Title: Seasons
rating:pg:13
Summary: Women are like the seasons, always changing and never still. A 4 part series of vignettes where Ryan thinks about some of the women in his life. Second person narrative
A.N. written during early season 2, so it's kind of dated.
Chapter one: Summer
Theresa is like a summer day . Sultry, hot, and vaguely uncomfortable. She's like laying next to a pool in the warm sun, and being too lazy to jump in. When she is angry her dark eyes burst into flames like tree branches at summer camp bonfires. Theresa was one minute warm and welcoming and the next, suffocating like a humid sauna.
She was your first. Your first best friend, your first kissing buddy, your first lover. . . She was the first girl you ever let yourself care about outside of your mother. She knew you. She knew you hated spiders, and was allergic to peanuts. She knew you loved your mom even though she hurt you. She had seen you beaten and bruised. She had seen you young and smiling in a Snoopy costume. She loved you, faults and all.
You had been in Chino two weeks before you started sleeping in her bed. The couch was lumpy, and your left arm was starting to go numb from sleeping on it all night. Eva finally caved to Theresa's pressure, but only on the condition that the door was left open. Theresa agrees, but it didn't really matter, Eva slept like the dead. Many nights of sneaking through windows and later brazenly walking through the front door had confirmed the fact years ago. It made Eva happy though, and so you gave in, pretending to be reluctant.
You had stripped down to your boxers by the time Theresa came into her room to dress for bed. You paused awkwardly for a moment, and then Theresa began to undress as well. It was humid outside, and the only air was coming from an old desk fan lazily oscillating on it's base.
After peeling off her t-shirt, Theresa held it to her chest and looked at your hooded eyes. You bypassed the bed and walked to her side. You took the shirt away from her chest but didn't look down. You stared straight into her eyes, until her face smoothed out, and the uncomfortable look was gone. She thought to herself, why am I this way? This was the same boy, who puked all over her new white dress at her Quinceanera.
You unhooked her bra, as she unbuttoned her pants, and you walked over to her dresser and brought out a nightgown. She lifted her hands over her head as you pulled the gown over her arms and let the gown flutter down her body. Theresa fished pulling of her jeans and tossed them into the hamper, and you embraced her.
You could feel the slight bump poking into your stomach, and wondered. Taking her hand, you led her to the bed and you both sat down, staring straight ahead.
"What does it feel like," You finally said, breaking the quiet, and turning to look at her. "Being pregnant."
"It's hard to describe," Theresa began, but tried to elaborate at your crestfallen expression. "It's like my body isn't my own. I feel sick at night, but I don't throw up. I think I'm getting stretch marks. I really want a cigarette. My ankles are swelling, and my boobs hurt."
You smiled, and shook your head.
"Not that I'm not interested in your boobs, but thats not what I meant. What does it feel like to have a baby floating around inside of you?"
Theresa sighed and laid her head on your shoulder. She brought your still joined hands to her stomach and pressed your palm flat on the slight curve.
"It's amazing, Ryan. I know you want more, but how can I explain? I feel something fluttering around in my stomach, and it's supposed to be a baby in six months. A person. Someone with feelings, and a brain. It's overwhelming, and wonderful. It's a miracle."
Theresa finished and felt you pull your hand from her grasp and lift her face to yours.
"Thank you."
You pushed a sweaty lock of hair off her face and kissed her forhead. Standing up you gently nudged Theresa into a lying position and covered her with the sheet. Then you walked over to the other side of the bed and slid in. You both laid there for a moment. The lamp still on and not touching. Then the door opened and Eva poked her head through.
"Goodnight." she said softly. She opened the door a little wider and then disappeared back out of the room.
You reached for Theresa's hand, and turned off the light.
"Goodnight, Theresa," You said, finding her hand in the dark.
"Goodnight, Ryan," She replied, clutching your hand.
Theresa was your summer.