Usual disclaimers apply. I don't recall the show ever mentioning the name of Ryan's father. In case I'm wrong, please let me know.
The Cohens plus Marissa sat around the kitchen waiting for Ryan to come back downstairs. They produced photographs of Dawn and had shown them to Ryan. "I know this is difficult," said the officers, "But we need you to verify that this is your mother." Ryan had studied the pictures and nodded, confirming it Dawn they had in the morgue. He then ran off again to vomit.
"Maybe I should check on him," Marissa said, "He might need someone…" She let her voice trail off.
"I think he needs some alone time," said Sandy. "He needs to let this digest."
They all jumped when the phone rang. Kirsten picked up the receiver and listened to the other end after she said hello. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," they could hear her say. "We were on the way to our appointment when we got some terrible news." She moved into the other room, so that the family could not hear her, but when she returned she said, "Dr. Williams said he'd come here when he finishes checking on his patients in the hospital. I want him to check on Ryan. The fever and the vomiting have gotten me worried."
Sandy hugged Kirsten to his side. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine."
"She threw up almost as much as I did," Ryan said as he reentered the kitchen. "Don't believe her."
"It's passed. Thank you for your concern, but I'm worried about you."
He slid onto his usual stool. "I'll be okay."
"The doctor said he'd drop by and make a house call later this evening. I'll feel better when he corroborates that."
He looked up and gave her one his classic Ryan looks.
"You see Mom," Seth said, "He's getting better already. He's already giving you one of those looks." He slapped Ryan on the back and said, "You sure do come around quickly."
Marissa went up to Ryan and gave him a quick hug. "I'm so sorry about your mom."
"Thanks."
"Let me know if there's anything I can do, okay?"
"Thanks."
"I better get going. My dad is waiting to take me to my therapy session. But I'm going to keep my cell phone on. Call if you need me."
"I will."
Marissa pecked Ryan on the cheek and left.
"So what next?" Ryan asked.
"I already called the funeral home," Sandy said. "Dawn's remains are being transferred. I called the penitentiary and they've informed Trey and your dad. As soon as we make the final arrangements we can work on having them released for the funeral."
"My dad?"
"They're still married, aren't they?" asked Sandy.
"Yeah. I guess. I never thought about it. He's been in jail for so long –"
"You haven't seen him since he went away?" Kirsten asked, trying to conceal the surprise in her voice.
"He didn't go away," said Ryan. "He was put away. And the last time I saw him, I was nine-years-old. I don't want to see him again."
"Then you don't have to," said Sandy. "We'll try and figure something out."
"Ryan," Kirsten said, "I don't mean to nag, but I really think you should go back to bed. Rest until the doctor gets here."
"I'll keep you company." Seth said. "I can tell you everything that happened in school today. You didn't miss much."
Ryan stood in front of the mirror and tried to knot his tie. Sandy had showed him how to do this more than once, before many of the formal parties he had attended with the Cohens, but he couldn't get the hang of it. He tried once more, pulling one end longer than the other, but that was all he could do. Finally, he threw the tie down in frustration. He didn't have to wear a tie. It's not like they were the formal wear type of family anyway. If his dad and Trey showed, they would probably be in prison jumpsuits. He'd be okay with a suit minus the tie.
Sandy knocked and walked in the door. "How are you feeling today?"
"Better." He'd hardly been able to move for the past three days, his body had ached so much from the fever. But Tylenol had brought down the fever and the doctor had prescribed some medication that cut the flu down to a few days if taken right away. Which was good, because Ryan wasn't sure if he would have made it to the funeral the way he had felt.
"Need help with the tie?" Sandy asked.
"How'd you guess?"
"I told you, I was twenty-five before I learned to tie one." Sandy stood behind Ryan and placed the tie around his neck. He walked the boy through the steps until there was a thin knot at the base of his neck. "You look really handsome. You would have made your mother proud."
"Thanks Sandy."
The Cohens had planned a simple graveside funeral. There weren't many people to invite, so Ryan had called Theresa, Arturo and their mother. Aside for them, everyone else was there for Ryan. There were the Cohens of course. And there was Marissa, as well as Summer, Anna and Luke as if they had become a regular clique. He knew they had come to show him moral support and he truly appreciated it.
Trey was there, with two armed guards beside him. Ryan tried not to notice the cuffs that chained Trey to his guard. His brother looked gaunt, though the cuts and abrasions from his Thanksgiving visit had healed.
"Hey," said Ryan, walking up to Trey.
"I thought they'd be feeding you over there in Newport."
"I've had the flu for the past few days. They're taking good care of me. They even got a doctor to come to the house for me."
"That's good," said Trey, "because it looks like you'll need them more than ever. I'm glad you have them. I told you Thanksgiving you should forget us. I meant it. It'll be easier now with Mom gone."
Suddenly, there was the sound of approaching feet. Ryan and Trey looked up to see their father, Roger Atwood standing beside them. Immediately, Ryan turned his head. He didn't want to see his father. Sandy had tried, but he couldn't arrange the funeral without Roger Atwood's attendance.
Like Trey, Roger's hand was shackled to one of his guards. But Roger didn't let that stop him. He threw his free arm around Ryan, trying to hug his younger son. Ryan wriggled out of his father's grasp.
"She was a good woman," Roger said, "A really good woman."
"Then why'd she dump me?"
"Dump you?" Roger said in disbelief.
"How would you know? You weren't around. She kicked me out of the house six months ago. The Cohens took me in."
"That fancy lawyer who sprung me from jail to attend the funeral – they're playing your Mommy and Daddy now?"
"Yes," said Ryan resolutely, "And they're doing a damn better job than you or Mom ever did."
"Talk nasty all you want about me, but your mother is gone," Roger said fiercely, pointing a finger at him. "Do not talk ill of the dead."
"You cannot tell me what to do," Ryan said angrily.
"I am your father dammit!"
"You lost that right when you were carted off to jail."
Suddenly, Kirsten and Sandy were at Ryan's side moving him off to the coffin. "The minister is ready to start the service."
"I'm worried about Ryan," Kirsten said later that day.
They had buried Dawn in the morning, but as per Ryan's wishes there had been no reception. He went straight upstairs and tore off his suit, and then he and Seth had parked themselves in front of the game cube were playing videogames ever since. She peered into the family room.
"He hasn't cried Sandy. It's his mother who died and he hasn't cried once."
"He's a teenage boy – from Chino – he probably thinks it's a macho thing not to cry. Kirsten, he'll let it all out when he's ready."
"I don't know what to say to him, Summer," wailed Marissa. "I feel so inept. He was there for me through so much, and I can't help him when he's having a major crisis."
Summer patted her best friend on the back. "You don't have to say anything smart or witty Marissa. Just be there for him when he's ready to talk."
"I just feel so helpless," Marissa complained as she fell into Summer's arms.
"This morning was pretty intense," Seth said to Ryan as they played a video game. Ryan didn't answer. "You know, if you want to talk, I'm here."
"I don't want to talk."
"That's fine. Whatever you want. I just want to let you know that we're brothers and you can always count on me."
Brothers, Ryan thought ironically. Seth had been more of a brother to him than Trey ever had. He was ten times more loyal and actually looked out for Ryan's well being.
"Thanks man." Ryan offered his hand for a high five.
"Kirsten, are you okay?" asked Sandy. They were still in the kitchen, talking quietly while the boys played.
"I'm fine."
"You look sick again."
"Just nauseous."
"You've been nauseous a lot lately."
"Sandy, this isn't the time."
Dawn hovered over Ryan. She was white as a ghost, her eyes were hollowed out and maggots were coming out of her head. "You'll never be happy," she told him. "You'll never be happy."
Marissa, Summer, Anna, and Luke stood at the side cackling.
Roger pointed his finger at Ryan and said, "You are my son and you will listen." He inched towards Ryan, repeating, "You will obey me. I am your father. You are my son and you will listen."
Sandy, Kirsten and Seth stood on the other side of Ryan and cackled.
"You must obey," Seth chided.
"You must obey," Echoed Kristen.
"You must obey," Repeated Sandy.
Ryan bolted up in bed breathing heavily. He didn't even look to see at the mangled mess he had made of his sheets, he just got out of bed and went down to the family room and flipped on a video game.
"Another nightmare?" Kirsten asked.
"Nauseous again?"
"That seems to be reserved for the daytime hours only." She sat down next to him. "Can I play?"
Ryan stared at her with raised brows. "Sure."
She started to play and to his surprise was good.
"So, when are you going to start confiding in Sandy or me about these nightmares. How long have they been going on?"
"I've been having dreams for years. But they started to happen pretty regularly after I moved in here."
"We have to do something about it."
"I tried Tylenol PMs. It doesn't keep them away."
"Well, then maybe we need to consider therapy. Especially with your mother's death – Ryan if you won't talk to Sandy or me then you'll have to talk to someone."
"I appreciate everything you and Sandy have done for me, but I don't need to talk. I'll be fine."
"You won't kick your flu and will keep getting sick if you don't get enough sleep."
"I'll be fine. Really."
"Well maybe that decision is going to be taken out of your hands."