Disclaimers in Part 1.
A/N: I feel that I should probably warn you all that this story is coming to an end. Three more chapters!
Chapter 17:
Summer tapped awkwardly on the pool house door. It seemed wrong cornering Ryan in his own home, but she had to talk to him, and this was definitely a face to face thing.
"Summer," Ryan's expression was surprise mixed with pleasure.
"I'm worried about Anna," she plowed into the pool house without noticing Ryan's wince of disappointment.
"What about Anna?" Ryan asked, sitting next to Summer on his bed.
"She's been weird the past couple of days. Her freak-out on the beach, and then today she totally shut-down on me," Summer pointed out. "That's just so unlike Anna."
"Look Summer, I know what happened last night," At Summer's eager look Ryan added, "I'm not going to tell you, neither is Anna. It isn't my place, and Anna is trying to protect you."
"I don't need to be protected," Summer was indignant. Her next words were drowned out by yelling.
"GOD DAMN IT! DON'T TELL ME WHAT I ALREADY KNOW SANDY!" Kirsten's voice reverberated through the neighborhood. As was now common, Sandy's voice couldn't be heard. The loud crash of breaking glassware was audible however.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Kirsten bellowed. "I DON'T HAVE A FUCKING SON!" Ryan winced, "YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME!"
Summer wrapped her arms around Ryan, rested her head on his shoulder. He took a deep breath.
"We all need to be protected," he whispered, and it took Summer a second to figure out that he was referring to their interrupted conversation.
"WHAT ABOUT RYAN? HAVE YOU EVEN BOTHERED TO GIVE RYAN A SECOND THOUGHT?" Sandy's volume rose to match that of his wife.
"THE LAST TIME I SAW RYAN HE WAS POURING YOUR SCOTCH DOWN THE DRAIN!" Kirsten screamed. "WHAT WOULD SOCIAL SERVICES THINK OF THAT?"
"They'd probably be more concerned with the screaming and plate- breaking, actually," Ryan muttered. He turned to Summer, "I wish I could tell her that."
"Go for it," Summer encouraged. "I'll be here when you get back."
Taking strength from Summer's hug, Ryan marched out of the pool house, across the yard, and with slight hesitation, into the kitchen. The kitchen, heart of the Cohen home, currently Ground Zero.
"I thought I heard someone up," Ryan yawned as he made his way across the kitchen to the refrigerator, a million strategies for dealing with Sandy and Kirsten dancing through his head.
"Ryan, sweetie, this isn't a really good time," Kirsten pasted on a smile. "The grown-ups are talking."
"Only if you define talking as deafening screaming," Ryan slurped milk directly from the carton, "which I don't."
"You could hear that?" Sandy asked. Kirsten paled.
"Crystal clearly," Ryan returned the milk to the refrigerator. "I've heard the other fights too."
"Ryan I'm so-"
"Sorry?" Ryan guessed. "You've been saying that a lot lately Kirsten and I have to say actions speak louder than words."
Seated at a stool Kirsten covered her face with her hands. "I've been a terrible mother to you Ryan. And a terrible wife," she looked at Sandy, standing across from her.
"No," Sandy protested. Ryan and Kirsten glared at him. "Well a little. But you're hurting."
"We all are," Kirsten corrected, "and neither you nor Ryan are running around picking fights and accusing people of killing Seth."
"No. I'm drowning my sorrows in alcohol and work," Sandy pointed out, "and it's not like I haven't been contributing to the fights."
Ryan said nothing. It felt like the air was finally being cleared, but what if it started again? How long could he listen, before he believed what Sandy and Kirsten said?
"Ryan?" Sandy asked gently.
"Sorry, what?" Ryan inquired.
"How can we make this better for you? For all of us?"
Ryan felt tears spring to his eyes. "I'm sixteen years old Sandy, I'm a kid," Ryan's voice cracked, "I don't know how to fix this."
Sandy's swift embrace was startling.
"It's my turn to be sorry, Ryan. That was an unfair question. I'm the one who told you it was okay to be a kid, I need to let you be one," Sandy apologized. "I just don't know what to do."
"Maybe we should talk to someone," Kirsten suggested and Ryan realized he'd known the answer all along.
"We should talk to each other," Ryan stated. At Sandy and Kirsten's puzzled expressions Ryan elaborated, "that's how Anna and Summer and I get through it. We talk to each other. We force ourselves to say what we're thinking, feeling, no matter how much it hurts."
"Okay," Sandy stated. "So, what are you feeling Ryan?"