Fairytale of New York – Ground Zero

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A long chapter, because I'm nice! Let the Kandy angst begin.

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Kirsten didn't expect Sandy to be back when she arrived at the hotel. His quiet 'Hey sweetie,' startled her as she opened the door causing her to drop the card-key. Flustered she cursed under her breath and reached to pick it up.

'What? No bags?' Sandy asked when she straightened up. 'You went out shopping and didn't buy anything? Honey, are you feeling ok?'

'I'm fine Sandy,' she told him, brushing past and heading for the bedroom. She just really wanted to be alone. He caught her in the doorway, trapping her there and forcing her to look at him and pressing his palm against her forehead. 'You sure?'

'Yes, yes,' she insisted, 'just tired. 5th Avenue was madness that's all.'

'New York crowds always get murderous around Christmas,' he quipped. Kirsten forced a smile. Same joke. They even told the same jokes.

'How was your mom?' she asked, desperate to take the focus of her.

Sandy saw straight through it, 'You're changing the subject,' he warned, relenting as she stalked into the en suite. 'But seeing as you asked, Sophie Cohen is fine, feisty as ever. Still thinks California is hell, still complaining that I don't visit her enough, still wants to see more of the boys,'

'Still hates me?' Kirsten asked as she splashed her face with water.

'Aw honey,' Sandy called, 'you know, she doesn't hate you she just…'

'Hates me, don't try to deny it Sandy. Was she mad that I didn't come?' She studied her dripping reflection in the mirror, impressed that she could play such a charade; continue the light-hearted conversation with her husband while she felt like this. Confused, threatened, helpless. She wasn't really sure. Carter's image was on the mirror; scenes of the two of them flashing before her eyes. She thought she was past this.

'Ah you know my mother; she was only mad that you weren't there for her to pick on. She'd have been just as cross if you had come.'

Kirsten buried her face in a towel, breathing in the scent of the detergent with ragged breaths, hoping it would calm her, stop the tears she could feel pricking her eyelids. She hadn't realised Sandy had been watching until he was beside her, one hand at the small of her back, the other prising the towel from her grasp. 'Kirsten baby, what's wrong? And don't say nothing; you look like you've seen a ghost.'

Despite herself, Kirsten found she was crying. Sandy locked his arms around his wife and propelled her towards the bed. They sat there for a while before she lifted her head from his neck and smoothed the damp patch on his shirt. 'Sorry,' she muttered, hastily rubbing the tears stains from her cheeks, 'being stupid.'

'No, no you're not. What's up?'

She was hesitating and he could see it, quickly lacing his finger with hers, 'You can tell me,' he murmured trying to catch her eye, 'you can tell me anything.'

'I know, I just…' she took a deep breath, 'I saw Carter today.'

'Oh,' he wasn't sure how he felt about that, 'um…how…is he? I mean, I was friends with the guy…but then of course I accused you of having an affair with him, so I don't really know what I…uh…'

'I don't know either. He was fine, good, enjoying the new job. I just…don't know how I feel. It was so weird. He was part of last year, well, you know what I mean; part of everything that went wrong….before the summer.'

'Before rehab,' Sandy observed.

'Yeah. And I had to tell him, when we used drink together, drank a lot actually so…it was hard.'

'Honey, you're so brave. I understand how awkward it would be seeing him again. His leaving was one of the things that made everything worse wasn't it? I'm not trying to shift blame from myself Kirsten but I'm right aren't I?'

She nodded. He was there when it was hard…and then he was gone.'

'I should have been there, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'

'I know; we've been through this. I don't need more apologies.'

'But I need to say them. I'm still guilty.'

Kirsten closed her eyes, 'There's something else,' she didn't pause long enough for Sandy to comment. 'We never finished that talk about Carter and I; I passed it off as retaliation to everything I imagined had happened between you and Rebecca. And then I left remember?'

God he remembered. She'd stormed out of the house and when she came back it was marred with bruises.

But at least she had come back.

He'd always thought 'heart in my mouth' was a stupid cliché but as he heard the screech of breaks, his wife's pitiful cry and the sickening crunch of metal being crushed and twisted it felt as though his heart was choking him, rising up in his throat and filling his mouth until he couldn't breathe. How he'd managed to call her name he'd never know.

His wife's voice broke his melancholic reverie, 'Nothing actually happened, Sandy…'

'The same way nothing happened with Rebecca,' he said gravely, mimicking her words from that night.

'Did it?' she asked sharply. She'd used her husband's involvement with his ex-girlfriend as an excuse for not facing what was going on between her and Carter. The idea that she'd flirted with was entirely based on her fears, at least at first; what it had manifested itself into she didn't really want to analyse.

Sandy didn't want to meet her eyes; didn't want to see the hurt flash across them, but he forced himself to. His own eyes dark and heavy with guilt as he spoke, 'We kissed.'

To his surprise Kirsten's eyes mirrored his, 'We kissed,' she whispered.

'I'm sorry,' they said in unison.

'Nothing else?' he asked.

'What about for you?'

'Physically no; we kissed goodbye that's all, emotionally…'

'Same here.'

'What, Kirsten? It was my ex-girlfriend…fiancée; I was engaged to her for God's sake. That kind of thing is bound to leave an emotional connection, have emotional consequences. You knew Carter for months, weeks even…'

'I didn't need weeks or months to know I was in love with you.'

Sandy looked horrified and Kirsten only realised what that sounded like as he began to stutter a reply; 'You were in…love with him?'

'No,' she cried not letting the thought into her head, 'no. That's not what I meant. There was just…something between us. He called it a 'vibe'; I'm not really sure what it was. At first it was just that he was there when you weren't…but…'

'But what?' he asked, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. 'So you didn't have an affair?'

'No.'

'But you thought about it?'

She didn't answer, couldn't answer that.

'What is it about that man that makes you doubt me? Makes you uneasy about us?'

'It's not…I don't know. I'm trying to be honest here Sandy, for both of us…' Kirsten whimpered, twisting her wedding rings agitatedly. 'But…then there was more to it, nothing tangible; a feeling. Not a connection like we have, or had, I don't know; we've been trying to build it again. Is it working? Have I just damaged it beyond repair?'

Her husband was silent, his fingers absently tracing the pattern on the bed sheets.

'I'm really sorry Sandy, I love you, but I can't say there was 'nothing' where there was something. I forgive you for Rebecca, I forgive you a hundred times over, I understand although I hate it. I hope you can understand me, forgive me?'

There was a long silence only broken occasionally by Kirsten's uneven breathing, the intermittent scratchy sobs that caught in her throat and she muffled with a hand.

'I still love you,' he said at last, 'what am I saying? Of course I love you…I can forgive you and yet, I still don't quite understand. You hardly knew him. You worked together. I liked him, we all spent time together…and I never saw it.'

'I wasn't like there was anything to see…'

'This would be so much easier if it hadn't changed, if it was just you were jealous of Rebecca…but you still had no reason to be. I love you. I married you.'

'Only because she disappeared.'

'You don't know that,' Sandy shot back. 'I don't like to think about what would have happened if I hadn't met you.'

'Well I do. I think about how lucky I am. If it weren't for her leaving we wouldn't be together, there'd be no Seth, no Ryan, no Kirsten Cohen. I'd probably be married to Jimmy Cooper.'

'And I might have been your Carter.'

'But you're not, you're my Sandy. And I need you. He was a way to get back at you, to try and bring you back and then he became something more, mainly because he was so like you. He is you Sandy, a couple of years ago; he surfs, he jokes, he sang along to lame tunes all the way to Featherbrook. But it goes beyond that; he's angry at the world, laughs in its face, tries to change it, just like you. You're both thinkers, idealists, modern revolutionaries and you both have eyes that look right at me, look so hard sometimes it's frightening. I'm scared you won't see what you're looking for.'

'You're flattering me, saying we're similar,' he said with a smile. 'I guess I do understand really; I just don't want to face it, accept that I failed you.'

'Sandy it wasn't all your fault. You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong with me. I can make my own mistakes, I can fail alone. What I need is you there when I'm falling.'

'And I wasn't, Carter was,' he spat the name, bitterness evident in his tone.

Kirsten smiled sadly, 'No, it wasn't like that. He just made it easier to pretend, easier to believe I wasn't self-destructing; he was the painkiller, not the cure.'

'And what am I? The poison.'

'Sandy, don't take the metaphor too far.'

'I just…are we fooling ourselves Kirsten?' he asked gruffly, his face marred with a frown, eyes deadly serious. She could help but draw back in surprise.

'W-what do you mean?'

He stood up and wandered over to the window, staring out across the city. His shoulders were tense, his head resting dejectedly against the glass. She wanted to go over, massage his shoulders, make him turn round but she didn't know if she'd be able to.

'Are we some place we don't want to admit? My mother asked how you were today and I realised I couldn't answer. I didn't know. I don't know how you feel; you don't talk to me.'

'At one time I didn't have to.'

She could see his eyes flash angrily in the reflection but he still didn't turn round. 'Don't make this just about me.'

'I'm not,' she protested, 'I just…this is so screwed up.' Kirsten stood up and began to pace. 'You really want to know how I feel?'

Sandy's reply was pleading, 'Yes, yes I do.'

Kirsten crossed from the bathroom to the window.

'I feel like I've failed. I've failed everybody.'

She retreated towards the bathroom.

'You didn't fail anyone. You only ever fail yourself Kirsten and that's because you set your sights far too high. If you'd only lower the stakes things would be so much easier.'

His wife didn't pause in her circling as she responded, striding along one side of the bed and then back again.

'You know I can't help it. You know I have to be the best.'

'But not for me. All I want is you. Just you, happy.'

She repeated the movement on the other side of the bed.

'And I should be. But I'm not. I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry.'

'I have what's generally conceived to be a near-perfect life. Why do I hate it so much Sandy?'

'Because you think you have to be perfect to fit into it perhaps? I don't know, this time you've got to tell me. What do you hate?'

Kirsten began to retrace her steps around the room, 'I hate being an alcoholic. Really hate it. It makes me sick just knowing I am, that I fell like that, having to face it, face up to it. I hate the fact I could slip back into it so easily, I'll always be just one drink away. That scares me. A lot. And it's not easy being in a state of perpetual fear that you're not going to be strong enough, you can't control yourself, that you'll let everyone down again. I hate the fact I can't drink. Don't look worried, I don't crave it any more, I just…miss it sometimes. More that I care to admit actually.'

'Aw sweetheart, you've been doing so well it's easy to forget, not forget as such, I mean…' her husband was struggling for words, not a usual problem for Sandy Cohen. He wanted to reach out to her, say what he meant without words but he didn't know if it was enough and she brushed past him when he began to move, continuing her agitated walking.

'I hate myself for neglecting the boys, distancing myself from you, for what I said to my dad.'

'Don't hate yourself, please. That is not going to solve anything. Feel guilty but not that.'

'Well I do Sandy. I hate being a desperate housewife. I hate cooking and knowing I only learnt to try and feel more like a mother. I mean, what sort of mother makes her kids exist on take-out.'

'I think you'll find there are quite a few and a lot of women who do far worse. You're a wonderful mother. Don't you think Seth would hate it if you were there every single minute of the day?'

'It doesn't change the fact when he needed me most, when Ryan needed me most, when you needed me most, I. Wasn't. There.'

'He's forgiven you, they've both forgive you. I've forgiven you. Now you need to forgive yourself.'

She bit her lip, rubbing her face with her hands, the only sounds her footsteps back and forth across the room and the low hum of the traffic outside. 'I don't know how to do that; I figure I'll always hold it against myself to some extent. It's ok. I can live with it.'

'But…'

'And I really I hate not doing anything.'

You know you can do whatever you want Kirsten. You can work if you need too, even at the Newport Group if…'

'No. Not that, but thanks honey. I'm so bored but I don't know what I want. I don't know who I am.'

'Kirsten…' the revelations were scaring him. How was she holding together? How had he not pressed her to share all this earlier? The guilt for what had happened to her was still there, like a shadow, clinging to him, and now this. Some kind of husband he was. He directed his attention back to his wife who was still pacing; there would be time for self-condemnation later.

'Yeah, Kirsten, who the hell is she? Kirsten Cohen is gone. She started fading last summer I guess and she's been cracking ever since, until she shattered at the intervention. And rehab had to fit the pieces back together but they're not the same. I'm almost someone else. I'm still 'Kirsten Cohen', I'm still 'Sandy's wife,' 'Seth and Ryan's mother' but I don't who that is. I said I wanted to live my life again but I'm not the same person. And it's not there. That life is gone. That Kirsten Cohen doesn't exist anymore.

Everything I worked for in rehab, my goals, what kept me going was the thought of getting home, to you, to the boys, getting on with my life…it's not the same in reality. And I hate that too. What I thought I wanted and what I want are different. Now I'm trying to be the wife and mother I should have been and it doesn't feel right. And how awful is it to admit that?'

'Kirsten, you've got to stop pretending…'

'That's what Carter said.'

Her husband's face registered immediate shock and confusion. 'You talked to him about…this? About us? Kirsten…'

'We just talked Sandy. In fact, he was the one who said it was you I should be talking to.'

'He's a wise man.'

He's been through something sort of like this. We're not gonna end up the same way. We're not,' her voice faltered, 'are we?'

'No, we're not. Kirsten honey, you need to calm down; you've been pacing around this room for a half hour. There's gonna be a track worn in the carpet at this rate,' he caught her arm and pulled her towards him.

'I just…it's easy to say…'

She wasn't listening, her eyes flicking back and forth, looking anywhere but his face. 'Kirsten,' he said warningly, 'Kirsten', before shaking her by her shoulders.

'Sandy!' she protested, snapping out of it and glowering at her husband.

'Please, please. We can get through this ok? We can figure all this out, find you, find your life, and find something for you to do, but not tonight. You're tired, you're not thinking straight. Everything will look better in the morning and when we get home we'll work on the GP KC.'

That made her smile. Sandy mimicking Seth or Seth mimicking Sandy always did that. Actually any remind of any of her boys could make her smile.

'You won't get any sleep if you're like this,' he continued, 'let it go tonight, please,' he begged, tilting her head so that two sets of blue eyes met; one pleading, the other tearful. She stood limp for a moment before struggling out of his arms. 'Ok…ok. I'm gonna take a shower.'

'You want any company?' he asked, following her into the bathroom.

'Not tonight Sandy, I don't…'

'I just meant…you know…' he interjected, 'not 'you know'.'

'Oh Sandy, I love you, even when you talk nonsense.'

'It's not nonsense, you know what I mean.'

'That's not saying much.'

'It's all that matters.'

She smiled at that, before waving her hands at him, 'Come on you, out. I'm trying to get changed here.'

She was pretending again, joking, avoiding how she felt but he played along, 'Yes I can see that, that's why I'm here.'

She sighed and Sandy knew that she was barely holding herself together. One look at the pale face made him want to stay but knew she just wanted to be alone.

'Fine, fine, I'm leaving,' he declared, putting his hands up and backing away before pausing at the door. 'How about we order room service, see if we can find something to watch on one of the 500 channels?'

'Sounds good…probably not what you had in mind for an evening when we order-in though.'

He laughed, 'You, stop worrying. Spending time with you is my favourite thing so I don't mind how we spend it. And after last night I think I'll let you off.'

'It was pretty…'

'Amazing?' Sandy offered, 'Eventful? Perfect? Why, thank you. You weren't bad yourself.'

Kirsten stuck her tongue out and flashed him a proper, if somewhat subdued smile. 'In that case, how about tomorrow we have breakfast…in bed?'

'Now that's a rhetorical question if there ever was one.'

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