She giggled in a most unnerving manner. Fingers clawing on his shirt as she tried-tried so hard-to stay upright. Ryan wasn't impressed, disgust-and instantly-guilt clouding his features as he half carried Marissa up her driveway. He had found her wandering the streets about three blocks from their houses, her breath almost intoxicating him with the strength of her spirits she had consumed. Spirits that had raised her's, however temporary that may be. When she had looked at him like a lover what else could he do but help her? And while she spluttered and tripped on a crack in the driveway he mused that these were the moments you regret being taken in by drunk girls and their pretty faces.
Kneeling he surveyed the damage to her lithe form-minimal-and the cold concrete. Tracing his fingers over the long crack in the ground Ryan frowned. Not at the crack itself-but what it represented in Marissa's life-the falling apart of a family and the long lines that shatter down you. Gone was a time when the most important thing in the Coopers' lives was looking perfect, having the dream house and going to pony shows. Now they had a hard time keeping their family together and so it had been left to him to hold their daughter together-with tape and glue-temporary fixes that she clung to because no one offered any better.
His eyes snapped back to that daughter as tears smoothed themselves-hot and sticky-in the corners of her eyes. Her breathing was fast and her knees skinned-like a small girl-she was clinging to him again. But what Ryan found was that he didn't mind-his breathing quickened too-attracted to her tragedy because it was so self-involved. So superficial. He felt like he could fix something there, that Marissa's trauma wasn't ground to bone like his had been. Was. He wasn't in love with her-not that she loved him either-but he was in love with her desperation, in love with her need.
Ryan hadn't been able to save himself when his mother's boyfriends had rained down blows. Day after week passed where no one asked him what had happened to his eye or his arm-no one cared enough to risk it-and as he grew he had planned all the ways he would save himself, but never had a chance to. With Marissa he had a chance. And that was why he half carried her up her driveway so many nights, why he was so easily taken in by a pretty girl with a drunken grin. Ryan needed to believe that he could save her, and that in doing so he would save himself from fists and fights and nights he would sleep on cold concrete that cracked like Marissa.
Kneeling he surveyed the damage to her lithe form-minimal-and the cold concrete. Tracing his fingers over the long crack in the ground Ryan frowned. Not at the crack itself-but what it represented in Marissa's life-the falling apart of a family and the long lines that shatter down you. Gone was a time when the most important thing in the Coopers' lives was looking perfect, having the dream house and going to pony shows. Now they had a hard time keeping their family together and so it had been left to him to hold their daughter together-with tape and glue-temporary fixes that she clung to because no one offered any better.
His eyes snapped back to that daughter as tears smoothed themselves-hot and sticky-in the corners of her eyes. Her breathing was fast and her knees skinned-like a small girl-she was clinging to him again. But what Ryan found was that he didn't mind-his breathing quickened too-attracted to her tragedy because it was so self-involved. So superficial. He felt like he could fix something there, that Marissa's trauma wasn't ground to bone like his had been. Was. He wasn't in love with her-not that she loved him either-but he was in love with her desperation, in love with her need.
Ryan hadn't been able to save himself when his mother's boyfriends had rained down blows. Day after week passed where no one asked him what had happened to his eye or his arm-no one cared enough to risk it-and as he grew he had planned all the ways he would save himself, but never had a chance to. With Marissa he had a chance. And that was why he half carried her up her driveway so many nights, why he was so easily taken in by a pretty girl with a drunken grin. Ryan needed to believe that he could save her, and that in doing so he would save himself from fists and fights and nights he would sleep on cold concrete that cracked like Marissa.