So, I thought I had posted this, but I hadn't, and I'm really sorry about that.
Sanford Cohen took a quick glance over at his wife. Silently, she sobbed, wishing someone would take all her pain away. But only her son could take away all the pain he made her feel.
His hand slipped to the passenger seat and he tightly grasped her small, fragile hand. He could feel the engagement and wedding rings on her finger. Only once she had taken them off. She vowed never to again.
The two looked at each other at a stoplight, and in her eyes, he saw something indescribable. She wasn't the same person from twenty years ago when they said their vows. She wasn't the same person from seventeen years ago when they held their son in a hospital room. Nor was she the same person from twelve years ago when they watched him go to his first day of school in Berkeley. Or the same person ten years ago when they buried her mother. Or five years ago when he first defied them. Or two and a half years ago when they brought home their second son. Or a year and a half ago when they both left. Or half a year ago when her father was gone and she had to go away. Or four days ago when their world stopped. She wasn't the same person from an hour ago when their son was still above ground.
Sanford Cohen didn't know how they would keep going. Their son, who they had raised, was dead. He would never come back. They couldn't call him, or write to him. He'd never get them.
Every day they prayed he was still alive, that they could give anything for him to be back. Every day, they would prepare things to tel him. They would whisper to him in the night, scream for him when their world was too heavy to hold. Every day they wrote messages to him that were never sent.
The two took their time driving. He had been driving, and doing nothing wrong. But he was taken from them and he'd never come back.
"Where are we going?" Kirsten Cohen asked her husband. She was scared of the answer. She didn't want to go home, she didn't want to see their faces.
"I was thinking we'd head back, but if you don't want to..." Sanford Cohen answered after seeing her dismayed face.
"No, we can go, I just don't want to talk to anyone," she replied to him, her stomach growing weary.
Down the road, their son's face was on the ground, below a cross, surrounded by candles. Signs were put up. "You drink, you drive, you kill."
Kirsten Cohen felt even more sick as they drove past the site her son died at. He had spent his last moments of life there. It was disturbing to think about. The boy they raised from a little baby died right where they were.
She wanted her son back more than anyone could imagine.
She wanted to hold him one more time, see him one more time, talk to him one more time. What she would give to hear him one last time.
"You gonna be okay?" Sanford Cohen asked his wife as they neared their own house.
It was no longer a home. It was just a house. Ne heart to this home, or house. No happiness stayed there. No one could smile. With both their sons gone, there was no use to it.
"I just don't want to talk to anyone," she wanted to disappear. They were all here because of her son.
Sanford Cohen tried to hold back emotion. They couldn't both break down. Then who could they fall on? No, Sanford Cohen had to be strong, for the both of them. He had to catch his wife.
He got out of the car first, into the rain. His wife made no movement of leaving. There were so many cars, too many. She couldn't deal.
"Come on," he opened the door, unbuckled her, and grabbed an umbrella. He opened it, and led his wife out of the car. She said nothing, a resist of alcohol was becoming difficult. But then one simple, yet never-ending thought came to her: Alcohol had killed her son.
Her legs gave out, and he caught her. She was so glad she still had him. All her mistakes, and he still stayed beside her.
"Just a few more feet," he mumbled to both of them ro try and get them to the door. It barely worked.
The front door opened and James Cooper stood there, ready to help get Kirsten Cohen in. She barely walked in, better than Summer Roberts' entrance.
Once inside, James Cooper nudged Sanford Cohen and looked up. The umbrella was still up. Sanford Cohen shrugged.
They already had all the bad luck.
Thank you so much for your great reviews, only one more chapter after this!