Chapter Four
What the hell was it about him that attracted the Chatty Cathie's? He left a home of near silence when he moved from Newport only to be taken into the Cohen household where no one was quiet and where everyone seemingly voiced their opinions loudly and at attention. The worst was Seth. It was his personal and professional opinion as a doctor that his brother physically could not stop talking. Hell, he even mumbled incoherently in his sleep.
Then he moved to New York for medical school, got a job in the city, and thought, for once, he would escape the incessant chatter he had lived with for years. Wrong. His professors and fellow students, while in school, always wanted to talk to him, and, once he graduated, his coworkers and patients were always talking his ear off, confiding in him, sharing what they believed to be amusing anecdotes, and, of course, offering him advice. Motor-mouths were everywhere.
The guy he bought his morning coffee from – a sports fan whose wife hated all things that ended in the word ball, so the guy was forced to discuss his various teams and favorite players with his customers. His doorman had marriage issues, and, for some reason beyond Ryan's knowledge, the older man thought he was a psychologist and not a physician, so, not only did he know about Henry and Kimberly's lack of sex life, but he also heard of their fights – word for word. And then there was his dentist. The woman literally could not shut up. With his mouth propped open as she drilled away on his teeth, the last thing the doctor wanted was to attempt to carry on a conversation about the woman's kids or about her latest vacation to go mountain climbing, but did she ever pick up on his lack of interest in making small talk? Of course not.
It seemed as if everywhere he went, there was constant, human created noise pollution. Sometimes, he found himself wondering what it was like to be deaf. In comparison to the constant chatter he faced, Ryan was starting to seriously contemplate blowing out his own eardrums. After all, he was a professional medical expert, and, as sick and twisted as it was, he knew what he was doing. But, then again, if he was deaf, then he couldn't listen to Marissa when she talked to him, and that was the one sound – her voice – that he was unwilling to part with. In fact, she was the one person who enjoyed talking to him that he enjoyed listening to, that he enjoyed returning dialogue with.
However, that did not mean that he didn't crave silence some of the time. One would think that quiet and art gallery openings would go hand in hand, but, even at an event where he knew no one and liked even less of the attendants, the blonde still couldn't find any peace and solitude. Instead, he had been cornered by another Chatty Cathie, forced to endure and partake in unnecessary conversation. And, like a bad, broken record, he was going through the same experience again.
This time it was Marissa's landlord/building supervisor. Promptly, just as they had planned, he had arrived at his new friend's penthouse apartment at seven o'clock, but, after several minutes of continuous knocking and a few loud calls of greeting, no one had answered the door. Not only was he worried, but the other tenants were annoyed with him. Several, in fact, had opened their front doors and requested that he either leave or they would call the cops and report him for trespassing. Too bad for them, he didn't scare easily, and, disregarding their warnings, he went to find someone who could help him. What he found was a 72 year old widow and grandfather who suffered from rheumatoid arthritis and diarrhea of the mouth.
Just his freaking luck.
It had been right in the middle of his favorite game show, Wheel of Fortune – he just loved that dish, Vanna Whiteand, knowing that the lottery numbers would be up soon, the elderly man hadn't wanted to go and check on his neighbor until after the numbers were announced. So, he had invited Ryan into his apartment, offered him a congenial glass of iced tea, and proceeded to talk his ear off for more than twenty minutes. In that seemingly short time frame that really felt like a lifetime, he heard about the lonely man's late wife's collection of glass birds, all still very proudly displayed around the living room, how the older gentleman had recently taken up knitting, a decidedly female hobby but one that served as good exercise for the joints in his hands and kept his knuckles from getting too stiff, and how his oldest granddaughter was expecting her first child that fall, a girl who was going to be named after his beloved Nessa.
If he was honest with himself, Ryan had to admit that the building manager was really a pretty nice guy, but, in that particular moment, he didn't have the time or the patience to listen to his stories. He was worried about a woman he cared a great deal for, and, the longer he sat watching some aging pop culture icon turning lighted up letters on the television screen, the longer Marissa could be in danger or needing assistance. Finally, though, the show was over, the lottery numbers had been announced, and they were on their way – their very slow way – up to the penthouse.
"I must say, Mr. Meriden, that you're nothing like I expected you to be."
Losing a step, it took a moment for the young doctor to recover his composer, but he hid his surprise towards the graying man's comment well. Apparently, the landlord believed he was Marissa's boyfriend, and that was probably the only reason why he was helping him into the apartment. If it would get him his desired result and maybe reveal some more information about the man he was quickly starting to consider his competition, then he would gladly play along.
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, I might not pay much attention to all the local gossip that goes around this building, but even I know that you're some big shot rich guy – the complete opposite of the type of man I pictured your girl dating."
Feigning astonishment, he pressed, "is that so?"
"Oh, yeah," the elderly gentleman stated emphatically, warming up and brightening at the idea that he had finally touched upon a subject of interest. "From what I've heard, you two seem like total opposites. Take this for example," he continued. "While you've lived in this building for years, I've never once even seen you before. I get your rent check in the mail every month like clock work, sent to me by your accountant, but you're never in the lobby getting your mail, you don't socialize with your neighbors, and you've never once attended a building meeting, but, Marissa on the other hand, she's a homebody. I see her around here all the time."
"Well, you know what they say – opposites attract."
"They do say that," the building supervisor – Bernie – agreed, "but physical attraction only goes so far. A guy and a girl have to have some things in common in order to really understand each other, and, without mutual appreciation, a relationship will never last."
Going with the only common denominator he knew of that existed between Marissa and Tanner, Ryan shared, "we both enjoy the arts."
"Pshw, all young kids your age say that, but few really mean it, and don't think that I don't know your girl. We're friends, Miss Marissa and I. She comes up and sees me at least once a week, more if she can, and we discuss current events. While I help her with historical tie-ins, she makes sense of all the confounded gibberish those damned journalist use nowadays. We drink hot chocolate, and I make her dinner and watch her like a hawk to make sure she eats every single bite of food on her plate. That woman of yours, Meriden, she's far too skinny. You should make her eat… and eat a lot."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Women today," the older man continued as if he had said nothing, "think that they need to be as skinny as a beanpole, and it's young, foolish studs like you who put that daft idea in their minds. Why, if my Rosy was still alive, she'd fatten that girl up within a week, mark my words, but I'm just not the cook my late wife was."
Ryan's mind was spinning by that point. With just one more level of stairs to manage, they were close to Marissa's floor, but, because the landlord was winded easily, they had to stop periodically to take short breaks in their trek. There were so many things, though, for his mind to ponder while Bernie rested. Apparently, not only was Tanner an absentee boyfriend, but Marissa had also lied to him about recently moving to her apartment. If she had lied about that, then what else was she lying about, and how had she broken her collar bone?
In the back of his mind, he knew the answer to at least the latter question, but he just didn't want to face it. It had been hard enough to live through watching someone he cared about being abused the first time, but to go through that horror and that pain a second time… Well, the only good thing he could think of was at least, with Marissa, he wouldn't be as helpless as he was with his mother. He was an adult now. He had a voice other adults, people in authority positions, would listen to, and, if nothing else, he wasn't the shy, scrawny child anymore who couldn't fight back. If push came to shove, he could confront Tanner himself and make sure that the other man never hurt Marissa again… or at least he could try. There would be nothing he could do if she continued to go back to the man who abused her just like his mother had continued to go back to his father all those years ago.
Breaking him out of his own personal, hellish thoughts, Bernie's voice penetrated through the fog of doubt and worry encasing Ryan. "If nothing else, if that girl had a little more meat on her bones, she might not get hurt as often. A broken collar bone, bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, I've never seen a grown woman injured so much." As they reached the penthouse's door, the elderly gentleman stopped, turned to face the physician, and looked him in the eye.
"The reason you're nothing like I thought Mr. Meriden would be, young man, is because you're not Tanner Meriden. And don't start protesting on me now," the building manager warned him, "because I knew you weren't that asshole the entire time. While I might not have met Tanner Meriden personally before, I know exactly what kind of man he is. Now, I don't know who you are, and, frankly, at this point, I don't care. If you can get that young woman in there some help," he jerked his thumb towards the apartment, "then you'll become my new best friend. I've tried talking to her in the past, indirectly, of course, but she doesn't listen, and she certainly doesn't confirm my suspicions about the piece of scum she lives with, but it does no good. For some reason, she's got it in her pretty little head that she owes the son of a bitch, but nothing's worth her life, and I firmly believe that if she stays with the bastard, he'll one day kill her."
Ryan was speechless. He had no idea what to say… or do for that matter. While he had been mentally preparing himself the whole way up to the penthouse for the reality he might have to face when the apartment door was finally opened, nothing could have prepared him for the physical blow Bernie's words caused him. Over and over again, the older man's fear kept repeating itself in his mind – kill her, kill her, kill her, and all he wanted to do was both get inside to the woman he cared about and run as far away from the situation that was awaiting him inside the apartment as he could.
"Just get her help," the landlord reiterated, pressing his set of keys to the penthouse into Ryan's slightly shaking hands. "Get her help, and this little favor will forever stay between you and me. No one needs to know that I let you in, and, if you ever need my assistance again, you know where to find me."
And, with that, the graying man pivoted around on his slipper clad feet and moved back towards the stairs. While he could have taken the elevator, he proclaimed an inherent distrust for the metal death traps, and, before the medical professional knew what he was doing, Bernie was gone, and he had the door to the apartment open and was walking inside. The spacious living quarters were dark; the only light managing to find its way into the cold space streamed in through the pulled shut drapes, casting constantly shifting and eerie shadows across the wide expanse of metal, stone, and wood. Quickly, Ryan's eyes adjusted to the dim illumination. Just when he was about to give up and move towards the bedrooms, his gaze landed upon a crumbled, bloodied, unconscious Marissa, and, in that moment, the ground slipped out from beneath his feet.
Everything had changed.
Finally, after three days, he felt as if he could breathe again.
At first, he had been paralyzed, and, just like it was yesterday, he was that scared little boy hiding underneath his bed in his room while his father beat his mother sometimes within an inch of her life. Once he had left Chino and his biological family behind, Ryan thought he had escaped the horrors of abuse, but he had been wrong, and, in that very first moment when he saw a battered and severely beaten Marissa crumpled up in a vulnerable ball on her living room floor, he was right back to feeling helpless and out of control. But then she had whimpered, stunning him out his stupor.
Upon his first glance, he had believed her to be unconscious, but, after hearing her weakly, blindly call out for help, he was scrambling to her, picking her up, and taking care of her without a second thought. Luckily, because of his medical training, he was able to push his emotions aside and deal with her injuries professionally and in a detached manner. It took Marissa several minutes to realize who was with her. By the tensing of her already weak form, he knew that she feared his touch to be that of Tanner's initially, and the knowledge of her fear, despite the fact that it was misplaced, sent a piercing arrow of pain straight to his heart. He never wanted her to be afraid of him; he never wanted any woman to ever be afraid of him, but she was a product of her environment, and life with her boyfriend had taught her to shy away, even subconsciously, from any man's touch.
But he was patient, and he was gentle, and, eventually, his soothing words of comfort and the fact that his hands were not touching her to inflict more pain but to take the pain she already felt away calmed her enough to the point where she relaxed and let him treat her uninterrupted. That's when the tears came. She didn't cry out; she didn't even whimper. Instead, silent, steady tracks of saline emotion flowed down her pale, almost translucent cheeks. With every tear, a new memory, a new nightmare for Ryan formed, and, with every tear, his anger grew, anger so intense, so severe, he was afraid of himself and for himself, and it only seemed to compound, because there was absolutely no release for what he was feeling.
Marissa was already too traumatized, and he couldn't be selfish and lose control of his temper simply to curb the rage inside of him. He wanted - no he needed to be her safe place, the only person she could trust in a world otherwise filled with traps and reminders of the pain she had been unjustly, criminally put through, and he couldn't be that person for her if his control was snapping and he was lashing out at Tanner by destroying furniture or yelling. So, he buried his emotions, trapped them so deep inside of his heart they would have to stay hidden until he purposely allowed them free, and, someday, he had promised himself that evening as he sat beside a freshly bandaged yet fretfully sleeping Marissa, he would get the opportunity to erupt, to return the favor and destroy the man who had so dismissively, so inhumanly attempted to destroy the woman he cared deeply for despite not having a right to.
As Ryan continued to climb the stairs that late afternoon, slowly making his way towards the penthouse, he pressed forth in his memories of the past three days. Despite there being an elevator, he, too, had taken the stairwells instead, choosing to walk up flight after flight of risers because it afforded him a chance to think with uninterrupted quiet for at least a few minutes everyday, and, with so many chaotic thoughts flying through his mind, he needed the peace to make sense of what he was both feeling and contemplating. The one thing he was sure of was that he really didn't know what he was doing. Despite having experience with abuse in his past, observing it as a child did not prepare him for helping another person confront, accept, and start to deal with what had happened to them, what had been done to them. Marissa was lost, and he was right there beside her, fumbling with the upside down, crinkled, and stained map.
She had refused the idea of going to the hospital, outright cried and begged for him to not make her go and to take care of her himself. Almost immediately, he had agreed. After everything she had been through, he knew that she needed to feel comfortable in whatever place it was that she recovered, so he didn't press the issue. When he had suggested she go and stay at his apartment with him for a week, she had adamantly turned that idea down, too, claiming that she wasn't ready to go outside, to see people other than him yet, and, again, he had relented.
It was weird though – spending all his free time and sleeping in the very place where the beautiful blonde had been beaten, in the same place that she lived and shared with her boyfriend, the man who had hurt her so badly. He felt awkward in the penthouse, like his skin no longer fit over his body, but he tried to hide his uneasiness, knowing that whatever he was feeling was nothing compared to the anxiety Marissa lived with day in and day out. As a doctor, he knew how to physically care for her injuries, and, as for the rest, he tried to figure it out as they went along, making the best decisions he could and simply trying to be her friend.
It seemed to work. After the first evening, she had started to sleep through the night, something the physician was thankful for because she needed the rest just as much as she needed the salve he was putting on her cuts and the antibiotics she was taking to stem off infection. Her time off from work, which he provided her with by calling her in sick as her doctor, seemed to help. Every afternoon when he returned back from the hospital, he would find her sprawled out on her stomach, reclined on the couch, watching and sometimes even laughing at the cartoons she seemed to watch constantly. It didn't seem to matter what cartoon was on, she would watch it, and the thought of her being reassured by something he introduced to her made him smile and feel a gentle warmth suffused throughout his body, because it meant that he and thoughts of him reassured her as well.
Then there was Bernie. Every afternoon, he came up to the penthouse to have lunch with Marissa. Once they had ordered in, but, on the other two afternoons, the aging landlord had cooked for them, making comfort foods, dishes his beloved Rosy had made for their three children when they had been sick or sad. It seemed to help as well. The soups and macaroni and cheese perked up Marissa's appetite, and she started eating better again. Bernie had never been prouder… or more smug.
At night, the two of them usually ate cereal – Lucky Charms, Coco Puffs, Cap'n Crunch, and Cookie Crisp seemed to be their favorites, and, though, as a health professional, Ryan knew there were definitely healthier meals for them to be eating, neither he nor Marissa could cook, and, if something had the power to put a smile on the young woman's face, then he would do it, and bowl after bowl of sweet, sugary cereal seemed to do the trick.
So, here he was on the third night after he had found her, standing outside her apartment door with a box of Fruit Loops to add to their assortment of breakfast foods for dinner. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he pushed the door open and easily walked into the penthouse, attempting and hoping he succeeded in looking casual and confident. With only a few days left to convince Marissa that she needed to leave her boyfriend and be gone before he got back from his business trip, he knew he needed to step up his efforts in persuading her, but he was also apprehensive of pushing her too much too quickly.
So, with that in mind, he was going to start out by simply opening up to her. After they finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, he would hide the remote from her and insist that they talk, sitting her down and telling her about his own history with abuse, hoping that his forthright honesty about the pain and suffering his mother had gone through would somehow put the seed of thought in her mind and make her start to consider leaving Tanner and the life she shared with him behind. From there, he wasn't sure what would come next, but he would figure it out as he went. After all, he had to. Not only was Marissa's survival dependent upon her getting away from the abuse but his sanity was as well.
He should have known better though. He should have known that it wouldn't be as simple as he had hoped, as he had planned, because nothing in life was ever that easy.
Walking into the kitchen, he found Marissa curled up in a ball on the floor, her eyes wide with panic and trepidation, her body quaking in terror, and her bottom lip bloody from her teeth sinking into it repeatedly out of dread. There was an acrid aroma of smoke clogging the room, and, when he glanced at the sink and counter top surrounding it, he found a mess of dirty dishes, spilled food, and burnt dinner. As soon as she saw him, the blue eyed woman immediately began to apologize.
"I'm sorry, Ryan. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." Her voice was cracked and dangerously high pitched as if her nerves and state of mind were both on the brink of teetering over into absolute, complete and total distress. "I was trying to cook you dinner, to thank you for everything that you've done for me – for being my friend, for taking care of me, but I don't know what happened. One minute the food was alright, and I went to set the table, and the next thing I knew the smoke alarms were going off, and it was ruined. I ruined it… like I ruin everything. I can't get anything right, Ryan, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." At that point, she stood up. While still cowering away from him, she advanced in his direction, her arms outstretched in a beseeching manner. "I'd do anything to make up for it, to show you just how remorseful I am. Please Ryan," she begged, dropping to her knees and, with shaking hands, reaching out for the button of his jeans, startling him and making him take a step back only to watch her crawl towards him. "I'll do anything you want just don't be mad at me. Please. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."
Just as she was about to unzip his pants, he came to his senses, shook off his shocked trance, and took her hands in his, pulling her up to stand before him. Delicately, he reached out and cupped her face in the palms of his hands, bringing them closer together until their foreheads touched. "I'm not mad at you, Marissa. If I tried to make you dinner, the same thing probably would have happened, and the thought that you tried to do this for me is more than enough thanks. I wouldn't trade all these dirty and burnt dishes for a five star meal at the most exclusive restaurant in the city. But I'm also not going to lie to you," he warned her, making sure her gaze was locked on his before he continued. "I do want you, but I want you to want me, too, and not or us to be together because you feel bad about ruining dinner." Swallowing thickly, he confessed. "Don't you get it? Don't you realize that I'm falling for you?"
Even though she didn't say anything in return, the softening of her face and relaxing of her body was enough for Ryan. He knew that she wasn't ready to make a similar declaration to him, and just the knowledge that his admission was capable of making her feel at peace made him smile on the inside. Releasing her face and taking her left hand in his right, he led her towards the spare bedroom where she had been sleeping so far that week. Wordlessly, he helped her lie down, the baggy t-shirt of his and boxer shorts she had been wearing so that her clothes didn't irritate her back were already appropriate for sleeping in, but, when he went to pull away, she reached out and grasped his forearm, silently asking yet, at the same time, screaming through her actions for him to remain with her. So, he did. Climbing into bed beside her, a sigh of pure relief and bliss escaped his lips when she instantly launched herself into his embrace, curling her much smaller form around his own muscular one. It didn't take long for her breathing to even out and become deep and steady with slumber, and, once he knew she was out for the night, Ryan allowed himself to fall asleep as well. For the first time since he found her days before, he felt the ground beneath his feet once again and had hope – hope for himself, hope for Marissa, and, most of all, hope for them together as perhaps more than just friends.
Seth Ezekiel Cohen was curious – not the tap your foot and bide your time curious but the pull out all your hair, stop eating (which in itself, for him, said so much), and seriously make your parents wonder if you need to be put on psychiatric meds curious.
It had been four and half days since he had last shared a conversation with his brother. More than one hundred hours of silence stretched between them, and, as he smacked his forehead against the kitchen counter repetitively, he realized it was the longest amount of time the two men had gone without communication with each other. Even when Ryan had been in medical school, bogged down with test after test, practicum after practicum, and more assigned lab time than even Frankenstein had seen, the blonde haired physician had still found opportunities to call home and check in. Mysteriously though, after their last conversation, his brother had seemingly dropped off the radar. His phone was always turned off, he didn't check his email, and even the hospital was under strict instructions not to disturb him at work unless it was an emergency. Although Seth personally felt as if his current case of Ryan withdrawal counted as a medical crisis, he knew his only sibling would pitch a hissy-fit if he had him paged simply to curb his boredom and nosiness.
So, he waited, albeit impatiently, barely sleeping, refusing all forms of sustenance except MonaVie, and ignoring his parents' pleas for him to do something besides sit nearby all his various forms of communication. Perched almost expectantly at the kitchen counter, he sat in a stool that had been really uncomfortable until the point where his ass had gone numb, surrounded with his cell phone, the cordless home phone, his laptop, and even a pager that he had sent his mom out to buy after the first 24 hours of no Seth-Ryan time. Despite the fact that his brother did not have the beeper's number, he was prepared and had already sent out mass text messages and emails alerting everyone within his circle of contact about the latest change in his technological existence.
After the first day, he had become annoyed. They had a deal – he would call, and Ryan would answer, at least pretending to pay attention to whatever his curly haired brother had to say. It was the only thing preventing Seth from packing up and moving to New York City to be with his best friend (well that and the fact that his parents still supported him), and, by Ryan breaking that agreement, he was opening himself up to the chance of gaining a new, freeloading roommate. After the second day, he had become worried, asking both his parents if hey had heard from their independent son. The answer had been no, and he had returned to his vigilance at the kitchen counter. The third day brought him suspicion and a text message, slightly alleviating his concern until he read the short missive, and then the doubt and insecurities came flooding back to him but for a whole different reason.
His brother's text had simply revealed: Something came up. Call u ASAP.
That was it.
Nothing more, nothing less. Never before had his only sibling's penchant for the understated bothered Seth so much. Immediately, his mind… and imagination had raced, flinging from an alien attack to a zebra escape from the Central Park Zoo. He wondered if his brother was in some kind of danger, or if he was merely indisposed at the present moment. Indisposed could mean several things in and of itself, though, some pleasant, such as secluded away in a love nest with a certain leggy blonde Seth knew Ryan was after even if only subconsciously – and, yes, he had Google'd her, too, or it could have meant that he was recovering from a nasty case of pink eye, and his baby blues were so swollen shut and in so much pain, he couldn't even open them to dial up his favorite fellow man.
By the dawn of the fourth day, he had started bellowing for someone to bring him his wallet, post haste, but his parents had long since learned to ignore his ranting, leaving him alone with his various forms of communication but no credit card to purchase a flight out to New York. Perhaps if he had been able to feel his legs at that point, he would have gotten up on his own, but the fact was that he couldn't, and, since he was probably slightly dehydrated and didn't need to go to the bathroom, he wasn't going to risk a trip out of the room if it wasn't an emergency bathroom break from his vigilance.
But that had been over twelve hours ago, and he suddenly did need to go to the bathroom but feared he wouldn't make it and would end up urinating all over himself. Although it wouldn't be the first time, no one else knew about his penchant for pushing the limits when it came to bodily functions, and he sincerely meant to keep it that way. So, he crossed his legs, squeezed them together, and continued to hit his head against the marble countertop, hard enough to keep him awake and focused on anything besides the fact that he had to pee like a race horse but soft enough that it wouldn't cause permanent damage… or so he thought.
Abruptly, his cell phone vibrated, and all other thoughts besides talking to his brother vanished. The call didn't even progress until the end of the first ring, and he already had it open, demanding, "where the hell have you been? Do you know how worried I was?"
"Calm down, yenta. I told you in my text that something came up."
"And could you have been any more ambiguous," Seth railed against his sibling. "You have no idea what kind of thoughts have been running through my mind for the past few days."
"And I imagine that I never want to know," the blonde returned cheekily, laughing slightly at his best friend's expense.
But the younger of the two men continued as if nothing had been said. "My brain was jumping from something as simple as a few extra shifts at the hospital to the possibility that you were arrested for public indecency and was spending your nights curled up along side your new girlfriend Bubba."
"Well, at this point, I haven't seen the inside of a jail cell, but it could be a definite possibility in the near distant future."
"What? Why?"
"I'll tell you if you can promise me you'll stay quiet until I finish the story," Ryan bargained. "So that means no interrupting me every other word to put in your quick quips – no sound effects, no loud breathing, and no pretending that you have another call just so that you can get a word in edgewise? Do we have a deal?"
"Your wish is my command. I am your genie in a bottle, baby, and you just rubbed me the right way."
Seth snickered as he listened to his brother bemoan his previous statement. "That has to be the most disgusting thing you've ever said to me."
"That's what happens when you leave me alone for four days, thirteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and a few odd seconds."
"You are sick, you are twisted, and I have never been more thankful of the fast that we are not blood related."
"That's because you secretly lust after me, and, if we were blood related, then that would be incest," the brunette returned, seemingly on a roll in his book.
"Seth!"
"Alright, alright, I'll behave," he agreed, albeit slightly reluctantly. "Now, what was so important that you abandoned me for the greater portion of an entire week?"
"Marissa and I had made plans to go to Coney Island together a few nights ago, but, when I got to her apartment, she didn't answer the door. I was worried, and her building's manager kindly let me in. When I found her, she was almost unconscious she had been beaten so badly."
"Oh my god," the younger man gasped, clearly shocked by his sibling's emotional admission. "Was it a robbery?"
"What happened to our agreement of you staying quiet while I finished my story?"
"Come on, Ryan? Did you actually expect me to follow through on that, especially when I was by no means prepared for this type of something?" Silent for several moments, the twenty-eight year old contemplated the blonde's confession. "I know you didn't say anything," he finally spoke again, "but I can tell simply by your refusal to deny or confirm my question that it wasn't a robbery. Who hurt her?"
"Tanner."
The one answer was said so bitterly, so furiously, that Seth knew immediately why his brother had warned him that he might be in jail in the near distant future. Despite already knowing the answer though, his brain wasn't cooperating, and he couldn't quite accept the truth. If he was feeling in denial, he couldn't imagine what his older sibling was going through. "Her boyfriend?"
"He beat her, repetitively, with a belt. When I found her, her back was a mess. There was blood and puss. The infection had already started to set in. For a minute," Ryan admitted, "I wasn't sure what to do. It was like I froze. All my medical training flew out the window, because, instead of the person in front of me being some nameless patient, it was now someone that I cared about."
"Someone," the curly haired brunette clarified, "that you're falling for." Whistling harshly at the situation, he asked, "so, what did the police say? Are they going to arrest him?"
"I haven't called the police?"
"Are you out of your mind," the younger man exploded, only curtailing the volume of his voice after his initial explosion. He knew that, for the moment, Ryan wasn't ready to talk to their parents, and, despite his selfish ways, he knew when to put aside his own agendas and needs to focus on the brother who had always been there for him when he needed him. "You can't go around exacting vigilante justice here. Dude, I know you haven't unleashed those fists of fury of yours in quite a while, but this is not the time to do so and certainly not the answer. Marissa needs you to be thinking with your brain right now and not your brawn. Call the police, report this ass, and get her the help she needs by making sure that she's safe."
"If anyone is going to file a complaint against Tanner, it has to be Marissa," the doctor argued. "If I do it, it's just going to be my word against his, and who knows if she would even speak out against the abuse. No, for now, I'm just going to take of her and try to convince her to leave him. She has to be the one to break the cycle of abuse, Seth. If she doesn't, she'll probably just go back to him. No one can make this decision except for Marissa, not even me, no matter how much I want to. There's only one person who can get her away from Tanner, and that's Marissa herself."
"Are you sure about this, man? I mean, what are you going to do if she doesn't leave him, if she stays and he hurts her again?"
"That's what my previous warning was about. Listen, Seth," the older sibling quickly changed the subject. "I can hear her getting out of the bathtub. I need to go, but I promise I'll call you as soon as I can. For now, though, can you promise me that you'll keep this between just the two of us?"
"Yeah, of course," he found himself agreeing, despite his best judgment. "Whatever you want, but only if you agree to really think about telling Dad about this. He knows a few things, and I'm not just talking about how to sing a show tune or how to grow the world's largest set of eyebrows. He could probably really help you."
"I'll keep it in mind, and," Ryan paused for a moment, his voice hitching with an involuntary display of emotion, "thanks, Seth, for everything." Sobering quickly, he teased, "now, go to the bathroom, take a shower, get something to eat, and sleep for at least eight hours – doctor's orders."
And, with that, he hung up, leaving Seth, for one of the first times in his life, speechless. He would follow his brother's instructions, if simply because he knew his body needed him to, but he highly doubted he would be able to sleep, at least not anytime soon. He was glad that Ryan had called, that he had trusted him enough to confide in him, but that did not mean that he liked anything he had heard during their conversation. Now that he had finally managed to speak with his brother, his worry and concern were justified. It was an unusual sensation for him since he was so used to being carefree and untroubled, and, not for the first time that hour, he found himself wondering just how his older sibling was going to make it through the situation he found himself in unscathed. Restlessly, he feared such a thing was impossible.
Ryan was leaving. He was going to work, and, after he got off, instead of coming back to her apartment, he was going home to his own, giving her the night to think about what she wanted, what she needed to do for herself. Tanner was due back from his business trip the next morning, and, before he arrived, she had to decide if she was going to stay with him, if she was going to leave him, and if she was going to report his actions to the police. Though her back, thanks to Ryan's gentle and constant care, was healing nicely, it was obvious that she had been severely beaten, and, confidently, perhaps even foolishly, Tanner had left the belt he had used to whip her with proudly on display, laying discarded on their bedroom floor, so she could easily take it to the authorities as evidence. But, first, she had to make a decision – did she leave, was she strong enough, capable enough, selfish enough to leave the man who provided both for her and her family, or did she stay and, essentially, lose Ryan, the only true friend she had made in years?
"Hey," he shattered the glass walls of thought she was building around herself with one simple word. "Don't," he pleaded with her. "Don't do that; don't start to doubt yourself or me."
"How did you…"
"You're pretty easy to read, Cooper," he teased her, cupping her chin while staring deeply into her very emotional sapphire orbs. "Well, you are if the person knows what to look for."
Grinning at him softly, she stated, "like you do."
He shrugged self-effacingly, replying, "I try. But that's not important right now. What is important is that you know that, no matter what, I'm here for you. Whatever you decide, Marissa, I'm still going to be your friend. Will I be disappointed if you stay? I'm not going to lie to you. Yes, I would be, but I wouldn't be disappointed for me; I'd be disappointed for you. I know that you think you need Tanner, but you don't. The only person you need is yourself."
"You're wrong," she argued, her voice dropping to a low, intimate degree. "I need you."
"But that's where you're wrong," Ryan disagreed. "Sure, I help you. When you're hurt, I take care of you, but you don't need me to make you better. You have the means to do that yourself. All you have to do is find the resolve to walk away."
"It's not that simple."
"Oh, I know that," he agreed, sympathizing with her. Pulling the almost in tears blonde into his arms, the physician soothed. "Remember what I told you about my Mom? I've been here before, Marissa; I've seen this before. It was so hard for her to leave, that she never did, but I think that you're stronger than my biological mother. I believe that you can do this. All you have to do is believe in yourself as well."
"I'll try," she promised him.
Smiling at her softly, he pulled out of their embrace and stated, "that's all I can ask of you." Surprising both of them, he leaned across the space separating them and let his lips whisper over hers, their mouths barely touching before he disentangled himself from her arms, turned around, and left the penthouse without another word, leaving the stunned young woman in a state of shocked excitement. Their small, almost innocent kiss was the first trace of genuine romantic affection she had felt in years, and it was just the thing to help spur her mind into action.
Quickly making a decision, Marissa scrambled to the bedroom she shared with Tanner. Although it had only been six days since she had last used the room, it already felt like someone else's, and the unfamiliarity with the place she had been the most private with her soon-to-be ex only confirmed her decision to leave. While she wasn't going to report his abuse to the authorities, she was at least prepared to move out. She had a work friend who lived close to the office, and she knew the other woman would welcome her for at least long enough for the blonde to find a place of her own to stay. Everything else – her mother, her sister, what was happening between her and Ryan – she would figure out later. In that moment, the most important thing was simply to leave, to pack her bags and escape before Tanner returned home, for, once he was back, she knew she would never have the courage to stand up for herself against him. So, with the first spark of life to her since she had been whipped, Marissa located her suitcase and started throwing her possessions in as quickly as possible, determined to be out of the penthouse apartment she had lived in and to her friend's doorstep before the other woman even left for the office that morning.
"What are you doing?"
She jumped at the voice from behind her, dropping the clothes in her hands as if they burned her fragile fingers. Immediately, she felt her shoulders slump, her confidence fleeing just as quickly as she had found it. Turning around, her worst fears were confirmed, and, standing before her, Tanner waited patiently for an answer. Instead, she responded, "you're back early."
"I wanted to surprise you," he admitted, smiling. Striding further into the room, he went straight towards his still cast aside belt, picking it up and beguiling the young blonde when he threw it away. Pivoting back around to face her, his amusement only swelled. "I see that I succeeded. Where are you going, Marissa?"
She was too terrified to answer.
"Is there something wrong with your mother or Caitlyn? I can't imagine so, seeing as how I just spoke to Julie a few hours ago, and she seemed fine."
Confused, her brow furrowed. "You spoke with my Mom? About what?"
"I needed her permission, sweetheart," Tanner replied smoothly, advancing towards her. "But you still haven't answered my question. Why are you packing? Where are you going?"
Swallowing suddenly became difficult. "I'm leaving."
"On vacation, for work?"
"No," Marissa clarified, unable to reach her boyfriend's steady, probing gaze. "I'm leaving you." By the time the last word left her lips, she was barely capable of speaking, her voice so low only she could hear it.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that. You see," the dark haired man pressed, "when I was away on business, I realized a few things, the most important one being that I need you. My bosses, Marissa, they love you. They think that we're this perfect couple, and you know how I hate to disappoint my bosses. And my clients," he continued, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, black velvet jewelry box, "especially the foreign ones, they seem to prefer to do business with a married man, a family man. In fact, many of them wondered why my very beautiful girlfriend wasn't with me on this last trip. So, you see," he pointed out to her, "I need you, and I think we've always known that you need me." Opening the ring box, he presented her with a stunning diamond solitaire engagement ring – a ring that would be worth enough money to take care of her mother and sister for years to come. "That's why you're going to marry me, and, in exchange, as soon as we're husband and wife, you'll debut as the new op-ed journalist on the weekend morning cable news program the company owns and produces."
Quickly, her mind raced over the possibilities, over the pros and cons of Tanner's deal. If she was on camera, it would be even more important that her appearance be maintained, and it wasn't as if he normally beat her with his belt. That had been a one time occurrence, and it had been her own fault for lying to him anyway, for pushing him past his limit. She had known better than to invite Ryan back to the penthouse with her, but she had done it regardless, so, really, she was the one to blame for her boyfriend whipping her. She could deal with his temper, with his yelling and screaming, with his demanding ways about her appearance and the apartment's.
And what did it really matter that Ryan had made her feel more with one tiny kiss than Tanner had managed over years of various sexual exploits? Business came before pleasure, and, if she was finally about to get a promotion, a chance to be in front of the camera and not just behind it as someone else's assistant, then she had no choice but to agree to Tanner's deal. Besides, marrying him would be the best for her family. Ryan would understand; he had promised her that he would. He would continue to be her friend in private, and he would be happy for her because she was getting what she always wanted. With those thoughts in mind, she accepted the proposal.
"I'll marry you."
Just as the words escaped her lips, her cell phone, laying haphazardly on the bed, started ringing. Both her gaze and Tanner's swung to the small, plastic device, seeing Ryan's name flash on the screen. He didn't say a word, and she ignored the call. After all, she was now an engaged woman, a woman who was soon to be married to the man who would be able to take care of her, her mother, and her sister for the rest of their lives.
Ryan would understand; he had promised her that he would.
At least, she hoped so.
