Summary: A "What-if?" fic. What if Marissa had been pregnant too, right after Ryan left to be with Theresa? How would it have affected everything?
Disclaimer: I don't own The O.C. or Theresa, Summer, Seth, Ryan, Marissa, Sandy Kirsten, Caleb, Jimmy, Julie, or any of the other characters I choose to use. I do, however, own this idea.
Prologue: Teardrops
Teardrops. That's what she would call them when we were younger. Don't ask me why; it always seemed a little strange to me the way that Marissa Cooper was so obsessed with tears. "See, people give off teardrops for all different kinds of reasons, Sum," Coop would say, running a fascinated hand over the TV screen as we watched a "grown-up" movie that we'd stolen from Julie's stash. Gosh, we were only five years old, and already she was watching movies about drugs, sex, and abuse on a daily basis. Somehow, though, none of those things ever affected her. All that she ever wanted to see was what made the people cry and why. "Guess what, Sum? There are almost always only tears, not teardrops, when people are crying 'cause they're happy, but teardrops come a lot more when people are sad or angry. Why is that, Sum?" I would usually just shrug uncomfortably, hoping that Coop would suggest we go play in her backyard so that she could go back to being the Coop that she usually was, my best friend.
Anyhow, that's how I knew something was wrong when I came in. She was sitting watching The Notebook, eyes glazed over, and she murmured when she heard me, "Look, Sum, she's crying in teardrops. Why is she crying in teardrops instead of tears? I can't figure it out…" She hadn't even mentioned that word in years. It scared me that her voice was so strangely hollow, that her eyes were empty. "Coop, I know that Ryan's leaving has been hard on you. He was your first love. We're gonna get through this together though, ya know? I mean, I'll get over stupid little chicken-legged Cohen, and you can get over Mr. Broody-Pants Chino," I offered, rubbing her shoulder as I plopped down beside her on the couch. "No, we won't. I have to leave Sum. I'm in trouble. I'm in a lot of trouble," she whispered, almost conspiratorially. That's when I really wondered. I'd half-expected her to be drunk, more out of instinct and habit than anything. She was as sober as the day was long, though. Her breath was sweet, almost like cinnamon.
"What happened, Coop? We can fix it. You and me. You know that we can get through this. Don't leave. Besides, where will you go?" "I'm not sure. We can't fix it though. Do you know that alcohol harms an unborn fetus or baby? It can get all sorts of birth defects. Julie drank a glass every evening while she was pregnant with me. I guess that I lucked out, huh? Well, I'm not gonna take the chance. Who knows how much damage one drunken spree can do, but anymore…" her voice drifted off, and she absentmindedly rubbed her stomach. I felt like throwing up. "Coop, you're pregnant? You can't be. That's impossible. Ryan left over a month ago. It would be Ryan's… right?" A bitter smile played across Marissa's lips. "I might be a drunk, but I'm not a slut. Don't ask me why; it was stupid, but the night before Ryan left… I mean, I don't think I've ever seen him drunk like that before, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't more than a little tipsy myself. Too bad that I hadn't seen the need to invest in birth control that last month, huh?" I hate the hysterical laugh that follows, the sarcastic grin that twists her lips, and the way that she seems to be taking all of the insane thoughts running through her mind and phrasing it in these words.
"Why haven't you told Chino? He would come back. He loves you, not Theresa." I know that it's brutally selfish to even mention something like that to her, but I don't care. In the same way that some people have their own back, I've always had Marissa's back and she's always had mine. Theresa could go up in smoke for all I cared. Coop starts shaking her head wildly back and forth, the first real burst of anger and hurt coming out. "If he loves me so much, why did he sleep with her when we were broken up for, like a week? Why did he jump at the chance to go back to Chino and sleep with her instead of having her move her, and giving me and him a chance? WHY? JUST SOMEONE TELL ME WHY!" She screamed, and I had to jump back for a second. I hate myself for being scared, because I know that deep down she's just a hurting, vulnerable girl. Awkwardly I hold her, and she seems to calm down a little. I hadn't even noticed the hot, clear liquid making its way down my face after spilling out of my eyes until her whimpers stopped and she turned around to look at me. "Sum, you're crying teardrops!" Her voice was almost surprised. She hugged me silently before I had a chance to answer.
Presently I worked up the courage to ask her again, this time for me. "Please won't you tell Chino? If not for yourself, do it for him. It'll give him the excuse to come back to you, and then Seth will come back and Kirsten and Sandy will be happy… we'll all be here for you." I hate the look that she gives me. She gazes intently into my eyes, her own cerulean ones first reflecting a tinge of hope, but quickly leaving, being replaced only by emptiness as more teardrops make their way down her face… "You know that I can't do that. Theresa needs him, and they might actually make it. Maybe they'll be a family eventually. Seth is too fickle to stay up there after he realizes that things aren't going to change. And you, Summer, you will make it. Promise me that some day if I mail you a plane ticket that you'll come down to visit me?" With the last sentence, her voice was choked by a sob. Suddenly, none of it seemed real to me. I noticed only little things: the movie playing on, the voices strangely loud. The hardly noticeable split ends which I would have to fix soon when I went to get my hair styled. Marissa's imperfect nails, jagged from days of biting. The frayed ends of the scarf I'd quickly thrown on my hair before leaving. The strange feeling of the fabric in the sweatshirt and sweatpants set that Coop was wearing. Then, my gaze rested on her stomach. I noticed that smallest of scars from where she'd gotten her bellybutton pierced when we were thirteen. We'd never told anyone, but after a few weeks they started to get infected, so we got them treated and let them close up. It was in that instant, as I gaze down at the sliver of skin exposed, picturing it bulging with the added baby, that I truly lost hope and gave in. With a slight nod, she hugged me again.
I helped her make the plans. Marissa was smart and had done more than a couple of things right even before the news of the baby. She'd secretly taken a G.E.D. test which she'd passed with flying colors around the time that Ryan found out that Theresa was pregnant. She never had enjoyed school. She'd started saving up her allowance instead of spending it in an effort to try to save up enough to help Theresa out… she hadn't succeeded, and the money remained fallow in her bank account. She'd already purchased a bus ticket to some godforsaken place in North Carolina, and she was supposed to leave later that day. I let her get some much-needed rest and for once in my life took care of things. I packed her favorite clothes and a couple things on the baggy side, just so that she wouldn't have to start spending a lot of money immediately on clothes. I put in her makeup bag more out of reflex than anything else, and find her traveling kit: toothpaste, toothbrush, a mini container of dental floss, a disposable razor and a small bottle of shaving cream, and a mini deodorant. I notice that The Notebook is done and take the DVD out of the player, sliding it in its case before gently putting it alongside everything else, putting her copy of the paperback book in on a whim. I have to remind myself to put her brush in, too.
When I'm done packing everything in her luggage set, I order a pizza and divide it into six Tupperware containers, two pieces in each, slipping them into her backpack. I have no idea how long pizza keeps or how long she'll be traveling, but I figure that at least this way she'll have something to help with the munchies. I include some Dramamine, knowing that the morning sickness must be starting up. I can't think of anything else. I'm done. Then, suddenly, I notice the picture of her and Ryan touching foreheads on her mirror. I like this one even more than the two of them on the ferris wheel. I slide it into the framed one in front of the ferris wheel picture so that she can keep both, and I put it in her backpack so that she will see it when she opens it up. As I zip it up, I can't help but cry. Giant sobs rack my body, and whimpers leak out before I can stop them. Instantly, Coop is beside me, going through exactly the same thing. As I look down I see tears spattering from both of us, and I can't tell whose is whose. "Look," I comment absentmindedly, "There are more teardrops."