Maybe It's Better This Way
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Hey, hey, sorry for the wait life got hectic and then there was a thunderstorm! This is strangely short so apologies, it's not really a filler chapter – stuff happens, but as it only really spans one night I couldn't stretch it any more!
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Chapter 21: A Few Hours
'Are you sure you want to go to this thing?' Sandy asked as they dressed, his voice a near-whine making it clear how much he didn't want to go to this weekend's Newpsie function.
'I'm getting out of the house, I'm continuing my life. I can't forget Sandy but I'm moving on. Isn't that what you wanted?'
Her husband was a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught, 'I just meant we have a good excuse for not going,' he said, 'you know how I hate these events.'
Kirsten's irritation melted and she reached out to stroke the side of Sandy's face. 'Honey, we have to go, I've missed loads.'
'Loads? Kirsten, there's been about three.'
She raised an eyebrow.
'Okay maybe more than three but still…'
'I'm sorry.'
Sandy smiled resignedly, 'It's okay, as long as you do my damn tie.' His wife nodded, dropping a kiss on his lips before fixing the offending garment.
'Plus you agreed you'd talk to my dad about working from home…and tonight would be a good time to do it.'
'Why?' Sandy asked mutinously; he'd been planning to 'forget' to talk to his father-in-law.
'Because it's in public which means the pair of you can't do anything awful.'
'I wouldn't count on it, this is Newport.'
'Sandy,' she said warningly but left it at that; they were running late and the Newpsies would already be gossiping about her recent absence. She didn't need a late arrival to add fuel to the fire.
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The BMW had been making a funny noise and was at the shop. This meant the Cohen family had to ride together to the event. Seth had shot-gunned driving at least until Ryan appeared in the passenger seat beside him and he realised his parents were in the backseat unchaperoned.
'Dad, front-seat, now!'
'But I'm happy here.'
'Mom,' he ordered, come sit up front.'
'We're already late Seth, let's just go.'
'Not until you two are split up. Ryan, please go sit between them.'
His foster-brother gave him a look out the corner of his eye. Enough said.
'Sethela,' his father cooed in a rather frighteningly good impression of The Nana, 'how about you come sit with us?'
He glanced round and gave his parents what he hoped was a withering look of Ryan-esque proportions. 'My Jew-fro is looking particularly spiff-tastic tonight; I do not want it ruined with saliva-swapping going on over my head.'
'That's gross Seth,' Ryan commented.
'Don't tell me,' he declared as he buckled up. 'They're the ones that need to be told.'
Sandy smiled at his wife and reached for her hand. She smiled, catching Seth's eyes in the rear-view mirror and waiting for the lecture.
'Now listen,' he began as expected. 'I have been incredibly generous letting you two remain together, please show the rest of us the same consideration by keeping your hands, and lips, to your selves for the journey. Failure to do so will result in the immediate application of the breaks which could be particularly dangerous on the freeway.' Satisfied he had made his threat clear Seth started the engine.
Kirsten glanced at Sandy a little apprehensively; normally he didn't waste any opportunity to gross out his sons but things weren't normal right now. She laced her fingers a little tighter with his letting him know she was okay, not perfect, but okay enough to kiss him in the back of the darkened Range Rover and pretend they were still twenty-two.
Sandy leant over to her so the boys couldn't hear. 'May I kiss you Mrs Cohen?' he asked teasingly, his lips pressing against her ear turning the question into a kiss in itself.
'What's going on back there?' Seth asked worriedly. 'Dad you're too close to mom, get back in your seat.'
'Keep your eyes on the road,' Kirsten warned him.
'We were just talking,' Sandy added his two cents worth.
'It's rude to whisper,' their son pointed out, turning on the radio. The older generation didn't argue with the choice of music; it gave them the perfect cover.
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They'd had fun covertly making-out on the journey, only caught when they failed to realise they had reached their destination. The boys had opened the car doors; lights flicking on and caught the pair of them cuddled together mid-lip-lock and deaf to Seth's shrieks of disgust. The sound of the car horn broke the moment and they looked round to find Ryan looking a little embarrassed, one hand on the wheel ready to honk again. Seth was already outside pretending to be sick. Kirsten had giggled into Sandy's neck and shooed him out of the car, pausing to check her hair and makeup. Julie particularly could recognise kissed-off lipstick from a hundred paces. She and Sandy had entered the event hand-in-hand, immediately swamped by Newpsies eager to try and find out where she had been. Gossip was rife; a vacation to Europe, a nervous breakdown, rehab. None of them had come close to the truth; Julie having kept her promise even after the cause for it was gone. Kirsten was soon drawn into the group and so with a kiss on the cheek he slouched off to sit watching his wife do the social butterfly thing. A smile here, a touch there, a quiet deflection about her absence, another smile, laughter not ringing true. Accepting another glass of wine, offering up champagne for a toast, another flute, another glass, eyes a little larger, false laughter more frequent, words that never came so easily when she was talking to him flowing fast and freely from her mouth.
He watched jealously for a while until she was lost in the crowd, the Newpsie ranks closing around the woman they admired too much to hate and were too jealous of to love. Sandy couldn't decide which was worse; sitting alone waiting for her to finish charming everyone or mingling with her being bored and irritated by the shallow, pretentious pillars of the community.
He wandered around a little, chatted to a couple of people he could actually stand, gave his sons permission to slope off early to the bait shop or some party or other and then returned to his prime position chair right by the buffet. Neil Roberts sat with him for a while before his latest trophy wife caught him hiding, he chatted with one of the waiters, (an out-of work actor with a love of baseball) and was quickly losing the will to live trapped in a conversation with one of the lawyers from his old firm when he caught sight of Kirsten, yet another drink in hand, tripping past him on her heels, still upright, footsteps still even but with the almost invisible extra caution that came with being a little less than sober.
'Please excuse me,' he breathed in relief, gesturing towards his wife.
'Honey, are you alright?' he asked worriedly, catching her free arm and drawing her towards him, round the corner away from the other guests.
Kirsten's temper was constantly just below the surface these days and although she hated herself for it, Sandy was an easy target to snap at. She took in his anxious eyes and saw pity, felt the hand on her arm that was a little too supportive. She wasn't ill, she wasn't even drunk and she didn't need the suffocating concern that didn't let her forget about everything for just one night. She snapped.
'Sandy! I'm just spending a couple of hours being who they all think I am. Perfect Kirsten Cohen, not the Kirsten Cohen who just lost a baby. None of them know so none of them can care. I've spent so much time with people who care, care so much it hurts them and that hurts me. You and the boys have been wonderful but I can't cope with much more sympathy ok?'
She stopped, a little out of breath, a little guilty, watching hurt flash in her husband's eyes, his mouth pressing into a thin line.
'I'm sorry for caring so much,' he said coldly. 'But are sure you should be…' his eyes had shifted from her face to the glass in her hand. Kirsten frowned, eyes daring him to continue, to argue. 'I want this. What's it gonna do? The baby's gone. I haven't touched a drink for weeks; I haven't numbed myself with alcohol. I wanted to, God, but I promised you so I didn't. You are not going to deny me a social drink right now.'
'Fine,' he said exasperatedly, 'I just don't want you to…'
'I won't Sandy, give me a little credit. You however don't have a leg to stand on.' He ducked his head sheepishly,
'Sorry, I guess I'm just rather protective right now.'
Kirsten softened, 'I didn't mean to snap at you.'
She had, but it didn't really matter; it meant for some interesting sexual tension that had been missing from all their recent arguments. 'Dance?' he asked hopefully.
Kirsten's lips curved into a delighted smile, 'With pleasure,' she told him, setting the glass down on a nearby table.
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'Let's go home,' she said a short while later, tracing his face with her fingers. Concern immediately radiated from him, 'Are you okay?'
'I fine,' she whispered enticingly in his ear, the alcohol giving her courage, 'I'm just very bored of the Newpsies and there are better things we could be doing…'
Sandy was taken aback; Kirsten hadn't been this flirty for a very long time.
'Like what?' he asked cautiously, 'A little drainage work perhaps? Painting the pool house, sorting photo albums?'
'No!' she laughed, smacking his arm lightly, 'But if you're offering…'
'I think whatever you have in mind is fine,' he said quickly
'Good!' she said, taking his hand, 'Let's go then.'
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They tumbled onto the bed, breathless and laughing, but continued to kiss fervently.
Suddenly Kirsten drew back, pushing his chest with her hands and clambering off the bed. 'What's wrong?' Sandy asked, sitting up with a puzzled expression on his face. A moment ago she'd been affectionate and keen, now she was withdrawing again. The physical side of their relationship was as good as dead, if only they could mend that perhaps other things would follow. It frustrated him that she wouldn't let him love her and he spoke his thoughts aloud, 'We haven't…for weeks. Christ Kirsten you hardly even let me touch you, even innocently.'
It was true; Seth didn't cry out in horror on discovering them canoodling in a corner, their bedroom door was never locked anymore, even the little things; a comforting hand or attempted hug were often rebuffed. Kirsten stood with her arms wrapped around herself as Sandy moved about the bedroom. His movements were forceful and his footsteps loud; he was cross, she knew it. She heard him kick his shoes into the closet and swear under his breath as his jacket refused to sit right on the hanger.
'I'm sorry,' she mumbled.
'Well you know what? I'm sorry too,' he said bitterly, stalking into the bathroom and slamming the door. Kirsten lifted a shaky hand to her face and brushed away the hot tears that had spilled down her cheeks. She knew this wasn't fair on him; acting like they used to and then backing off again but she couldn't help it. She'd thought it might be easier than trying to talk; they'd always been better at non-verbal communication, but it wasn't. Hearing the water running she sluggishly undressed and when Sandy reappeared she was sat cross-legged on their bed in his giant Berkeley sweater. He didn't meet her eyes as he slid into bed and she guessed he'd cooled off somewhat in the bathroom. 'Are you just going to sleep then?' she asked, a little fractious herself. They fought sure, but they didn't go to bed angry with each other; there was an unwritten rule.
Sandy sighed, his eyes flicking open and then closed again. 'I'm sorry,' he told her wearily, 'I shouldn't have got mad at you it wasn't nice and it wasn't fair. You take as much time as you need, I'm here to support you.'
'You don't have to say all that just because you feel you have to,' she replied, picking at the cuff of the jumper. Her husband sat up and looked at her, 'You really think that?'
'I'm not saying you don't mean it, you just don't want to.'
'Not true, this is tough but I shouldn't take it out on you, I should be more of a man than that. I didn't mean upset you about this again, honest I didn't,' he said, hanging his head and listening to the aching silence before his wife began to speak haltingly. 'I know. This was me this time, I initiated it and then I couldn't. I don't know why I can't, I just can't. It just feels…too weird, like I'd be doing something wrong. It makes me think…think of when we must have …you know, when the baby…'
Sandy nodded, tugging Kirsten down beside him and stroking her hair. She curled up to him as he drew the covers round both of them. 'It just hurts when you push me away when all I want is to hold your hand or something, I love you precious, please let me.'
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Is anyone still wading through this nonsense? War and Peace eat your heart out!
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