I wrote this months ago, before The Homecoming. It's just taken me awhile to get up the nerve to post it.
Not mine.
"Trey's birthday is this week. Can I go visit him?"
The dinner conversation, which had paused only to allow Seth to draw a breath, came to an abrupt stop as three pairs of eyes turned to Ryan.
His own eyes fixed on his plate, Ryan shifted self-consciously in his chair before raising his gaze first to Sandy, and then Kirsten. "Would that be OK?"
Sandy and Kirsten exchanged glances across the table. Never talkative, Ryan had been unusually quiet the last couple of days, something that had not gone unnoticed by his guardians. This let them know the reason.
"Well, sure, Ryan." Sandy was almost over-hearty. "I'll call the prison and see what the protocol is for visitors. Then I'll drive you down one afternoon this week. What day is Trey's birthday? I'll see if we can get you there on the actual day."
"You don't need to take me. I can ride the bus or something. I don't mind."
"No..." Sandy shared a look with Kirsten. "I don't mind taking you. It'll be a good excuse to get out of the office for awhile."
"Did you get him anything?"
Focused intently on the game, Ryan didn't register the question. "What?"
"Trey. Have you gotten him anything for his birthday?" Seth kept his eyes fixed on the screen, hands a blur at the controls.
While he had improved exponentially, Ryan still had a hard time concentrating on more than just playing the game. His eyes flicked to Seth, and his head was summarily disconnected from his body by the warrior he was fighting.
"Damn it."
Seth grinned and continued to play. "So, have you?"
"No."
"Are you?"
"I dunno."
Seth raised his eyebrows at the screen.
Ryan scratched his head and shifted his eyes to Seth. "I'm not positive he'll see me." Sighing, Ryan pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his arms, watching Seth continue to cut a swath through the attacking hordes. "He wouldn't see Mom."
Seth nodded silently, continuing to play. One thing he'd learned since Ryan had come to live with them was that saying nothing was often better than rattling on like he tended to do.
The boys sat in silence as Seth finished his turn. Popping the game out of the machine, Seth said suddenly, "Well, if you get him something cool, and he won't see you, you can keep it for yourself." He grinned – dimples flashing. "Or you could give it to me!"The ride to the prison had been quiet. Sandy had not been surprised, and had done all he could to keep himself from trying to draw Ryan out. Truth be told, Seth's tendency to chatter came from his father. And while he'd learned (mostly) how to control the impulse, long silences made Sandy nervous, tempting him to start a running monologue. Sandy had been amused and pleased to watch Seth learn the benefits of silence, while Ryan slowly risked letting the Cohens get to know him by joining in on conversations at the dinner table or by the pool. Ryan had a wonderful dry sense of humor and a sweetness that sometimes took both Sandy and Kirsten by surprise. If Ryan wanted quiet now, Sandy was determined to give it to him.
Sandy turned off the engine and sat, waiting. Ryan was utterly still in the seat next to him, staring at the prison. After a couple of minutes, Sandy turned and reaching out, skimmed his hand over the back of Ryan's head, giving his neck a gentle squeeze. "Ready?"
Turning to meet Sandy's eyes, Ryan nodded and opened the car door.Trey Atwood sat at a long table in a room full of inmates and their families – crying babies and laughing children, whispered conversations, the occasional shouting match, sharp orders from guards swirled around him. He was surprised to have a visitor. If it was his mother, he'd walk out again. If it was anyone else (who else, he had no idea), he'd have to see.Sandy and Ryan walked down the hall toward the visiting area. They'd been searched, and the wrapped package Ryan had brought for his brother had been opened, examined and re-wrapped by a surprisingly kind guard who had carefully made sure the creases in the paper all matched. Ryan clutched the gift to his chest, grateful for the reassurance of Sandy's hand on his shoulder. He worried sometimes that living with the Cohens was making him weak, taking away his edge. If he'd been here by himself, he didn't think he'd be this nervous. He'd be able to tell himself that he didn't care, that he was invincible and that nothing Trey might do could hurt him. But somehow, Sandy's concern, his presence, made Ryan feel vulnerable. And yet safe at the same time. It was weird. But not necessarily bad.Trey looked up when the visitor's room door opened and his eyes widened. He came to his feet in surprise, never expecting to see his brother. The sudden movement caught Ryan's eye and he brought his hand up in an awkward wave, turning to Sandy at the same time. Trey watched as the dark haired man with his brother sized him up. Nodding at Trey, Sandy pulled Ryan a little closer to say something in his ear. Ryan nodded, his eyes still on Trey. With a smile, Sandy patted Ryan on the back propelling him toward his brother.
Ryan walked slowly toward Trey, eyes wary, trying to judge Trey's reaction to his presence. Still caught off guard, Trey's face was unreadable for just a second, and then he started to grin.
"God, Ryan!" He started toward his brother, but was motioned back into place by one of the guards.
Ryan quickened his pace, weaving through the crowd until he reached the assigned table.
"Hey." He stood, like an idiot, grinning at his brother.
"Hey." Trey moved forward and in one swift movement pulled Ryan into his arms, wrapping him in a hug like Ryan had never had before. Startled for a moment into stiffness, Ryan recovered quickly and returned the embrace. A tap on his shoulder broke the two apart. The guard shook his head at them and motioned them to their seats.
"Sorry," said Ryan gruffly, head down as he slid onto the bench. That earned him a pat on the back and a slight smile. "Just don't let it happen again."
The brothers sat on opposite sides of the table staring at each other.
"You look OK, Ry. Are you?"
Ryan nodded.
"Who is that?" He nodded his head toward Sandy, who had taken a seat on a bench against the wall. He'd brought his briefcase and was deep into a document.
"Sandy. Mr. Cohen. He's my attorney. I.... I've been living with him and his family."
Trey turned to Ryan in surprise and relief. "You haven't been on the street?" Trey reached out and grabbed a hold of Ryan's arm. "Mom said she threw you out. I couldn't believe it. That she'd do that to you. Because of me. I.... God, Ryan. I thought.... I've been thinking ...." Trey couldn't go on.
"She did. She told me to get out when I got home." Ryan's voice broke slightly and he cleared his throat. "Mr. Cohen said I could call him if things got bad, and since I couldn't find a place to crash, I did. I figured it would blow over. You know how she gets. And she was drunk." Ryan was watching a point on the wall as he talked. "But when I went back after the night with the Cohens, she was gone. Moved." Ryan slid his eyes over to Trey, who burst out, "That bitch!" Ryan shrugged – the hurt of that moment still too fresh to get into. "Mr. Cohen hadn't left, so I went back home with him."
For the next hour, Ryan continued to fill Trey in on his life. Trey asked question after question – about Seth, about school, about the girls, the parties, the Cohens. It was almost time to go when Ryan finally got a chance to ask about Trey.
"How about you? Are you OK?" Trey shrugged. "I'll survive." But even as Trey said the words, Ryan had his doubts. There was something different about his brother – the bluster was gone, the cockiness. The anger was there, still, just under the surface. It had broken through a couple of times, but then been quickly repressed. Ryan was having a hard time putting his finger on what exactly was different. Maybe it was desperation, or hopelessness; there was definitely regret. All Ryan knew was that his brother's eyes held something that hadn't been there before, and it made Ryan's heart constrict to see it.
Trey looked intently at Ryan, "I'm telling you something, though, little brother. If you EVER do anything that would get you put in here, I'm going to beat your ass so hard, you won't know what hit you. You hear me?" Ryan nodded. "You take advantage of what you've been given with the Cohens. You go to school, you stay out of trouble. No more fighting or burning down houses – even accidentally, you got that?" Ryan snorted softly and smiled. Trey smiled back, but insisted, "You understand that this is your chance, don't you, Ryan? Don't blow it, OK?" Ryan watched his brother seriously. "I know."
Trey nodded, his eyes drifting to Sandy.
"So, you going to introduce me to Mr. Cohen?"
Ryan caught Sandy's eye and motioned him over. Packing up his briefcase, Sandy wondered what this meeting would be like.
"Trey, this is Sandy Cohen." "Sandy, this is my brother, Trey."
Sandy and Trey shook hands. "It's nice to meet you, Trey." Sandy smiled as he withdrew his hand.
"Mr. Cohen." Trey nodded back. "Ryan hasn't been giving you too much trouble has he?" He draped an arm over Ryan's shoulders.
Sandy watched the younger man speculatively, recognizing a power-play of sorts by Trey. It was an interesting attempt at asserting authority – an arm around his brother's shoulders to prove closeness, the question about behavior implying the right to know. Sandy kept his eyes thoughtfully on Trey. Ryan's eyes went from Sandy to Trey and back again.
"Oh, we've had our moments." Sandy's didn't shift his gaze from Trey's until the younger man blinked. Then he gave Ryan a wry glance. Ryan's lips quirked up in his version of a smile. "But we're figuring it out." Sandy returned his gaze to settle on Trey. Your play, he thought.
Trey put his hand on Ryan's shoulder and said softly, "Let me talk to Mr. Cohen alone, OK?"
Uncertain, Ryan looked from Trey to Sandy. Sandy nodded. "Give us a minute, Ryan."
Not liking it, but unable to defy the dismissal, Ryan moved over to the benches against the wall as Trey and Sandy sat down.
"I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for my brother, Mr. Cohen. I don't know what would have happened to him if you hadn't taken him in."
Somewhat surprised, Sandy looked at Trey.
"I know you may not believe me, but I never meant to get Ryan in trouble." Sandy raised his magnificent eyebrows.
"I didn't." Trey sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Except I was high. And pissed. And tired of having him thrown in my face by that whore. Like the fact that she had him somehow made her more than the drunken slut she is." He bit off the last angrily.
Trey scratched his head and averted his eyes in a way that brought Ryan sharply to Sandy's mind. And looking past the weariness and bitterness and fear, Sandy was suddenly aware that the young man sitting across from him wasn't really much more than a boy himself. Twenty-one today. He sighed.
"I spent my life protecting him from her and our father and those bastards she brought home. And I wrecked it all in one night. There's no reason for you to believe me, I know, but I love my brother. And I don't want to lose him." He tried to keep his voice firm, authoritative, but his eyes were pleading.
Sandy was silent for a moment, assessing the boy in front of him, and looking back at the boy that would go home with him. Ryan watched from the side of the room, chewing on his lip, eyes worried.
Sandy brushed his hair out of his eyes and said softly, "I don't doubt your love for your brother, Trey. And we all make mistakes." Trey's face lightened somewhat as Sandy spoke. "But you made a mistake that could have cost Ryan his life – in more ways than one." Deflating, Trey nodded miserably.
Pausing, Sandy chose his words carefully before continuing. "But the truth is, your mistake got him out of a situation that was dangerous, too." Sandy waited until Trey looked up. "Not that I'd recommend it as a way to escape a home life that's wanting, but Ryan's jail time did end up removing him from your mother's care and A.J., or whoever she'd have been with next." Sandy let out a huff of breath. "Frankly, I'm grateful for your stupidity that night." He smiled at Trey's sharp look. "Because it's meant that Ryan's become a part of our family."
Trey felt a sharp pain in his stomach and he hunched slightly in on himself, closing his eyes for a moment and wrapping his arms around his midriff. When he'd seen Ryan, talked with him, he'd thought there might be a hope of maintaining a relationship with his brother. The Cohens had sounded reasonable, kind, ... soft. Trey had thought briefly, desperately, that he might be able to bluff them into some sort of arrangement – be firm, be in control – make them think they couldn't keep him from Ryan. But he knew now that wouldn't work. Sandy Cohen had called his bluff and this was it. Ryan was gone. The Cohens had him and they'd never risk letting Trey be around him.
But Trey knew he didn't have a right to hold on to Ryan. In his mind he'd given up whatever claim he'd had to Ryan when he almost dragged his little brother down into the mire that was his own life. He'd been an idiot to think for a moment that he could or should try to be there for Ryan. Let it go, he thought. This was better; better for Ryan not to have a felon for a brother, for a father, a drunk for a mother. Focus on that, he thought. Focus on that.
Trey was nodding his head, not looking at Sandy. "I understand," he said. "I understand." Baffled, Sandy asked, "What? What do you understand?" Trey raised his head to meet Sandy's eyes. "He's yours now, isn't he?"
Sandy was surprised, but he didn't blink. "Yes, he is." Trey nodded, and looked over Sandy's shoulder at Ryan. The two men sat in silence for a minute. Sandy contemplated his options. He'd recognized what Trey wanted, and while he didn't have a problem necessarily with letting Ryan have a relationship with his brother, he also wanted it clear from the beginning who would be calling the shots. Certainly not Trey. Sandy and Kirsten would set the boundaries – it was the only way Sandy felt he could protect Ryan. And that was what he planned to do.
"Trey." Sandy paused again, waiting for an acknowledgement from Trey, who slowly turned his eyes back to Sandy. They were brimming with unshed tears – and anger.
"I hope you understand, that in bringing Ryan to visit, I don't have an issue with Ryan maintaining contact with you. The fact that he's part of our family doesn't mean that he isn't part of your family, as well. The truth is, no matter how much we love him, and we do, we can never fill the holes that have been left in his life because of being separated from you. And from your mother." Trey blinked, taken completely aback.
"Ryan's relationship with your mother is obviously a completely different conversation, but my wife and I talked at length about his relationship with you when Ryan asked about visiting. Clearly, he wants to be a part of your life – he just seems to be uncertain whether you want him in yours. And it seems clear to me now that you do." Trey nodded slowly, glancing quickly at Ryan again, and back to Sandy.
"My concern, our concern, is for Ryan and his safety, his health and well- being; not just physically, but emotionally as well. While you're here, frankly, you're controllable – access, time together, influence – that can all be monitored, and I feel comfortable with letting him visit you pretty much whenever he wants, with some understandings about school work and his job." Trey was floored, and could only nod dumbly.
"My bigger concern has to do with when you get out." Sandy pinned Trey with a steady stare. "In our mind, that's when the potential for harm to him goes off the chart." Trey dropped his eyes, and Sandy sighed.
"When you get out, you're going to have a choice. You can choose to live a lifestyle that won't put your brother, and yourself, in danger, or you can choose a lifestyle that will put Ryan at risk. Kirsten and I will do what we can for you – for Ryan's sake, if nothing else. But I'm telling you right now, the minute I think you're involved in something that puts Ryan's physical or emotional well-being in jeopardy, I will shut you down." He paused. "Are we clear?"
Trey bobbed his head "yes," fearing that he looked pathetically hopeful, but not really caring that much. "Totally clear."
"I know it won't be easy for you. But I meant what I said. Kirsten and I will do what we can to help." Sandy stood up and held out his hand to shake Trey's. "I'll let Ryan come over and say his good-byes. We need to get on the road." Glancing over at Ryan, Sandy saw the boy was on his feet, watching the exchange anxiously. Sandy beckoned him over.
When Ryan reached the table, Sandy put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Why don't you give Trey what you brought? And then we'll head out." Sandy nodded at Trey and gave Ryan's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll be over by the door."
The two brothers stared at each other. "So. Whadja bring me?" Trey used his best "like I care" voice, but Ryan could see the gleam in his eyes. "Nothin'," he shrugged, his own grin barely contained. It was a game they had played as kids – acting like they didn't care, but knowing that each one had gotten the other exactly what he wanted. In a world of disappointments and the broken promises of their parents, they'd perfected never getting excited about gifts, not getting their hopes up at tantalizing hints about amazing things to come. But they'd learned to rely on each other – they just kept up the charade to amuse themselves.
Ryan slid the gift across the table at his brother. Trey unwrapped the gift carefully to reveal a stack of comics. He looked questioningly at his brother.
"They're pretty cool." Ryan said. "Seth reads them all the time and he got me started on them. I figured you might like them, too."
Trey nodded. "Cool. Thanks."
There was an awkward pause as both boys looked down at the tabletop, unsure how to proceed. Trey cleared his throat.
"So. Your attorney... Mr. Cohen said you could come visit whenever you want."
"Yeah?" Ryan was surprised and cast a curious glance over at Sandy.
"Yeah."
"That's cool."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"So, you think you'll come?"
"Yeah, I will."
"Cool."
They smiled at each other.
"So, I guess I better go." Ryan stood up.
Trey stood, too.
"Thanks for coming, man. And thanks for the comics."
Trey cast a furtive glance around, looking for guards. When he saw the coast was clear, he gave Ryan a hug. Ryan returned it, pressing his face into his brother's shoulder.
"Happy birthday."
"See you around."
Ryan joined Sandy, turning for a last wave before they left the visitors' room.As they walked down the hall back toward the entrance of the prison, Sandy matched his steps with Ryan's slower ones, resting his hand at the base of Ryan's neck.
Neither said a word until they were almost at the car.
"Thanks." Sandy caught just a glimpse of Ryan's eyes before they skittered off to look into the distance. Smiling, Sandy applied the slightest amount of pressure to Ryan's neck before releasing him. "You're welcome."
Unlocking the car Sandy climbed in and waited for Ryan to get settled. He turned to the boy before starting the engine and was surprised to see Ryan swipe his arm across his face and traces of tears.
"Ry?"
Ryan shook his head and wiped more tears off his face.
"It's OK." Sandy said it softly putting his hand back on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan shook his head again, tears still flowing.
"I'm sorry," he said, wiping the tears away angrily. "I'm sorry." He'd been too old to cry since he'd been six.
"Sweetheart, there's nothing to be sorry for." Sandy moved his hand in a gentle circle on Ryan's back. The endearment caused Ryan's eyes to shift uncertainly toward Sandy, and Sandy realized abruptly that he'd used the hated "sweetheart" with his foster son. Seth had set his foot down when he'd started high school – Sandy could call him "Seth," he could call him "son," but he was never to use the term "sweetheart" again. Ever. It had been hard for Sandy because he tended to use endearments with people he loved – darling, sweetheart, honey, baby. He used them with Kirsten, and he'd used them with Seth when he'd been young. They were not careless words to him; they were purposeful, meaningful. In a single word he was saying, "I love you. You are my darling wife, my beloved son. I adore you, I would do anything for you." But in the interest of respecting Seth's adolescent need to separate himself from his parents, Sandy had done his best, switching to "son" or "kiddo" or "kid." Only in the most desperate times did he use endearments with Seth any more – times when Seth hurt, when he ached for his son, when words of comfort were beyond him, when he needed to say all those things only a hushed "sweetheart" could convey.
Now it was Sandy's turn to apologize. "I'm sorry." He smiled wryly at Ryan, not stopping the soothing motion of his hand on Ryan's back. "Seth hates it when I call him that." He looked out the front window, a wistful kind of smile on his face. "'Sweetheart' is my default when I want my wife, or my sons," he turned back to Ryan, "to know how much I love them, when I'm not sure exactly what to say." Ryan nodded hesitantly, his eyes wide.
"I just mean that there's nothing for you to be sorry about, Ryan. I don't know that crying, in light of today and, I don't know, everything, isn't the most reasonable reaction anyone could have." He stopped rubbing Ryan's back and patted him on the shoulder. "OK?"
Ryan nodded.
"Good." He turned the keys in the ignition. "Ready to go home?"
Ryan took a shuddering breath, clicked his seatbelt into place, and smiled at Sandy.
"Home."