~There is always something before there is forgetfulness. ~
************* The Crest of Emotion
*************
Ryan stepped into the Cohen's house, his hand staying on the doorknob as the door protruded into the room. There was something about the house that just didn't make him want to say 'his' house. He was satisfied with the Cohen's house. The pictures on the wall made him stop and stare. Some were recent ones Kristen had taken last week of him and Marissa; the faded face of Oliver in the background. The beach was so calm. So calm that he melted inside when he saw them. It was so rare that he smiled and he was so deep into the picture he dropped the bag he was holding in his right hand. Sandy quickly greeted him from the far right.
"Hey, Ryan. What have you been up to?" Ryan looked from the corner of his eye to catch his expression. Sandy gleamed with suspicious smile. He quickly retreated his eyes to his book bag he had mindlessly dropped.
"Good. You?" Ryan picked up his book bag and swung it over his shoulder. The strap that cupped his shoulder scraped against his skin the t-shirt revealed. He flinched.
"You look surprised? Wondering why I'm home?" Sandy walked into the living room where Ryan sat. He turned his head to get a good look at Ryan's eyes. They always expressed his emotion more clearly than anything. "Ryan?"
"Wha?" Ryan blinked a couple of times, and quickly snapped out of a daze.
"Things are going more than perfect with the lighthouse. I want you to come and look it over, just to see what you think. Maybe Seth will come along, too. What do you say? You want to go check it out?" Ryan's eyes dazed of at the picture on the wall again. Marissa's hair. Oh how he loved just sitting next to her. He always had a want to just caress through her hair with his fingers. Ryan was not one to show his emotions. The wouldn't just do it any time. It had to be the perfect time. But even just looking; just for a moment . . .her hair . . . "Ryan?" His thoughts trailed off.
"Oh. Yeah. Fine." Ryan forced himself to respond. His eyes rose to Sandy's than dropped again, turning to look at the picture. Sandy recognized what he was staring at. He gazed over at the picture himself.
"Marissa."
"What?" This got Ryan's attention.
"How is she doing?"
"Oh. Good. She . . .um . . .she has been away a lot. She's helping . . .a friend of mine." He stole a quick glance with Sandy. Ryan choked out the word 'friend'. Oliver was by far his friend. He winced at the thought of him. It made him think about Marissa. He hadn't seen her in awhile. Maybe she was waiting for him to call. "I have to go call her." Ryan gave a slight nod and got up to walk out of the living room. "Excuse me." He sighed as he pushed passed Sandy. He sat there, his back toward Ryan leaving the room. For a moment he was wondering what was really on his mind. His eyes might express his feelings, but they didn't substitute for Ryan telling him how he was really feeling. He heaved a sign, which brought his shoulders up past his chin and relaxed his tense muscles; it had never been easy to talk to Ryan. Not since his mother called and talked to him. They fought because Ryan wouldn't tell him what she had said. For weeks they hadn't spoke. Sandy looked up at the picture Ryan had been staring at. Sandy got up and strode over to it. He thought to himself about Marissa. Ryan hadn't talked about her lately. All Ryan usually talked about was Marissa.
************* The Crest of Emotion
*************
Ryan stepped into the Cohen's house, his hand staying on the doorknob as the door protruded into the room. There was something about the house that just didn't make him want to say 'his' house. He was satisfied with the Cohen's house. The pictures on the wall made him stop and stare. Some were recent ones Kristen had taken last week of him and Marissa; the faded face of Oliver in the background. The beach was so calm. So calm that he melted inside when he saw them. It was so rare that he smiled and he was so deep into the picture he dropped the bag he was holding in his right hand. Sandy quickly greeted him from the far right.
"Hey, Ryan. What have you been up to?" Ryan looked from the corner of his eye to catch his expression. Sandy gleamed with suspicious smile. He quickly retreated his eyes to his book bag he had mindlessly dropped.
"Good. You?" Ryan picked up his book bag and swung it over his shoulder. The strap that cupped his shoulder scraped against his skin the t-shirt revealed. He flinched.
"You look surprised? Wondering why I'm home?" Sandy walked into the living room where Ryan sat. He turned his head to get a good look at Ryan's eyes. They always expressed his emotion more clearly than anything. "Ryan?"
"Wha?" Ryan blinked a couple of times, and quickly snapped out of a daze.
"Things are going more than perfect with the lighthouse. I want you to come and look it over, just to see what you think. Maybe Seth will come along, too. What do you say? You want to go check it out?" Ryan's eyes dazed of at the picture on the wall again. Marissa's hair. Oh how he loved just sitting next to her. He always had a want to just caress through her hair with his fingers. Ryan was not one to show his emotions. The wouldn't just do it any time. It had to be the perfect time. But even just looking; just for a moment . . .her hair . . . "Ryan?" His thoughts trailed off.
"Oh. Yeah. Fine." Ryan forced himself to respond. His eyes rose to Sandy's than dropped again, turning to look at the picture. Sandy recognized what he was staring at. He gazed over at the picture himself.
"Marissa."
"What?" This got Ryan's attention.
"How is she doing?"
"Oh. Good. She . . .um . . .she has been away a lot. She's helping . . .a friend of mine." He stole a quick glance with Sandy. Ryan choked out the word 'friend'. Oliver was by far his friend. He winced at the thought of him. It made him think about Marissa. He hadn't seen her in awhile. Maybe she was waiting for him to call. "I have to go call her." Ryan gave a slight nod and got up to walk out of the living room. "Excuse me." He sighed as he pushed passed Sandy. He sat there, his back toward Ryan leaving the room. For a moment he was wondering what was really on his mind. His eyes might express his feelings, but they didn't substitute for Ryan telling him how he was really feeling. He heaved a sign, which brought his shoulders up past his chin and relaxed his tense muscles; it had never been easy to talk to Ryan. Not since his mother called and talked to him. They fought because Ryan wouldn't tell him what she had said. For weeks they hadn't spoke. Sandy looked up at the picture Ryan had been staring at. Sandy got up and strode over to it. He thought to himself about Marissa. Ryan hadn't talked about her lately. All Ryan usually talked about was Marissa.