bFairytale of New York – Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge
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This is where it truly ran off by itself and went all cutesy!
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Over a week after they got back Kirsten and Sandy were sat side by side at the kitchen table going through the mail. Kirsten hadn't been well since they returned home and there was a pile of unopened correspondence they hadn't attended to. There was some personal mail but most of it was Christmas/Holiday/Hanukkah/Winter cards addressed to the whole family. Kirsten would slit the creamy envelopes with a manicured nail whilst Sandy tore them haphazardly, they'd read the cards and them swap them simultaneously without looking up. Every so often they'd reach for the large mugs of coffee in front of them; necessary sustenance in the wake of the self-congratulatory epistles of the Newpsies.
Josh's soccer skills just keep improving; he was made Captain of the first team last semester.
I continue to visit Palm Springs after New Year (so important to detox) hope to see some of you there.
Michael was promoted this year, high time of course, and now we have that second condo…
Tallulah enjoyed her first winter dance; don't they grow up fast!
Sandy of course punctuated his reading with sarcastic comments whilst Kirsten noted the senders against her neat list of those she had already sent cards to. The next envelope had a New York postmark and Kirsten almost passed it to Sandy thinking it was from The Nana, until she recalled the menorah-encrusted Hanukkah card already sat on the mantelpiece. (Despite her insistence that Hanukkah wasn't an important Jewish festival, The Nana wasn't going to be outdone by the Christians) Or maybe it wasn't that, something about the writing was familiar. Gingerly, the tugged the card from the envelope and opened it, a slip folded of paper fluttered into her lap, Kirsten scrawled across it. The card was faithless; a generic 'Seasons Greetings' printed inside but Kirsten saw only the written text.
Kirsten, Sandy, Seth and Ryan,
Carter
Carter.
Nonchalantly Kirsten passed the card to her husband, 'More coffee?' she asked, concealing the note in her hand and picking up their empty mugs.
'Thanks,' Sandy agreed as he read, 'Nice of Carter to send a card, did you send him one?'
'Uh, no,' she replied bending over the coffee maker, 'I didn't know his address.'
'You didn't find out when you saw him last week?' he asked evenly.
'…It didn't come up.'
'No return address,' he observed, setting the card with the others. 'Ah well.'
Kirsten didn't answer; she had smoothed the note out on the counter behind the machine.
Kirsten,
I didn't think I'd see you again and there you were in that
street. In a way I'm sorry; I know you've moved on, past whatever
it was that happened between us. Perhaps you just moved back to where
you were meant to be. But I'm not sorry I saw you and I refuse to
be guilty about that. I'm not sorry we met either, never will be,
just guilty about how things turned out. I thought about you after I
left, wondered how you were doing but you said not to call. If I had
would it have changed things? Made it worse? Better? Sorry, you can't
answer that I know. It seemed best to let it go, let you go. I had no
idea what I was leaving you to, that at least some of what you went
through was my fault.
So what now? I think I let you go again but
how much? It was hard enough the first time. Leaving it to fate
again seems best; we're never going to be able to do the
'acquaintances' thing; Christmas cards where we send pointless
details about our lives? That's not us. Well, there never was an
'us' but you know what I mean. You and I Kirsten, what are we to
each other? Colleagues; but we no longer work together, friends; too
strange, acquaintances; too false, something more; I wish, something
else; yes something. Unspoken, undefined, but unforgettable. There
was something Kirsten and I know you don't deny that. I won't;
can't, but I know better than to think of it now. I'm not going
to forget you but I know that it's over. It's been over for a
long time, I don't think it even began really. There was just
something between us but I didn't try to fool myself; I always knew
really that it was most likely that nothing would ever happen.
Perhaps that was part of the attraction; you were always out of my
reach. You'd never do that to Sandy when there was still the chance
that you were being neurotic, overreacting, when you knew deep down
he didn't mean to hurt you even though he had. You wouldn't do
that to your kids, to your Dad, to yourself. And I wouldn't do it
to you either. I'm not Sandy even if we have a passing resemblance,
you know that. You can't really conceive your life without him but
you've managed without me. Kirsten Cohen would never jump, even if
she flirted with the idea? Because you did, didn't you Kirsten? You
flirted with me because it was playing with fire, putting a toe over
the line, imagining the impossible.
I'm getting lost in my metaphors. There were hundreds of reasons for what was between us, hundreds of excuses and some of them I guess are lies. You felt it. I felt it. But I wouldn't move before you did even though I knew you wouldn't stray far. What does that say? That I'm a fool for falling for you? A married woman who's still in love however much she keeps doubting it. I'm not a bad guy; I didn't want to make things worse although I knew you'd come to me and I wanted that. So I had to leave. But I'm also a jealous guy. I couldn't watch you fall back in love with your husband. I couldn't stay. Damned either way. I doubt you're following this. Did you even read this far? I don't think I'm making sense but I mean it all, every word. Even if I am drunk. Go figure.
I guess this is it. All the best Kirsten.
Carter
Sandy snorted with laughter at something and she quickly stuffed the note into one of the china pots on the windowsill, her mind flitting back to their chance meeting; awkward yet enjoyable, and then to that cryptic dream. Without warning, three thoughts suddenly leapt up and tangled themselves together leaving her with one conclusion. Her strange illness of the past few days; Sandy insisting it was flu but she only had half the symptoms; fatigue and sickness, not even the ghost of a cold. The fact that she'd been pregnant in that dream and the memory of a similar dream she'd had almost eighteen years ago.
In their yard in Berkeley there had been old tree. Too large for the tiny space it lived in but the previous owners had obviously been loath to cut it down. The branches that would have overhung into neighbouring yards had been ruthlessly chopped but there were still two large branches attached to one of which was a swing. Sandy always joked it was the swing which had sold the house to him; there's never anything amiss in a house with a swing he had declared. Kirsten's reservations on this comment had never been aired; there was plenty amiss with that house but beggars couldn't be choosers. And if she was honest, she wasn't averse to the idea of the swing herself. Plus, the house was the only one in their price range with some form of garden, even if it was the size of a postage stamp.
Kirsten was sat on the swing now, gently rocking to and fro. At first it was fall; colourful, curling leaves being shaken from the tree by a brisk wind and crunching beneath her feet as she pushed the swing. But soon the falling leaves turned to snowflakes, floating past her and settling onto the pale, frosty grass. She was vaguely aware of the slight rise of her stomach but it had no significance as the sun came out and melted the snow, new leaves appearing on the branches above her and birdsong in her ears. The bulge had grown to a bump but still it didn't register, not until the tree was a mass of blossom and Kirsten felt hot and uncomfortable. She felt heavy and tired, her belly swollen so she couldn't see her feet that were still propelling the swing backwards and forwards. She felt a thump in her abdomen and immediately it registered. She was pregnant. Pregnant? Shit.
Kirsten remembered waking in a panic; tangled, hot and sweaty in the bedclothes but feeling ice cold fear inside her. She'd snuggled up to Sandy and forced herself back to sleep with the mantra 'just-a-dream-just-a-dream-just-a-dream'. And then that morning she'd been dreadfully sick, and the next and the next, and she knew, however much she didn't want to admit it, she knew.
Just like she knew now.
'I'm pregnant,' she whispered to herself in shock, glancing over at her husband. Sandy was chuntering to himself about how unethical it was to give nose jobs to sixteen year olds as birthday presents having just read; 'Candice has just turned 16 and now has her new nose in time for the winter party circuit; I'm so glad.'
'Sandy,' she said sharply, tipping her newly made coffee down the sink, 'I'm pregnant.'
'Mmmhmm. Honey, what are you doing? That's quality coffee…what?' It took a little while for Sandy's brain to catch up with what his wife had said. 'You're what?'
Kirsten blinked; looking lost and repeated the words.
'How? When?' Sandy stuttered. 'How do you know? Are you sure?' He was beside her now and she steered him away from the counter, paranoid that Sandy would randomly take it into his head to take a peep into the ornaments.
'I think you know how,' she teased. 'When? I'm guessing in New York; think I got my prescription mixed up with the change of time zones. It just makes sense; I've been so tired and irritable recently… and I keep being sick…'
Sandy interrupted at this, 'You told me you were feeling better,' he chastised.
'I know; I didn't want you to worry.'
Cue a Kirsten-esque 'humph' from her husband.
'And no, I'm not sure, it's just…you're gonna laugh at this but…' she hesitated and Sandy wrapped his arms around her, gently kissing her cheek. 'Before I knew I was pregnant with Seth I had this dream that I was pregnant…and…when we were in New York…'
'You had a dream, I remember. But that was a nightmare.'
'Yeah, because your mother featured in it, basically it was me meeting Carter again but I was pregnant.' Sandy looked sceptical and she smiled at him, 'I know this sounds far fetched…'
'I just don't want you to pin your hopes on a dream and then be disappointed is all,' he said, stroking hair out of her face and looking at her bright eyes. 'I didn't know you wanted another baby.'
'I didn't know either,' she told him. 'It just…feels right. But I suppose we'd better have more confirmation than a weird dream.'
'That might be an idea,' Sandy agreed, his head jerking up suddenly, 'Oh lord! My mother so totally called this. We are never gonna live it down.'
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Only one more chapter left, please hold out and make it to the end!