Sandy had never been so happy to leave a place in his entire life. But now what? He glanced at the young man sitting next to him who was diligently studying the glove compartment handle.
"Do you need to go to the hospital?" He had startled Ryan, but he didn't look as scared as he had the first few times he had spoken. That was progress, right? Ryan didn't answer him, though. "You look pretty banged up."
He saw Ryan shake his head out of the corner of his eye and sighed inwardly. He knew he could speak. He had heard Ryan's voice when he tried explaining that Sandy wasn't his father.
"I'm fine." It was a quiet, deep voice. Raspy. Sandy relaxed immediately. Sandy was a talker. So were Seth and Rosie and even Kirsten. Having Ryan talk, even if it was only two words, made the entire situation seem less daunting.
"Listen. I am really sorry for how all of this is going. I had no idea. I mean, I just found out about it all this morning. Are you all right?" The boy was still silent, but was now staring at him. Also a good sign? Or maybe just an indication that saying two words wasn't an invitation for the nonstop chatter Sandy normally produced.
Was it really that easy? Was this man really as unthreatening as he sounded? Ryan stared at him wondering. What kind of serial killer rambles when locked in a car with his victim? He didn't even remember what the older man's name was.
Thankfully, the he repeated it. It was Sandy Cohen.
"Sandy?"
"Yeah. Short for, um, Sandford." Ryan looked away. What in fuck's sake was going on? "You can, um, call me that. Are you okay?" The man was really waiting for an answer this time.
"I'm confused."
"You and me both, kid." Was he really? Was it some kind of ploy?
Ryan stared ahead, apparently lost in his own thoughts. He had given Sandy something: confused. That was a step in the right direction. And Sandy had responded by merely agreeing with him. The poor kid.
At least Sandy had 'control' in the situation. He almost laughed out loud. He had more control over Ryan, but that didn't mean much. He had no idea who he was bringing into his home or what the next couple of days would bring. But he was the adult. He had more information than Ryan had. Barely, but still.
"I got a call from your social worker about two weeks ago. She said that your mother had given her my name and said that I was your real father and…" Sandy paused. Did he really want to tell this poor, confused kid that his mother didn't want him? "She said that she wasn't going to pick you up. The social worker told me that you didn't have any charges pressed against you so they were going to let you go, but they couldn't let you go on your own. They needed to sign you over into someone else's custody. I mean… I'm surprised your mother even remembered my name. It was a very brief… encounter." Sandy glanced over to see Ryan looking down, his cheeks turning red. Not appropriate. "I never saw her again."
He stopped to let it sink in. That was basically all Sandy knew. Now Ryan had just as much information as Sandy did. Maybe more. Was Ryan going to let him in on his part of the story?
"Are you Trey's dad too?" Sandy heart stopped. Could he really have two sons he never knew about?
"Are you and Trey twins?"
"No…" Sandy held back a sigh of relief.
"Then nope." He glanced over. It looked like Ryan understood. "Trey's your brother?" Ryan nodded. "Where is he? Is he with your mother?"
Ryan shook his head.
"Jail."
"And your father? I mean… You grew up thinking someone else was your father?"
"Jail."
Ryan was embarrassed. He was always embarrassed when he had to tell someone that his father was in jail. Now he had to add his brother to the list. All the talking, the confusion, and pretty much the last four weeks were wearing him out.
He would have given anything to just lay his head back and sleep the rest of the way to wherever they were going, but that was just it. He had no idea where they were going. He had no idea who was driving the car. He had no idea if this was just a big mix up and Ryan was going to have to deal with a completely different situation in the morning.
If he made it to morning.
He stared out the window. Maybe he should just jump out of the car once they got off the highway.
Sandy didn't know what else to say. Well, he knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to know why Ryan was in jail and where the bruises came from and what his past was like and if he had gotten along with his brother and his father and why was his brother in jail and why his father was?
His other father. The man who had raised him. What was he like? Sandy tried to think of something else to say, of something else to focus his mind on but couldn't.
"Did…" How to phrase the question? He didn't want to pry. The boy had barely said anything at all; it was too soon to pry too deeply into his brain and his past. "Do you and your dad get along?" Should he clarify he meant his other father? He saw Ryan shaking his head. He gave no verbal answer. "Did he…" Know you weren't his? Love you? Take good care of you? "treat you all right?"
Ryan turned his head to the window and didn't answer.
