Updated January 2024:
Chapter 5
Seth slouched down in his chair, wondering why he'd been so desperate to get into this meeting.
It didn't make him feel more mature or more in control of the situation. He felt like a little kid in the principal's office, sitting between his parents and waiting to hear how much trouble he was in, like everything in his world depended on what the adults around him did or said or told him to do.
Dr. Pearson smiled warmly at each of the Cohens before speaking.
And wasn't it suspicious, the doctor Seth saw at the hospital's walk-in clinic just happening to be an oncologist and then just happening to diagnose Seth with cancer?
What was that folksy thing his dad said sometimes?
When all you've got is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
Maybe if Dr. Pearson had been a podiatrist, they'd all be sitting here trying to pin all of Seth's problems on his feet.
Did his parents even think of that?
"I don't want to attack you with all the information in one sitting, but I think it would be good to outline next steps and what we can expect along the way." Dr. Pearson passed three packets of paper across the table. "Now, before we begin, does anyone have any questions?"
Seth shook his head as his parents each murmured nos.
"There are a few different types of leukemia. Seth's type is known as acute lymphocytic leukemia." Dr. Pearson paused. "What that means is that the abnormality in Seth's white blood cells is fairly extreme. This type of leukemia becomes more severe quickly, which is why we want to move quickly on confirming the diagnosis and planning a course of treatment. If the second opinion confirms our diagnosis here, I believe we'll be looking at a fairly aggressive approach to treatment."
Seth swallowed a lump in his throat as the doctor kept talking, detailing symptoms and side effects and treatments and statistics, as the doctor told him that all of this would take a lot out of him, both emotionally and physically, that it wouldn't be easy.
Seth hoped that everyone else felt the appropriate degree of gratitude that he didn't toss out a No shit at that one.
It was overwhelming and weirdly embarrassing, this doctor detailing all of the ways that Seth's body was failing him, and not just when he dropped that Seth might notice his testicles getting swollen.
Great. That was exactly the development he was hoping for, a comically inflated ballsack.
He wanted the doctor to stop talking. He wanted everyone to stop looking at him.
But of course they wouldn't.
Seth propped his elbow up on the arm of the chair and tried to subtly shield his face with his hand, trying to block out his parents' concerned faces, trying to block out Dr. Pearson's well-practiced and matter-of-fact sympathy.
He'd probably delivered this same spiel to dozens of cancer kids.
Kirsten reached out and took Seth's hand, interlacing their fingers, and Sandy rested a hand on his shoulder, neither of them getting that Seth was trying to block everyone out, not let everyone in.
"When you begin chemotherapy, the initial plan will be for you to stay in our pediatric cancer ward. As your treatment progresses, we may be able to transition you to receiving chemo on an outpatient basis."
"Wait, I have to stay here?" Seth's eyes bulged. "I won't get to go home?"
It had been bad enough staying overnight; he couldn't imagine spending some indeterminate length of time in this place, with its terrible food and its distinctly medicinal smell and its infernal cacophony of beeping and its scratchy bedsheets and no part of it that felt like his own.
"We'll be here every day," Sandy said firmly, rubbing his hand across Seth's shoulder blades.
Dr. Pearson looked only momentarily thrown off by Seth's interruption, recovering swiftly with another explanation for why staying at the hospital was the best-and seemingly only-choice they'd entertain.
It all sort of floated over Seth's head. He couldn't listen, and he could barely feel his dad's hand squeezing his shoulder and his mom's thumb rubbing in circles around his knuckles, poor but well-meaning attempts at comfort.
Dr. Pearson's grand finale felt like a canned speech out of a movie, mentioning the hospital's cancer support group for teens and other counseling options for the whole family before praising Seth's otherwise good health-which okay, was now the time for that?-and noting effusively that the odds were in Seth's favor.
Which, sure, but the odds didn't always work out for everyone.
Why should he assume he'd be on the right side of that one?
ooooooooooooooooooo
Seth found Ryan in the waiting room and flung himself into the chair next to him. His parents were at the front desk, finishing up the discharge paperwork.
"Hey man," he said, running a tired hand through his hair.
"Hey. Skittle?" Ryan held the open bag towards Seth.
"Don't mind if I do." Seth pinched a few out and popped them into his mouth. "I'm beat." He sighed and slid down so that his body practically melded into the plastic seat.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the strangely deafening sound of his teeth going to work on the candy. He poked at the half-chewed Skittles with his tongue and quietly slurped on the subsequently fruit-flavored saliva.
He was largely indifferent to Skittles on an average day, but the sensory experience was kind of satisfying at that moment.
"You up for some Time Splitters when I get back from school?"
Seth smiled around the wad of Skittles wedged in his cheek.
"Count on it."
It felt alright with Ryan, not as heavy or weird as he was imagining it would be, not like it was with his parents.
"So how's the food here?" Ryan asked, upending the remaining Skittles into his mouth.
"About as good as a five-star restaurant, assuming they're serving roadkill."
"That bad?"
"Remind me to never criticize Mom's cooking again." Seeing Ryan's incredulous eyebrow raise he added: "I mean it. And any contraband you can get to me when I'm here for the long haul would be...extremely appreciated."
"The long haul?" Ryan frowned.
"Yeah." Seth bit his lip. "They're letting me go home for a few days, but they're going to make me stay here when I start treatment."
"I'm sorry, man. That sucks."
"Yup."
There was a long beat of silence between them, Seth staring fixedly at a light brown splotch on the stark white wall in front of him.
He couldn't tell if it was shaped more like a rabbit in a top hat or...something else in a top hat.
"So uh...when you're here, does that mean I get your room?"
Seth let out a surprised bark of laughter.
It wasn't like it was A+ material, but Ryan was kind of working up from the ground-floor, jokes-wise. He wasn't even sure laughter was allowed in Chino.
"Ryan Atwood, in with the funny."
"Too soon?" Ryan raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Nah." Seth snickered. "I appreciate it, man." He jutted his chin towards his parents, who were now standing by the front desk, talking furtively, their heads huddled close together. "I don't think those two are going to be in the mood for comedy for awhile," he noted.
"No, probably not," Ryan agreed.
"You might have to carry the team with me on that one."
"Are you using a sports metaphor right now?"
"The cancer's clearly reached my brain, huh?" Seth picked absently at a hangnail. "But yeah, you can have my room. And if I die, you have dibs on my inheritance."
Ryan flinched.
Seth cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.
"But uh, anyway, there's this stuff, adriamycin or something, they use it in chemo. It makes you ralph your guts out in pretty intense fashion. I was thinking maybe you create a diversion, I pilfer a nice little supply, then maybe we slip it in Chip's Budweiser...watch the fireworks." Seth waggled his eyebrows. "I mean, why should I have all the fun?"
Ryan snickered and was about to up the ante to taking out the whole water polo team when Sandy and Kirsten approached.
"You boys ready to head home?" Kirsten's smile was tight.
Sandy held out a hand to Seth to help him out of his chair.
"I'm not an invalid yet," Seth pointed out, springing to his feet in a more-or-less spry fashion. Seeing the look on his dad's face and realizing there had maybe been just a hint of sharpness in his tone, Seth clapped Sandy on the shoulder. "But I appreciate it. That's the spirit we're looking for, and good practice for when you're waiting on me hand-and-foot."
Sandy's mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly faltering for some kind of witty rejoinder, before settling into a weak smile.
"Let's load up, huh?" His voice was soft.
Seth and Ryan exchanged wincing glances as they followed Sandy and Kirsten down the hallway.
"I'm sensing it's too soon for the invalid jokes," Seth whispered.
"Afraid so, buddy," Ryan replied drily.
"Figures."
ooooooooooooooooo
Seth lay on his bed, trying to focus on his graphic novel, but he was having trouble making any of the words and images make sense in his brain.
He yawned, stretching his arms above his head and letting the book flop onto his chest.
His mom and dad had ordered him to bed, insisting that he needed to rest, just because he'd started nodding off while playing video games with Ryan after he'd gotten home from school.
It felt weird, lying in bed in the middle of the afternoon while everyone else was downstairs going about their day. He wondered vaguely what everyone was doing or talking about.
He supposed he would have to get used to it, living several degrees separate from everyone else, living on what felt like an entirely different planet.
Their lives would keep moving and he'd be in one place.
His parents had assured him that maybe he'd only need to stay at the hospital for a few weeks, or maybe the second opinion doctor would say he didn't even need to stay at the hospital, but he couldn't tell if they were just trying to give him a false sliver of hope.
Seth rolled over and hit 'play' on his stereo, needing to drown out his thoughts.
His eyelids fluttered shut and he drifted off to sleep.
oooooooooooooooo
The doorbell rang.
Kirsten jumped, startled, almost spilling coffee all over the To-Do list she'd spent the past hour writing and rewriting.
Lists helped her keep things orderly and in-place, and they gave her and the family concrete things to do. As she'd written different items, she'd felt herself relax a little under the weight of sudden purpose and direction.
There was no time for a breakdown when she needed to arrange appointments, set up a meeting with Dr. Kim about Seth missing school, compile a list of what Seth would need for his hospital stay, figure out how she and Sandy could coordinate their schedules so that someone would always be able to be with Seth, especially at night-
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She couldn't think about Seth, alone in a hospital room at night, scared out of his mi-
The beeping would drive him crazy.
Should I add earplugs to the list?
She wasn't sure Seth would like the feel of earplugs in his ears. He hated scratchy tags and when the seam of his sock sat weirdly across his toes, or when the top sheet of a bed was tucked under the mattress and his legs felt trapped under the blankets.
They probably tucked the top sheets under the mattress at the hospital. They probably wouldn't listen to him if he asked them not to, would keep doing it every time they made up the bed.
And he could untuck them himself, over and over, but chemotherapy was going to sap his strength and his energy to do something even as basic as-
Should I add noise-cancelling headphones to the list?
The doorbell rang again.
Kirsten had forgotten it had rung at all.
It seemed as if every member of the family had drifted off to their own isolated corners of the house, and she'd staked a claim on the kitchen. She guessed that put her in charge of answering the door, as Ryan had retreated to the poolhouse and Sandy was out pacing the patio.
Kirsten took a steadying breath before opening the door.
"Hi, Mrs. Cohen." Summer smiled brightly at her. "Is Seth home?"
"Hi, Summer." Kirsten managed a thin smile. "Seth's in his room. I can go get him."
"No, no, that's okay," Summer said. "I'll just go up." She paused, brow wrinkling in confusion as she realized that something felt off, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. "If that's okay," she added quickly. While waiting for Kirsten to respond, Summer put her finger on it, the weirdness.
Kirsten was normally intimidatingly well put-together, so her gray sweatpants and oversized Berkeley sweatshirt that must have been Mr. Cohen's were a sharp departure from her usual look, as was her hair, which had been thrown up into a hastily executed bun.
"Of course," Kirsten replied distractedly, already turning to head back to the kitchen and her list.
"Thanks, Mrs. Cohen," Summer called after her. She shrugged to herself, deciding that even Mrs. Cohen must've needed a day off from looking impeccable every now and then.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
Summer smiled as she climbed the stairs, following the strains of some dorky emo music to Seth's bedroom door. She knocked lightly, and slowly opened the door when she got no response.
If he was studying naked, well, so be it, she figured with a smirk.
Aw, Cohen was asleep.
She had to admit that he looked pretty cute when he was sleeping, his crazy hair going in all directions, Captain Oats proudly standing guard on the nightstand.
Inspired, Summer threw herself onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress next to Seth.
"Wake up, sleepy head!" she shrieked.
After all, it was the middle of the afternoon.
Seth bolted upright, looking disoriented and moderately panicked, but his face quickly melted into an only somewhat grumpy smile when his brain caught up to the moment and realized that it was Summer Roberts bouncing up and down on his mattress.
"What are you doing, woman?" Seth demanded, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Still, his mouth quirked into a little smile.
Even when disrupting his much-needed sleep, Summer was a sight for sore eyes.
And sore limbs, and nausea, and a ballsack that was apparently liable to swell at a moment's notice.
He'd have to remember to never share that thought with Summer.
"I came to visit you," Summer explained, bending down and kissing his lips passionately. "And I didn't want you to sleep through it."
"That's...mmmm...very considerate of you...Summer." Seth smiled into her kiss.
Summer drew back. Her face was flushed, and she giggled a little breathily, in that way that made Seth go light-headed.
"You haven't been in school the past two days."
Seth frowned, and pushed Summer away gently as she leaned in for another kiss. "I'm surprised you noticed."
Summer stuck her tongue out at him, but without any real malice. She was able to admit-at least to herself-that she did kind of deserve Cohen's bitchiness on that one. It hadn't been her best look, dragging her feet on acknowledging his presence in public.
"Look, I told Holly we're dating, okay?" Summer explained. "So the whole school's going to know by tomorrow." She bit her lip around an imploring smile. "Am I forgiven?"
Seth couldn't hold back a goofy grin as Summer very purposefully made eyes at him.
"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you," he said.
Summer giggled as she crawled into the space between Seth's arm and shoulder, and he held her close. She nuzzled his neck gently.
"Forgiveness makes great foreplay," he said, grin expanding in spite of himself, in spite of everything that had gone on in the past few days and the packet of papers from the hospital sitting untouched on his desk.
"So, how come you weren't in school?" Summer asked, tracing her fingers down Seth's chest. "Hope you're not contagious."
"No chance of that, I think."
"Hmm?"
Seth didn't answer, instead rolling them over so that he was on top of Summer.
"Ooh, Cohen, I love it when you take charge." Summer bit her lip and emitted a low sound as Seth nibbled gently on her earlobe, one hand sliding up the back of her shirt.
Summer's hands started to work at his belt buckle, causing Seth to inhale a short sharp gasp.
"Seth, I need to talk to you-"
"Ohmygod."
Summer and Seth broke away quickly. Seth managed a "Knocking is clearly a dying artform around here," as he hastily covered himself back up with his blanket, his belt buckle clanging in a rather obscenely loud fashion as he did so.
For her part, Summer scrambled out from under Seth and moved to the other side of the room, trying to subtly smooth down her shirt as she went. She covered her face with her hands and let out another mortified "Ohmygod."
Sandy stood in front of them both, looking flustered.
"Sorry, I..." Sandy trailed off, realizing he wasn't sure that a parent was supposed to apologize in this situation. He sent up a thanks to Hashem that his son and his girlfriend were at least fully clothed. "Seth, I, uh-" Sandy felt himself faltering. "I-I did knock," he said finally, weakly.
What exactly was the etiquette for this situation?
He felt bad for laughing at Kirsten's distress when she'd walked in on Ryan and Marissa in the poolhouse; he could finally fully appreciate the excruciating awkwardness Kirsten had described.
Part of him also wanted to demand to know how Seth could even be thinking about sex at a time like this, but Sandy supposed he'd also been a sixteen-year-old boy once.
"Sorry, Dad." Seth sat up a little in bed, wincing as his belt buckle raised another racket.
"I should go," Summer announced, starting to power-walk towards the door.
"No!"
Summer stopped short, momentarily distracted from her embarrassment by the intensity of Seth's tone. She looked at him quizzically.
"Summer, wait. Dad, sorry. I just-" Seth broke off, looking pensive all of the sudden. "I need to talk to Summer for a few minutes."
"Talk?" Sandy's eyebrows shot up, marveling at the audacity of his child.
"Talk," Seth said slowly. His eyes darted to somewhere on Summer's side of the room, and then fixed back onto Sandy. "Just for a few minutes."
"Oh." Sandy nodded, glancing back towards Summer. "Talk."
"And just talking; I promise." Seth smiled weakly, hoping The Cancer could-if nothing else-buy him a little bit of parental goodwill.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
"What was that about?" Summer asked, a few moments after Sandy had left them alone to Talk. "How come he didn't go crazy and like, kick me out?"
"I don't think the guy's dad is supposed to do that, like, traditionally," Seth mused. "That would be more your dad's purview, I think."
"Whatever." Summer shook her head, too confused to be tempted to follow the thread of Cohen's weirdo free associations. "Your dad walked in on us and then just left us alone with the door closed."
"I know, not even a safe sex lecture or anything, which is really troubling in this day and age, what wi-"
"Cohen!"
Seth stopped. He blinked a few times, eyes going wide. He almost looked scared.
It was freaking Summer out.
"What's going on with you?"
"Okay, so about that..." Seth's voice was low. He inhaled a long slow breath.
ooooooooooooooooo
"Seth, can I come in?" Sandy knocked lightly on Seth's door.
It had been more than fifteen minutes since he'd promised Seth and Summer a few minutes to talk privately. He wondered if he'd underestimated the depths of Seth's audacity.
"Yeah Dad. Come in."
"Are you decent?"
"You're hilarious."
Sandy opened the door, one hand covering his eyes as he moved around the corner and into Seth's room. He peeked through his fingers, and seeing nothing scandalous, whipped his hands away and smiled at the kids.
"Whew." He pretended to wipe the sweat off his brow.
Seth and Summer were looking rather cozy, with Summer resting her head on Seth's chest and Seth lazily playing with Summer's hair. Neither of them seemed even slightly self-conscious or embarrassed, merely wrapped up in their own teenage existence.
Summer's eyes looked a little puffy.
He'd told her.
For his part, Seth looked strangely serene, and Sandy was thankful that he had Summer.
"Sorry, Dad. I know we were supposed to be down already. We just got uh, caught up a little." Seth looked appropriately contrite.
"I understand," Sandy said softly, giving Seth a knowing smile. "I just wanted to let you guys know that dinner's here."
"I'm not really hungry."
Summer smacked Seth's chest lightly. "You need to eat."
Sandy snickered. "Better listen to the wife over there." He winked. "Summer, you staying for dinner?"
Summer straightened up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Thanks, Mr. Cohen; that'd be great."
ooooooooooooooooo
Seth was lying in bed reading when Sandy popped in again later that evening.
"Hey, kiddo." Sandy walked over and sat on the edge of Seth's bed. "How you feelin'?"
Seth shrugged and closed his book before setting it on his night stand.
He'd kind of decided on a policy of not answering the many frequent questions about how he was doing.
What was he supposed to say each time-
"Still have cancer, thanks."
"So you wanted to talk to me?" Seth asked instead.
"Before we get into that, if Summer's over here, the door needs to be open, okay?" Sandy paused, considering that the size of the Cohen house meant that a lot could discreetly happen with the door open or closed. "Actually, why don't you two just spend time in the living room when she's over here?"
"I need my own poolhouse," Seth grumbled. He hoped his dad felt appropriately grateful that he bit back his immediate response, which was Wow, deny a dying man one of the few pleasures in life, huh?
It was weird and heavy and annoying, not just having The Cancer, but feeling suddenly responsible for everyone else's feelings about him having The Cancer.
It was his mortality, and yet he couldn't joke about it without everyone flinching and getting awkward.
"I know it's not what you want to hear, but Ryan has the same rules with having girls in the pool house," Sandy pointed out.
"Right."
Just like Ryan, Seth had no intention of following the parental edict, but it was going to be annoying to work around.
Imagine explaining to perennial latchkey kid Summer that he'd get in trouble if they spent time alone in his room, that they were supposed to stay where his parents could keep an eye on them.
He cringed, imagining Summer telling Marissa and Holly and whoever: Seth's mom and dad say he's not allowed to have sex.
It would definitely be a step backwards from the week before, when they'd fooled around in the Cohen family hot tub.
Thank god his dad hadn't walked in on that.
It was kind of stupid how much Seth was able to spiral about this topic, given the whole cancer thing, and maybe especially given that he was going to be living in a hospital within a week, making the "no girls in your room" edict a moot point anyway.
But it was like he continued to be split in two, one part of him thinking and feeling and acting like was going to keep living his normal boring life, already scheming about how to sneak Summer into his room, and the other part of him was achingly and terrifyingly aware that a slow and painful and debilitating attack was being carried out on his life, an attack he could personally do nothing about. He had to surrender all control to doctors and chemicals and care plans, people he didn't know and medicines and procedures he didn't really understand.
He wondered if the hospital had any kind of set policy around their patients getting laid.
"I made the exception just this once, because I figured you needed to talk to her about everything." Sandy looked sympathetic. "How'd that turn out?"
"Okay." Seth frowned. "Not like I really have anything to compare it to."
"Did you read through any of the materials the doctor gave you? That's really what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Yeah; Summer and I looked at it a little bit. She had some questions." Seth fingered the frayed edges of his comforter. "Did you look at it?"
Sandy nodded. "It's a lot to take in."
"So everyone keeps saying," Seth said. "Spinal taps, chemo, going bald, giant needles, a metric ton of vomit..." he sighed. "Not exactly how I pictured spending my sophomore year."
"I know." Sandy patted Seth's knee. "I'm sorry this is happening."
Seth didn't respond for a long moment. He closed his eyes and leaned back against his headboard. "This sucks," he hissed softly.
"I know."
"And I mean, why does this have to happen when life is finally good?" Seth swallowed, feeling a small burst of heat behind his eyes. He blinked it away. "Why couldn't we have gotten this out of the way freshman year when I spent all my nights at home watching Survivor with you and mom?" He paused. "No offense to you or mom." He raised his eyebrows. "Or to Jeff Probst, for that matter."
"I'm sorry," Sandy said again, feeling powerless to offer any words of wisdom or solace. "I know it isn't fair. But hey-"
"I'm gonna go to sleep," Seth interjected, looking away. "I'm really tired."
Sandy nodded, realizing that whatever pep talk he'd been about to give wasn't likely to offer much reassurance to Seth. He wasn't a little kid anymore. He knew that Sandy and Kirsten didn't really know how to fix things for him.
Sandy rose to stand, pausing halfway up to kiss the top of his son's head.
"You'll come get me if you need anything?" He asked, trying to catch Seth's eye.
Seth nodded, lips pressed into a frown as he looked away.
They exchanged good nights and Sandy walked away reluctantly, closing the door behind him and leaving Seth alone.