Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. The title comes from the song "Orange Sky" by Alexi Murdoch.
Summary: When Ryan can't deal with his past, his relationships with the Cohens suffer the consequences. This story came from a challenge issued by Maud at the TWoP forums a month or so ago. It takes place sometime after The Countdown (although I pretend that Hailey doesn't exist). There will be five chapters.
Author's note: Maud is my amazing beta, and I could never thank her enough. She worked her ass off helping me get this story right. And thanks, as always, to the Ryan thread at TWoP. I am constantly in awe of the collective insight there.
Chapter 1
There were times when being caught at the dinner table with the Cohens felt like dancing to Ryan—he liked the music, but everyone else already had a partner and he had never learned any of the moves. And besides, he didn't dance. The Cohens, they were dancers. They all knew the same steps and, more often than not, they weren't going to let a wallflower like Ryan sit one out. He half hoped tonight would be an exception.
Ryan wasn't feeling particularly moody or antisocial, just tired. He slouched in his chair and ate slowly, sucking on his fork between mouthfuls of the spinach and mushroom casserole Rosa had prepared for dinner. The rest of the Cohens, well really only Seth, were engaged in a loud, raucous conversation that Ryan was only vaguely paying attention to. He kept his head down and his eyes on his food. He knew the Cohens could tell when he wasn't up for talking.
"Ryan, what were you doing while all this was going on?" Sandy asked.
Tonight, apparently, they didn't care whether or not he wanted to talk. Ryan blinked and paused with his fork in his mouth.
"Uh-"
"I told you, Dad. Ryan was the one driving. He was practically leading the rebellion," Seth said, raising one fist in the air as if to punctuate a battle cry.
"It was awesome," Seth went on. "That cashier, she was going to make everyone pay $30 to get their cars out of the parking lot, which was all kinds of wrong. So I'm there fighting with her at the window, and we've got all these people behind us in line yelling at her for the same thing, and Ryan just gets in the car and honks the horn and next thing I know it we're driving up on the curb. He actually drove around the security booth. You should've seen that guard screaming at us."
"You drove my Range Rover over a curb and around a security guard?" Kirsten looked more shocked than angry, for now. Her eyes darted between Seth and Ryan, sitting across from each other. Ryan wanted to kick Seth under the table, but he couldn't reach his legs that far.
"Well, we-" he started to explain.
"C'mon, Mom, they were gonna make us pay $30," Seth interrupted. "Just because they don't make it clear what time the garage closes doesn't mean we should have to pay. Besides, it was awesome. After we got out there was this whole line of cars waiting to do the same thing. It was a total rebellion. Dude, we're already on our way to world domination."
Ryan just shook his head and gave up. He risked a glance at Sandy, who was laughing behind a napkin, clearly impressed by their antics but trying hard not to make it obvious in front of his wife. Kirsten, at the opposite end of the table, shook her head, but Ryan thought she was smiling when she looked down at her plate.
"First my car gets trashed at the IMAX. Now this. I don't think you two should go to movies anymore," she said.
"What do you expect when you're making me grow up on the mean streets of Orange County?" Seth said. "I keep telling Ryan we should just stick to his 'hood, where, you know, they've got drive-bys and car-jackings but at least no one'll key your car."
"That's not true," Ryan spoke up. "Someone once stole the hood ornament off my mom's Honda."
"They stole a hood ornament off a Honda?" Seth asked. "That's just, well, that's just sad."
Ryan shrugged and they managed to eat in silence for a few minutes before Seth pushed back from the table and carried his plate to the kitchen. Dinner was over. Ryan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Is everything okay, Ryan?" He looked up. Kirsten was watching him over the rim of her glass of wine.
"Yeah, it's fine."
"You seem kind of quiet tonight," she said. Seth laughed from the kitchen.
"Mom-"
She didn't give him a chance to finish.
"More quiet than usual," she corrected with a smile. Kirsten set down her glass and studied Ryan for a moment. "You just seem a little tired."
"Yeah, I am," he admitted. "Coach kept us after practice for an hour today, running sprints."
"Can you blame him after that game last weekend?" Sandy said. He balled his napkin and dropped it on his plate, then stood up and joined Seth in the kitchen.
"Yeah, I know, we kind of sucked."
"Kind of?" Seth called from the kitchen. "Dude, you couldn't have done any worse if I was playing."
"Seth, come on. They weren't that bad," Sandy said, laughing.
"You done?" Ryan asked, turning to Kirsten. She smiled and handed him her plate. In the kitchen, Ryan rinsed the plates that had been stacked in the sink and started loading the dishwasher. Sandy began clearing off the rest of the table when his cell phone rang, and he stepped into the den to answer it.
"I've got orals tomorrow in French," Seth said, backing out of the kitchen. "Because, you know, otherwise I'd offer to take out the trash. Or something."
"Sure you would," Kirsten said, waving him off.
Kirsten carried over the rest of the dishes, piling them in the sink and rinsing them at Ryan's side. She'd long ago stopped telling him he didn't have to help out with chores. They worked silently, Kirsten handing him plates and glasses and silverware as she finished rinsing. He wondered if they knew how much he enjoyed these simple tasks, these small, everyday comforts that made him feel part of their home.
Ryan filled the dispenser with detergent and closed the dishwasher. When he turned around, Sandy was standing in the doorway. His face had lost all the playfulness from dinner and for a moment Ryan wondered if he was in trouble. He glanced back over his shoulder at Kirsten, who looked just as confused as he felt. Sandy took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen counter.
"That was your mom," he said.
Ryan felt his stomach drop and his mouth go dry.
"What'd she want?" he managed to ask.
"She wants to see you."
Ryan nodded slightly and glanced away. He could feel Kirsten and Sandy watching him. He knew that if he looked up at their faces he'd see that they were worried for him. He had to get away.
"Thanks," he mumbled, and walked out of the house.
+++++
His breaths were coming in short, uneven puffs by the time he made it back to the pool house and Ryan could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He clenched his fists at his sides, muscles in his hands and arms and jaw working to repel the thoughts swarming in his head.
Why now? Why when everything was just starting to settle, when he was almost calm and safe and normal?
A short rap on one of the windows paused Ryan mid-stride. He folded his arms over his chest and kept his back to the door. He blinked hard and fast, focusing his gaze on the light fixture in the corner and the way the buttery yellow glow cast heavy shadows on the walls.
"You mind if I come in?" It was Sandy. Ryan didn't respond, kept his eyes on the light. The door clicked shut behind him. "You don't have to see her."
Ryan swallowed once and let his eyes drift to the ceiling. "I know," he said, his voice small.
"In fact," and Ryan could feel Sandy walking toward him now, stopping before he got too close, "I think it might be best if you didn't."
Ryan clutched his arms close to his body, wrapping himself up in the long sleeves of the sweater Kirsten had bought him for Christmas. He suddenly wished for his jacket, wanting nothing more than the familiar smell and crackle of the worn leather.
"Look, you don't have to decide tonight. Or tomorrow." Sandy wasn't going to push him, and for that Ryan allowed a small sigh of relief. He took a deep breath and unfolded himself, turning slowly to face Sandy. He rubbed at his wrist cuff and looked just beyond Sandy's right knee, his head down.
"Just think about it," Sandy said. Ryan chewed on the inside of his cheek. He risked a quick glance up at Sandy and was shaken by a penetrating stare in return. Sometimes he didn't know how to read Sandy. Tonight he couldn't let himself trust the compassion he saw. Ryan nodded once, quickly, and looked down again.
"Goodnight," Sandy said, his voice warm. He never lost that warmth, and Ryan sometimes wondered where it came from, that kindness that seemed so honest. Ryan stood still in the center of his room for a long time after Sandy had left. For the first time in nearly a month, he checked his old backpack before going to bed. He wanted to make sure his jacket was still there.
+++++
By morning Ryan had pushed the phone call from his mother to the back of his mind, and he woke exhausted from a restless night but ready to move on again. He arrived late for breakfast in the Cohen kitchen, grabbing a handful of cereal and a quick swallow of juice as he hustled with Seth out the door, and ignoring the glances that Kirsten kept darting in his direction. She didn't say anything, and Ryan was able to escape with only a muttered "morning" and "bye." In Sandy's car on the way to school, Seth took care of all the talking, and Ryan stared out the window and let his thoughts buzz away with Seth's droning voice.
He kept his head low and his mouth shut at school. He was able to shut Marissa down with mention of a test in math that afternoon. He had studied plenty for it the night before, determined to drive away all thoughts of his mom, but he let Marissa believe he was unprepared and watched with some relief as she fluttered down the hall with Summer, smiling and laughing among the throngs of kids. Seth wasn't as easy to shake, and so Ryan agreed to lunch with him, asking pointed questions about Summer and Anna. If Seth knew he was being guided through the conversation, he didn't say anything, and he didn't press Ryan about his mom.
And so he made it through one day.
It was a five days before his mom called again. This time she actually asked to speak to him and Ryan, conscious of the worried frowns on both Sandy and Kirsten's faces, agreed to talk to her. He took the cell phone from Sandy and shuffled to the living room, where he sat in front of the cold fireplace.
"Hey, Mom."
"Oh, baby, hi. How are you? I miss you."
"I miss you too," he said, already on automatic.
"I've been thinking about you, and how we left things-"
"How you left things," he said.
"I know. I know, kiddo, and I'm sorry. I, well, you know I made a mistake. A lot of mistakes. And I don't expect you to forgive me, or want to see me. But I miss you, and I thought maybe…" she trailed off. Ryan could hear her crying already, and he wondered if she'd been drinking.
He sighed. He felt so tired suddenly and he bowed his head. "Maybe what, Mom?"
"I just thought that we might be able to talk, work things out."
"We're talking now."
"I know, but, I want to see you, Ry. Can we do that? Can you see me?"
She was crying for real now, her voice breaking.
"You never even called, Mom," he said, struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice, to keep himself calm. He knew the Cohens were in the other room.
"I know, I meant to, I wanted to, but then I just left, and the drinking, and I'd messed everything up, I'd ruined everything."
"So why now? Why should I talk to you now?"
"Because I love you, and I miss you."
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the phone against his ear until it hurt.
"Ryan…"
"Okay," he said finally, a whisper.
"Oh, baby, I-"
"Okay," he repeated, louder, hoping she wouldn't say anything else.
"Okay," she echoed. She sniffled loudly and he couldn't shake the image of her face, wet and crumpled, making her look older than she should. "Do you want me to meet you there? Come to their house?"
"No," he said, firm, and then softer: "No. I'll come to you." He was not letting her back in. She would not be a part of this life.
"All right, whatever you say. Can I see you this weekend?"
It was Friday. She wanted to see him right away. He took a deep breath, held it, blew it out slowly. He wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans.
"Yeah, fine," he said. She gave him an address. He memorized it and didn't ask for directions. He'd look it up later.
"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Ryan said. She hung up without saying goodbye.
The dial tone buzzing in his ear, Ryan fought the urge to heave the phone across the room. If he'd been home, with his mom, he would have done it. He would have been yelling by now or walking out of the house. But he wasn't home with his mom, and that was the point.
Ryan glanced down at his lap. He was clutching the phone so hard that his hands were shaking. He set it down carefully, then closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. Any moment now Sandy or Kirsten, or both, would come looking for him, and he couldn't face them like this, not with his emotions so close to the surface. He willed himself to calm down and think about something else—another math test, or his history project, or Seth's newest video game.
When he looked up, Sandy and Kirsten were standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He tried to smile, but when they didn't return the gesture he knew he'd failed. Kirsten had her arms crossed over her chest and her posture was tight and anxious. He hated that he'd made her feel that way.
"How's she doing?" Sandy asked. Ryan refused to look him in the eye. He didn't want to see the concern he'd heard in Sandy's voice painted on his face. He shrugged in reply.
"She wants to see me," he said, a rehash of the conversation they'd had only a few nights earlier. "I said I would."
"You don't have to," Sandy said. But they'd been through all this before. And Ryan knew he didn't have to but he also knew that he would anyway, so he might as well get it over with.
"I know," he said.
"Maybe one of us could go with you," Kirsten suggested. Her voice was so soft and kind, and Ryan really didn't want to be drawing comparisons between his mother and Kirsten, but it was hard not to. His mom would never give him choices.
"No, thanks, but it's fine. I'm fine." He stood up and walked across the room, handing the phone to Sandy.
"When are you meeting?" Sandy asked as he slid the phone into a pocket.
"Tomorrow."
"So soon?" Kirsten said, and her hand fluttered toward her face, then settled on her neck. "You'll need to take my car."
"I don't have to. I mean, I could take a bus, or-"
"No, of course not," Kirsten said. "I don't need it tomorrow anyway. Take your time."
"You're sure you want to do this?" Sandy asked. He set a hand on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan hoped Sandy couldn't feel the way his muscles tensed, the way his arms were shaking.
"Yeah, no, it's fine. It'll be good."
Ryan knew they could hear the uncertainty in his voice, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get away from them, escape to the pool house and his books or laptop or a video game or anything that didn't involve his mom and this family that treated him too well.
"Okay," Sandy said, and squeezed his shoulder before letting go. "Hey, we were going to watch a movie tonight, something Seth rented. You should join us."
"Nah, I, um, I've got some studying, a lot of reading to do. Before Monday." Ryan shifted on his feet. He would have to squeeze by them to escape the kitchen. "But, thanks."
"All right then, we'll see you in the morning." Sandy and Kirsten parted for him, allowing him room to walk past. Ryan turned when he was halfway through the kitchen.
"'Night," he said, and offered a small wave. They both smiled at him, but he thought they looked sad. Ryan didn't smile in return before he walked out of the house.
+++++
Ryan arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes early and sat in Kirsten's car watching his mom work. She was covering the counter, where men sat alone drinking coffee and reading newspapers. His mom looked tired, even from a distance. Her hair was pulled away from her face and she seemed older than he remembered. She spilled two mugs of coffee, her head disappearing behind the counter when she dropped to her knees to wipe up the mess.
Ryan wanted to turn around and drive home. He still could. He didn't owe her anything. He reached for the keys and twisted them out of the ignition.
He paused just inside the door of the restaurant. His mom was at the far end of the counter, setting a plate in front of an elderly man. The man didn't look up at his mother, and she immediately turned around to grab another plate from the cook. Ryan wondered if she'd remembered he was coming.
"Can I help you?"
Ryan jerked in surprise at the cheerful voice to his left. The waitress was small, her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She smiled at him.
"Uh, no," he said. "Or yeah. I'm here for my…for Dawn." He tipped his chin toward the counter.
"Oh, you must be Ryan," the waitress chirped. "Dawn's kid? She told us you'd be stopping by."
Ryan nodded.
"Take a seat. I'll let her know you're here."
"Thanks," Ryan said. He picked a booth in the corner after debating whether he'd rather be close to the door or as far away from the other customers as he could get. Once seated, he clasped his hands under the table to keep them from shaking, and stared out into the parking lot at Kirsten's car, where the sun was reflecting off the windshield. He could still leave. It wasn't too late.
"Hi."
Ryan glanced down at the table first before turning to his mother. She stood a few steps back from the booth, tugging on her hands in a way that faintly reminded him of Kirsten, although his mom looked more guilty than nervous when she did it. She watched him uncertainly, and when she finally approached to slide into the booth across from him, he leaned back, away from the table.
"It's good to see you," she said, folding her arms on the table and tapping the fingers of one hand. "You look good."
Ryan kept his body turned slightly away from her, watching her without having to face her full on. He didn't say anything.
"Ryan, I'm sorry."
"Don't," he said, abruptly, his voice louder than he'd planned. He didn't want to hear any of it. Not now. He repeated, softer: "Just, don't."
"Okay," she said. She sat back in the booth, fidgety and anxious, her eyes all over the restaurant. He waited, not sure what he was supposed to say, and not wanting to make this any easier for her.
"So how've you been?" she asked, her eyes finally settling on him. Ryan ducked his head and shrugged.
"Good."
"School's good? You're doing good?"
"Yeah, it's all right."
"You were always good in math, right? How are you doing in math?"
"Fine, Mom," he said, his voice even and flat. He wasn't going to play. She recoiled and tugged at her fingers again.
"Trey said you have a girlfriend."
Ryan glanced at his mom before casting his eyes to the table. He didn't want to talk about school or Marissa or why she'd abandoned him to strangers. He wasn't interested in anything she had to say, and she'd certainly never listened to him in the past.
"Did you get my Christmas present? The shirt?"
"Yeah."
"It fit?"
He nodded. From the corner of his eye Ryan saw the sad smile on her face, and knew that she could tell he was lying.
"I meant to get you something-" he started.
"No, it's fine," she said. "You're busy. And you've got other people to think about now."
Her eyes were watering, teary, and Ryan looked away. He wanted to leave. The sunlight was still twinkling off Kirsten's car outside. He didn't have to stay. He didn't have to do this.
The chirpy waitress arrived at their table, grinning at their reunion and apparently oblivious to the tension. Ryan wondered what his mom had told her. She winked at Ryan and he lowered his head again.
"What do you guys want for lunch?" she asked.
"Oh," his mom said, surprised by the interruption. "Um, I don't know. Ryan, what do you want?"
"Not hungry," he said.
"C'mon, sweetie." His mom kept darting her eyes between Ryan and the waitress. She was embarrassed. Her cheeks were flushing. "How about we just split some fries?"
"Yeah, fine."
"And a milkshake. Two milkshakes. Chocolate." Ryan caught her eye and frowned. "Don't worry, I've got it," she said, waving a nervous hand. They would take it out of her paycheck. Ryan had cash on him, but he didn't offer to pay. He would refuse to pay if she asked. Now he was lying to himself.
The waitress smiled at them again, winking at his mom this time, and practically skipped away from the table. Ryan turned and stared outside. His mom was tapping her fingers again. Part of him wanted to reach across the table and slap her hands, pinning them to the table so she couldn't move, and yell at her and demand answers. Most of him just wanted to run. He couldn't remember why he'd agreed to come at all. He wasn't sure that there'd ever been a reason.
"Look, I should really go."
"No, stay a little longer," she said. She reached across the table as though to grab his hands or arms and pull him to her, and he huddled back into the booth, the plastic squeaking with his movement. His mom paused and he could see the desperation flashing across her face as she struggled to come up with something to keep him there.
"Tell me about your girlfriend," she said. "Is she cute? Does she go to your school?"
"Mom-"
"Don't go yet," she said. "I've only got another 10 minutes for lunch. Just stay a little while longer."
Ryan glanced at his watch. He'd only been there 15 minutes. She'd set aside less than half an hour for him. He got up from the booth and his mom stood too, and for a moment they faced each other. His mom's mouth twisted as she held back tears. He realized he was breathing heavy, uncertain when that had started, and he pushed past her and toward the door, passing the waitress with her plate of fries and two milkshakes. He didn't pause outside and walked straight to Kirsten's car, nearly running. His mom called to him as he fumbled with the keys, pressing the wrong button to open the door and setting of the alarm instead.
Ryan slapped at the door in frustration. He found the right button on the key chain to turn off the alarm, and rested his head against the window. Through the windshield, he could see his mom standing in the door of the restaurant. She walked to him, slowly, reaching into a pocket on her apron as she approached.
"Here, I wanted to give this to you," she said.
He closed his eyes a moment before stepping away from the car and reaching out to her. It was a photograph. He'd seen it before, many times. He was a baby, just a few months old probably, sitting up on a blanket in the middle of a floor. Someone was standing beside him, but all he could see were the shoes. It was his father. Ryan was staring up, presumably at his dad but it was impossible to tell from the picture. It had been one of maybe three or four pictures that his mom had kept framed in their various homes, usually on top of the TV.
"I don't want it," he said, and pushed it back to her.
"No, keep it." She clasped her hands together, refusing to take the picture back. Ryan shrugged and put the photo in his back pocket. "There are others. I think you should have them."
Ryan sighed.
"We don't need to do this."
"I want to," she said.
He didn't want this, this exchange of memories, this reconnecting. But she didn't know that, or she didn't care.
"I can't," he said.
"Please, just let me do this. That's all I want," his mom said, and he didn't believe her. "You have a better life now, Ryan. It's everything I ever wanted for you. I just don't want you to forget your old one."
He nearly laughed. There was no way he would ever forget, although he would try.
"What do you want from me?" He'd asked her that before, and she'd never been able to answer him. She didn't look like she was even going to try this time. He turned back to the car and opened the front door. When she grabbed his arm he turned sharply.
"I'm your mom, Ryan," she said. "I'm a crappy mom, I always was, but I loved you. Just let me try to do something good for you."
"You already did." She winced at that and he wanted to smile.
He recognized the anger on her face now, the way she squinted her eyes and folded her lips into a fine, pale line, the way her cheeks puffed out and flushed. He pulled his arm away and climbed into the car. He had no reason to deal with this now, not when he had an escape, somewhere else to go. He started the engine and reached out to close the front door.
"Ryan, wait." His mom was standing in the open door, and he'd have to slam it on her, hurt her, to close it now. He wanted to. He waited instead. "Look, I've still got all of your stuff, from the old house, when I, when we…"
"When you packed up and left me a note?"
She was wringing her hands again and blinking back tears, the anger washed away as quickly as it had arrived. She nodded.
"It's all in a box. Your clothes, and books, everything that was in your room."
"Keep it," he said. "I don't want it anymore."
"Please, Ryan. Give me another chance." She was begging. Her voice was shaking.
"Mom…"
"I know I don't deserve it," she said. "I don't expect you to come back, or to live with me or anything like that. I just want to see you, and talk to you. That's all."
Ryan closed his eyes. She was right, she didn't deserve another chance. That time had come and gone.
"I'm doing better now," she said. "A lot better. I've got a job." And here she laughed, a hysterical, high-pitched laugh that made Ryan grip the steering wheel. "But you knew that, about the job. I'm not drinking, I'm not using. You don't have to forgive me, just talk to me."
He lifted his head slowly. She wiped tears off her cheeks, smudging the makeup at the corner of one eye. She tried to smile and came up with a wide, toothy grin that matched her hysterical laugh. She wanted this to happen. It was important to her. What he wanted didn't matter.
"Fine," he said, and he felt all of the tension in his body slip away, leaving him empty. His shoulders slumped and he let his hands fall from the steering wheel. He dropped his head, his eyes focused on a CD case Seth had left on the floor of the car.
"You're sure, sweetie?" She didn't wait for an answer, just leaned forward and gripped his arm. He flinched but she didn't seem to notice. "How about next weekend? Maybe you could come over for dinner? Even spend the night? You haven't seen my new place. It isn't big, but there's plenty of room for you to stay."
He nodded absently. His face felt numb.
"Okay," he said. "Next weekend."
Before she could reply, he reached out and tugged the door toward him, trying to shut her out. She backed up immediately, allowing him to close the door. She called out to him through the window, her voice muffled.
"I'll call you tomorrow," she said. In the rearview mirror, he saw her standing alone in the middle of the parking lot as he drove away.