I'm chugging Buckley's and listening to the Gaithers while I'm typing this
up. All you Southern Baptists out there say "Amen". All you Canadians can
relate to the Buckley's mixture of crap. Tastes awful, but it works.
I still own nothing. Ghoti handles all the legal stuff now.
Chapter 28
It was only after Ryan promised he'd eat his breakfast that the n.g. tube was removed. The discomfort of having that tube removed was offset by the unpleasantness of the catheter removal. With the help of a walker, he was able to take a shower before his meal came. Scrubbing the shampoo onto his head, Ryan noticed his hair was now close to 1 cm long. The scars felt strange under his fingers. He made good use of the grab bars in the shower stall. He had been warned about the dizziness from the meds he was on and right now the world was one big kaleidescope. . Ryan insisted on taking the shower without any assistance. It was the last shred of privacy he was going to have for a while. As much as he wanted to stay in the warm water, it was obvious to him that the Cohens would send out a search and rescue team if he didn't come out soon. After struggling with a clean t-shirt and sweats, he stuffed his feet into the white slip-on runners that had been packed for him. Footwear of inmates and the infirm everywhere.
The familiar squeak of rubber on linoleum announced to the Cohens that Ryan was coming out of the washroom. Sandy held the door open as Ryan tentatively pushed the walker in front of him. They watched as he slowly maneuvered himself back to the bed. It took all the self control the family had in them to just sit back and let Ryan get himself back into bed. He looked at the covered breakfast tray on the bedside table. He cut Seth off just as his new brother was just about to speak.
"D-d-don't say it..."
Seth looked at Ryan, wide eyed and innocent.
"What...?"
Sandy and Kirsten watched in amazement as Ryan turned an even whiter shade of pale.
"You kn-kn-know what..."
Now Ryan was struggling to control his gag reflex. He did not want to spew on Kirsten.
"Chill dude..." Seth said as he lifted the domed lid from the tray. "It's just scrambled eggs and juice."
Ryan slowly exhaled. The Cohen parents looked at Seth, their faces confused.
"The dogs had Pavlov, Ryan has..."
Sandy immediately made the connection
"Seth, if he hurls on your mother, I will not only go medieval on your ass, I'm gonna go all the way back to Leviticus and put the helpful hints listed there to good use..."
Seth tried to look properly chastised but failed miserably when he noticed the smiles of the rest of his family. He realized then what an amazing family he had. Within the last six months, they'd gotten a new son who had come with no instruction manual whatsoever, unlike the plethora of infant and toddler books on the market, dealt with a major car accident that nearly killed both boys and now the new son is in a psychiatric facility and they're all sitting around joking about vomit. For the first time, Seth realized how strong his parents were and because of their strength nothing was insurmountable. He knew then that his parents would never abandon Ryan. Despite his firm words to Ryan earlier, that thought had always been an unspeakable fear in his mind and just as David had done with a pituitary overloaded Philistine, that fear had been vanquished. Maybe he should lay off the caffeine. His brain needed to rest.
The Cohens struggled to keep their emotions in check as they said good-bye to Ryan. Unless they received a phone call from Dr. Rodriguez, they were banished from the clinic for the next 24 hours. They drove to a small restaurant to discuss how they would get through the following 23 hours, 37 minutes. They knew they couldn't sit around and watch the clock. After a quick perusal of the menu they ordered lunch.
23 hours, 34 minutes, 16 seconds.
Sandy decided he'd head back to Newport and check in with the firm and with Jimmy at the Lighthouse.
23 hours, 31 minutes, 12 seconds.
Kirsten nodded. After nearly 20 years of marriage, she knew Sandy's thought process. Time would move at an accelerated pace if he was occupied.
23 hours, 28 minutes, 5 seconds.
Sandy knew Kirsten would hole up in the office at the beach house. Only Caleb would have a home office in a vacation property.
23 hours, 27 minutes, 58 seconds.
They both knew Seth would lose himself in a video game alternate universe, slugging back copious quantities of Mountain Dew, slaying mutant ninja trolls until he was able to make a leap through a rip in the time/space continuum that would bring him to the next day.
23 hours, 24 minutes, 45 seconds.
* * * *
As much as Ryan would have loved going back to sleep, he was happy to be out of his room. He was given his next dose of lorazepam in pill form. He had to keep the pill under his tongue for 2 minutes, not allowed to swallow until the time was up. He was sure the Cohens were counting silently with him. He had closed his eyes during the countdown, because he knew if he looked at Seth the whole process would somehow get screwed up and he'd end up with another injection. The Cohens stayed with him until he was finished his lunch. The medication made him tired, nauseous and dizzy. His head and stomach felt like he had been on a "tilt-a-whirl" for a 30 minute non-stop ride from hell.
He sat in a bright lounge with Dr. Rodriguez, secluded from the rest of the clinic, waiting for the ride to start up again.
Dr. Rodriguez waited for the kitchen porter to leave. He had set down a large glass of ginger-ale and a plate of saltines within easy reach of Ryan. Ryan mumbled his thanks and then looked away to the top of the coffee table, his eyes fixated on an irregular shaped knot in the wood. The doctor decided to toss Ryan an easy lob.
"How are you feeling, Ryan?"
"Fine..." He answered automatically, not lifting his eyes.
Dr. Rodriguez nonchalantly covered the spot on the table Ryan had been staring at with a magazine.
"No, not good enough... That's the only "F" word I won't allow in our conversations... Do I have to repeat the question?"
Ryan had the same detached feeling he experienced when he was asleep, watching his nightmares. He raised his eyes and looked at the doctor.
"I f-feel like cr-crap..." He said quietly. "I d-don't want t-t-to do this..."
"You can't hide from your past anymore... You have to deal with it..."
"I know th-that! Ryan said angrily. "Th-there's so much shit go-going on in m-m-my head..."
He was silent for a moment.
"S-s-sorry..."
Ryan's voice decreased drastically in volume and his eyes looked back to the floor.
Dr. Rodriguez shook her head.
"I don't allow apologies during our sessions. You don't apologize for how you're feeling or for using profanity to describe them. Do I make myself clear?"
Ryan nodded.
"Are you ready to do this now...?"
"N-n-no..." Ryan still didn't look up. "But I h-have to do it f-f-for the Cohens, 'cause I-I'm not ready to do it f-f-for me..."
"Do you believe the Cohens want you as their son and want you in their family?"
Ryan looked up at the doctor and met her eyes.
"I...I have to be-believe they care about m-me and they w-want me-me to be part of the...the family... If I didn't...th-then all of th-this will have been f- for nothing..."
Ryan leaned back in the chair, wincing at the pain in his chest and abdomen. He settled back and tried to relax.
The doctor studied Ryan carefully. She knew he was being honest with her. She'd accepted his answer of having therapy for the sake of the Cohens instead of his own. While that line of reasoning was generally frowned upon as a motive for therapeutic help, Dr. Rodriguez took the comment as a testament to Ryan's feelings of unworthiness and self doubt. As much as he wanted to be a part of the Cohen family, he still felt he didn't deserve to be.
She finally got Ryan to open up to her. The lorazepam made it easier for him to talk. He spoke of events in his childhood in a flat, unemotional voice. His eyes held no emotion as he recited the laundry list of abuse and neglect. They talked for nearly two hours. Dr. Rodriguez deftly probed Ryan's memories, opening old wounds, allowing the festering anger and pain drain away. He hadn't really mentioned his mother's boyfriends yet... she could see he was tired. They still had not explored the issue of sexual abuse and Dawn's role in it.
"I think we should take a break for a while... I'll walk you back to your room..."
It didn't take long to get Ryan settled back in bed. He was asleep within minutes. Dr. Rodriguez adjusted the blankets around the boy and left the room, returning to the lounge to retrieve the tape recorder that had preserved the last 118 minutes. She made herself a large mug of herbal tea and went to her office, closing the door behind her. Sitting down, she opened her notebook and reached for the play back button on the recorder.
* * * *
Sandy pulled into the parking lot of the Lighthouse and watched the construction crew work. At least the building was still standing.
21 hours, 52 minutes, 12 seconds.
He nodded to the guys as he walked past them. Entering the restaurant, he was pleased to see how far the renovations were. The walls had been painted a rich caramel colour and mercifully no tacky nautical theme or Modagliani type cherubs adorned them. He saw Jimmy Cooper in the corner, discussing the kitchen design with the head chef. Jimmy seemed to be in his element. Hopefully he was a better restauranteur than he was financial advisor. Sandy sat in a booth and waited for his partner.
* * * *
Kirsten scowled at the computer monitor. She had been trying to make sense of the specifications sent by the contractors. She closed her eyes for a few moments and opened them again, hoping against hope that the numbers before her would magically make sense. She refused to look at the clock as she typed new numbers on the screen.
* * * *
Seth worked his way through different levels of the video game. He captured his prey quickly and methodically, creatively visualizing Dawn Atwood's face every time another troll melted from the screen.
20 hours, 2 minutes, 0 seconds.
* * * *
"Tell me about Trey...?"
Ryan narrowed his eyes and looked at Dr. Rodriguez.
"He's my b-brother... He's s-s-six years older th-than me... What else d-d- you want to know?"
The doctor noticed Ryan's speech was improving. The stuttering was becoming less apparent.
"Were you guys close? Did you hang out together?"
Ryan shrugged and fiddled with the belt of his house coat.
"He g-gave me my first cig...cigarette, my first d-drink and my first joint... He taught m-me how n-n-not to steal a car..."
"Anything else?"
"After d-dad went to jail, we m-moved to Chino. Trey d-d-didn't hang around much after that... M-mom had her boyfriends..."
The doctor watched as Ryan tied violent knots in the length of navy velour, absently untying them when there was nothing left to twist, only to repeat the process again.
"What was it like for you when your mother would move her boyfriends into your house?"
* * * * *
Sandy locked the door of the Beemer and trudged up the front steps of the law firm.
18 hours, 45 minutes, 36 minutes.
I still own nothing. Ghoti handles all the legal stuff now.
Chapter 28
It was only after Ryan promised he'd eat his breakfast that the n.g. tube was removed. The discomfort of having that tube removed was offset by the unpleasantness of the catheter removal. With the help of a walker, he was able to take a shower before his meal came. Scrubbing the shampoo onto his head, Ryan noticed his hair was now close to 1 cm long. The scars felt strange under his fingers. He made good use of the grab bars in the shower stall. He had been warned about the dizziness from the meds he was on and right now the world was one big kaleidescope. . Ryan insisted on taking the shower without any assistance. It was the last shred of privacy he was going to have for a while. As much as he wanted to stay in the warm water, it was obvious to him that the Cohens would send out a search and rescue team if he didn't come out soon. After struggling with a clean t-shirt and sweats, he stuffed his feet into the white slip-on runners that had been packed for him. Footwear of inmates and the infirm everywhere.
The familiar squeak of rubber on linoleum announced to the Cohens that Ryan was coming out of the washroom. Sandy held the door open as Ryan tentatively pushed the walker in front of him. They watched as he slowly maneuvered himself back to the bed. It took all the self control the family had in them to just sit back and let Ryan get himself back into bed. He looked at the covered breakfast tray on the bedside table. He cut Seth off just as his new brother was just about to speak.
"D-d-don't say it..."
Seth looked at Ryan, wide eyed and innocent.
"What...?"
Sandy and Kirsten watched in amazement as Ryan turned an even whiter shade of pale.
"You kn-kn-know what..."
Now Ryan was struggling to control his gag reflex. He did not want to spew on Kirsten.
"Chill dude..." Seth said as he lifted the domed lid from the tray. "It's just scrambled eggs and juice."
Ryan slowly exhaled. The Cohen parents looked at Seth, their faces confused.
"The dogs had Pavlov, Ryan has..."
Sandy immediately made the connection
"Seth, if he hurls on your mother, I will not only go medieval on your ass, I'm gonna go all the way back to Leviticus and put the helpful hints listed there to good use..."
Seth tried to look properly chastised but failed miserably when he noticed the smiles of the rest of his family. He realized then what an amazing family he had. Within the last six months, they'd gotten a new son who had come with no instruction manual whatsoever, unlike the plethora of infant and toddler books on the market, dealt with a major car accident that nearly killed both boys and now the new son is in a psychiatric facility and they're all sitting around joking about vomit. For the first time, Seth realized how strong his parents were and because of their strength nothing was insurmountable. He knew then that his parents would never abandon Ryan. Despite his firm words to Ryan earlier, that thought had always been an unspeakable fear in his mind and just as David had done with a pituitary overloaded Philistine, that fear had been vanquished. Maybe he should lay off the caffeine. His brain needed to rest.
The Cohens struggled to keep their emotions in check as they said good-bye to Ryan. Unless they received a phone call from Dr. Rodriguez, they were banished from the clinic for the next 24 hours. They drove to a small restaurant to discuss how they would get through the following 23 hours, 37 minutes. They knew they couldn't sit around and watch the clock. After a quick perusal of the menu they ordered lunch.
23 hours, 34 minutes, 16 seconds.
Sandy decided he'd head back to Newport and check in with the firm and with Jimmy at the Lighthouse.
23 hours, 31 minutes, 12 seconds.
Kirsten nodded. After nearly 20 years of marriage, she knew Sandy's thought process. Time would move at an accelerated pace if he was occupied.
23 hours, 28 minutes, 5 seconds.
Sandy knew Kirsten would hole up in the office at the beach house. Only Caleb would have a home office in a vacation property.
23 hours, 27 minutes, 58 seconds.
They both knew Seth would lose himself in a video game alternate universe, slugging back copious quantities of Mountain Dew, slaying mutant ninja trolls until he was able to make a leap through a rip in the time/space continuum that would bring him to the next day.
23 hours, 24 minutes, 45 seconds.
* * * *
As much as Ryan would have loved going back to sleep, he was happy to be out of his room. He was given his next dose of lorazepam in pill form. He had to keep the pill under his tongue for 2 minutes, not allowed to swallow until the time was up. He was sure the Cohens were counting silently with him. He had closed his eyes during the countdown, because he knew if he looked at Seth the whole process would somehow get screwed up and he'd end up with another injection. The Cohens stayed with him until he was finished his lunch. The medication made him tired, nauseous and dizzy. His head and stomach felt like he had been on a "tilt-a-whirl" for a 30 minute non-stop ride from hell.
He sat in a bright lounge with Dr. Rodriguez, secluded from the rest of the clinic, waiting for the ride to start up again.
Dr. Rodriguez waited for the kitchen porter to leave. He had set down a large glass of ginger-ale and a plate of saltines within easy reach of Ryan. Ryan mumbled his thanks and then looked away to the top of the coffee table, his eyes fixated on an irregular shaped knot in the wood. The doctor decided to toss Ryan an easy lob.
"How are you feeling, Ryan?"
"Fine..." He answered automatically, not lifting his eyes.
Dr. Rodriguez nonchalantly covered the spot on the table Ryan had been staring at with a magazine.
"No, not good enough... That's the only "F" word I won't allow in our conversations... Do I have to repeat the question?"
Ryan had the same detached feeling he experienced when he was asleep, watching his nightmares. He raised his eyes and looked at the doctor.
"I f-feel like cr-crap..." He said quietly. "I d-don't want t-t-to do this..."
"You can't hide from your past anymore... You have to deal with it..."
"I know th-that! Ryan said angrily. "Th-there's so much shit go-going on in m-m-my head..."
He was silent for a moment.
"S-s-sorry..."
Ryan's voice decreased drastically in volume and his eyes looked back to the floor.
Dr. Rodriguez shook her head.
"I don't allow apologies during our sessions. You don't apologize for how you're feeling or for using profanity to describe them. Do I make myself clear?"
Ryan nodded.
"Are you ready to do this now...?"
"N-n-no..." Ryan still didn't look up. "But I h-have to do it f-f-for the Cohens, 'cause I-I'm not ready to do it f-f-for me..."
"Do you believe the Cohens want you as their son and want you in their family?"
Ryan looked up at the doctor and met her eyes.
"I...I have to be-believe they care about m-me and they w-want me-me to be part of the...the family... If I didn't...th-then all of th-this will have been f- for nothing..."
Ryan leaned back in the chair, wincing at the pain in his chest and abdomen. He settled back and tried to relax.
The doctor studied Ryan carefully. She knew he was being honest with her. She'd accepted his answer of having therapy for the sake of the Cohens instead of his own. While that line of reasoning was generally frowned upon as a motive for therapeutic help, Dr. Rodriguez took the comment as a testament to Ryan's feelings of unworthiness and self doubt. As much as he wanted to be a part of the Cohen family, he still felt he didn't deserve to be.
She finally got Ryan to open up to her. The lorazepam made it easier for him to talk. He spoke of events in his childhood in a flat, unemotional voice. His eyes held no emotion as he recited the laundry list of abuse and neglect. They talked for nearly two hours. Dr. Rodriguez deftly probed Ryan's memories, opening old wounds, allowing the festering anger and pain drain away. He hadn't really mentioned his mother's boyfriends yet... she could see he was tired. They still had not explored the issue of sexual abuse and Dawn's role in it.
"I think we should take a break for a while... I'll walk you back to your room..."
It didn't take long to get Ryan settled back in bed. He was asleep within minutes. Dr. Rodriguez adjusted the blankets around the boy and left the room, returning to the lounge to retrieve the tape recorder that had preserved the last 118 minutes. She made herself a large mug of herbal tea and went to her office, closing the door behind her. Sitting down, she opened her notebook and reached for the play back button on the recorder.
* * * *
Sandy pulled into the parking lot of the Lighthouse and watched the construction crew work. At least the building was still standing.
21 hours, 52 minutes, 12 seconds.
He nodded to the guys as he walked past them. Entering the restaurant, he was pleased to see how far the renovations were. The walls had been painted a rich caramel colour and mercifully no tacky nautical theme or Modagliani type cherubs adorned them. He saw Jimmy Cooper in the corner, discussing the kitchen design with the head chef. Jimmy seemed to be in his element. Hopefully he was a better restauranteur than he was financial advisor. Sandy sat in a booth and waited for his partner.
* * * *
Kirsten scowled at the computer monitor. She had been trying to make sense of the specifications sent by the contractors. She closed her eyes for a few moments and opened them again, hoping against hope that the numbers before her would magically make sense. She refused to look at the clock as she typed new numbers on the screen.
* * * *
Seth worked his way through different levels of the video game. He captured his prey quickly and methodically, creatively visualizing Dawn Atwood's face every time another troll melted from the screen.
20 hours, 2 minutes, 0 seconds.
* * * *
"Tell me about Trey...?"
Ryan narrowed his eyes and looked at Dr. Rodriguez.
"He's my b-brother... He's s-s-six years older th-than me... What else d-d- you want to know?"
The doctor noticed Ryan's speech was improving. The stuttering was becoming less apparent.
"Were you guys close? Did you hang out together?"
Ryan shrugged and fiddled with the belt of his house coat.
"He g-gave me my first cig...cigarette, my first d-drink and my first joint... He taught m-me how n-n-not to steal a car..."
"Anything else?"
"After d-dad went to jail, we m-moved to Chino. Trey d-d-didn't hang around much after that... M-mom had her boyfriends..."
The doctor watched as Ryan tied violent knots in the length of navy velour, absently untying them when there was nothing left to twist, only to repeat the process again.
"What was it like for you when your mother would move her boyfriends into your house?"
* * * * *
Sandy locked the door of the Beemer and trudged up the front steps of the law firm.
18 hours, 45 minutes, 36 minutes.