Chapter Ten

As he slid into his seat across from his oldest son, Ryan felt a ghost of a smile warm his face for the first time in days. It was two months since they had returned home from the hospital, Tyler was adjusting surprisingly well and was already practically sleeping through the night, and Marissa, despite the odds stacked against her, was physically healing well, but, instead of feeling as if his life was improving, it felt as if everything was just getting steadily worse. No one was happy, least of all him.

"This was a pleasant surprise," he greeted Garrett as he joined him at their outdoor patio table. "It's been too long since we've had lunch together. I really needed this."

The architect chuckled, never once looking up from his menu. "I needed a meal that wasn't a close relative to a science experiment, so it seems we both lucked out."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Susan's got it into her head that if she's going to be a good mom to our kid, then she's going to have to learn how to cook. Morning, noon, night, she's always shoving her culinary attempts in front of me and demanding that I try them and give her my honest opinion. So," he grimaced, screwing up his face in disgust, "I eat them, throw up later when she's napping, and then raid the secret stash of junk food I keep in the filing cabinet I have in my home office. Hell," he sighed in exasperation, "I can't even escape her during the day when I'm at work, because she brings me lunch, so, today, I used you as an excuse and told her she couldn't meet me."

"If the result of your hiding from your wife is me getting to spend time with my son," Ryan replied, "then sign me up for duty everyday."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So," the father of five asked as he took a drink from the glass of water already at the table waiting for him, "what brought on this desire to cook?"

"Mom," Garrett answered with a roll of his eyes. "Susie is determined that Mom will never show her up in the mothering department, and so, because Mom can cook, Susan now has to as well."

"You know, the longer they know each other, the weirder I think their relationship gets."

"Actually," the twenty-five year stated, "I think I figured it out. On the service, they're competitive, distrustful, and rude to each other, but I think that's just a convenient cover up for the underlying respect and admiration that my wife feels for Mom and the protective, almost mentoring role Mom takes on towards Susan. It's almost as if they dislike each other in public for appearance's sake, because they both know that's what everyone expects from them."

"Yeah, but, when they first met, your Mom really hated her."

"Oh, I know, but that was because she felt as if Susan was going to take me away from her, but, now that the lines have been drawn, neither of them are willing to surrender the fight, so, instead of just admitting that they really don't mind each other, they pretend to fight when underneath all the snippy remarks and devious plotting they really do care for one another. If nothing else," Garrett laughed, motioning towards the waitress to let her know they were ready to order, "it should keep family get-togethers interesting."

The two men ordered their lunches and waited for their server to leave before continuing their conversation.

"Well, I don't think we'll have to worry about them spending too much time together in the immediate future," Ryan announced, leaning back in his seat and relaxing his shoulders to almost a dejected posture.

"Why? Is Mom still refusing to speak to anyone besides you and us kids?"

"Pretty much." Rubbing a work worn hand across his haggard face, the business owner roughly expelled a harsh breath. "She'll talk to Pat at her doctor appointments and occasionally the two of them talk on the phone, but, other than that, she basically stays in the house except for when she has to run out for groceries or to pick up the dry cleaning. Her boss called the other day and asked her about when she wants to go back to work, and, without discussing it with me at all, she just quit."

Slightly defensive on his Mother's behalf, Garrett questioned, "you're not mad about that, are you?"

"Of course not. I've wanted her to quit working now for quite some time. We don't need the money, and she runs herself ragged. With everything that's happened since last summer, it's probably a good thing that she's not going to be working, but it worries me that she gave it all up that easily. Three months ago I would have had to tie her up and practically brainwash her into quitting, but, without even a second's thought, she threw her whole career away."

"It's like she's giving up, like she doesn't care anymore," the architect realized, frowning and sympathizing with his father.

"Exactly."

"Does she show interest in anything?"

"Not really," the older man stated miserably. "It's not as if she doesn't care or that she's not as kind and compassionate as she used to be," he struggled for the right words to explain his wife's behavior. "It's kind of like she's sleepwalking through life now. She's aware of what's going on around her and what she's doing, feeling, and thinking, but nothing permeates this protective wall she's built around herself."

"Maybe you just need to spend some one on one time with her," the twenty-five year old suggested helpfully. "If there's no one and nothing around to distract her attention, maybe you'll be able to really talk to her, to wake her up."

"What exactly are you proposing?" With a curious, hopeful quirk to his brows, Ryan observed his son and watched him squirm slightly in his seat as embarrassment tinged his tan cheeks a light shade of red.

"Well, it's not as if anything's going to happen between Susan and I at this point, so…"

"Third trimester drought?" Almost disbelievingly, Ryan felt himself laughing. Although the gesture was somewhat unfamiliar to his life at that point, it felt good to feel amusement again.

"It's dryer than the Sahara during a famine," his son bemoaned, closing his eyes momentarily out of desperation and misery.

"I doubt you really want to know this, but, perhaps, it might make you feel better," the father of five offered. "Your dry spell can't be as long as mine."

"Dad, come on," Garrett begged in a teasing manner. "This is the first real meal I've had in weeks. Please don't ruin it."

"Alright, alright," the business owner chuckled. "But back to what you were getting at before, what's this idea of yours?"

"Susie and I will take the kids for you tonight. I'll call her from work and let her know we're having company so, to give her a break, I'll offer to pick up takeout."

"Aristan and Loren will appreciate that gesture, I'm sure."

"And we'll just all hang out together. It'll be good practice for Susan and I to take care of Tyler, and, hell, maybe we'll even be able to get Cooper to come out of the cave he considers his apartment and socialize a little bit. In the meantime, you and Mom should just spend some time with each other and try to reconnect."

"I really appreciate this," Ryan told his son, his bright blue eyes shining with gratitude. "But don't get your hopes up concerning Cooper. I don't know if he told you yet, but he met with his doctors yesterday, and, despite the fact that his surgery went well and he will be able to walk, albeit with a slight limp, he'll never play sports professionally again."

"So, what's he going to do?"

"I honestly don't know," the older man answered, absentmindedly running his hands through his shaggy hair. "We, your Mother and I, need to talk to him about his options, but, at this point, I can barely think ahead a single day let alone help your brother plan his foreseeable future."

"Plus," Garrett pointed out, "you have Mom to worry about, too." His father nodded his head. "Let me think about Cooper this afternoon at work. I have a slow day ahead of me, so I should have some free time, and, if he does come over tonight, I'll find a way to speak to him alone, offer my help and encouragement."

Just then, their food arrived, but, before they ate, Ryan had to say one last thing. "You're a good kid, do you know that?" Without letting his son answer, he pressed, "and you're going to make one hell of a Dad, too. I'm proud of you."

The two men shared an understanding look. "What can I say," the architect joked, his voice filled with underlying emotion, "I had the best role model a guy could ask for."

Without another word, they went back to their meal. After all, nothing else, at that point, needed to be said.

It had taken some fine maneuvering on Ryan's part to get the evening organized. For one, Marissa rarely left the house, so he had to think up a plausible excuse for her to leave him there while she went out, not only so he could set up the surprises he had purchased but also to give Garrett an opportunity to stop by and pick up the kids. Secondly, he didn't want her to have to run errands when she went out; instead, he wanted to do something for her, something relaxing and soothing to show her just how much he cared. So, after he left his lunch with his oldest son, he called his secretary and had her messenger over a gift certificate to a spa for his wife, praying that she would take him up on his offer. By the time he arrived home, there was a note telling him that she would be back that evening and, while she was gone that afternoon, Loren was to make dinner and Aristan was to watch Tyler. Little did she know…

At seven o'clock on the dot, he heard the front door open, alerting him to the fact that Marissa was home, but she never called out her presence, never asked loudly about the kids, and she didn't even look up from her feet to gaze about the entry, missing the note and bouquet of flowers, a mixture of bright and cheerful blooms he had selected himself, that were waiting for her on the steps. However, before she could disappear into the kitchen where she was headed, he stepped out from the shadows where he had been hiding watching her.

"How was your massage?"

"It was nice," she answered, her tone completely neutral. "Thank you."

Despite his best intentions, he felt his shoulders slump slightly at the sound of her apathy, and he found himself wondering if she had even gone to the spa. Knowing of her lack of interest in anything social, Ryan could imagine her leaving the house with the gift certificate in hand to appease him but driving to the park and sitting there until her appointment was over, wallowing in her dark thoughts and fears. At the thought that even the fresh air would be better for her than remaining in the house all day with only their infant to keep her company, he knew that his plans to show her just how much he loved her were beyond necessary. He only hoped they weren't too late.

Snapping him from his thoughts, she queried, "where are the kids?"

"Garrett and Susan are watching them tonight. We have the whole house to ourselves." She didn't say anything, but he could see her brow furrow. Moving down the stairs slowly, never once taking his gaze off of hers out of fear that she would bolt like a scared rabbit, he finally reached the final step and held his hand out for her to take hold of. "Dinner's upstairs," the father of five explained. "I picked up all your favorites, so I hope you're hungry."

"Not really."

Swallowing his disappointment, he shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "That's okay. Will you sit with me though while I eat, keep my company?"

Marissa simply nodded her head yes before slipping past him to ascend the stairs. In a moment of weakness, her tear filled blue eyes swung up to meet his, and he could see the panic building in her wide, expressive, sapphire orbs, further disheartening him. Although she didn't take his hand though, he took a small bit of comfort in the fact that she was agreeing to join him, no matter how hesitant she was to do so. He would simply have to take his victories where he could get them.

Silently, they moved together, Ryan only a step behind her, but, when they entered their bedroom, his wife's forward momentum ceased and she froze in place. The windows were open to allow in the fresh night air, and, as the breeze caught on the flowers he had arranged throughout the room, the soft scent of the tropics caressed them. To complete the relaxing, romantic atmosphere, he had forgone lights and used candles instead, scattering the votives around the large space. He had even gone to the store and purchased her a new piece of lingerie, and the crisp, mint green, silk slip was out resting on the bed, an invitation for her to put it on while they spent time together.

However, instead of the appreciation he had been expecting, Marissa turned to him, her hurt displayed by the barely held back tears from a moment before coursing down her pale cheeks. "What…," she whispered, unsure of what to say or how to express what she was feeling. Swallowing several times, she groaned in frustration at herself, clenched her fist together, and closed her eyes before continuing, her voice almost too cracked and vulnerable to hear. "What is this?"

"I wanted to get you something that would make you feel beautiful when you wore it." Taking her hands, he led her into the room and towards the bed. "Because of Tyler and everything that's happened, you and I haven't been able to spend any alone time together, and I just wanted you to know that I love you. For no other reason than wanting to be with you, I wanted to make this night special; I wanted to help you feel special again."

When she returned his declaration of love, murmuring the four words with as much honesty and sincerity as she could muster, the business owner started to have faith in his own actions, started to believe that he had done the right thing by organizing a romantic evening just for the two of them, but his hopes came crashing down when she let out a harsh sob, pulled her hands away from his, and collapsed onto the bed, crying while she rushed to accuse him.

"I know you're trying to make me feel better, and, although I appreciate it, I don't want your pity."

"Marissa, what are you talking about?" Bewildered, he sank down beside her on the bed. "I don't pity…"

"Yes, you do," she screamed, scrambling as far away from him as she could get and going to stand in the opposite corner of the room. With her arms folded protectively around her abdomen, she pressed on. "You might still love me, but there's no possible way that you're still in love with me. How could you be?" When he went to reassure her, she wouldn't let him interrupt, and, instead, a cascading waterfall of words spilled forth from her quivering mouth. "The reasons don't matter, because they're not going to change how you feel. I'm not the woman you married, and it's not your fault that you want her and not the shell that's left behind. And you can tell me over and over again that I'm wrong, but you proved that I'm right this evening."

Standing, he stomped towards her, anger masking his hurt and concern. "How the hell did I do that?"

"Look at the lingerie you bought me," the former nurse gestured wildly back towards the bed. "A year ago you would have come home with the skimpiest piece of lace you could find, and today you buy me a slip that comes down to mid-thigh." Throwing her hands up in the air in a sign of frustration, she proclaimed, "that pretty much says it all, doesn't it, Ryan? You're just as much repulsed by my body as I am!"

"Oh for Christ's sake, I thought it was pretty, and I wanted to see you in it! Is it more concealing than some of the lingerie I bought you in the past, yes, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You just had major surgery two months ago, and I wasn't sure if you would want something that would show your scars. Sue me!"

"Stop projecting your own disgust onto me," she countered wildly, making absolutely no sense to the father of five, "and just admit that it's you who is repulsed by the scars!"

"Well, how the hell would I know how I feel about them since you haven't let me see you dressed in anything less than pants and a t-shirt since you gave birth!"

And just like that, Marissa's fury was replaced with melancholy. "I've been scared."

"I know you have been," he soothed, moving to take her in his arms, but she pulled away from him and went to stand in front of the windows that looked out onto their backyard. Undeterred, he followed until he was positioned directly behind her. Lifting his arms, he started to place his hands on her shoulders but second guessed himself and let his arms fall back down to their sides. "And I honestly wasn't expecting anything to happen tonight either. I got your favorite dinner, flowers, and the lingerie simply because I wanted to make you feel better about yourself. I know you've been having a hard time with everything since Tyler was born, and, yes, I do want to be with you but not until you're ready. There's one last surprise," he told her before leaving her alone for a moment to get something off his nightstand. Walking back towards her, he held the envelope out and waited for her to open it. Once she did, he started to explain, "I exchanged our tickets for England today and booked another flight in two weeks. I figured if anyone deserved a real vacation right now, it would be you."

"We can't go."

Taking the tickets back when she shoved them in his hands, he stared at her momentarily before demanding to know, "why not?"

"Tyler's too young for me to leave her."

"She'll be almost three months old by the time our trip is scheduled for, and Garrett and Susan already said they would like to spend more time with her to practice for their own baby."

"And what about Garrett and Susan," she snapped, glaring at him. "She's due in July. I can't leave her when she's so close to her due date. What if she goes into premature labor? Can you honestly tell me that her mother would know how to help her, how to keep her calm, how to prepare her for taking care of a pre-term baby? Absolutely not, Ryan! They need me here with them, close by, in case anything happens."

"She's having a normal pregnancy," he argued, making his case. "There haven't been any complications, and she's expected to go full term." Scoffing, he dismissed, "besides, you act as if you're the only one who will be able to help her if there is an emergency. You're not the only medical professional in San Francisco, you know, especially since you quit your job."

"And don't forget about our son who just yesterday found out that he'll never again be able to play baseball professionally! He needs his parents here with him right now, supporting him, not off gallivanting around Europe on a second honeymoon!"

"He has a physical therapist," the business owner ticked off on his fingers, "he has a private nurse who comes in to help him for a few hours everyday, and he has three siblings who would do anything for him. I think he could survive for two weeks while his Mommy went out of town."

"Stop it," his wife threatened him, shoving him away from her. "I don't want to hear another word from your mouth. Just leave me alone."

"Why? Is the truth too hard to accept?"

"No, because I am sick and tired of you putting your own needs before those of our children!"

"That's not what I'm doing, Marissa." Sighing, he shook his head in aggravation. "Don't you get it? I'm trying to put your needs first."

"Well, no one asked you to!"

"No," he agreed with her, "no one did, but I'm your husband, and someone needs to take care of you, because you sure as hell aren't taking care of yourself right now."

"I just want to be left alone," she pleaded with him. "I'd rather you simply ignore me than do things for me because you feel sorry for me."

"How many times do I have to tell you," he exploded, throwing his hand into the air out of exasperation. "I do not pity…"

The phone ringing interrupted them. "This is not over," he warned her while moving towards the cordless on the dresser and picking it up. While he talked on the phone, she turned her back to him and waited silently. The call only took a couple of seconds, and, by the time he hung up, Ryan's irritation had evaporated to be replaced with anxiety. "That was the police," he told her. "Cooper's been arrested."

Without a word, she gathered her things and left the room, never once looking in his direction or asking for his help. Too bad he was going to offer it anyway, and he was damn determined that she'd accept it whether she wanted to or not.

As they walked into the police station together, Ryan found himself shivering, not from a genuine coldness because the chill to the night air but from the hostility and misunderstanding that separated him from his wife. If it wasn't for the wedding bands on their ring fingers, no one would have been able to tell that they were married. It was disconcerting and made him that much more scared that his relationship with the woman he loved was falling apart.

Allowing Marissa to speak with Cooper first, he watched her enter their son's cell, sit down beside him on his cot, and take his hands in hers. Despite himself, the father of five felt an unjustified sense of jealousy towards their child, for, when he touched her, she flinched, and there she was voluntarily touching someone else.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need me to take you the hospital? I can't believe they arrested you before making sure you were medically cleared. Irresponsible, arrogant, brainless bast…"

"He's fine, Marissa," the business owner interrupted the tirade his wife was just getting started on towards the local law enforcement officers. "The EMT's checked him out at the scene of the accident, and, though his car was wrapped around a telephone pole, there's not a scratch on him." Letting a disappointed, confrontational note towards his son enter his voice, he continued. "A bottle of tequila tends to have that result."

"Not now, Ryan," she snapped right back at him, leveling him with a glacial stare before turning back to their son. "Cooper, I want you to listen to me," she told the twenty-four year old. Lifting her arms to cradle his face in her hands, she looked into his glazed over eyes before kissing his forehead and pulling him into a hug. "I'm going to take care of this; I'm going to make these charges go away."

"You're not Johnnie Cochran, Marissa, and there's nothing you can do besides stand by him while he goes to court, faces his punishment, and serves it."

She ignored him. "Don't listen to your father, Cooper. We'll find you the best defense attorney we can, and we'll get you out of this. Everything's going to be okay." Smoothing her hands through his hair, she held their son in her arms like a child until he pushed her way.

"God, Mom, just get off of me. It's a DUI not a murder charge. Leave me alone. I don't want your help. Hell," the twenty-four year old added impulsively, standing up from the cot and pacing the length of the eight by eight jail cell, "I don't want you here period. Go home. I want to talk to Dad."

"I'm right here, kid," Ryan spoke up, smiling in an understanding manner towards his son.

"I want to talk to Dad…alone."

"I see," Marissa stated, standing up from her seated position and immediately shutting down emotionally. "I'll just…yeah."

As she passed by him, the father of five reached out to grab his wife's arm, but she brushed him off. "Honey, don't go. You should stay. This is something all three of us need to discuss together."

"No, you heard our son. He doesn't want me here, Ryan; he doesn't need me."

Realizing her deepest fears were coming true except for it was Cooper who was pushing her away instead of him, he tried to stop her again. "Of course he needs you. You're his Mother. He'll always need you."

Her gaze refused to meet his, but he could tell by the husky nature of her voice that she was crying. "No he doesn't," she reiterated. "No one does," and, before he could disagree, she was running out of the precinct and disappearing.

Angered, Ryan rounded on his son. "I get that you're pissed at the world right now, that you're trying to hurt yourself because you figure you have nothing left to lose, but I will not stand by and allow you to hurt your Mom like that again. She did nothing to deserve that, especially not after everything she's done for you over the years. You and your siblings are her entire world, and that stunt you just pulled there made everything she loves come crashing down around her. Grow up, Cooper," he shouted, slamming his fists against he bars of the jail cell. "Yeah, you can't play baseball again, but you're alive, you have a family behind you that will support you through anything and everything, and you have so much to offer. Suck it up, quit feeling sorry for yourself, and figure out your life, because we're not doing it for you. I'll be down in the morning to bail you out. For now, I think you should just stay here while I go and try to comfort your Mom."

Just as he was about to leave the hallway and enter into the main common area of the jail, his second oldest son's voice stopped him. "You're right."

Without turning around, Ryan agreed with him. "I know." Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he instructed, "if you can manage to not pass out for a few hours, think about what you want to do when you get out of here, and then we'll talk tomorrow, you, me, and your Mom, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, you know, for giving it to me straight. Oh and, Dad," the twenty-four year old spoke out one last time, "will you tell Mom I'm sorry and make sure she's okay?"

"I'm going to try, but…" Clearing his throat and trying to hide his insecurity, he changed the topic. "See you in the morning."

And then he left with yet another heavy weight resting on his capable but overburdened shoulders. Nothing was improving; instead, everything in the Atwood family's life just seemed to get worse, and Ryan was unsure about just how much more pressure his back could take before it figuratively snapped in two and just gave up. Life wasn't supposed to be this hard; love wasn't either.