't look angry, just tired.
"A little bit, yeah," Ryan admitted sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You going to see Seth today?"
Summer shivered a little, hugging her arms tighter to her chest. She stared at her shoes and sighed.
"I can't today. My dad's got a thing, some dinner party, and I can't get out of it." Summer bit her lip.
"Okay." Ryan nodded, his forehead wrinkling in mild concern. "You okay, Summer?"
Summer nodded unconvincingly. "It's just scary. Cohen's..different. I never expected to like him this much. I never expected anything like this to happen. It's weird."
"Yeah." Ryan swallowed. "It is."
Just then Marissa came marching up to them, her expression livid, her eyes teary. She stopped in front of them, eyes dancing from Ryan to Summer, as if she weren't sure who to explode at first.
"How could you not tell me?" Her voice was low and angry, and it trembled dangerously.
"Tell you what?" Summer asked, though she had a good idea of what Marissa was referring to.
Marissa ignored her. "All that time we talked on the phone, you never brought up the fact that Seth has cancer?" She practically yelled. The mass of talking students froze suddenly, eyes flicking over to the scene Marissa was creating. "Seth is my friend too. You should've told me."
"He didn't want me to tell anyone," Summer said, backing up against the wall, seeming to shrink into herself. This was not the rage blackout girl that Seth knew and loved.
"You should have told me anyway," Marissa insisted, a tear trailing down her cheek. "I thought you were my best friend." She turned to Ryan suddenly. "And you! I was over there almost every day last week. Did it just slip your mind? Did you forget?"
"Who told you?" Ryan asked, trying very hard not to lose control.
"I had to find out from my dad," Marissa replied spitefully. "He asked me at breakfast if I'd gone to see Seth lately...the poor kid. Naturally, I had no idea what he was talking about. 'Gee honey, I thought you'd know. I thought you and Seth were pretty good friends.' Well, I guess he's not my friend. I guess you're not my friends."
Ryan put a hand of Marissa's shoulder. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He could see Summer out of the corner of his eye. The vulnerability was gone, and all that was left was the thought of murder.
"I suggest you go now," he said, his voice low and serious. He was aware that everyone was watching them. He knew that by the end of the day, the whole school would know about Seth. Shit.
"I just wanted you to know how much you hurt me," Marissa spat. "Maybe I'll stop and think twice the next time I start to consider someone my friend." She whirled around sharply and stormed away in a huff.
The courtyard was deadly silent. Everyone's eyes were glued on Ryan and Summer, who had equally shocked expressions on their faces.
The secret was out.
0000000000000000000000000000000
"Uh, yes. Sandy and Kirsten Cohen to see Dr. Kim." Sandy cleared his throat nervously, as he threw his most charming smile at the secretary. He always felt a little edgy around Dr. Kim, like a kid who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The secretary hit a button on her phone and picked up the receiver. "Dr. Kim, Sandy and Kirsten Cohen to see you." She listened attentively and nodded toward the door of Dr. Kim's office.
"You can go right in. A parent conference was just canceled. She should be free to see you."
Sandy nodded his thanks, and Kirsten and Sandy slipped into Dr. Kim's office. Sandy and Kirsten settled into the two chairs in front of Dr. Kim's desk. Dr. Kim sat rigid in her chair, her hands folded, a blank, but vaguely stern expression pasted on her face.
"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen," she greeted them, nodding to Sandy and Kirsten in turn. "I was about to phone you about Seth's repeated absences. That is frowned upon here at Harbor. I trust there is an acceptable reason for your son's truancy?"
"Yes." Sandy took Kirsten's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Seth has been diagnosed with leukemia." God, it never got easier to say those words aloud. Each time it was like a knife twisting in his gut.
"I'm sorry," Dr. Kim said quietly, a proper look of remorse on her face. It unnerved Sandy just how proper it was. "Seth is an exemplary student, and one of Harbor's brightest."
"Thank you," Kirsten said, with a smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"However, he will need to keep abreast of his studies if he wants to pass," Dr. Kim added.
"We understand that," Sandy told her, nodding. "He's going to be in and out of the hospital for an indefinite amount of time, but we want him to keep up with his schoolwork." He paused. "We've discussed hiring a tutor."
"I think that would be a good idea," Dr. Kim replied. "There are tutors available through the school if you need help finding one. Until then I'll have his teachers drop his schoolwork off at the office, and Ryan can pick it up after school daily."
"That would be great," Kirsten replied with a relieved smile.
"I hope to see Seth back at Harbor soon. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to give me a call." Dr. Kim stood up, and the Cohens followed suit. She shook each of their hands in turn.
"Thank you, Dr. Kim," Kirsten said graciously.
"Tell Seth I said hello," she requested. "I'm very sorry he has to go through such a thing at such a young age."
"We appreciate that," Sandy rasped, feeling a little too emotional to stay in one place. After a formal good-bye, the Cohens exited the office.
000000000000000000000000000000000000
Seth was still asleep when Sandy and Kirsten arrived home. They retreated to the separate corners of the house that they had become used to since Seth's diagnosis; somehow, it was easier to forget when they weren't around each other. The kitchen was Kirsten's territory, while Sandy enjoyed the quiet, impersonal guest bedroom next door to Seth's room.
Caleb soon arrived to pick up Kirsten. She left, gladly abandoning the too quiet house. She needed to throw herself into her work, as guilty as it made her feel afterwards.
Sandy, meanwhile, took up Kirsten's spot at the kitchen counter when she left. He tried to read the paper, but the words blurred and swirled before his eyes. Tears welled up in his eyes as it dawned on him that ever since Seth had been diagnosed, he hadn't been able to function normally. Would he ever be able to function again?
"Shit."
Sandy tossed the paper aside and stood up, trying to keep his breathing even and steady. The last thing he needed at that moment was a panic attack. He walked slowly into the living room and threw himself onto the couch, mentally and physically exhausted. He stared up at the ceiling, mulling over his life.
Sandy Cohen had always done the right thing, no matter what the consequences. Even back when he was a teenager in Brooklyn he always did what he knew in his heart was morally right. He'd gone up against gangs of guys bigger than him, and the scrawny Jewish boy always came out on top. Banged up, bruised, but on top. The only thing that held him back from greatness then was his anger. And boy was he angry. It was easy to be angry when your dad walked out and your mom may as well have. It was easy to be angry when you were brilliant around so much ignorance, but nobody listened to you because you were just a stupid punk kid. And Sandy fell into the trap of anger. People pissed him off. And when people pissed him off, he unloaded all his anger on them. He'd beaten up more people than he'd ever admit to either Seth or Ryan. He still remembered each and every guy he'd hit, and each and every reason he'd hit them. Sandy didn't regret any of the times he'd made a guy bleed. His reasons were sound, and to this day, just thinking about some of them made him angry all over again. Made him want to beat the living shit out of Mickey Turner who stole from the donation basket at the library.....
Sandy thought he'd led a pretty good life. He knew he'd made some mistakes in the past, but he figured he and God had an understanding: what happened in Brooklyn and surrounding cities, stayed in Brooklyn and surrounding cities. He'd found ways to express his anger without using his fists. He passed the bar, and helped those who had nothing. He didn't cheat on his wife, he cared for his sons, he worked hard, didn't drink in excess, smoke, gamble, or watch too much television. So what did he do to deserve this?
000000000000000000000000000000000
Anna Stern took a quick inventory, making sure she had all of her essentials. Tray of lunch, of course; egg salad sandwich and a brownie. Everything seemed in order on that front. Small container of pineapple juice, check. Travel toothbrush, travel toothpaste, dental floss, check, check, check. Lunchtime had indeed arrived.
She scanned the courtyard for a friendly face. Well, there was really only one friendly face around Harbor School, that being Seth Cohen's. She hadn't talked to him in what seemed like forever, but she'd been on vacation for two weeks. It had been a pleasant trip back to Pittsburgh, seeing all of her friends and everything, but she'd missed Seth the whole time. She'd be with her friends and not able to stop thinking how perfect Seth would fit in with them. She was well aware that they had no chemistry, but having him as a friend suited her fine, or would suit her fine. She still needed a little time on that one.
Anna nibbled her brownie thoughtfully. It was hard to act like you were fine alone when you really weren't. Lunchtime always sucked like that.
"Yeah, man, he has cancer."
Anna's ears perked up at the words that had come from some jock sitting behind her. She wondered who they could possibly be talking about. While it was probably not anybody she knew or liked, cancer was pretty sad. Anna had lost her grandmother to breast cancer when she was nine, and it still hurt a little to think about.
"Dude, seriously?" Some other jock asked.
Anna rolled her eyes. She wanted to know who they were talking about. It was that incredible urge to know someone else's business. Once the urge took root, it could never die. Not until she knew.
"Dude, who is this again?" The jock asked.
Anna smiled a little. You could always count on their stupidity. She tilted her head slightly. She didn't want to miss this.
"Umm..that really dorky kid. The one we beat the shit out of all the time..What's his name?"
Anna froze. Her heart skipped a beat. No....
"You mean the one that bagged Summer?"
"Yeah, that one. The emo freak with the bad hair."
Anna swallowed a lump in her throat. No. No. No.
"Cohen. Seth Cohen," the jock spat out finally, sounding proud of himself.
Anna stood up quickly. She wasn't hungry anymore. She just had to know if what they were saying was true. Did Seth Cohen have cancer?
She strode quickly to the trashcan and dumped her whole tray. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest. It couldn't happen. Seth was her friend, and one of the few people in Newport who wasn't a total parasite. He couldn't just go and get cancer. No, it was impossible. Those jocks didn't know what they were talking about. Yeah, that was it.
She entered the student center and spotted Ryan and Summer sitting on one of ugly-ass couches. They both had grave expressions on their faces, and were talking heatedly. Anna knew she should just leave them alone, but she couldn't.
"Hey guys," she said quietly. They looked up at her questioningly. Summer looked like she'd been crying.
"You heard," Ryan said softly.
Anna nodded. "So, it's true?"
Summer nodded, crossing her arms and closing her eyes.
"He didn't even want to tell people yet, but now everybody knows." She sighed. "Goddamn Coop."
"He was going to tell you," Ryan told Anna nervously. "But you weren't home when he called."
Anna nodded. She had a message from him on her answering machine. Something about needing to talk, and how beautiful Tahiti must have been for her, how he wished he could go. It had seemed strange then, but maybe this explained it.
"I'm sorry," Anna whispered. She turned to leave, but Summer stopped her.
"Hey, Anna?"
"Yeah?" Anna paused, her eyes brimming with tears. She really didn't want to cry in front of them.
"Wanna sit down?" Summer asked. Her eyes were glassy, but she smiled weakly.
"I'd like that," Anna responded, and she sat down beside Summer.
00000000000000000000000000000000000
"Seth...Seth..wake up buddy."
Seth groaned, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
"C'mon, cutie pants, let's go."
Seth opened his eyes, perhaps only to roll them at the joke pet name his father called him sometimes just to piss him off. He smiled weakly at his dad, who sat on his bed and looked down at him with mild concern.
"What time is it?" Seth mumbled, sitting up slightly.
Sandy stood up. "It's about ten-thirty. You need breakfast. Then we'll get you packed; maybe play a little Nintendo, then head out."
"Noon, right?" Seth asked groggily. He yawned. God, he was beat.
"Yep." Sandy tried, and failed, to smile. "How are you feeling?"
Seth sighed. "Do you have to ask?" He paused. "A little achy, icky, but I'll be okay. Much like Destiny's Child, I'm a survivor."
"Son," Sandy began, "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but I agree wholeheartedly."
"That's all I can ask for," Seth responded with a tiny smile.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Sandy asked.
"Ah, I'm not really that hungry," Seth admitted with a shrug. "I'd rather not eat."
"Seth, you have to eat something," Sandy told him, concerned. "Now, I know you're nervous, but you won't help yourself any if you don't eat."
"What do we have?" Seth asked, resigned.
Sandy's face brightened instantly. "Whatever the hell you want! In anticipation of this meal, I went out to the supermarket and bought every single food product I could shove in my cart."
"Then I'll have a half pound of lard and some guacamole chips," Seth requested.
"Sorry, ate all the lard while you were sleeping," Sandy said sadly. "But I do have someone's favorite pie downstairs."
Seth grinned. "S'mores pie? For me?"
"You betcha." Sandy smiled down at his son. "You hungry now?"
"A little bit, I suppose," Seth responded, rubbing his eyes.
"All right. But only eat as much as you can handle," Sandy warned.
"Aye, aye, Captain." Seth saluted.
"You're crazy, you know that?" Sandy asked, feeling a warm smile creep up on his lips. "Just get a move on. Time's a-wastin.'"
Sandy watched Seth take tiny forkfuls of pie and eat them. He smiled sadly, but Seth was too engrossed in his pie to notice his father's stare. Sandy couldn't tear his eyes away from him; he was memorizing his face, and how he looked sitting there at the table. When would he be able to sit there again after today? Would he ever?
He's too young, Sandy decided. Seth didn't look old enough to be battling anything potentially fatal. He was still that mop-haired, hyperactive, five year old in Sandy's mind. Sandy wasn't ready to let go.
Seth sniffed, and swallowed another tiny bite of pie. His stomach seemed to be all over the place, and he was really only eating for his father's sake. He tried not to think about what would happen at the hospital, but of course, that didn't work. It was all his mind could focus on. He'd have a day to settle in there before beginning chemotherapy. What was it his father had said to him once, "The anticipation of death is far greater than death itself?" Something like that. He supposed that was how he felt. A large part of him just wanted to get the whole treatment deal over with, so he could go back to his normal, mostly paranoia-free life.
"You better hurry up there, kiddo. We don't have too much time before we have to go," Sandy said softly.
Seth rolled his eyes. "Why must you insist on calling me kiddo? Honestly." He smiled a little bit though, and Sandy mustered up a tiny grin. Seth bit his lip. "I'll go up and pack in one sec." He scarfed down one last bite of pie. "Done," he told him, though there was hardly a dent in the piece Sandy had cut for him.
"All right. Go on. I'll be up in a minute," Sandy told him, grabbing Seth's finished pie and standing up.
Seth nodded and walked toward the stairs. On the first step he remembered that he had to ask his father if they could pick up some batteries on the way, he turned back around, but stopped at what he saw in the kitchen.
Sandy was sitting at the kitchen table, his head lying in his folded arms. His shoulders were shaking up and down violently, and Seth could hear his father sobbing, quiet and controlled, but when he strained, he could just make out the sound of ragged intakes of breath, and shuddery sighs, a sniffle here and there.
Seth swallowed a lump in his throat, his face going as white as a sheet. He slowly turned, almost as if in a dream, and trudged up the stairs.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Doctors and nurses rushed around, all hurrying to get somewhere, passing off charts and files to whomever they passed, who immediately acted according to some unspoken instructions, and bustled on down the hallway. Still, the oncology floor managed to be a somber place. Everyone was very quiet and subdued, and even though they were striding briskly this way and that, they all seemed to be moving in slow motion.
The wall was a mural of the sky, with puffy white clouds, a soft blue background, and golden angels dancing around the border, strumming harps and looking serene. Seth frowned. Was this supposed to make him feel better about the fact that he could die? Was he supposed to believe that heaven was that little fantasy land with the chubby babies jamming on their harps? And what, exactly, did he believe to begin with?
Sandy had his arm around Seth's shoulders. Both of their faces were pale and their eyes red; Seth's eyes from sickness, Sandy's from crying. They took slow, halting steps, as if they were trying to let everything around them sink in one bit at a time. Doctors and nurses who passed by flashed them sympathetic smiles, or encouraging nods, knowing exactly what they were going through.
A pretty nurse pushing a wheelchair with a young boy in it came into sight. The boy couldn't have been more than nine years old, and he looked to be on the brink of collapse. His skin was stark white, and his lips were purple and chapped. He was bald, a truth of cancer treatment Seth hadn't yet been able to confront.
Seth swallowed a lump in his throat. The boy was carrying a prosthetic leg in his lap. He was one of the radiation treated patients. God, he just wanted to get out of there. He shuddered painfully, and looked away as the wheelchair retreated down the hallway, away from him.
Sandy gave Seth a sideways hug, squeezing his son gently to his body. He'd seen the boy too.
"It's gonna be okay," he whispered softly. He maneuvered his head so he could look into Seth's eyes. "Are you going to be okay?"
Seth nodded, but his heart was still pounding incessantly. He knew his body was shaking, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of shame. He should've been stronger than that. He licked his lips and let out a loud breath.
"Yeah..yeah..it's no problem."
Sandy nodded, still unsure. "Okay then."
Seth shrugged his father's arm off of his shoulder gently. He crossed his arms and hugged himself slightly as they continued walking towards the main desk, Seth walking a little ahead of his father.
Sandy watched him walk, his heart clenching in pain. He wanted to do something to make this better for him. Obviously, Seth didn't want him smothering him, or babying him, or asking him every second whether he was all right. But how could he find the balance between smothering and ignoring? How much was too much? What was the right thing to do and say? Could he joke about it, try and get Seth to be more upbeat? What if the jokes crossed some invisible line and Seth just ended up retreating into himself, like back when Sandy used to make little remarks about how he was always at home, and Seth interpreted that as Sandy saying that he was a friendless loser, and he was ashamed to have him as a son? Sandy couldn't take that distance again, especially not in their current situation.
"Seth Cohen," Seth told the receptionist, his voice husky and unfamiliar to even himself. His arms were still crossed tightly, and he only glanced at his father briefly when he came up behind him, before focusing his gaze back on the receptionist.
Seth was quickly led to his room, a spacious, brightly painted room, with a TV in the corner and a large vase of flowers on the long counter by the window. Sandy thought it had to be the most depressing thing he'd ever seen.
"Ugh, look at the crap they have me wearing," Seth muttered in disgust, holding up the blue pajamas and robe they'd set on his bed. "Summer'll flip when she sees these." He gave his father a tired half-grin.
Sandy snickered. The hospital clothes weren't all that bad, but he knew with Summer's astute eye for fashion, she'd absolutely detest the plain, semi-drab, ensemble.
Seth changed quickly, while Sandy examined the small closet in the room. One of his compulsive habits was to organize things in difficult situations. Maybe once they'd sorted out where everything would go, he could breathe easily. He really wasn't lying when he'd told Seth he couldn't breathe an easy breath without knowing he was okay.
Seth's blue duffel bag was stuffed to the brim with books, CDs, novelty items, graphic novels, and hats. No regular clothes, just hats. Sandy took a stack of books and arranged them neatly on the shelf in the closet.
"Any of these you want to keep by your bed?" Sandy asked, not turning around in case Seth was still changing.
"Yeah. The Michael Moore book....and "Desolation Angels," Seth replied, fiddling with the drawstring on his pajama pants. "Okay, I'm decent." He paused. "Bring some comics too, huh?"
"Which ones?"
"Eh, surprise me."
"CDs?" Sandy asked. He grabbed Seth's portable CD player out of the bag and set it on the night stand.
"Any Bright Eyes, Death Cab, Ray Romano: Live, uh....The White Octave ....that's about it for now. The rest you can shove into the closet."
"All right." Sandy set to work, arranging everything neatly. He paused when he took out a beanie copter hat, most likely thrown in as a joke, but he couldn't even bring himself to smile. Hats were still signs to him that said "Everything's changing."
When he was done, Sandy smiled slightly, feeling a little better now that everything was in order. He turned to find Seth staring intently at the bed. His face fell. He knew it had to be a big step, getting in that bed, knowing he'd be stuck there for an indefinite amount of time.
Seth glanced up at his father, and then looked away quickly. "This is it," he said quietly.
"Guess so," Sandy replied, shuffling his weight from foot to foot nervously.
"Well..." Seth trailed off. He pulled back the sheets a little and slid into the hospital bed. Instantly, a look passed over his face: a mixture of fear, relief, confusion, and anger. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it flickered away, replaced with a blank stare. He tugged the blankets over himself.
Sandy settled into the chair next to Seth's bed, sensing his son's discomfort, and perhaps even shame. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
"So...what do we do now?" Seth asked softly. He cleared his throat. "I mean, uh, it's noon so there's really nothing on, unless this thing gets cable, 'cause sometimes they play "Growing Pains" on Fox Family. That's like one of the greatest shows ever, despite the major dorkiness of Alan Thicke. And I can overlook the fact that they had Leonardo DiCaprio on it briefly, because back then he seemed to have some talent. Does this thing get cable?" He gestured toward the television, as he went through the motions of babbling crazily.
"Caleb put in a few calls to the hospital recently, so this sucker probably gets cable..and you probably have a personal masseuse and a private hot tub," Sandy replied. He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "But, if nothing's on, I brought a deck of cards. We could play poker or something."
Seth nodded. "I do enjoy the World Series of Poker. There's this dude, Chris Moneymaker. Can you imagine if your last name was Moneymaker? That'd have to be like a sign from above that you were meant to be rich. Unless, it's like, their idea of a joke and a Moneymaker ends up being a hobo or something. That'd be like-"
"You don't have to do this," Sandy cut in. He saw in Seth's eyes that the more he talked, the more painful it became.
"Okay. Let's just play cards then," Seth said, in practically a whisper.
They played a few hands, not keeping track of who won and lost, and not saying too much, each one wondering what they could say.
"Dad?"
Seth finally broke the silence a few hands later.
"Yeah, Seth?"
Seth cleared his throat. "Do..do you think things'll work out?" He bit his lip. "Because..'cause I saw you crying and umm..it just, I guess it scared me a little. I-I wasn't going to say anything..but I dunno..I kinda need to know."
"Oh, Seth." Sandy closed his eyes. He reached out and grasped Seth's forearm. His eyes opened a second later, and the older man sighed. "Seth, I think that things will work out. I'm scared though, and I'm sorry that I scared you. You have to understand that we all need some time to deal with this. Just because I cried doesn't mean I don't believe you can beat this. I trust God on this one."
"Okay." Seth nodded slightly.
"I'm glad you talked to me about this, though," Sandy admitted.
Seth nodded again.
"Look, will you be okay for a few minutes? I didn't really eat breakfast this morning, and I was thinking of going down and grabbing a donut." Sandy ran a hand through his hair.
"Sure thing, Pops. I think I'll catch a few z's anyway. I need to be rested and refreshed for my visitors later." Seth threw his father a crooked smile, and fluffed his pillows delicately. "See ya in a few."
"Yeah. In a few." Sandy bent down hesitantly, and kissed Seth's temple tenderly. "I know you hate it, but I need to sometimes, okay?"
"Okay," Seth agreed, closing his eyes, preparing for sleep. "I understand."
end of chapter