A/N: Here is Ch. 3 guys. For those of you who want to know if Sandy, Seth, or other characters are eventually in this story, the answer is YES. One of our favorite characters (at least one of mine) will be introduced in Ch. 4 and then in Ch. 5 about 4 more characters from the show will be introduced. I've almost completely finished writing this fic. In total, it turned out to be 7 chapters. :-) Stick with me please. The next couple chapters are a bit depressing, but I PROMISE this story becomes touching and has a happy ending. As always, thanks to the lovely beachtree for proof reading this and please leave a review and give me feedback if you get a chance! :D
~*~*~*~*~CHAPTER THREE~*~*~*~*~
She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart,
3 Months Later
I trace my fingers along my husband's face in the photo I've been staring at for the past five minutes, and my eyes well up with tears. How did life get so hard? Everything just sucks right now, and considering I'm usually an optimistic person, that's saying a lot.
I hear the front door open and close followed by the now familiar sound of uneven and heavy footsteps, and I know Chino's home.
Instead of walking downstairs to the living room to greet him, I stay in the bedroom wiping the tears from my eyes and continuing to look at the photo in front of me.
I took the photo a few months ago. Actually it was the night I ran into an old high school friend of mine—Taylor Townsend. She was in town and strolling through South Coast Plaza, where I work, and we happened to bump into each other. I'd missed dinner with my family that night because Taylor treated me to a skinny latte at Starbucks and we shared an apple cinnamon muffin while reminiscing about our days at Harbor together. At the time, I needed the short escape. I know Chino and Lani needed me, but I had to release some stress and this seemed like a great way to do it.
When I got home, I found Chino sprawled out on the couch with Lani curled up next to him. His arms were wrapped around her, and her little head rested on his strong chest. They were both out like a light, and it was so adorable that I snapped a picture of it. I still haven't shown him the picture. Actually, we haven't talked much in depth about anything lately. I mean we talk, but it seems like he's always dodging the important issues and it's really damn frustrating.
It's been hard. Really fucking hard. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I thought things were tough a few months ago, but now I'd do anything to have things go back to the way they were even then.
And we don't know how,
How we got in to this mad situation,
Only doing things out of frustration
Trying to make it work but man these times are hard,
Ryan limps into the bedroom, and I quickly put the photo away and wipe the tears from my eyes.
Staggering awkwardly towards where I'm sitting on the bed, he drops his cane on the floor and collapses next to me, groaning in agony. His movements have become so slow and labored that it's almost painful to watch. That's how unsteady he currently is on his feet. He leans his body towards me as if he's going to kiss me, but then whimpers and bites down hard on his bottom lip. Finally, he gives me a quick peck on the mouth before removing his jacket and kicking off his shoes.
"No luck today, huh?" I ask, noticing how overwhelmed he looks. He just shrugs his shoulders and sighs as if he's annoyed by the question. Go figure. I get a lot of that from Atwood lately.
"Where's our daughter?" He changes the subject. He does that a lot lately too.
"At day care," I answer.
"What the fuck, Summer? Why?" He snaps, throwing his hands up in frustration. "We don't have the money for day care!"
"Calm down, okay! I needed a break! I'm sorry!" I shoot back.
"Damnit, Summer! You couldn't take care of her today? You had the day off! Every day that you're at work I take care of her!"
"God Ryan, take a fucking chill pill!"
"Why? I bust my ass every day trying to find somebody who will hire a... cripple...," He trails off and does that thing where his body gets all tense, and he looks away—staring into space with that classic Atwood wounded expression as if he's at war with himself and seriously wishing he could take back something he just said. He's scared of being thought of as a cripple. I wish he didn't feel this way. It's not like I'd ever think any less of him even if he never walked normally again. Plus, I'm pretty sure he'll get better eventually.
"Look...I...," He mumbles, turning his head back in my direction. "It's just..."
He opens his mouth to talk again, but quickly shuts it as if he's still figuring out how to express whatever is on his mind.
Just as I'm about to say something, frustration flickers in his eyes and his tone becomes harsh with irritation again as he tells me, "The point is, I still find time to take care of Alana every day despite all the effort I put into looking for jobs, and you seem to think that because you still have a job, you can spend the little money we do have on whatever suits you!"
I wince as he says this. Even if it's mostly just the stress and pain talking for him, it still hurts.
"That's not true, and you know it! And I wish you would stop referring to yourself as a cripple. I don't see you that way." Averting my eyes, I pause for a few seconds before adding softly, "Things will work out. You'll see."
He has no idea that I spent the majority of the day so far researching affordable, alternative treatments for patients with severe sciatica. Okay, so I didn't find any, but I wasn't thinking about myself. I was thinking about him.
"It's not that easy. Nothing is ever easy," he croaks and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he's about to hyperventilate. That's how tightly wound he is right now. He looks right into my eyes—his voice faltering with emotion as he says, "Summer, I can't even walk without a cane." He draws in another deep breath and adds, "I haven't been able to walk on my own for at least two months now. You know that. Not only that, I can't sit for more than half an hour without excruciating pain. I can't even think straight half the time. That's how much it fucking hurts."
For a brief moment he stares down at the floor as if in deep thought before making eye contact with me again. "Whoever is hiring will notice all this eventually so it's not like I can do a sedentary job efficiently anymore either," He adds dejectedly, slumping his shoulders.
"But we can fight this," I encourage him. "I did some research today and also my dad can..."
"Your dad can what, Summer? His medical license is temporarily suspended. He lost a ton of money after losing the malpractice case and he lost even more money to bad investments. And did you forget that he's in the middle of a nasty divorce? What exactly can he do for me right now?"
I want to protest, but I know he's right. Daddy's in a bad place right now and he's not really able to help us, and I'm worried sick about him too.
"But we've gotta try, Chino. Maybe I can pay for you to have a doctor's appointment. Maybe I can help you buy the medication you need."
"Have you forgotten that the only medication that's worked on me so far costs $600 per month? And at this point, to actually recover enough to work a normal job, I'd need physical therapy again and you and I both know my health insurance doesn't cover either of those costs. Either way you cut it, with no job and no income, my condition is not going to get better. That means that for now, whether you want to accept it or not... I'm a...," He trails off and his blue eyes become unfocused as he swallows hard and mumbles the word "cripple" again so quietly that it's a wonder I even heard him.
I can feel tears threatening to fall at any moment. Chino just knocked down every attempt I've made to make his life better and all my research seems to be for nothing. I guess I was being delusional. He must notice I'm upset though because he takes a deep breath and his expression softens, and next thing I know, he's pulling me into a warm hug.
"I'm so sorry," He whispers soothingly, removing a loose strand of hair from my face. He caresses my cheek with his calloused thumb and gently adds, "Please don't cry, Summer. I'm so sorry. God I'm such an ass."
"Atwood, it's okay. Don't worry about it," I assure him. "You're in a lot of pain and you're stressed out. I understand."
"That's not an excuse. You don't deserve my attitude," He sighs, burying his face in his hands.
Lately when I look into his eyes, all I see is guilt and sadness and it kills me.
"You don't have to be afraid." As I say this, he quickly looks up—furrowing his eyebrows, and his eyes flash with an emotion I don't recognize.
"I'm not afraid," He responds evenly.
"Lani and I... we're not going anywhere. We're not going to leave you."
"I said I'm not afraid, Summer. Drop it," He repeats stoically though his eyes tell a different story.
"But Ryan...it's okay to..."
"I said drop it!" He snaps causing me to recoil slightly. If he's going to deny what's bothering him, for now I guess I have no choice but to let it go.
"Have you eaten?" I change the subject though I pretty much already know the answer.
"No," He answers automatically, letting out a tired breath.
"Let me fix you a sandwich. You have to eat, Chino."
He shakes his head as if he's about to protest, so I add, "I'm not taking no for an answer. And don't give me that bull about how you're saving money so that Lani and I can eat. My job with Chanel makes enough money for the three of us to eat. Things will be okay."
A few minutes later, I return with a turkey sandwich, a glass of water, and a small bowl of chips and set it in front of him. He leaves the chips, but finishes the glass of water and the sandwich before pushing the tray away. I'm relieved that he ate something though because the poor guy barely has an appetite anymore. Not only has he been very down lately, but the constant pain he's been dealing with sometimes makes him nauseous.
"Aren't you going to eat the chips?"
"Summer...," He pleads with those puppy dog eyes that make me melt. "Leave them for Lani," He suggests. I nod and sit back down on the bed and begin massaging his hip and thigh in a circular motion.
"Mmm, hurts," He grumbles.
"You're such a big baby," I tease. "Come 'ere, Grumpy Bear."
"Grumpy Bear?" He quirks an eyebrow—a dumbfounded expression planted on his adorable face and it cracks me the hell up.
"Yeah, from the Care Bears. You know, Lani watches that show all the time."
"You think I'm grumpy?" He smirks.
"Just go with it, Atwood!"
"Oh, I'll show you grumpy," He growls and rolls on top of me seeming to temporarily forget his pain. God he's hot when he growls. I want to make love to him so badly right now, but I know it's just not gonna happen. We haven't had sex in months.
I decide that I might as well try though, and I pull him into a sensual kiss.
"And I'll show you sassy," I purr suggestively, but as quickly as our fun begins, it comes to an abrupt end as he whimpers loudly—his entire lower right side throbbing painfully. He's shaking, and I try to steady him.
As he lies down flat on his back, I notice how sweaty, pale, and uncomfortable he looks. He's lost so much weight these past couple of months, and at this point, I'm beyond worried. I'm terrified. The last time he looked this run down and sickly was in the months following the accident.
"Thanks," He whispers hoarsely.
"You're looking a little thin, Atwood. If you keep this up, I'm going to have to force feed you," I joke, beginning to massage him again. Of course by a little thin I really mean a lot thin, but I don't need to say that out loud.
"At this point, I don't care if I'm hooked up to a feeding tube and sedated if it means I'm pain free and get to sleep," He mutters.
"Are you serious?"
"No. Just tired," He answers—his voice laced with pain.
"Is the massage helping at least?" I ask, hopeful.
He frowns and shakes his head, "No, not really, but... thanks for trying."
I swear I'm feeling emotional again. I wish there was something I could do to make him feel at least a little bit better.
"It's hard, but we'll get through it," I comfort him, now stroking his thick dark blond hair. It's grown quite a bit the past couple of months.
"You need a haircut," I point out.
"Yeah?" He gives me a small smile—though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I can try to cut it myself, but I won't be paying any barbers anytime soon."
"Oh, hell no! Uh uh. There is no way I'm going to walk around with you if your hair ends up looking like Conan O'Brien's."
"You don't think I could pull off that look?" He chuckles though if I'm being honest, the way he contorts his face seems more like a grimace.
"I think you can pull off a lot of looks and that is not one of them," I answer honestly.
"Mmm, that feels good," He gives me a lazy smile as I continue to rub his head. It's about damn time I do something useful.
I smile back and continue rubbing his head until he finally drifts off to some much needed sleep. It may only be four in the afternoon, but at this point, he needs all the sleep he can get.
And we don't know how,
How we got into this mess
is it god's test,
Someone help us 'cause we're doing our best,
Trying to make it work but man these times are hard,
"Daddy!" Lani exclaims, climbing on top of me in bed. An all too familiar sharp pain suddenly shoots from my ass to the back of my leg and it hurts so much that for a few seconds I black out and don't even hear a word my daughter is saying.
"Daddy! Why are you ignorwing me tonight?" She sulks.
I blink several times trying to regain my vision and I hope my smile is convincing when I tell her, "Daddy's not ignoring you, princess. He's just very tired."
"You're always tired though," She frowns.
"I know. I know. I'm sorry," I tell her honestly, managing to get a quick glimpse at the alarm clock. I can't believe it's already nine at night. I feel like another day is wasted. To top it all off, I've been sleeping for hours, and I still feel like a truck ran over me. Fucking life.
"Why is your mouth bweeding? Are you okay?" My daughter's curious voice pulls me out of my light brooding session.
So that must be why my mouth tastes like metal. I touch the sore spot and when I pull my hand away, I notice a few drops of blood on my fingers. I must have bitten down on my lip so hard that it started bleeding.
"Daddy's fine," I assure her with a small smile. "I just bit down too hard on my lip—that's all."
"Oh," She replies. It seems she's accepted my answer because she quickly changes the subject.
"I made a new fwiend in day care today, Daddy! She said she's a ballerina! When can I be a ballerina?"
"You already are a ballerina," I answer, kissing the crown of her head.
"Weally?" Her bright blue eyes widen with excitement and the wide grin that spreads slowly across her face at the realization of what I just said makes me happy I chose my words carefully.
"Yes. You're my little ballerina." I begin tickling her tummy, and she squirms away from my touch—giggling.
"But I thought I was your wittle angel?" She quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head in confusion.
"You are," I smile. "You're my little angel ballerina."
"You pwomise?" She asks me.
I know that realistically there's no way I can afford to put her in ballet classes right now. We've already missed the last three mortgage payments. Then there's the light bill, water bill, phone bill, and of course food. Then there's my student loans, which will just have to stay on hold since survival at the moment takes priority number one. Cable and internet was of course cut off a couple of months ago. But the last thing I'd want is for my daughter's innocence to be taken away by the cold reality of this harsh world. Surely I know life fucking sucks, but she doesn't need to know that.
"I promise. You'll always be my little angel ballerina."
"Yay! And you'll always be the best-est daddy ever!" She bounces on top of my stomach, triggering another jolt of pain that extends all the way from my ass to my right foot. Fuck. This hurts like hell.
"Lani, I love you, but when you do that I can't breathe," I chuckle, panting. Only she could make me laugh through my pain.
"Sorwy," She frowns just as Summer walks into the room.
"Come here, honey," my wife says, picking her up and cradling her for a minute before setting her down again. "Your dad needs his rest. How about you go to your room now. It's almost time for bed anyway. What do you say?"
"Yes, Mommy," Our daughter agrees reluctantly.
"Say goodnight to your daddy before you go. I'll be in your room to tuck you in and read you your bedtime story in about half an hour."
"Goodnight, Daddy. Wuv you," Lani obeys, blowing me a kiss, which elicits a genuine smile from me. Even when I'm stressed and in pain, I'm grateful that my daughter has the ability to make me happy.
"I love you too, my little angel ballerina," I grin. "Goodnight."
After Lani leaves our bedroom to get ready for what she likes to call sleepytime, Summer's mood becomes very serious, which I admit is making me nervous. I don't think I can handle anymore bad news.
I struggle to sit up in bed, and like always, she hurries to help me—placing several pillows behind my back for support.
"What's wrong?" I ask, worried. She looks so vulnerable right now—like a child. An innocent, beautiful child who's scared shitless. It still amazes me how she can look so young. If I didn't know she was my age, I'd easily mistake her for a teenager.
"So...," She hesitates, holding my gaze and chewing on her bottom lip nervously. "This came in the mail today," She explains, handing me an already opened envelop.
It's from our bank. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, I extract the envelope's contents and study the fine print carefully. My hands are shaking, and I swallow hard as I finish reading. It's a certified foreclosure notification. I knew this was coming, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon.
"Fuck," I grunt and then lock eyes with my wife. Her face is drawn with anxiety, and I'd imagine her expression perfectly reflects how I feel.
"What are we going to do?" She suddenly panics and I hold her close to me, kissing her nose gently. "I know we won't be able to come up with the money...we..."
"Hey, s'okay," I try to comfort her, ignoring my physical pain. She needs me. If we lose the house, it will be harder on her and Lani than it will be on me. I've lived in a group home—hell I've even lived on the streets before so almost anything is a step up from the majority of my childhood, but Summer's never had to truly struggle financially. This will be tough on her.
"But our income just isn't enough right now," She chokes out. "We basically get peanuts from your unemployment benefits, and my job just isn't enough! How can we even afford an attorney?"
Her words are harried as she says this, and a few tears escape onto her rosy cheeks, which I brush away.
"S'okay," I murmur.
"It's not okay, Chino, and you know it! We're going to lose the house!" She cries.
"Shhh," I whisper, sweeping a loose strand of hair from her face with my fingers. "Whatever happens, we'll get through it."
"You really think so?" She asks softly—her beautiful face wet with tears. I can't stand to see her cry. She shouldn't have to suffer because of me. It's all my fault. If we lose the house, that's my fault too. She deserves a better husband than me, and there's nothing I dread more than the day she realizes this and leaves.
"Yeah, " My voice falters. I hope I sounded at least a little bit confident. "I'll call our bank in the morning to see if we can arrange a payment plan. If not, maybe your dad can get me in touch with one of his attorneys for some good legal advice. Whatever happens, we'll just take it all in stride and roll with the punches. "
"I love you," She whispers, kissing me passionately on the mouth. Caught in the moment, I can't seem to find the strength to talk anymore so instead, I kiss her back fervently with all the intensity I can muster—trying to convey how much I love her without words. Our tongues intertwine rhythmically to the melody of our heartbeats, and the connection I feel with this beautiful woman is undying. I can only hope she still feels the same way too after all the suffering she's had to endure since being married to me.
She pulls away breathlessly and tells me, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
I then caress the smooth skin of her face and wipe away another tear—drawing her closer to me, and she smiles for the first time in almost an hour.
We remain sitting there silently for several minutes, wrapped up in each others' arms until Summer finally breaks the silence saying, "You're right. We're going to be okay."
If I repeat the words enough, maybe someday I might actually believe them.
TBC...