Usual disclaimer applies. I don't own the characters of the OC and do not profit from writing about them.
The doctor released Ryan into Sandy and Kirsten's care after giving them a list of instructions to follow, starting from how to care for the cut on Ryan's forehead and what to do about Ryan's concussion. It was advisable that Ryan be kept awake for a few hours and to be safe, someone should wake him up a few times during the night.
"That probably won't be too difficult," he had said. "I don't sleep much now-a-days."
"Why is that?" asked the doctor.
Ryan had looked around, but refused to meet the eyes of the adults in the room. He fingered the bandage on his forehead and wondered if the stitches would begin to itch, like they had the time he had needed stitches in the back of his head when he was eight.
"Ryan," the doctor had repeated. "Why don't you sleep?"
"Because of my nightmares. I don't let myself sleep because of the nightmares I have."
Now they were sitting in the kitchen. Seth was home from his afternoon at Anna's house. He hovered over Ryan, offering him juice and Tylenol, and eyed him to make sure he didn't fall asleep.
"Seth, I'm fine."
"It's my fault. I should have just taken you home. I knew how tired you were."
"We all knew how tired I was. We just didn't think I'd fall asleep at the wheel. It's my fault. No one else's."
"Well," said Kirsten bustling into the kitchen. "I just got off the phone with the insurance company and they're also concerned as to why the airbag didn't deploy. They'll be looking into it."
"I'm sorry," said Ryan for the umpteenth time that evening.
"Ryan, there's nothing to be sorry about." She walked over to him and patted his arm. "What would you like to eat?"
"I'm not hungry."
"You are going to eat, young man. No arguments. Now what do you prefer?"
"Pizza?" He wasn't used to Kirsten raising his voice at him.
"Pizza it is," she said.
"Great," Sandy said as he walked in. "I love pizza." He threw his keys to Seth. "Why don't you go out and get us some while we talk to Ryan."
"Are you trying to ensure I don't eavesdrop?"
"Yes son, that's exactly what I'm doing. Now scoot."
"I'm going. I'm going."
Suddenly, Ryan felt alone and unprotected without Seth by his side. Sandy and Kirsten stood while he cowered over the kitchen counter. He knew he had done nothing wrong. Not on purpose. And it wasn't like Sandy and Kirsten to freak out over nothing, but he had seen adults lose it over a lot less. There had been Roger, A.J., Dawn and a dozen other boyfriends who had paraded in and out of Ryan's life. It only took a broken mug or a flippant comment to set them off against him.
"I'm sorry," he said again, hoping to ward them off. Though in his experience, sorry didn't help.
"Ryan, this isn't about being sorry. But obviously your sleep problem is a lot worse than either Sandy or I ever imagined."
"You fell asleep at the wheel of a car, in middle of the afternoon," Sandy finished for his wife.
"We're not going to wait anymore for those nightmares to disappear on their own. We called a therapist. Someone who specializes in this area. We have an appointment for you tomorrow afternoon."
"I don't need a therapist."
"This isn't your choice anymore. We're responsible for you and you could have killed yourself this afternoon!" Sandy tried to control his voice, but it was nearly a shout. "You're going to have to accept that we're the parents. My heart nearly stopped when I heard it was the ER. If anything worse had happened to you ." His voice trailed off.
Ryan was about to say I'm sorry again, but he realized that wasn't what they needed to hear. They needed him to agree to the therapy and to know that when he went in for a session he would cooperate and try to get better.
"I don't know if I can do it. I don't know that I can talk about things."
"Just try."
He looked down at his fingernails.
"Dammit, Ryan." Sandy slammed his fist down on the counter.
Ryan flinched.
Sandy noticed and immediately regretted losing his cool. "Just try," he pleaded, his voice softening. "Will you just try?"
"Yes," Ryan whispered, his voice barely audible.
When Seth returned ten minutes later with two pies, he found his parents sitting on either side of Ryan. They were quietly talking to him and reassuring him. He sensed they still needed some privacy. The phone rang, so he put the pizza down and grabbed it before anyone else got up.
"Is Mrs. Cohen in?" said the voice on the other end.
"Who's calling?"
"It's Dr. Hawke's office."
"Mom," Seth called, walking into the kitchen with the cordless in hand. "It's Dr. Hawke's office."
"Oh, I better get that." She took the phone from Seth and went into the other room for some privacy.
Seth stayed where he was, so he could hear his mother's end of the conversation.
"Yes," she was saying, "It's like I thought. So when should I make a follow-up appointment? Yes," she said after a brief pause, "Thursday is fine. Three thirty. Thank you."
"Mom?" asked Seth as soon as she hung up. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine."
"Are you sick?"
"I'm fine Seth."
"I know you're still throwing up. You seem okay when you get home, but it hasn't gone away."
"Seth, I promise I'm fine. Thank you for being so concerned. But we have to worry about Ryan now."
They went into the kitchen together. Sandy and Ryan were busy setting the table. The pizza boxes were open and the pies were being reheated in the oven.
"Dad," Seth said. "Do you know what's wrong with Mom?"
"Seth," warned Kirsten. "Don't start. I promise you everything is fine."
"So what was that call all about? Why do you need a follow-up appointment?"
Seth couldn't understand why his mother was being so evasive. Wild thoughts ran through his head. Was it cancer or some other nameless disease? How could his parents be so calm? Did his father even know? Maybe she was waiting to tell him first, and then they would break the news to Seth and Ryan. Seth tried to knock the thoughts from his head, but to no avail.
"Mom," he whined. "Please tell us. You practically fainted when painting Ryan's room. You've been throwing up non-stop. Now I hear you on the phone making an appointment with a doc-"
"Seth, just stop it already. Enough."
Seth took a step back. His mother had never yelled at him like that before.
Kirsten yanked open the refrigerator and grabbed a bag of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and a pepper. "Get me a knife and the cutting board," she commanded. After setting the vegetables on the counter, she took down a bowl, and started to chop the vegetables with an angry thwack.
"I appreciate your concern," she said after an awkward silence, but I don't appreciate you needling me into sharing news with you that's not necessarily your business. If there's something to tell, I'll tell you when I'm damn good and ready. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am"
Sandy walked over to the island and grabbed the bag of lettuce. Silently, he opened the bag and dumped the pieces into the bowl after shredding them into bite size pieces. When Kirsten angrily whack the tomato, spritzing juice all over, he put a calming hand on hers.
"I'm ready to tell the boys when you are."
"No. Not like this."
As Sandy and Kirsten discussed it in hushed tones, Seth walked over to Ryan.
"At least I got them to stop thinking about you and your nightmares."
"I've never seen your mom like this."
"I don't think I have either."
"It must be hormones," Ryan dared to say in a whisper so Kirsten wouldn't overhear.
Seth bit his lip, because he knew laughing was the wrong thing to do. The oven's timer went off. Seth tiptoed around his father and made a show of putting his hands over his ears, until he needed them to open the oven door and to slide out the pizzas.
"Are we ready to eat?" Kirsten asked. No one answered. "Look, I'm sorry. But I didn't appreciate your pestering Seth. I'm sorry I exploded."
She carried the salad to the table. Seth followed her with the pizzas and Sandy brought the drinks. When they were all seated and had a slice in front of them, Kirsten started to speak.
"The vomiting is morning sickness," she finally said.
"What type of disease is that?" asked Seth, with a string of cheese coming out of his mouth. Ryan slapped his arm and Seth turned, "What?"
"Morning sickness is not a disease it's a symptom."
"A symptom? Oh!" Seth's eyes lit up with understanding. "Mom, you're pregnant?"
Kirsten nodded her head, a smile spreading on her lips.
"Aren't you too old?" Seth asked. Ryan slapped him again and Sandy got him on the back of his head. "Owe," he said rubbing his rubbing his head and then his arm. "Was that insensitive? I'm sorry if it was."
"Congratulations guys," Ryan said softly. "That's great news."
"Thanks, sweetie. We thought so too."
"We're going to have another Cohen?" Seth put down the pizza he was holding. "I'm going to finally be a big brother, huh?"
"Yes Seth."
"You know," Seth said, turning to Ryan. "I asked for a younger sibling about ten years ago first for Chrismukkah and then my birthday. They're a little slow on delivering, so if you want something, you better put in for it now."
"Seth," cried Kirsten with a laugh.
"Just telling the truth, Mom."
She shook her head, secretly glad that everyone was taking the news so well and then picked up her slice and started eating.