Hi everyone! This is set sometime while Theresa is still staying with the Cohen's, but she's not pregnant. -- MacKynzie
P.S. They are so not mine, but how I wish they were!
Summary: Ryan wants make to make it work with his mom, but at what price?
Mirage
Dear Mom,
When we moved from Fresno, you said life could only get better. It took a little while, but, yeah, life has gotten better. I wake up in this awesome home, the ocean is my backyard. I have a family now, people that care if I don't eat or have trouble in school. When I first moved in with the Cohen's, I had a hard time getting the hang of this whole "family" thing. It was rocky for all of us at first, but I think we're all learning as we go. I love you mom, but I can't stay with you and I can't see you anymore. I won't continue the Atwood tradition of jail and an early death. I'm sorry about that, but you need a life of your own, right? Isn't that what you always say to me? Now you have your chance, good luck.
Love,
Ryan
Ryan reread his words, satisfied. They were written on a day-old pizza box, the red smear of sauce reminding him of the red smear his own sauce had made that day. He grabbed his backpack, barely glancing at the lifeless body on the rotting sofa.
Ryan moved through the kitchen and into the single bedroom, hefting his bag on this shoulders. Dawn lay sprawled on the bed, a tourniquet still tied on her bicep. He shook his head, he'd tried. There was nothing more he could do. If only I could believe that.
He stared at her for a moment more, trying to convince himself that this was the right decision. That he hadn't just betrayed his family, his mother; the one who had given him life and for better or worse kept a roof over his head. Ryan sighed, he seemed to do that a lot lately. Quickly, he spun on his heel before he changed his mind. He had to get back before the Cohen's noticed his absence. It would be tricky, it was already 6:00 a.m. Sandy rarely woke later than 6:30.
A horn honked. The cab was here, he'd have to pay the driver extra to step on it. Seth was getting suspicious what with his supposed early-morning walks and nodding off in class. Of all people, Ryan had thought that Sandy would have busted him weeks ago but then again, Sandy had been busy lately and Ryan was a very convincing liar when he had to be.
He breezed through the living and out the front door, it was time to go home.
Ryan lit a cigarette as they sped through Newport. He blew smoke out at his reflection on the window. His face was expressionless, his jaw set in determination. He hadn't cried since the third grade and yet he felt an overwhelming need to sob like a school girl. School girl. Theresa. She knew. She'd known for awhile, she knew him better than anyone. She knew those countless times when he'd shown up at her house with a busted face and nothing to say except that he'd fallen. Again.
And he really had fallen this time. Lying to the Cohen's, to Theresa, to himself. Telling himself that things would be different. That his mom would be different. That he would be different. No such luck. Life sucks.
Ryan raised a hand in greeting at Jack, the guard in the security booth. They had become quite friendly since his late-night ventures. He flicked his cigarette out the window and popped a breath mint. A poor cover, but it would work until he hit the shower and washed away the filth from the night.
"This is good." Ryan stated, still quite aways down the street. He paid the driver and started trudging down the street. Ryan approached the house and walked around to the back. He eyed the windows, hoping not to see anyone in the kitchen. He didn't. And if he would have been more awake and not had a pounding headache he would have spied Sandy lounging on the chaise.
"Well, well. The prodigal son returns." Sandy forced a light tone, but failing to hide the undercurrent of anger. "Where were you?"
"For a walk. I couldn't sleep. Didn't you see my note?" Ryan said calmly. He'd been caught off guard, but old habits die hard.
Sandy eyed him closely. He sensed something was off, but he didn't think Ryan would lie directly to his face. He was wrong, of course.
"No, I didn't see it." Sandy stated, his instincts were whispering in his ear.
Ryan shrugged, hoping Sandy wouldn't notice his backpack, which he had slipped off his shoulder and into the bushes at the last second.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, I put in on the counter." Ryan explained, his voice sincere.
"Okay. Didn't mean to accuse you of anything, it's just that I'm not used to this. Well, I better be off to the old grind. See you tonight." Sandy said, getting off the chaise and going back into the house.
Since Sandy already knew he was up, he didn't see the need to shower in the pool house. Theresa had covered for him enough and she didn't need anymore stress. Ryan sighed. It was unusual to have some sort of parental unit actual care where he was or whether he was home. And he was home. It was something he still hadn't gotten used to.
The end for now, more to come. Love it/hate it/could care less? Let me know.
MacKynzie
P.S. They are so not mine, but how I wish they were!
Summary: Ryan wants make to make it work with his mom, but at what price?
Mirage
Dear Mom,
When we moved from Fresno, you said life could only get better. It took a little while, but, yeah, life has gotten better. I wake up in this awesome home, the ocean is my backyard. I have a family now, people that care if I don't eat or have trouble in school. When I first moved in with the Cohen's, I had a hard time getting the hang of this whole "family" thing. It was rocky for all of us at first, but I think we're all learning as we go. I love you mom, but I can't stay with you and I can't see you anymore. I won't continue the Atwood tradition of jail and an early death. I'm sorry about that, but you need a life of your own, right? Isn't that what you always say to me? Now you have your chance, good luck.
Love,
Ryan
Ryan reread his words, satisfied. They were written on a day-old pizza box, the red smear of sauce reminding him of the red smear his own sauce had made that day. He grabbed his backpack, barely glancing at the lifeless body on the rotting sofa.
Ryan moved through the kitchen and into the single bedroom, hefting his bag on this shoulders. Dawn lay sprawled on the bed, a tourniquet still tied on her bicep. He shook his head, he'd tried. There was nothing more he could do. If only I could believe that.
He stared at her for a moment more, trying to convince himself that this was the right decision. That he hadn't just betrayed his family, his mother; the one who had given him life and for better or worse kept a roof over his head. Ryan sighed, he seemed to do that a lot lately. Quickly, he spun on his heel before he changed his mind. He had to get back before the Cohen's noticed his absence. It would be tricky, it was already 6:00 a.m. Sandy rarely woke later than 6:30.
A horn honked. The cab was here, he'd have to pay the driver extra to step on it. Seth was getting suspicious what with his supposed early-morning walks and nodding off in class. Of all people, Ryan had thought that Sandy would have busted him weeks ago but then again, Sandy had been busy lately and Ryan was a very convincing liar when he had to be.
He breezed through the living and out the front door, it was time to go home.
Ryan lit a cigarette as they sped through Newport. He blew smoke out at his reflection on the window. His face was expressionless, his jaw set in determination. He hadn't cried since the third grade and yet he felt an overwhelming need to sob like a school girl. School girl. Theresa. She knew. She'd known for awhile, she knew him better than anyone. She knew those countless times when he'd shown up at her house with a busted face and nothing to say except that he'd fallen. Again.
And he really had fallen this time. Lying to the Cohen's, to Theresa, to himself. Telling himself that things would be different. That his mom would be different. That he would be different. No such luck. Life sucks.
Ryan raised a hand in greeting at Jack, the guard in the security booth. They had become quite friendly since his late-night ventures. He flicked his cigarette out the window and popped a breath mint. A poor cover, but it would work until he hit the shower and washed away the filth from the night.
"This is good." Ryan stated, still quite aways down the street. He paid the driver and started trudging down the street. Ryan approached the house and walked around to the back. He eyed the windows, hoping not to see anyone in the kitchen. He didn't. And if he would have been more awake and not had a pounding headache he would have spied Sandy lounging on the chaise.
"Well, well. The prodigal son returns." Sandy forced a light tone, but failing to hide the undercurrent of anger. "Where were you?"
"For a walk. I couldn't sleep. Didn't you see my note?" Ryan said calmly. He'd been caught off guard, but old habits die hard.
Sandy eyed him closely. He sensed something was off, but he didn't think Ryan would lie directly to his face. He was wrong, of course.
"No, I didn't see it." Sandy stated, his instincts were whispering in his ear.
Ryan shrugged, hoping Sandy wouldn't notice his backpack, which he had slipped off his shoulder and into the bushes at the last second.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, I put in on the counter." Ryan explained, his voice sincere.
"Okay. Didn't mean to accuse you of anything, it's just that I'm not used to this. Well, I better be off to the old grind. See you tonight." Sandy said, getting off the chaise and going back into the house.
Since Sandy already knew he was up, he didn't see the need to shower in the pool house. Theresa had covered for him enough and she didn't need anymore stress. Ryan sighed. It was unusual to have some sort of parental unit actual care where he was or whether he was home. And he was home. It was something he still hadn't gotten used to.
The end for now, more to come. Love it/hate it/could care less? Let me know.
MacKynzie
