A/N - Thanks to all of you who left those kind reviews. We're so glad you're enjoying our little creation. It doesn't get any easier for poor Ryan, but I suppose that's to be expected in The Chino.
Disclaimer: Our egos force us to claim that porch, but unfortunately, we don't own Mr. Atwood, or any other original characters. In time, my friends... all in good time.
The Chino
Chapter Four
Kirsten isn't sure she believes her eyes when she sees her son across the lobby. Sandy has been doing most of the talking, she's been spinning since getting the phone call from Theresa.
"He won't burden you."
God, Ryan wasn't a burden, he had to know that, she has to prove to him that he's part of her family; so she had grabbed her husband and they had driven to the hospital where Theresa had said she was staying.
But that isn't what's taken her breath. It's Seth. He's more tanned than she remembers and she thinks he's taller but she suddenly realizes that it's because he's standing beside a much shorter, hunched over boy. The boy is Ryan. She doesn't let herself think about how totally awful he looks. She can only see Seth right now. Is it really him?
"Seth?" she calls, and watches as both boys freeze. She can't stop herself from crying as she rushes over to him and embraces him. She feels Sandy beside her shortly after.
She can't stop crying. She never thought she'd see him again. Somehow, she'd known he was alive but that didn't mean that he'd come home to her. He's her son, her baby boy, and he's so solid in her arms. He's not disappearing when she grips his shirt. He's real. He's really back.
"God, Seth. Where the hell have you been?" Sandy manages to get out, pulling Seth into a hug once Kirsten lets go.
She has so many questions, she has so many worries. Has he been eating? Has he been taking care of himself? Has he used any sunscreen at all?
"Where'd Ryan go?" Seth asks, not answering his father's question. His eyes are clouded with worry.
"He was right here …. How is he?" Sandy asks.
"I don't know … I've never seen him like this," Seth says honestly.
"What are you doing here?" Sandy continues, confused but completely relieved to see his son. Kirsten knows that the lectures will come later but for now, her husband's just happy to see his son alive and well.
"I spent my last money on cab fare to Ryan's house. I … I just needed to see him first. He wasn't home, so I waited for him," Seth explains. "He called you guys?"
"No, we haven't talked to him in weeks. It's been hell, Seth, here without you," Sandy admits.
Kirsten has to find Ryan. No matter how happy and overjoyed she is to see Seth, she has to talk to Ryan. She glances around the lobby and a swinging door to the parking lot catches her attention. Why would he run? Why didn't he wait for us? We just want to help him.
She follows her instincts and heads outside. She glances around and sees him off to her left. A shiver of dread rushes through her chest.
He's in such pain. He's so broken. He did everything he could to make a life for this child and in an instant, everything's been taken away. She knows how he feels. He's lost his child.
She's never seen him cry before. His face is hidden as his forehead is resting against his knees, but she can sense his tears.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie …." She sits down on the dirty pavement beside him and places a hand on his shoulder. He's shaking so hard that she fears he'll break into pieces. He's shattered and all she wants to do is give him some strength to help him through.
When he finally raises his head to look at her, she can barely contain her surprise. His eyes are dull and clouded with conflicting emotions. She never claimed to be able to read him, but there's got so much pain and anger and hurt in his eyes, that she knows that he's barely holding it together. His face is drawn and lined with age that he doesn't deserve.
The circles under his eyes are darker than bruises.
"Thanks," he murmurs. She squeezes his shoulder and a shudder runs through his body from the gesture.
"Are you okay?" She regrets her question immediately. He visibly steadies himself and makes himself strong for her. He won't let her think he's weak. She loves him and she hurts seeing him put on a mask for her.
"I'm okay. I have to get back to Theresa."
"Theresa called me. She said that she was worried about you and …," Kirsten begins as Ryan pulls himself unsteadily to his feet, wiping his tear-streaked face with the back of his trembling hand.
She gets up and stands beside him. She reaches for him but he takes a step back.
"I can't do this right now …."
"Ryan …."
"You should go be with your son."
She's stricken by his flat words but she forces herself not to react by allowing him to push her away.
"I am trying to take care of my son. We came for you, Ryan."
"I can't do this with you here," he says suddenly.
"What?" Kirsten replies softly, outwardly confused.
"Theresa … she thought she was doing the right thing but … but I'm barely … I can't … It's too much with you guys here … right now …." His quiet voice wavers unsteadily. He runs a hand over his face and blinks rapidly several times.
"We're here to help you through, Ryan."
"I know, and it means a lot to me … but this is my problem."
"You're family. It's our problem …." Kirsten forces herself not to get upset. She has to get through to him. She's been so caught up in the loss of her other son that she didn't take care of the one she still had. Ryan's been in Chino for months and from the look of him, he hasn't been taking care of himself. She's failed him as a mother. She didn't help him; she put him out on his own to take care of himself and she didn't consider that he couldn't handle it. The sporadic phone calls and single-lined emails had almost convinced her that he was fine.
But nothing is fine right now.
"I have to get back to Theresa."
"She'll be fine, Ryan." Kirsten tries to assure the emotionally distraught teen.
"She's not fine. She's anything but fine and I'm all she has …," Ryan says in a burst. He stops himself and takes a deep breath. He meets her gaze with cold eyes. She realizes that all his emotion is gone. In an instant, he's transformed before her eyes.
"I'm all she has. I'll call you tomorrow."
"No, you won't, Ryan. You won't call. You never call." She says the words without thinking first. She can't do that anymore. She can't take any unnecessary risks. She can't scare him off.
He turns his back to her. His shoulders are tense and stiff. He's composed now, but his voice chills her. "You can think whatever you want about me. You can think I don't call because I don't care. You can think that if it makes you feel better, but I had hoped that you knew me better than that. I have to do this myself. I won't take your charity or your pity. I have to be with Theresa right now. It's not time for this. For any of this. I have to go …."
"Ryan," she calls out as he turns away. "We'll be here for you. Whatever you need …."
He walks away without responding.
As Sandy and Seth walk out, they pass Ryan. He doesn't look at them. Seth reaches out to touch his arm but his gesture can't generate a reaction from Ryan. He just keeps walking.
"Let him go," Kirsten whispers as she walks through the doors. The tears come again.
She's lost another son.
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I knock softly on Theresa's opened door. The nurses recognize me and all give sympathetic smiles. I wonder what they think of us. They probably think we're just kids - that this miscarriage is for the best. But they don't know us. They don't know what's happened to us.
The lights are off in her room but I can see her eyes shining in the darkness.
"Ryan …." Her voice is wracked with sobs.
Oh God.
I walk over to the bed and sit down on the edge beside her. She molds herself against my body, tightly wrapping her arms around me. I notice the IV in her hand and I carefully arrange it across the bed so she doesn't pull it out.
"It's okay, I'm here …." I won't leave her. Not now. Not after all this. I'll hold onto her forever if that's what she needs. I'm just glad that she's crying. Anything's better than the cold woman I saw earlier. I'd rather her be sobbing than pretending everything is fine.
That's my job. I'm here to make sure everything's fine for her.
"I got scared. I thought you wouldn't come back … I thought you'd go with them …," she chokes out.
"Who?" I'm so confused.
"The Cohens. I called them … but then … I don't want you to go yet. I need you … I'm sorry."
"I'm not going anywhere, Theresa," I brush her hair off her forehead. "I'm here for you. I promise. Don't worry." I rock her body gently until her tremors lessen. She pulls away.
"I'm sorry. I thought I was handling it … but I was alone and …."
"I won't leave you again."
She smiles gratefully. She looks so fragile - like she's made of glass.
"Did you make those calls?"
"I couldn't find your phone book."
Her face becomes thoughtful. A wave of realization washes across her features and she stiffens in my arms.
"What? I'm sorry, Theresa, I just couldn't find it …." I don't want her to be upset with me. I really tried to find it.
"No, it's not that. The last time I had it … I was at Eddie's. I think it might still be there …," she admits, not meeting my gaze.
Fuck. That's just what I need. That bastard has her phone book. I won't get upset. She
can't see me upset. It's not good for her.
She looks at me pleadingly. "It's the only place with all the phone numbers in it, Ryan. I need that … I don't know the numbers."
Fuck. I can do this. "Okay. I'll get it for you."
"You said you wouldn't leave me …," she gasps. Her fingers dig into my back as she pulls me closer.
"I …." What does she want me to do? She says she needs the book but she won't let me leave? Okay. I can figure this out. "I'll call him, okay? See if he'll bring it over."
"Really? You'd do that for me?"
Doesn't she know by now that I'll do anything for her? Anything.
"Of course. Let me just step outside to the payphone."
"Don't leave me …."
She's bruising my flesh. I can't leave her. I rub her back. "Okay, I'll use this phone. Why don't you try and lie down?"
"It hurts …."
I'm immediately alarmed. Should she still be in pain? Aren't they taking care of her? She just lost a baby, she shouldn't be in pain like this. "Theresa? Do you want me to call the nurse?"
"No … I mean, this hurts so much … losing ... everything."
"I know. I'm sorry." I don't know what to say, my words aren't working. I have no vocabulary, it's all just words.
"Ryan …."
"Just rest." I gently get off the bed and pull the chair within reach of both Theresa and the phone.
"You're really going to call him?"
"I'll do whatever you need, Theresa. Just tell me the number."
I try not to let my hands shake. Not in front of her. I'm not on automatic anymore; I'm just breathing. I can't feel anything now. I won't allow it. I can't break down and the only way I can maintain this composure is if I don't feel anything. I won't let Eddie get to me. This is about Theresa. It's not about me. It's not about that punk, Eddie. It's about Theresa and what she needs from me right now.
"Yeah?"
I recognize his voice. Theresa's hand squeezes mine tightly.
"Eddie. It's Ryan."
"Ryan. What's up? Is everything okay?"
"Not really. Is Theresa's phone book lying around there anywhere?"
"What happened? Is something wrong? What did you do to her?"
I take a deep breath and try to ignore Theresa's burning gaze.
"Ryan?"
"Do you have the book, Eddie?" I'm too tired to argue with him right now. Stick to the plan. Just go through the motions.
"If you hurt her, I'll fucking kill you …."
"Eddie."
"Did she lose the baby?"
I have to answer him. He's an ass but he should know. Theresa would want him to know.
"Yeah."
"You fucking asshole. You bastard! I should've known you couldn't take care of her….
This would never have happened if she was with me!"
I close my eyes. It's like knives are cutting into my stomach.
"Give me the phone," Theresa demands. I shake my head at her.
"Eddie. Do you have the book?"
"I'll see if I can find it," he growls angrily.
"I'll wait." I listen as he puts the phone down.
"Ryan?" Theresa's searching for answers.
"He's looking." My voice is amazingly even.
"What did he say to you?"
"It's fine, Theresa. Just give him a minute to look around."
I hear movement over the phone. "I've got it."
"Good. Can you bring it to me?"
He pauses. "Where are you?"
"Chino Hills Memorial."
He sighs. "I'm on my way. Is she all right?"
"She's fine. I'll see you in few minutes." I slam the phone back onto the cradle and run my
hands through my hair.
----------------/---------------------/--------------------/-------------------
I walk outside and light up a cigarette. Theresa had allowed me to leave her alone for a few minutes while I try to intercept Eddie.
I inhale deeply, craving - needing - the nicotine now more than ever. I wish it was stronger.
"Ryan."
I turn to see Eddie walking up. He has a cigarette dangling from his lips. He's angry. I couldn't care less.
"Eddie."
"What the fuck happened?" he demands.
"Did you bring the book?" He tosses the small red book at me. I snipe it from the air with one hand and slip it into my pocket.
"What the fuck happened, Ryan?"
"She lost it." What else is there to say?
He approaches. I can't react quick enough to pull away and out of his reach.
"What did you do to her?" He yells while grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently.
I can't believe this bastard is putting his hands on me. I can't believe it. Before I can recover and recompose, I throw a swift left hook that knocks him back several steps. I need to break something. Eddie's convenient. I continue to punch him, driving him against the wall and pounding my fists into his face and stomach.
Red. There's blood on my hands. I freeze. Step back.
"You little punk …." He starts to come for me but I continue to back away.
"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that …."
He freezes.
"It's not about us. It's about Theresa. It's not about us," I repeat under my breath.
His face is bleeding. I cut his lip. His nose is bleeding. He's … he's sad. He knows I'm right.
"You're right," he concedes.
"I'm sorry."
"But she's okay?"
"She'll be fine." I hope she'll be fine. I don't know what I'll do if she's not. She'll be fine.
"Can I see her?"
"Visiting hours are over."
He hesitates. His eyes flash. "But you're here."
"I'm family."
He turns away from me, wiping the blood from his face with a weary hand.
"Will you …."
"Will I what?"
"Will you tell her that I'm worried about her? And tell her …. Tell her."
I give him a nod. I'll tell her.
-----------------/------------------/---------------------/----------------------
Theresa's aunts and uncles crowd around her bed. They voice their sympathies in a mixture of English and Spanish. Her aunt Rita is crying and hugging Theresa while rocking back and forth. I take opportunity of the distraction and back out of the room unnoticed.
I've been sitting in that rigid chair for too long. I need a break. I need air.
The doctor informed us that Theresa would have to have the surgery. Tonight. I pray that she's strong enough to go through all that in light of all that's happened. As if she hasn't been through enough.
I called several members of her family first thing in morning, and they took only a short while to arrive. I told Theresa that I would have to go back to take care of things at home.
I think she understands. It's hard to tell. All night she was drifting in and out of control of her emotions. Near the end, I was no longer shocked when she'd suddenly burst into tears. Maybe I'm just too tired to react.
I can't sleep. Not yet. I have to get Eva from Mrs. Duncan's. I have to sort through our finances and try to find money to pay for the enormous medical bills that will start arriving shortly. I have to go to work tonight because we need the money.
It kills me that I won't be able to be there when she comes out of surgery. I promised that I'd always be there for her but I have too many things to do and Theresa will have to accept her family's company instead of mine for the time being.
I park the car on the road in front of Mrs. Duncan's house. Depending on how Eva's feeling, I might have to pull up into our driveway so that she isn't forced to make the short walk. I flick my cigarette onto the street and approach the widow's house.
I hear shuffling inside before the door is cracked open a couple of inches. Mrs. Duncan's eyes peak through and she swings it open the rest of the way when she meets my eyes.
"Hi, Ryan. How are you doing, darling? How's Theresa holding up?" Her weathered face wrinkles with concern as she asks the questions.
I sigh. I'm sick of saying it. I'm sick of telling people that she's all right, that I'm all right, that everything's fine when it's anything but. Our imperfect world has completely fallen apart.
"Why don't you come in for a second. I can make you some tea. You look exhausted."
"No, thank-you. I appreciate it, really, but I'm just here to get Eva and I've got a million things to do at home …."
She frowns sympathetically. "That's fine. But I want you to get some rest. I can take care of Eva for a little longer if you want to go lie down for a little while. You really should, Ryan."
She means well, but I don't feel like arguing with this lady. I've got things to do - a schedule to meet.
"Thanks, Mrs. Duncan, but I should really just take Eva home."
The kind lady nods and steps back, allowing me to come inside. She leads the way toward the bedrooms. I stop her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Did you tell her?" I whisper.
Mrs. Duncan shakes her head. "No, but she's not stupid. She knew something was very wrong when I kept her here last night. She's worried."
I close my eyes and nod again as we continue down the hall. I know Theresa wanted to tell her, but I don't know how long I can withhold this information from her. She doesn't
deserve to be kept in the dark like a child.
I manage to get Eva home and settled without her asking any questions. Finally, as I prepare to check her blood sugar, she speaks.
"Tell me my Theresa's okay." Her voice is more unsteady than usual. I can tell the words hurt her.
I stop what I'm doing and meet her worried eyes. "Theresa's going to be fine."
I never thought about what she would think when I showed up back home without her daughter. She thinks she's lost her child.
She starts to tear up and I have to turn away. I don't mean to abandon her while she's upset, but I just can't take anymore. There've been too many tears.
"The baby?" she asks. I keep my back turned as I reset the glucometer. I try to take a deep breath but my lungs have contracted and are unaccommodating.
Eva mumbles softly in Spanish. She knows. I didn't even have to look at her and she knows.
The rest of our time together is spent in silence. She keeps her head bowed and I can't say I'm disappointed. The less questions the better. It's still all too much right now.
Before I can leave, Eva grabs my elbow. I don't want to turn around. She deserves better than any explanation I can manage right now. She tries to pull me closer. I finally concede and sit down beside her on the edge of the bed.
Seconds of silence pass. My eyelids threaten to close. I can't sleep yet. There are things that need to be done. Eva catches me off guard and pulls harshly at my arm, causing me to fall into her. She wraps her arms around my back and quietly sobs into my shoulder.
This just keeps getting harder and harder. I close my eyes and my stomach twists as I listen to Eva cry in pain. There's been too much pain lately.
She tires quickly. I regret leaving her alone when she's so upset, but I can't take it anymore. I just can't. It's selfish, I know that, but I can't do it anymore.
I look at my watch. I have to be at work in three hours. I should call the Cohens. I don't want them to worry anymore than they already have. Now that their son is back, they should be enjoying their time together as a family instead of worrying about all this.
I grab the phone and head out onto the porch while dialing the Cohens' number. It rings five or six times with no response and I find myself somewhat relieved. Just as I'm about to disconnect the line, a breathless voice answers.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Kirsten."
"Ryan!" She's surprised. She never really expected me to call. "How are you? How's Theresa doing?"
"She's uh …." I swallow as my voice fails. I clear my throat and try again. "She's all right …. Well, not really. She's … sad."
Kirsten pauses in consideration for a couple seconds. She must think I'm on the verge of breaking down again.
"What about you, Ryan? How are you doing?"
"Fine." I know I answered too quickly. I sigh and wait for the lecture to start.
"Please, Ryan, just be honest with me. We want to help you through this."
"I know. Thank-you." I hope that's enough.
"Why don't you come stay with us for a couple of days. We can have Theresa transferred to a hospital in Newport and we can take care of you … of both of you."
"No, Kirsten. I mean, thank-you, but I think it would be best if we just continue as normal." I don't want to tell her about Eva. I don't want to tell her that I have to work twelve-hour night shifts to pay only of fraction of the medical bills. I don't want to tell her that I want to come back more than anything else in the world. There's no point in kidding myself, or them. This is my life now.
"Okay. But, please, If you every need anything, remember that we're here for you. We will help you, Ryan."
"I know. Thanks."
I sound tired. I can't hide it. I can't even pretend anymore.
"All right, sweetie. You get some sleep. And, please, call us if you need anything."
"I will. Thanks, Kirsten."
I light a cigarette immediately after hanging up the phone. My head and stomach are both burning. I need to eat. I need to sleep. I need my life back. I take a long drag off the smoke and run my free hand over my face.
Two days ago, I didn't think things could get any worse. Fuck, was I wrong. I'm living a nightmare.
"Excuse me."
A small voice interrupts my self-pity. I turn my head and peer through the wooden slats of the porch railings to see the little girl from next door staring expectantly at me.
I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
She straightens her puffy pink dress with one hand before holding up some papers with the other.
"Would you please sponsor me in my school runathon?"
What the fuck is a "runathon"?
"I'm sorry. What was that?"
"Everyone is second grade is running around the school at lunch. We're supposed to get people to give us money."
Kids are so blunt. No sales pitch. Just the cold, hard facts. The world would be a better place if kids were in charge. Despite her honesty, I can't give her money. I don't have money.
"I'm sorry … I can't right now …."
She frowns and shrugs. "That's okay. I can come back later."
I don't think she understands. I'll have even less money later.
"I'm so sorry." The child's flustered mother jogs across the lawn to retrieve her daughter.
"It's okay, Mommy. I was just asking the man for money."
The woman's eyes dart from her daughter to me and back again. "Megan, I told you to wait for me. You don't just walk up to people and ask them to sponsor you."
The little girl shrugs again and sets her eyes on the grass while shuffling from foot to foot.
"I'm so sorry," the woman apologizes again.
"It's fine." I catch her eyes for a second before turning my focus back on my cigarette.
"C'mon," she says to her child. I tilt my head and watch as she drags her child back to the house. I've never seen the woman be anything but frazzled. She can't keep up. She's always either yelling at or chasing after her kids. She's just doing the best she can. It's not enough. I can relate.
I lean my head against the railing and extinguish my smoke. I pick up the phone and dial again. Seth answers his cell phone on the first ring. It didn't take him long to reactivate his account.
"Seth. Hey. Listen, can you do me a favor?"
"Ryan? What's up? How're you doing, dude? How's Theresa?"
"Can you call me at 5:30?" I ask flatly, avoiding his questions.
"Call you? Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?" He sounds completely, utterly confused.
"Yeah." I sigh. "I just need a phone call at 5:30."
"Oh … okay. Is that it? Is that all you need?"
I need a haircut. I need to win the lottery. I need a month's worth of sleep.
"Yeah. That's it."
"I'll call you at 5:30."
I hang up the phone and lie back on the porch. I can't muster the energy to go inside.
Despite the sun, it's actually cooler out here. I should go through the bills that are piling up on the end of the counter. I should call the bank and see what strings I can pull to increase my line of credit. I should be doing anything but lying in the sun. I'm just going to close my eyes for a few minutes. And incase it goes on longer than expected, I've lined up a wake-up call.