Fairytale of New York – Dreamtime in Times Square

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I had a lot of fun writing this bit! Hee, hee! Thank you so much for your overwhelming reviews. I love you all. Thank you.

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Kirsten didn't know she was dreaming; the scene before her mimicked the 5th Avenue of that morning; lazy snowflakes drifting from the heavy grey sky and catching on the masses of frantic shoppers or being trampled underfoot. She heard her name called and turned to find Carter, inexplicably was wearing a Santa hat and somehow reminding her of the Grinch, only a lot better looking.

'Kirsten,' he said smiling before his face fell. 'Oh…' His eyes were lingering over her stomach. She glanced down and found her coat was buttoned only half-way; her rounded belly evident between the folds.

She was pregnant.

This wasn't today. This didn't make any sense.

'Whose is it?' Carter asked, motioning towards the bump.

'Sandy's,' she told him. 'Who else? We never…'

'I just thought…'

What did he think? Since when had they…?

Suddenly Kirsten was distracted by a banging sound across the street. In the first floor window of an adjacent building she could see The Nana, tapping against the glass and waving a menorah furiously. 'It wasn't Newport he didn't want to leave.' Kirsten could make out the words she was mouthing through the glass and they confused her. Why was she saying that?

At that moment Carter slid his arm around her and she felt her breath hitch in her chest; just as it had in reality. He was pulling her through the crowds on the wide pavement until they reached the road, but there were no cars, no queues of yellow cabs, just an empty white surface; the road frozen over. In the centre there was a lone skater spinning round and round and round. He was making Kirsten dizzy.

The Nana had now forced the window open and she could hear her shouting, her voice raised against the wind, 'It wasn't Newport he didn't want to leave. It wasn't Newport…'

She tried to ignore it and focussed on the skater, still spinning in that sickeningly tight circle. It was Sandy she realised suddenly.

'Sandy,' she tried to call out but somehow the name that formed was 'Jimmy.' 'Jimmy, Jimmy!' Kirsten cried, trying to step onto the ice but Carter pulled her back. 'We can bend this thing, doesn't mean it's gonna break,' he said gravely, tilting her chin to look at him.

What? What was going on? This was all too weird.

She broke away and gingerly tested the ice. Sandy was still pirouetting but she realised he was talking too; just like the other figures he was repeating a phrase that she was sure didn't fit him. 'Oh the guilt now, very impressive; are you sure you're not Jewish? Oh the guilt now, very impressive; are you sure you're not Jewish?'

What did he mean?

Kirsten struggled towards him slipping and sliding on the ice, she had to stop looking at Sandy, the incessant movement was making her sick, the mix of the three chanting voices buzzing in her head.

'It wasn't Newport he didn't want to leave.'

'We can bend this thing, doesn't mean it's gonna break.'

'Oh guilt now, that's very impressive; are you sure you're not Jewish?'

'It wasn't Newport…' 'We can bend this thing…' 'Oh guilt now, that's very impressive…'

'…he didn't want to leave.' '…doesn't mean it's gonna break.' '…are you sure you're not Jewish?'

'Newport.'

'Bend. Break.'

'Guilt. Impressive. Jewish.'

She stared at the ice and was startled to find she could see through it and not to the tarmac. There were people moving beneath the surface. She recognised her father the last time she'd seen him, shouting at her, herself and Sandy fighting during that long, empty summer, Lindsay open mouthed and tearful at the Christmukkah revelation. Rebecca Bloom with her smug face as she admitted she still loved Sandy, Ryan's face when he left them, Sandy holding the white envelope their son had left, Seth begging her plaintively to go to rehab. Julie's face at the reading of her father's will, Charlotte's smile; all a con, Carter kissing her, Jimmy kissing her. Kirsten looked away sharply and lost her balance. As she fell she realised the ice was cracking, great claw-like lines branching out around her. She was going to fall. Kirsten moved her hands to try and shield her stomach, a rush of motherly protectiveness swamping her. She was going to fall in; disappear into those icy memories. She hit the rapidly splintering ice and felt a rush of cold, the taste of vodka in her mouth.

Kirsten woke up with a jolt, drenched with cold sweat.

It was a dream. Only a dream. That explained everything.

But it had been so real even if it was completely crazy. She shivered as she remembered; Carter…The Nana…Sandy…ice…cracking…vodka…pregnant. What? She'd been pregnant?
She slid quietly out of bed so as not to wake Sandy who was still sleeping soundly. It took some doing as his arm was still draped protectively round her waist but she'd managed to gently move it so that she could pad over to the window. The drapes were heavy and many layered to keep out the biting cold of the New York winters and failing to push them aside Kirsten worked her way round the end so she could look outside, the curtains hanging behind her. The street outside was brightly lit with street lamps and Christmas lights that reflected on the flakes of snow that were continuing to fall lazily to earth. Cars and taxis were still speeding past, occasionally honking or with music blaring. It was certainly the city that never slept.

Her thoughts wandered back to her strange dream, trying to unravel it, link the action to reality so it wasn't so frightening. Carter was obvious; it was because she'd run into him the day before, the Nana was the reason they were here in New York, the scenes beneath the ice were all parts of her life; the ones she relived in her worst nightmares. And Sandy? She often dreamed about Sandy…but he usually acknowledged her rather than skating aimlessly and quoting his mother. Sometimes it just wasn't possible to rationalise dreams. And being pregnant, that was just weird, probably something to do with Sophie Cohen's flyaway comment about her and Sandy's 'behaviour'. Once again Kirsten marvelled at the outspokenness of her mother-in-law and also the craziness her brain could come up with in her sleep.

'Kirsten?' she heard a voice ask.

What was it with people calling her name today?

'Kirsten?' the tone was losing its sleepiness now, becoming anxious. It was Sandy.

'I'm here,' she said, turning and fighting her way out of the curtains and crawling back into bed.

'Oh honey, you gave me a fright,' he told her, pulling her close. 'What were you doing by the window? You're freezing!'

'I had a nightmare,' she mumbled, snuggling into her husband and suddenly feeling exhausted. He was right; it had been cold on the other side of the curtains, especially in damp pyjamas. It would be just her luck to catch cold right before Christmukkah.

'You want to talk about it?'

'Nmph,' was her eloquent reply, scrunching up her nose, 'no…just sleep…here, with you.'

'You'll wake me if you have any more dreams?'

'Mmm,'

'Kirsten?'

His wife didn't open her eyes, her voice drowsy, 'I'm s-sleeping S-Sandy.'

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, 'Love you sweetheart.'

'Love you.'

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When she woke several hours later Kirsten found the room lit by an iridescent glow filtering from the edges of the curtains and denoting a new snowfall. Sandy was sleeping quietly beside her, his handsome face only inches from her own. She studied it; the tanned skin, the laughter lines, the creases between his eyebrows that had deepened over the past year, those eyebrows that had the power to make her smile and strangely enough, to turn her on, the unruly black hair that had gained its first speckles of grey that summer, the strong jaw with its shadow of stubble, the lips that knew just how to kiss and which she loved to kiss, the eyelids closed over the brightest, most earnest, most soulful pair of blue eyes she knew.'

Those eyes that could look right inside her. But she hadn't let them for a long time. Perhaps that was what had gone wrong. She couldn't bear to look in her husband's eyes in case she saw something she didn't want to see; confusion, deceit, doubt, anger, blame, pity.

She didn't want him to look into hers, afraid he's see how she was feeling; the anger, hurt, suspicion, fear, deceit, shame.

She'd learnt to hide her thoughts, bring the shutters down so her eyes were unreadable. She had to stop.

Trust.

Open her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' she said to the sleeping form next to her. 'I'm sorry I made you live my life, I'm sorry I shut you out last summer, I'm sorry I refused to talk about it, I'm sorry I didn't trust you with Rebecca, I'm sorry I-I…had feelings for Carter, I'm sorry I ran out on you, I'm sorry I kept drinking, I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, I'm sorry I wouldn't let you help me, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I had to leave you, I'm sorry I'm an alcoholic, I'm sorry…for everything.'

Her voice had dwindled to a breathless whisper and she looked away guiltily. 'I know I should be saying this when you're awake, I guess I'm a coward.' She didn't see his eyes flicker.

'I love you,' she declared, turning back, 'God, but I do. So much. I don't know why I had feelings for Carter…well I do…but it was stupid. I love you Sandy. It wasn't his fault, don't blame him. But it wasn't just me or just you, it was both of us. We're in this together, for better and for worse and I want to make it better. I don't really know how but I know I need you. I love you.'

Kirsten squeezed her eyes shut to stop the threatening tears blinking them open in shock when she heard the low voice next to her.

'I love you too.'

She found herself face to face with her husband, noses grazing, eyes locked together; searching souls, connected

'I love you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring the boys home, I'm sorry I kept putting Rebecca first, I regret it so much, I'm sorry I made you doubt my love, I'm sorry I couldn't help you myself, I'm sorry I left you there, I'm sorry I failed.'

'You didn't fail, you're here.'

'I'm always here.'

I. Love. You.

Kirsten was sinking, drowning in his eyes, in his love.

Sandy was falling, into her eyes, falling for her all over again.

I. Love. You.

They kissed, slowly, languidly, lips softly caressing each other, tongues embracing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

They didn't leave the hotel room all day.

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How many people want the extended version of this chapter that expands on the 'they didn't leave the hotel room all day?' Admit it, I know what you're all like!