Maybe It's Better This Way

Chapter: 17: Postpone

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OMG you guys! 200 REVIEWS! I am just BLOWN away. Thank you, thank you, thank you x 200 billion. Keep it up!

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Now this is a little AU but I wrote it when I was revising 'Yerma' for my drama AS. The woman in it is desperate for a baby but her husband doesn't, he just wants her. After years of despair she finally cracks and kills him. Now I didn't go that far (lol!) but there are similar themes, let me know if anyone recognises it!

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That weekend was Marissa's birthday. The Cohens' invitation had been pinned to the fridge for weeks but no one had mentioned it, not even Julie who had been over for coffee and a one-sided dialogue the day before. Newport's leading lady had reeled off every latest piece of gossip in the hope of tempting Kirsten out of her shell with news of a new cosmetic enhancement scandal.

'What does Marissa want for her birthday?' she asked suddenly, interrupting the update on Veronica Townsend's divorce.

'An alternate universe,' Julie replied. 'A new hip flask, a bullet? I don't know.'

'Things that bad?'

'They've been worse,' she said dryly. 'Anyway don't worry about it.'

'I don't want to come without a gift.'

'Oh well, we weren't expecting you…'

'Julie, I need to get my life back; with not being at work I feel so out of the loop. Tomorrow isn't gonna be a big do I think I can manage it.'

'O…K. Does Sandy know?'

'He's not my keeper Julie. And we'll all be coming,' she'd said firmly and then Julie had had to run to make it to the gym in time for her Cardiobarre class.

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So they had all duly gone to the Birthday Party held at the Cooper-Nichol mansion. It was a small gathering; the Cohens, Roberts, and various components of the Cooper and Nichol clans along with other friends, but that didn't deter Sandy's complaints. He and Kirsten had begun arguing as they dressed and when the terse comments and dirty looks continued out to the car Seth hurriedly suggested they take two vehicles.

'Great,' Kirsten muttered, slumping back in the passenger seat when Sandy refused to relinquish the keys. 'Now my sons are avoiding me.'

'Actually I think they're avoiding us,' her husband pointed out and received a glare in response.

He sighed and tried to bite back the snappish response but failed. He just felt so tired, so on edge all the time he couldn't help it. 'What? We get the same reaction whether we're arguing or kissing and we know it's certainly not the latter.'

'Was that a dig?'

'No Kirsten, honey…'

'Just shut up and drive Sandy.'

He complied and the rest of the journey was silent. On arrival Kirsten immediately located the birthday girl and walked off without a backward glance at her husband. The result of this was that after the champagne toasts, beer by the pool and wine at dinner he and Jimmy snuck off, already stumbling a little, and over-did it on tequila to drown their sorrows. He was glad to have his old friend back in town, even if it was only for the weekend. Someone to offload onto without having to worry about the consequences, safe in the knowledge that it wouldn't be all over Newport by tomorrow. He'd briefly sketched the details of the past couple of months and Jimmy had shown surprise and sympathy in respective measures.

'Is there anything I can do?' he asked and Sandy shook his head wearily.

'Not unless you know some way of making Kirsten talk to me…scratch that, make Kirsten even acknowledge me.'

'She's taking it pretty hard huh?'

'She doesn't deal very well with death as we both know.'

'Is it bringing up issues about her mom?'

'The way things are, I have no idea.'

'That bad?'

'I don't know anymore Jimbo.'

'And how're you?'

'Holding up. One of us has to.'

'You look shattered.'

'I'm…' he began to lie. 'It just doesn't get any easier,' he muttered, staring at the floor. 'I naively thought it would. I thought we could get through this, together, but how can we when she won't even talk to me? I mean, we've talked but…' he tailed off. 'It's not exactly a dialogue. We say things to each other.'

'But aside from that are things okay? I mean, you two never really needed words to communicate.'

'Well there isn't any other sort of communicating going on so…no, we're not okay. Seems like every time we catch a break something else crops up, another secret is revealed…'

Jimmy bit back his questions and let the older man ramble.

'You had the right idea getting out of this place. It's like living in a fucking fish bowl; not exactly conducive to honest grieving… You know, it took her almost two weeks to cry.'

'She never did like ruining her makeup,' he joked lamely.

Sandy grimaced and took another swig of his drink. 'How the hell do you miss someone you never even met? How do you love someone you never really knew?'

Jimmy looked taken aback at being expected to answer such a philosophical question. 'Uh…I don't know.'

'I know why she's like this, I know how damn hard it is. She just doesn't believe I do.'

'She'll come round, eventually.'

'Before or after we fall apart?'

'You're not serious?'

'No… Yes… Oh I don't know.' Sandy set his glass down unsteadily beside him and rubbed his face with his hands. 'It just keeping hitting me how screwed up things are.'

Jimmy nodded sympathetically and refilled their glasses.

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After an extensive search Kirsten found her husband and her ex-boyfriend slumped on two pool chairs round the far side of the house.

'Boys,' she thought, eyes taking in the empty bottles and assorted glasses. She would have smiled if she wasn't so damn jealous, if she knew it was only an innocent drinking session, like the night they drunkenly decided to buy the Lighthouse, but it wasn't. She knew why they'd done it and she wished she had the luxury of losing herself, losing this whole damn mess in a bottle of pure, distilled escapism. But she couldn't; she didn't fancy her chances in mixing excessive amounts of alcohol and anti-depressants, in fact the doctor had warned her about it several times, protocol in a town of alcoholics. She wondered why she had bothered with the pills; alcohol was usually so much more appealing but at least she had medical backing for the prescription to use against Sandy's arguments, vodka didn't have that. She'd seen him watching her when she'd had half a glass of white the other night. It was dinner, she wanted to relax and yet he acted as though she was about to go on a bender. She had always liked a drink, hell, who in Newport didn't? But she also knew, in the back of her mind, that she sometimes liked it too much, sometimes it wasn't just a want; there was a need. She couldn't deny that sometimes, maybe even often, she did come home and reach straight for the corkscrew. But it was to relax after the stress of work, to forget about the cracks in her marriage, suppress certain feelings, that was all. She had been turning to it in increasingly in the past year and with her mother's history she knew that wasn't a good place to be but she couldn't help it. The one thing that was stopping her now was fear; fear that it might not be enough. What if she couldn't drink away this pain? This wasn't just about her, or Sandy. It wasn't as simple as something at work, it was more complicated than the things, the people, the feelings that threatened their marriage. This went deeper, deeper into her, her marriage, her family. Drinking might make her feel better but it would only make everything worse.

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'Kirssssten muffin,' Sandy exclaimed drunkenly as she approached and she smiled a little even as she rolled her eyes.

'Private joke,' she told Jimmy whose eyebrows were drawn together in confusion, unsure as to whether it was the alcohol numbing his brain that was making him hear strange things. He stumbled to his feet, 'K-kirsten, I know you're probably sick of p-people s-saying this but…I'm sorry.'

She swallowed but didn't miss a beat. 'Thanks Jimmy.' It was classic Kirsten; swallow, smile, lie. Hide weakness from everyone, even her oldest friend. He stepped forward, obviously concentrating hard on the movement, and hugged her.

'Jimmy-fucking-Cooper,' Sandy interrupted teasingly, voice slurring a little, 'get your hands-s-off my wife.'

The other man laughed and released Kirsten. 'S-she's all yours-s-Sandy, if of course you're man enough to stand up and take her home.'

'Ha,' was the response. 'As Kirsssten knows-s, I'm allllll man.'

'Please,' she chastised. 'For those of who aren't screaming drunk this is decidedly awkward. Come on Sandy, let's go.'

'Go? Where?' he asked in surprise.

'Home. The kids have gone out to celebrate without the 'older generation' and I couldn't take any more Newpsie gossip.' She held out her hand, not noticing the mischievous smile edging across his face, brightening the hazy eyes. He tugged hard on her arm and, taken by surprise, Kirsten lost her balance and landed heavily beside him.

'That's not funny Sandy,' she said crossly as both he and Jimmy dissolved into very unmanly giggles.

'I love you,' he said, pouting and employing puppy-dog eyes as one hand snaked round her back.

She raised her eyebrows and reached for the stray arm. 'I love you too but you still have to get up.'

Sandy groaned and let himself be hauled to his feet. Once upright he swayed dangerously and she realised this was never going to work. She was far too small and slight to support his weight all the way to the drive.

'Jimmy,' she asked, 'little help here?'

'S-sure…' was the uncertain response as he got gingerly to his feet again and waited for the world to stop spinning.'

'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,' she commented as Jimmy slumped against the other side of her husband, no more holding him up than being held up himself. 'What the hell have you been drinking?'

'I have nooo idea,' he declared, guffawing loudly. Kirsten rolled her eyes. 'If I have to have my car valeted I'm sending you the bill.'

'I am not that drunk,' Sandy cut in, not impressed with the aspersions being cast on the strength of his stomach.

'Really. Well prove it. Walk to the car.'

'Uh…' Sandy took two steps and faltered. 'I never said I was-ss-n't drunk,' he clarified as he tripped over his own feet and only just managed to regain his balance. 'I'm just a leeetle…bit…tipsy.'

'Hmm, well I'm totally convinced,' she answered sarcastically, sighing and manhandling her husband's arms around her and Jimmy's shoulders, not an easy task seeing as they were both doubled over laughing again.

The journey to the car took at least six times longer than it should have done and she knew her shoulder was going to ache like hell in the morning. Jimmy seemed to sober up a little as they stumbled along in the shadows. Sandy however, didn't; tottering along unhelpfully, exclaiming loudly when he stubbed his toe and bursting into snatches of song. He was surprisingly in tune for someone so inebriated and Kirsten remembered nights of drunken karaoke in college, Sandy serenading her all the way home until they were in private and she could shut him up.

'Mmm, you smell goo-oo-ood,' Sandy declared with his eyes closed, head lolling on a certain shoulder, a shoulder that didn't belong to Kirsten.

'Uh, I'm over here,' she said and his head shot up so fast she thought he might get whiplash, eyes panicked, face horror-struck.

Jimmy snorted. 'You are totally smashed man.'

'At least I'm not the one wearing perfume.'

'Shut up. I am not!'

'Hey!' Kirsten cut in before the two could start brawling. 'We're here.' She shifted position to find her keys and pull the door open. Finally Sandy was sat, after a fashion, in the passenger seat. Kirsten leant over him to fasten his seatbelt and he nuzzled her neck, hands sliding round her waist and holding her there. 'You s-smell so good,' he mumbled.

'Thanks honey but it would mean so much more if a) you were sober and b) you hadn't just said it to Jimmy.'

'I didn't,' he insisted, sniggering as Kirsten extricated herself, shut the door, thanked Jimmy and climbed into the driving seat. He fumbled with the buttons on the central panel as she started the engine, managing to wind down every window but his own in quick succession.

'Jimmaaaaaaay!' Sandy hollered out the window once he'd finally found the correct switch. 'Au revoir my man, I mean, mon monsieur!'

Kirsten shook her head as she pressed the gas pedal. Why did Sandy always start talking French when he was drunk?

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She thought he would fall asleep on the ride home but he didn't.

Kirsten managed to half-drag him from the car to the house and thought all she had to deal with now was getting him into bed and watching jealously as he slept in a deep stupor, but she didn't.

Stood outside as she fished for the house keys in her purse, he revived slightly. Before she knew he had moved from where he was stood leaning drunkenly against one of the porch pillars, she felt him close behind her. The proximity, his chest pressed flush against her back, made her tremble slightly. His hands slid down her shoulders, down her arms to rest at her hips. Kirsten fumbled with the key. 'Sandy,' she said, her voice strangled.

'Yes-ss honey?' The whisper in her ear was seductive and she almost flinched. This wasn't right, not right now, not like this. Not tonight.

He leant over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck again, lips pressing small, persistent kisses from her ear along the curve of her jaw. Finally she somehow managed to get the door open and could step away from him, try to escape the mass of confused feelings and fear his lustful kisses and wandering hands were piquing within her.

'Kirsten?' he queried, coming inside and letting the door slam behind him.

'What?' was the impatient answer as she turned to face him. 'What do you want?'

'I want you, you look so beautiful tonight,' he slurred slightly, reaching out towards her, grasping her hand. 'Come here.'

Kirsten fought the rising panic as he moved to kiss her; for some reason she couldn't do this.

'Sandy,' she protested, turning away so his lips grazed across her cheek.

'I want you,' he whispered, releasing her hand, his own moving to the small of her back, pressing her towards him before continuing lower to caress her ass.

'But…but, what about…'

Sandy shook his head, 'Just you, just us,'

'But…' her voiced cracked and she couldn't continue, looking away, eyes blurring over.

'No, it wasn't meant to happen,' he soothed. 'It's better this way,'

The hand he had tangled in her hair twisted her head back towards him a little roughly, 'I love you,' he muttered, kissing her again. She could taste the liquor on his breath.

'Sandy,' she sobbed, struggling against him, 'you're drunk, stop it.'

He mumbled incoherently and continued to trail kisses down her neck,'

'Please, stop it Sandy, I can't…not right now.'

'Kir-r-ssssten, what's wrong?' he asked, finally hearing the uneven edge to her voice, the lust still evident in his alcohol-hazy eyes.

She freed herself from Sandy's grasp, breathing heavily, mascara smudged at the edge of her eyes by the tears that were moments away from falling. 'If you have to ask you can sleep on the couch.'

Confusion fluttered across his face as she stalked away but he was too tired to try and work it out and not in a fit state to follow her.

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The next morning he woke with a pounding headache, cricked back and the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Forcing his brain to work through the fog that was last night, he came to a few conclusions.

Hangover.

Couch.

Fight with Kirsten.

'Oh God,' he groaned, debating the advantages of getting up. On the one hand the kitchen had bagels and coffee, on the other Kirsten was probably there and he would have to face up to whatever he had done last night. However the appeal of the first two items was too great, the run-in with his wife was inevitable; may as well have some sustenance first.

She looked up from the paper as he stumbled in, her icy gaze taking in his dishevelled appearance and guilty face.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, skirting round the kitchen island.

'Do you even remember what you did?'

He paused by the coffee pot, 'Um…no, but I'm sorry?'

'Not good enough. How's the head?'

'Pretty damn awful, how much did I drink last night?'

'Enough to make you pushy, deaf and forgetful,'

There was silence in the kitchen as Sandy began to remember the previous night. Jimmy. Tequila. Shit.

He looked aghast at the realisation, 'Oh Kirsten, I…didn't mean, I…'

'I don't want to hear it Sandy, last night was the first time you've ever been like that; the only time I've ever felt afraid, you're usually such a sweet drunk.'

Sandy dropped his head into his hands.

Kirsten continued, her voice shaking slightly, 'I know I haven't been exactly…well, you know, recently and I'm sorry, but we'll get there. You've been so supportive, and then last night… It can't be like this Sandy.'

He nodded mutely, heaving a deep sigh. 'It won't,' he said, his voice husky before he cleared his throat. 'It won't happen again, I promise, I promise. Please Kirsten; I'm sorry, so sorry.'

She looked up as she felt his hand tentatively close around her own. The fathomless depths of his eyes were deep, dark and deadly serious, his scruffy hair and five o'clock shadow a stark contrast to the sombre lines etched on his face.

'I love you,' she murmured resting her head against his arm and wishing she hadn't reacted so harshly the previous night. The last thing they needed right now was this aching fracture between them to grow any wider yet she'd approached it with a crowbar. 'I need you, but not if…'

'It won't…I love you, love you so much. I just…I want to comfort you, comfort myself and I don't know what else to do anymore.'

'I know what you mean and I'm sorry I put you in that position, I am I just…' Unable to find words to explain herself, Kirsten tugged gently at his sleeve to bring him down to her level and kissed him, knowing he wouldn't dare initiate it after their conversation.

'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

'Now go get showered, you look like hell.'

Sandy hesitated.

'Now!'

'But there are bagels and coffee here,'

'Afterwards,'

'Aw, but Kirsten.'

'No buts, go shower and I may come join you…'

'Really?' Sandy was taken aback.

'I'm not promising anything, it's not that I don't want to, I just…don't know if I can.'

'Okay honey,' he answered dropping a kiss on the top of her head, 'I'll postpone the bagels just in case.'

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In the event she didn't come join him and Sandy spent a good ten minutes wondering how on earth he could make this up to her. He really sucked at being a good husband these days. He hated to think that his wife might feel like he wanted her for something other than just being herself. But he also hated her refusing any sort of comfort he was offering, and in all honesty, he just wanted a little in return.

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