I don't know where this came from. It was a little ramble, something I could see Rebecca doing I guess. Or maybe in my own mind I was hoping she could redeem herself slightly…. Maybe.


I felt like destroying something beautiful.

-Fight Club.

You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh.

-Fight Club.


After I ran from Sandy's car in the rain I realized that I had made a mistake. Another one and decided I would try to redeem myself.

Maybe. Until all of this.

I was about to go to his house, when I watched them go down their own private beach. So I decided to tail them, I mean why not, maybe Kirsten would divorce him or something, how the hell would I know.

I follow them from a distance, my own curiosity getting the better of me as I watch. Her blond hair falls upon his shoulders as she leans her head against him and he smiles attentively, tilting his own head a little to brush his lips against hers.

It's simple.

It's an act of trust, despite how small the gesture is.

They trust each and it shows.

I follow silently, hugging the shadows, the dark places hiding me so that I will not be discovered and can answer my own questions as to why I lost him to her. Maybe it will give me the closure that I need, despite my own tries of getting back with him. I'm a fool for even thinking I could.

She has the face of an angel, a personality that could charm even the sickest, most aching human being alive, and bring a smile to their face despite whatever pain they are in. She is caring and protective in a way that I am not and when threatened will stand and fight instead of running.

She is everything that I'm not. I can see why he loves her already.

She walks with confidence; a feat not minded by those who have been through the ringer, who have never had the life of the privileged. People like me, walk broken, it's just easier that way. We notice it as we walk past mirrors, or glass doors that show our reflection, and I'm sure you have see the way we pause, and then suddenly straighten up slightly, look around to see how many people have seen us in our hunch back, slightly bent over, life-has-thrown-us-hardships-and-this-is-how-we've-dealt-with-it-look.

She has the walk of a sixteen-year-old, fresh and ready to take upon the world. For the most part, she does too - she juggles a husband, a career, and two sons and manages to keep it all together which is more than I have ever been able to do.

Way more.

She has a smile that can make a child stop crying, that can light up a room like a switch. She has dark, inquisitive, caring eyes, eyes that can look into someone's very soul.

They stop and she instantly buries her head in his chest, her arms wrapping around him tightly, pulling him as close as possible. He's quick to take in her actions and tightens his hold upon her accordingly, pulling her close as well, her head tucked safely under his chin, her small body securely in his embrace. He scared her and he knows it. Now he has to fix his mess, something Sandy is very, very good at.

He loves her, and whether he will ever admit it to me that he is more in love with her then he ever was with me, I'll never know.

I watch silently as he leans up and kisses her forehead reassuringly, and she looks up at him as if she needs him to make it all right.

He nods his head and gives her a smile that he saves for only her, before he tells her the words that break my heart. The wind carries his soft, "I love you," to my ears and my heart pounds in response, thudding loudly against my chest, once again reminding me of my past mistake and future regret.

He loves her, not me.

Her "I love you too, Sandy," floats to my ears, and for a second I hate her more than words can say, but then I realize, I'm the one that left, and she's the one who has stayed by his side, thick and thin, through twenty years.

I frown when I realize how horrible of a person I truly am, who am I to play God with these people's lives?

Who am I to even TRY?

I'm close enough now to hear their conversation and watch the torrent of emotions that flutter across their faces, my eyes drawn to them with wonder.

Is this what it's like? Unconditional love at its finest.

He eases down to the soft sand and tugs at her hand and she moves to sit beside him but he pulls her down to him, and she makes herself comfortable in-between his legs, her back resting fully against him, his arms hold her tightly to him and I can hear her ask, "Is it over?" Softly, nervously, almost frightened to hear the real answer.

He nuzzles her shoulder, "It never began."

She tries to pull away from him as if angered by his response.

His voice is soft as he calls her name quietly, "Kirsten, she is nothing to me, other then the past. You, you are everything, you know that," his voice is so heavy with emotions it makes me shiver with jealousy. He says it again quietly this time, full of love and desperation, "Everything."





It's like a slap to the face. One that I should have known was coming. For some odd reason I don't know why I care so much. Maybe because I hoped that Sandy was still waiting for me, still holding out.

Maybe because at one point in time, he was mine, and I'm still territorial about him.

I watch as she relaxes in his arms, I watch as she turns slightly to face him, his grip upon her loosening only enough to do so.

His hand comes up and sweeps the blond strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as she gazes at him with a look that I can only describe as undying love.

How young she must have been when she met him? Eighteen, nineteen at the most?

Where was I? Hiding out in a bunker when Sandy was meeting the love of his life?

I'm startled as I catch the contrast of the couple, his dark, black hair, that is beginning to salt and pepper against her gorgeous blond strands is staggering even in the dark. I've only seen them apart and never together and they are quite the match.

She smiles at him inching closer, shifting quickly; she now straddles him, one strong hand upon her slender hip, the other up her back, holding her close.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs softly as his lips trace against her jaw line before he kisses her softly.

She's probably heard those words a million times before and yet she still blushes, she still smiles shyly at him. How can a woman of her stature not know that she is simply stunning?

Or maybe she does and it doesn't matter who tells her she doesn't believe it until she hears it from him.

Of course.

Because from him it has meaning, it speaks volumes, and once again I feel like shit for even thinking of coming here, of trying to seduce him. For trying to win him back. It was pointless, even from the start, he will never betray her, not to the extent that I want him to.

She settles down against his chest again, his arms wrapped tightly around her, protecting her from the night and even I can see how safe she feels there.

I catch his tender words in clips, "Love you… I'd be lost without you…I would never leave you."

I sigh.

Sandy Cohen is every woman's fantasy. Well, at least the romantic side of him is.

She smiles and buries her head against his shoulder while he holds her tightly, and they sit there for a few more moments.

She shivers and that must be his note that it's time to go.

As they rise so do I and I accidentally kick something and it makes a noise.

I freeze and so do they. Instinctively she jumps in his arms and looks my way for a few moments before looking at him, and almost the same moment he puts his body in front of hers without thinking, pulling her out of any harms way and peers into my direction.


He's tense and I can see her white knuckled grip on his hand from where I am.

He shakes his head and pulls her against him, whispering that it must have been the wind as they start their short walk back to their house, his arm around her, pulling her close and protecting her from the unknown.

I watch as he impulsively looks back in my direction as if waiting for an ambush or something. That comes from growing up in the Bronx.

She glances up at him for conformation that it is indeed nothing and he smiles at her.

In that instant I know that never in a million years would he ever let anything happen to her, he would rather die then see her in any pain. I can tell that she knows this too because of the way she relaxes and the look she gives him.

I wait until they walk up to their mansion before walking the other way, casting a dark look towards the house and life that will never be mine.

"Goodbye, Sandy Cohen."

I never look back as I walk down the beach and on to a new life.

A life without Sandy.

A life without Kirsten.

A life without any Cohen in it.