A/N- The game's over. Anyone that didn't catch onto the riddle, you can get the answer from our summary.
Thanks for all the kind reviews and we hope you continue to enjoy our little creation.
One note, we were asked how Ryan would be able to afford a laptop and internet. We've seen Ryan with a laptop in several episodes and we just assumed it was his (a generous gift from the Cohens perhaps?). We wrote this to assume that he was on the Cohens' internet bill. He would hold onto the laptop (as opposed to selling it) because he figured it was his best shot at regaining contact with Seth. Hope that explains everything.
Disclaiming: We can only lay claim to the porch....
The Chino
Chapter Two
"Atwood. You got a call."
Damn. I didn't even know the supervisor knew my name. I follow him to the phone in the small office where the time clock is. I don't let myself think about who would be calling me. I'll find out soon enough and the short walk isn't long enough for me to prepare myself anyway.
"Said it was an emergency," the man grumbles, sitting down behind his desk. I shake off the momentary dizziness that comes from my short walk. I know I'm tired but for the last couple of days, I've been getting dizzy and breathless from short periods of exertion. I'm too exhausted to deal with an emergency right now, that's for damned sure.
I put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Ryan?"
"Theresa, what's wrong?" I ask immediately. Her voice is unsteady and I can tell by her tone that it's something serious.
"Something's wrong …."
"What? Is it Eva?"
"No … with the baby." Oh god. I steady myself but putting a hand against the table where the phone is resting.
"Where are you?"
"I'm at home."
"What's wrong? Have you called the doctor?"
"I'm bleeding … a little … can you … can you come home?" She wouldn't be asking if she wasn't worried. She knows how much this job means, how I can't lose it, but she's still scared enough to ask me to come home.
"I'll be right there. Call the doctor right now, okay?"
"Okay." She's crying.
I hang up and turn to face the supervisor.
"Everything okay?" the man asks suspiciously.
"I need to go. My girlfriend, she's pregnant and she thinks that something's wrong." I don't want to lose my job, but I have to go. It's taking every ounce of my self-control to keep from bolting out of the office.
"How far along is she?"
"I have to go. She's bleeding and …." I don't mean to say it but the words come out.
"You haven't missed a day since you started. You're a good worker. Take the rest of the morning; take tomorrow if you need it. Just leave a message on the office machine if you're not going to make it in."
"Thanks," I manage.
"Good luck. I hope everything's okay."
I hurry out of the building, breaking into a run in the parking lot. I drove Eva's car this morning because I wanted to pick up some things for the nursery. It's barely running but it's working today, thank God.
I have to get home. The sprint across the parking lot leaves me winded and I can't really focus on the road signs but I know the way home.
I never expected the call at work to be like this. I want a call about Seth's return to pull me off the line. I want a call in six months about Theresa's water breaking. Not this.
I have to get home.
I drive as fast as I can without plowing over pedestrians. I park on the street. The car sputters and there's a loud clunk. I think it might be dead, but I don't have time to worry about that.
The door slams behind me as I run into the house. She's not in the kitchen.
"Ryan?" She sounds weak.
I follow her voice to the bathroom. She's still in her waitress uniform, vainly trying to dry her tear streaked face.
"Are you all right?" I gently turn her face toward me.
"Damn, that was fast …."
"Dammit, Theresa, are you okay?" She's pale. She's scared, too, I can see it through the tears in her eyes.
"I'm fine, it's just …." She starts crying again.
I take her in my arms. She's shaking. She winds her arms around me.
"I just … I don't want to lose this baby."
"I know. Let's go to the doctor, okay?" Now is not the time for this conversation. Her trembling is contagious; My body shakes alongside hers.
"We don't have the money," she whispers into my shoulder.
"Shhh. Don't worry about that, we just have to go." She's right, but I'll have to take care of it. The few savings I've managed to collect can help. She can't be worrying right now. Not about money. She has to worry about the baby.
"I'm so scared."
"I'm here for you. There's nothing to be afraid of, okay?"
She utters a sound that I interpret as "okay" but she makes no movement to let go of me. I scoop her up. She keeps her arms around my neck and Holds on as I carry her into the kitchen.
The Theresa I know would never consent to this. She's too independent to let anyone carry her. I'm surprised that I even have the strength to lift her. Even my bones are tired.
I don't know what else to do. We can't lose this baby.
She's scared and I'm scared and I have to make this okay.
This baby … it's become everything. Theresa and our child are the center of my life now.
"Ryan, what about Ma?" I have just put her in the passenger seat of her car. Eva is slightly better, she can get out of bed and make it for short distances to the bathroom but she's hampered by her paralyzed left side. She gets tired after only a few steps. She can't be left alone.
"Let me run across the road and see if Mrs. Duncan can come over."
I hurry over to the widow's house. She's a few years older than Eva, but she doesn't have a family of her own anymore. She used to be a regular at Eva's barbecues but now she rarely comes outside. She stops in to sit with Eva a couple of times a week. I knock as patiently as I can. I put my hand on the railing of her porch for support.
"Ryan, how are you? Is everything all right?" She smiles innocently. If she only knew.
"I have to take Theresa to the hospital. Can you sit with Eva for a little while?"
"Of course. Go ahead. I'll walk over as soon as I get my shoes."
"Thanks." I run back to the car and get into the driver's seat.
"Is she coming?"
"Yes."
We ride in silence for several minutes. I don't know what to say so I drive.
"You're mad, aren't you? That I got you out of work?" Her voice is timid.
"Theresa, I'm not mad."
"But you're shaking … and you aren't talking to me."
I didn't realize that I'm still shaking. I take one hand off the wheel and reach over to take her hand. "I'm not mad; I'm worried."
"If I lose the baby … you'd leave me."
"Please don't talk like that."
"It would make everything so much easier."
"We are not losing this baby. Look at me." I sense that she turns her gaze on me but I don't take my eyes off the road. We have to get to the hospital. "We're going to make it through this."
''She squeezes my hand. She doesn't know that I'm lying. I don't know either. All I know is that we can't lose this baby. Not after all we've been through. We can't lose this baby.
----------------------/------------------------------/---------------------------/---------------------
I wish I could smoke. I'm dying for a smoke. I think that I might fall over if I don't get some nicotine into my system.
We sat in that damned room for over three hours. Doctors, nurses, P.A.'s, all kinds of fucking medical people poked and prodded Theresa until she didn't have any tears left behind her sad eyes.
I swear that she's bruised my hand with her squeezing. She hasn't said much, not since the last doctor told us that she can go home.
"You okay?" I break the thick silence.
"What are we going to do?"
I know what she's talking about. The doctors have told us that Theresa shouldn't work, that her pregnancy has become complicated. They say she should stay off her feet as much as possible. Waitressing is, in their opinion, out of the question. She shouldn't work at all. I don't know if I can support us with my job alone. They also want her to visit a specialist once a week.
"We'll work it out, Theresa. It's going to be fine."
"You can't be serious. We can't afford this."
"I'll work it out."
"How? You going to ask the Cohens to support us?"
She's tired. I don't take offense at her harsh tone, I'm too tired. "I don't want you worrying about this."
The doctor interrupts us. He has a stack of paperwork for her to go over when she gets home detailing how she can take care of herself. He hands me another stack of paperwork that I have to fill out for the financial rep. Theresa wouldn't let me leave her to meet with the lady, but I have made an appointment to talk to her about a payment plan in a couple of days. I don't want Theresa to know anything about the money. She can't do anything about it and worry's not going to solve this problem.
We don't talk on the way to the car. I know she's upset but we can't talk about it right now, it's too soon.
Once I pull onto the highway, she unbuckles her seatbelt and slides over on the seat to lean against me. I put an arm around her.
"I'm sorry."
"You're going to be fine. You just have to take it easy."
She doesn't reply. I focus on the road. We're home before I realize it. I get out and open the door to her side. I offer her a hand and she accepts. We walk toward the house together.
"I'm not going to tell Ma. She doesn't need to know. We can just tell her that it was nothing serious and we decided to have dinner while we were out." Theresa informs me of her plan as step onto the porch.
"Okay." I have to blink the exhaustion from my vision. "Do you want to talk to her?"
"Yeah. I want to get cleaned up first. I feel dirty from all those people examining me."
I loop an arm around her shoulders and we walk inside.
"I'll draw you a bath, okay?"
"You fixed the tub?"
I nod. I leave her by the counter and go to Eva's room. I thank Mrs. Duncan and she gives me a gentle hug. I'm so tired that I can't even focus on her words. Eva's asleep so I return to the kitchen.
"How'd you afford to fix the bathtub, Ryan?" Theresa asks. She's sitting at the kitchen table.
"It had to be fixed, didn't it? I mean, it leaked and it was ruining the floor." I can see in her eyes that she's angry.
"We could have used that money for something else!"
"Theresa, if I hadn't fixed the tub, the floor would have rotted out and that would cost a hell of a lot more than the damned tub." I don't mean to be harsh but this is trivial bullshit right now. She just got out of the fucking hospital and she's bringing up this shit.
"Dammit, Ryan, we can't afford it!"
"We'll make it work. I told you that I'll take care of it!"
She glares at me with worried eyes. I don't know if I've raised my voice at her since I moved in. We used to argue like auctioneers, so loud that the neighbors could hear our fights, but this is the first time in our new relationship that I've actually been loud.
I turn my back to her and stagger slightly as another wave of dizziness me. I don't want to be my father, yelling at my wife. I don't want to be my mother, yelling just because I can. I don't want to be angry. I want to be better than that. I have to recover. I lean heavily against the sink with a sigh.
"Ryan …."
"I want you to focus on the baby. That's all that matters. I'll take care of everything else." I
keep my voice even. I'm not angry. I'm just tired.
"You can't do this all by yourself." She's beside me now. "Are you all right?"
"I'm going to go draw you a bath." I don't have time for her concern. I need to get her settled in so I can start readjusting the finances. I need some quiet so I can process the rest of the day.
"Ryan, wait …," she calls out to me, but I have to focus. I continue into the bathroom and start running water into the tub. I drop some of those salts she likes into the warm water.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. I don't even recognize myself. I haven't had a haircut since I lived with the Cohens; it's long and shaggy but there's been no time. I need a shave. My eyes are sunken in. Damn, I look like hell.
But everything's okay. I can do this. The baby is okay. Theresa's okay. I can do this.
I leave the water running and return to the kitchen to put on the kettle for Eva's tea, only to find Theresa staring blankly at the answering machine.
"What?" Her expression tells me something's wrong.
"They fired me. I forgot to call my boss today. I didn't think, I just called you … I didn't think that …." She starts to cry. Dammit, I don't know if I can do this again.
"Hey, stop that. I don't want you to cry anymore today, all right? I want you to relax. Come on, let's get you in the tub."
She lets me lead her into the bathroom. She sits down on the toilet, almost dazed. I undress her and then help her step in. She leans her head against the edge of the tub.
"Thank-you."
"You're welcome. I'm going to check on your mother but I'll be right outside if you need me."
"You can join me, you know. You look like you could use a long soak."
"Are you saying I'm dirty?" It feels good to joke.
"No, I'm saying that … you have to take care of yourself better than you've been doing. You look like you're about to collapse."
I lean over and kiss her gently on the forehead. "I'm fine. I promise. I'll be right outside."
I return to the kitchen, quickly make a single cup of tea before heading back toward Eva's room. I blink away my tiredness and open the door.
"Eva?"
"Ryan. Everything okay?" Her eyes mirror Theresa's, sad and full of unshed tears.
"Yeah, it's fine."
"Heard you fighting." I walk over to the bed, place the mug on the nightstand and approach her with the glucometer.
"Sorry. We're not fighting." I give her a smile.
She is silent as the needle pricks her finger and gives me a reading. It's within range and I give her another smile.
She reaches up and puts her hand against my cheek. "You're a good boy. I can't tell you how happy I was to hear that you're going to marry Theresa. I just hope I'm well enough to sit in the front row and see it."
Whoa. This is news. Even through her garbled words, I get the message loud and clear.
Theresa hasn't mentioned anything to me. I know how religious Eva is, I know that Catholics aren't supposed to have babies out of wedlock but … I haven't even considered this.
"Ryan? Are you all right?" Her slur is worse. I know she's tired.
"I'm fine. Do you need anything?"
"No, honey, I'm okay." She smiles. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just call if you need something." I step into the hallway and lose my vision again. I grab onto the door frame as I try to blink away the spots.
This is not good. I need coffee. I need a break.
Once the spots fade, and my vision returns to normal, I finish what remains of the walk to the kitchen. I turn on my computer and lower myself onto one of the stools.
The phone rings. I choose to ignore it. I've refused to answer the phone since I've come here, but now that Theresa and Eva are bedridden, I suppose it's up to me. Whoever's calling hangs up before the machine can click in. I'll get it next time.
The screen shows forty-four new messages. Again, nothing from Seth. I habitually start another email.
Why are you doing this? You're killing your parents. They don't sleep.
You're killing me… Fuck, Seth. COME HOME.
Send.
I sift through the other notes. Marissa's gone from begging me to call her, to swearing in the subject line. Kirsten sent me a note that simply states that she misses me.
"Any news?"
I lift my head above the screen. Theresa's wrapped in a towel, letting down her hair.
I shake my head. I need something to go right.
I rub my eyes with the balls of my hands.
"You should get some sleep, Ryan. You've been up all night."
"You should lie down," I throw back at her. My words come out harsher than I'd intended. I don't need her to tell me how long I've been awake. I'm well aware. "The doctor said you shouldn't be on your feet."
I close the lid to my laptop, slide off the stool and grab her keys from the end of the counter. "I'm gonna pick up your prescriptions."
She puts a hand on my back as I walk past.
"Promise me you'll lie down?" I plead with her.
She nods and replies with something that's drown out by the squeak of the door.
"I mean it, Theresa."
"I said I will." She sighs in frustration before heading back down the hall. I noisily close the door behind me. At least I have Theresa's car.
---------------------/-----------------------------/-----------------------------/--------------------
I grab the paper bag containing Theresa's prescriptions off the seat beside me. The drugs cost a fortune. Our finances are getting tighter every day. But this is for the baby, and I can't do anything to jeopardize the health of our baby.
I stop on the porch and sit down under the glaring, afternoon sun while retrieving my last cigarette from its pack. I can't afford to smoke, but I can't quit now. It's the only thing keeping me sane through all this mess.
The lack of breeze allows the flame to last long enough for me light the smoke on the first try. I place the bag of drugs and lighter on the step beside me and inhale deeply. Bowing my head and closing my eyes, I hold the smoke down in my lungs for a couple seconds before slowly exhaling.
The heat of the sun washes over me and my muscles start to relax. I continue to hold my position while carefully enjoying every drag.
The sound of gravel under tires pulls me from my euphoria. I squint and hold my free hand over my eyes. A black car rolls to a stop and Sandy emerges from the driver's side.
I remove my hand and set my eyes drift back to the step below me and take one last drag off the smoke before tossing it onto the lawn.
-------------------------/-----------------------------/-------------------------/------------------------
"Ryan!" Sandy jogs up the walkway toward Ryan.
Ryan turns his head and rids his lungs of a cloud of smoke before responding.
"Hey," is all he can come up with. He starts to stand but stops when Sandy comes up to join him, pushing the paper bag and lighter to the side before sitting down. Sandy doesn't comment on the smoking. He just wants to be near one of his sons.
He places an arm around Ryan's shoulder and pulls him in close. "It's good to see you, kid." Sandy makes a point of calling him "kid" as a subtle reminder.
"You too," Ryan replies genuinely with a small smile.
"I've tried calling. Have you gotten my messages?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just been busy."
Sandy nods and accepts the excuse for now. "How're things? How's Theresa?"
"She's sleeping right now. We had a doctor's appointment this morning. Wore her out."
Ryan clenches his hands together but doesn't say another word.
"But she's okay?"
"Yeah." Ryan turns to face Sandy with heavy eyelids. "She's fine."
"Good. That's good …." Sandy's voice trails off as he scans the surroundings. Hundreds of cigarette butts litter the lawn. He hopes they aren't all from Ryan.
"Nothing on Seth?"
The sound of his son's name causes Sandy to sigh unsteadily. He shakes his head from side to side in obvious sorrow.
"I keep emailing him," Ryan pauses, and turns away as tears fill his eyes.
Sandy rubs a hand over Ryan's back while fighting his own emotions.
After taking several seconds to compose himself, Sandy continues. "Have you spoken to the girls? Marissa? Summer?"
Ryan bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. His eyes remain set on the steps below.
Sandy was expecting more from Ryan. He wasn't sure what, exactly, but more. The kids seems more separated than he had been that fateful day in juvie.
He scans Ryan with his eyes. He's thin, and looks like he hasn't slept in days. He doesn't want to think about why. That's not why he's here. He just wants to be with him - close to him. There will be plenty of time to worry later. He's sick to death of worrying all the time.
The silence continues for several more awkward seconds.
"Do you want to go grab some coffee somewhere?"
Ryan appears almost started by Sandy's voice, and runs a hand over his face while sighing.
"I've got to get these to Theresa," he states, reaching behind him to grab the bag containing the prescriptions.
Sandy nods, saddened that he can't even convince his son to have a coffee with him. He thought for sure, that by the look of Ryan, coffee would be the deciding factor. The kid's obviously shrouded by exhaustion.
Ryan catches Sandy's defeated eyes and nods lightly. "Let me just run these inside."
Sandy can't stop the grin from forming on his face.
Ryan presses his hands on his knees to stand. Almost immediately, he stumbles forward. Sandy reacts quickly, rising to his feet and grabbing Ryan's arm. The kid appears to steady himself.
"Are you all right?"
Ryan's eyes are closed, but he nods and swallows. After a couple seconds, his tired eyes are revealed but he turns his face away from Sandy's concerned glare.
"Ryan, are you all right?" Sandy repeats the question as if he hadn't been heard the first time.
Ryan casually shakes off Sandy's grip before responding. "Yeah, I just stood up too quickly."
Sandy tilts his head, his skepticism evident.
"I'll be back in a few seconds," Ryan says quietly before disappearing into the house.
Sandy tries not to be insulted at not being invited in, assuming that Ryan probably just doesn't want to wake Theresa.
He turns and watches the children next door play in their sandbox. All the three kids barely fit in the small play area, and are shoving one another as each one invades the other's personal space.
"Michael! Megan! Sammy! Dinner!"
The call comes from inside the house. The little girl bounces to her feet, her dress dusted with a layer of sand. She grabs the hand of the smallest boy and literally drags him in behind her. He protests and leans back toward the sandbox as it appears he is unwillingly being separated from his favorite toy.
The oldest boy continues to play with his Tonka trucks, enjoying the new space and making all the noises that would accompany the real-life machinery.
After several seconds, he is beckoned once again. "Michael!"
Sandy cringes. He's sure the entire neighborhood can hear this women summon her children.
The boy doesn't move but continues to indulge in his imaginary construction site.
A man's voice finally booms from the interior of Ryan's old house. "Michael! Get your ass in here, now!"
Sandy watches the boy's body seize with tension. He instantly drops his toys and stares at the house, motionless.
Sandy hears the creak of the door as Ryan returns, but he can't tear his eyes away from the scene playing out in front of him.
A man emerges from inside, storms out to the edge of the porch and holds up a warning hand. The boy leaps to his feet and bolts into the house. The gruff looking man swears under his breath and follows the child indoors, dramatically slamming the door behind him.
Sandy shakes his head. It breaks his heart to see children responding through fear.
He turns to Ryan, whose eyes are unfocused as he stares at his old home. Depressed, Sandy sighs. "It's sad … seeing kids go through that."
Ryan doesn't meet Sandy's eyes. "They shouldn't have to …."
"No, you're right, they shouldn't." Sandy responds by patting Ryan's shoulder supportively.
"They're kids; where are they supposed go or hide?"
To Sandy's surprise, Ryan answers the rhetorical question. "They learn to be invisible."
Sandy's confused by the comment, but doesn't push Ryan for an explanation. He's not so sure he wants to know, anyway. He's eager to change the subject. "You ready?"
"Yeah." Ryan sighs, leading the way down the steps to the luxurious, Cohen car.