Chapter 12

The variety of men's shoes for sale at South Coast Plaza was staggering. Kirsten considered herself something of an expert in women's shoes, and she actually liked shopping for shirts and pants and other clothes for Ryan and Seth. But footwear for teenaged boys was something completely out of her league, she realized. Kirsten was glad Seth was old enough to buy his own shoes now.

She was on her third or fourth lap around the Journeys shoe outlet—the fourth store she'd been to that afternoon—and making herself a little dizzy. It wasn't a particularly big store, but it was packed with shoes. Kirsten stopped and reached out for a pair of black Converse.

"Mom. No."

Kirsten sighed and rolled her eyes, but she left the shoe alone.

"You could help, you know," she said, and turned to look at him. He was slouched in a chair, his long legs stretched in front of him and his arms crossed over his chest. He shook his head at her and she noticed how long his hair was getting. He hadn't wanted to go shopping with her to buy new shoes for Ryan, and he'd made that clear to her every second of their excursion, sighing and fidgeting until she wanted to shake him.

She wished now that she hadn't forced him to come. She had wanted to spend some time alone with him, to try to repair some of the damage that had been done in the past couple of weeks. It had seemed like the perfect opportunity. Seth had to stay late at school on Wednesdays for the literary magazine anyway, so Sandy had retrieved Ryan as soon as classes let out, and Kirsten had picked up Seth. It was a chance for them to talk, and a chance for them to do something for Ryan. Since Ryan had moved in with them she had often shopped for him, sneaking new jeans and button-down shirts onto the pool house shelves when he was out. He rarely thanked her outright, but he made a point of wearing the new clothes right away, and he'd smile at her shyly over breakfast the next day.

Just now new shoes were the only form of kindness she could imagine Ryan accepting from her, if he accepted anything from her at all. She knew he could be rigid about things, and she suspected he was capable of holding a grudge. Seth, on the other hand, usually had a hard time staying angry at anyone. She knew he was still upset with her, but she also knew that he was probably as unhappy with their strained relationship as she was.

But he wasn't cooperating with her now, and she thought that maybe this time she'd misread Seth. Maybe he wasn't ready to forgive her.

Kirsten finished one more circuit around the store, plucking shoes off the display shelves as she went. Her arms full of shoes—sneakers and loafers and sandals, but no boots—Kirsten approached the salesman at the back of the store and dumped them on the counter next to the register.

"Can you get me these in a nine?"

The wide-eyed salesman nodded and struggled to pick up all of the shoes at once, dropping several of them on the ground as he carried them back to the inventory room. Kirsten went back to Seth and dropped in the chair next to him. Kirsten wanted to take off her own shoes and rub her feet, and she realized she probably needed to exercise more if her feet were sore after only an hour walking around the mall.

"What are we doing here?" Seth asked. Kristen studied him a moment before answering. He was picking at his T-shirt, rubbing the cotton between his fingertips.

"We're buying shoes for Ryan," she said, fully aware that wasn't the question he was asking. He scowled at the floor.

"You could've come alone. Why am I here?"

Kirsten twisted in her seat so that she was facing him. "I wanted to spend some time with you. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"We live together. You can spend time with me whenever you want."

"Not when you've been avoiding me."

"I haven't been avoiding you," Seth muttered.

"Seth, I think Rosa's said more to me this week than you have."

"Yeah, well, you didn't send Rosa's best friend to jail."

Kirsten sighed and closed her eyes.

"You know that's not fair," she said.

"Um, no, what's not fair is that I'm at the mall shopping for shoes and Ryan's not even allowed to leave the house," Seth said. "What's not fair is that Ryan even needs new shoes in the first place. He's got boots—boots that he loves, by the way—but oh, hey, wait—he can't wear them! That's what's not fair."

Seth was breathing hard by the time his rant was over, and Kirsten sat back and watched him, waiting for him to calm down.

"Seth-" she started.

"Forget about it," he said.

"No," Kirsten said, loud enough that two shoppers waiting at the cash register turned and stared. Kirsten leaned toward Seth and lowered her voice. "Enough of this silent treatment. I'm fed up with it."

Seth matched her glare for a moment then dropped his head. He ran both hands through his hair and sagged in his chair.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

She was only a little surprised at the change in his demeanor. Seth just couldn't sustain anger for long. But he sounded so let down, so depressed, that Kirsten suddenly wanted to give up and go home. Seth's feet were only a size or two larger than Ryan's; he could go another day wearing borrowed shoes. But Kirsten felt immediately guilty for even thinking that way, and she glanced toward the back of the store to look for the salesman.

"It's just," Seth started, and Kirsten turned back to him again, "I totally let him down that night. I was the one who wanted to go out and do something stupid. Ryan just wanted to stay home and study, but I wouldn't let him. And look what happened."

Kirsten didn't know what to say. Seth had barely spoken to her in more than a week, and she'd assumed he was just angry with her, that his silence had been his payback for the way she'd treated Ryan. That was partly true, she realized. But all this time he'd felt guilty. And she hadn't even seen it.

"I mean, I know we're not brothers," Seth went on, "but it feels that way sometimes, and what kind of a guy gets his brother arrested? Okay, Ryan's real brother is that kind of guy, but I never thought I could betray a friend like that."

"Seth, I'm sure Ryan doesn't blame you."

"He should," Seth said. "And anyway, how do you know that? He's hardly speaking to any of us."

"You didn't force Ryan to do anything," Kirsten said. "He knew the conditions of his probation. He knew what he was risking."

"Yeah, but so did I," Seth said. He shook his head and rolled his hands into fists on his knees.

Kirsten took a deep breath and watched her son carefully. He kicked at a shoehorn lying on the floor, and she thought she hadn't seen him this miserable in a long time. But in recognizing how upset he was now, it occurred to her just how happy Seth had been over the past several months. Part of it was normal growing up: maturing and feeling more confident in the person he was becoming. But part of it, she knew, was Ryan.

"You're right," she said. "You're not Ryan's brother. And I'm not his mother."

Seth gave her a sharp look. "Mom-"

"But we're still his family," Kirsten went on. "And we let him down."

"You never would have let me down like that. You know that."

Kirsten sighed and clasped her hands together in her lap. She nodded.

"You guys let me down too," she said. "The point is that we deal with it. Together. I have to fix things with Ryan, and with you, but I can't do it if you won't let me."

Seth studied her for a long moment, and then he shrugged and gave her a weak smile. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," she said. "Not yet. But I'll take it anyway."

Kirsten reached over and pulled Seth to her with one arm around his shoulders, and he let himself be held for a few seconds before drawing back.

"Ma'am?"

Kirsten let go of Seth and looked up to see two salesmen, their arms loaded with shoeboxes.

"How many did you have in his size?" she asked.

"All of them."

"Great. I'll take them."

The first salesman quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You want to buy all of these?"

"Yes," Kirsten said, standing and opening her purse as she headed toward the cash register.

"Mom, I'm sure Ryan would be fine with a pair of Nikes or something," Seth said, following behind her.

"You're probably right," she said. "But I want him to have some choices."

Seth nodded and leaned against the counter beside her. When she looked down to fish her wallet out of her purse, he put an arm around her and hugged her briefly.

"How are you ever going to carry all those?" he asked.

"We can manage."

"We? Mom, please. You know I don't do heavy lifting. Or, really, any lifting at all."

"Not even for your brother?" she said. She was immediately fearful that Seth wouldn't appreciate the teasing.

But Seth smiled and reached into her purse, grabbing her car keys.

"Not even for him."

Sandy let out a long, defeated sigh as he studied the takeout menus spread on the counter in front of him. All he wanted to do was treat Ryan to a welcome home dinner, and Sandy realized he had no idea what to order. Six months he'd lived with Ryan, and he couldn't say what his favorite food was. Hell, he couldn't even say what general type of food the kid preferred—Mexican? Thai? Greek? probably not Chinese—never mind what restaurant was his favorite. He didn't even know what Ryan liked on his pizza.

And maybe he'd never know, if Ryan continued his self-imposed isolation from the family. Sandy suspected it would be a battle just to get Ryan to eat dinner with them tonight. He'd barely said three or four sentences in the 24 hours since he'd come back home.

That shouldn't have been a surprise, though. Ryan had never been much of a talker, and Sandy knew what kind of hell he'd faced in juvie. So the kid needed a few days to adjust. Sandy could give him that.

The back door swung open and Sandy glanced up to see Ryan pause in the doorway. He was barefoot, carrying a pair of sneakers.

"Hey, kid," Sandy said, forcing himself to sound casual. "I'm glad you're here. What sounds good for dinner?"

Ryan glanced quickly at him and shrugged.

Sandy didn't let Ryan's apparent disinterest get to him. "I was thinking we'd celebrate a little, now that you're back home. Kirsten will be home in half an hour. There's nothing in particular you want?" He waved at the multi-colored menus.

Ryan made a sound that might have been "nah" but was too soft for Sandy to make out. Then he crossed the room, heading out of the kitchen and toward the front of the house.

"Where are you going?"

Ryan, his back to Sandy, stiffened at the question, and Sandy immediately regretted his words. Ryan wasn't stupid. He knew better than to leave the house. Ryan swung around and held up the shoes in his hand. His voice was flat when he spoke.

"Giving these back to Seth. Is that okay?"

Sandy nodded. "Yeah, of course."

Ryan disappeared around the corner and Sandy wanted to bang his head against the wall. Instead he picked up the phone and ordered Mexican—tacos, enchiladas, tamales—a little bit of everything, so Ryan could have his favorite, whatever that was.

Sandy was in his office when he heard Kirsten's car pull up the driveway. He was a little surprised she'd come home on time. After her disappearance the night before, he'd half expected her to avoid dinner again. But she actually seemed to be in a good mood when she peeked into his office on the way to their bedroom. He smiled at her, and she walked in and leaned over his desk to kiss him.

"Good day?" he asked.

"No, not really," she said. "I'm just glad to be home."

He didn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "You are?"

She nodded, and he realized it had been a long time since he had seen her so relaxed. She was even smiling a little.

"I ordered dinner," he said.

"Good. I'm starving."

Sandy watched her for a moment, trying to decipher this change of mood. Ever since Ryan and Seth had been arrested, she'd been distant. He'd been well aware that she was feeling guilt on top of her anger and frustration at what the boys had done, but he hadn't known what to do about it. Now it seemed like she'd figured it out on her own. Sandy had seen her do it before. Kirsten didn't like leaning on anyone, sometimes even her own family, for emotional support. And it occurred to him that he hadn't really been there for her anyway.

She stood up, but he grabbed her wrist before she could walk away, and pulled her toward the desk again. He kissed her and ran his free hand through her hair.

"Love you," he said.

She touched his face. "Love you too."

The food arrived a few minutes later, and Sandy was just setting the table when Seth came downstairs and offered to get Ryan from the pool house. Everyone was quiet as they sat around the table, and Sandy watched Ryan carefully as he loaded his plate with three tacos—one chicken, one carnitas, and one carne asada. Sandy actually laughed out loud. Maybe Ryan really didn't have any favorites.

"What's so funny?" Kirsten asked, as everyone turned to look at him.

"Nothing," Sandy said, shaking his head and piling rice onto his own plate. "So, first day back. How was it?"

Sandy had directed the question to Ryan, but he didn't answer or even look up from his plate. Instead he took an especially large bite of a taco, and Sandy had to admire his technique—Ryan wasn't about to be rude and talk with his mouth full.

"It was great, Dad," Seth said. "It's not like any of the kids at school, or, you know, the teachers, care at all about Ryan and me being arrested. It's not, like, the best gossip since Luke's dad came out. Everyone's treating us just like normal, really."

Kirsten set her fork on her plate and looked seriously at Seth. "Are they giving you guys a hard time?"

Sandy understood her concern, but he knew well enough there wasn't anything either of them could do about it. They were all just going to have to sit this one out until their notoriety faded.

"It's no big deal," Seth said. "Nothing I'm not used to anyway."

"Oh, that's good to hear," Kirsten said.

"Sarcasm, Mom? Not really your thing."

Sandy laughed until he saw Kirsten's scowl, and he remembered what a good mood she'd been in after work. He wanted his whole family to embrace that good mood. He wanted things to go back to normal, if only for one dinner.

"C'mon, guys, your day couldn't have been all bad. Ryan, was there anything good about going back to school?"

Ryan just ignored him, and when Sandy looked at Seth for help, he shrugged.

"I don't know. Ryan and I have a class together now. I guess that's good."

"You do?" Kirsten asked.

"Yeah, gym."

Sandy caught the glance that Seth shot to Ryan.

"So why are you taking gym now, Ryan?" Sandy asked.

Ryan set down his taco, but he didn't speak.

"He's off the soccer team," Seth said.

"What? Why?" Kirsten asked, but Sandy understood immediately.

"No after school activities," he said. "Sorry, kid."

Ryan just shrugged and pushed rice around his plate with a fork. They all ate in uncomfortable silence, silverware scraping against their plates, until Kirsten cleared her throat.

"Ryan, I was thinking, since you'll be home pretty early after school, you should hang out in here more," she said. "I mean, in the house. Maybe do your homework here, instead of in the pool house."

Ryan looked up at her and frowned. It wasn't like him not to answer Kirsten. That had changed. But Sandy wasn't sure what she was getting at either. Kirsten blushed a little.

"It must get lonely out there," she said softly. Ryan didn't say anything, but now Sandy understood what Kirsten was doing.

"Kirsten's got a point," he said, watching Ryan's gaze flicker between them. He looked trapped, but Sandy continued, "Just because you're stuck at the house doesn't mean you have to be by yourself all the time. You could probably use some company."

Kirsten said, "I just hate the idea of you spending all your time alone in that one room."

"It beats the suicide room," Ryan muttered.

Sandy stared at him. "The what?"

Ryan looked quickly around the table, pausing on each of their faces. Everyone had stopped eating.

"Nothing," Ryan said.

"They put you in a suicide room?" Sandy asked.

"Yeah. No. It wasn't like that."

"Ryan, were you-"

"No. No. I wasn't."

"Then why'd they put you in there?" Sandy said. He gripped his fork and knife, trying not to think of all the things that could have gone wrong for Ryan in juvie, all the ways he could have been hurt.

"Look, it wasn't a big deal. I'm fine," Ryan said. He pushed back from the table and stood up, grabbing his plate still loaded with food and carrying it into the kitchen.

"Ryan, please, sit back down and finish your dinner," Kirsten said, pleading with him. She looked like she might be sick.

Ryan didn't answer her, only mumbled a quick thanks on his way out the back door. Sandy watched him walk to the pool house and close the door. The blinds were down, and he couldn't see inside.

"Dad?" Seth said. He had dropped his fork and his eyes were wide.

Sandy didn't know how to explain any of this to his family. How was he supposed to sit in his bright, comfortable kitchen and tell them about a windowless, empty room where kids were locked up with almost no human contact? How could he talk about what might have happened for Ryan to end up there? How could he explain what that kind of isolation did to a kid? He couldn't.

"Finish your dinner, Seth."

Sandy didn't go to Ryan right away. He knew Ryan would need his space, need some time to recover and calm himself. So he waited an excruciating 10 or 15 minutes, sitting with his family and forcing himself to eat the rest of his meal. Kirsten turned to him once, eyebrows raised and silently begging him to explain what was happening, but he shook his head slightly and she let it go.

When he finally walked out to the pool house, only a faint glow came from behind the blinds, and Sandy imagined that Ryan was lying on his bed, reading in the light from one bedside lamp. He knew Kristen had bugged him about that habit, warning him about ruining his eyes. But Ryan seemed to prefer his room with the lights turned low; Sandy wondered if Ryan was uncomfortable in the Cohens' brightly lit home.

Sandy tapped once on the pool house door, waited, and then tapped again. When Ryan still didn't answer he opened it just slightly. He'd been right; Ryan was prone on his bed, a heavy book in his lap. He didn't look up when Sandy walked in and closed the door behind him. Sandy dropped into a chair at the end of the bed.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

Ryan frowned but kept his eyes on the book. "I didn't try to kill myself."

"I know that." Sandy sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. He tried to sound patient. "So you got in trouble. Were you fighting?"

Sandy thought for a moment that Ryan looked hurt, but he shook his head.

"Then what? You refused to follow orders? You told off a guard? You fell asleep in school? C'mon, Ryan, talk to me. What happened? They don't just put kids in isolation for no reason."

Ryan slammed his book shut and sat up on the bed. "I asked them to do it."

He spat the words, and even from across the room Sandy could see that Ryan was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Why would you do that?"

"There was a fight. In my room. A guy was gonna get stabbed. I yelled for the guards, and they broke it up, and then I asked them to put me in isolation."

Sandy felt his dinner churn painfully in his stomach, and he closed his eyes. A kid in Ryan's cell, with a knife. It was his worst nightmare. It was everything Sandy knew could go wrong in juvie.

"They would have gone after you," he said softly.

"I know."

Sandy wished he could tell Ryan that he was safe now, and that everything was going to be fine, and that he'd make sure that nothing bad could ever happen to him again. But he knew those empty words would mean nothing to Ryan. Sandy sat back in the chair and ran a hand over his face, feeling drained and useless.

"How long were you in there?"

"Five days."

Now Sandy really did feel sick. Ten days in juvie was bad enough, but five days alone in a tiny cell—with nothing to do but dwell on his own thoughts and memories—it was painful even to consider. And Sandy had left him in there, had been so fixated on making arrangements for Ryan's release that he had failed to be as vigilant as he should have been. He'd tried to call, but he'd assumed Ryan was angry or ashamed and didn't want to talk. He'd never imagined what Ryan had really been going through. The isolation, Ryan's sense of abandonment, must have been overwhelming.

And all because Ryan had refused to let him down.

"You kept your promise," Sandy said.

Ryan sat, silent and tense. Sandy stood and walked to him, and when Ryan wouldn't look up Sandy crouched down beside his bed and gripped his shoulder.

"Thank you," he said.

Ryan blinked quickly and nodded, and Sandy squeezed his shoulder one more time before letting go.

"Don't stay up too late," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sandy knew he and Kirsten wouldn't be sleeping at all that night.