"The Air of Finality" – chapter 1
Set, as always, in my AU Ryan/Summer world. Prequels include: Summer Time, Summer in Chino, Seth Gets Lucky and The Words.
The Cohens and Summer try to help Ryan deal with some very bad news.
Thanks to storymom and Walter for answering questions and supplying useful information and generally holding my hand through the self-doubt.
Friday evening.
Seth was laying on the couch commenting non-stop on the movie they were watching, while Ryan and Summer sat on the floor; Ryan leaned against the couch with Summer wedged between his sprawled legs, resting the back of her head against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her and he was feeding them both bites of ice cream from the bowl he held.
"Okay, this is the part I don't get," Seth interrupted the dialogue to make yet another point about the illogic of time travel. "We're supposed to assume that different things happened during his blackouts the first time through, right? So why was the kid holding a knife in the original timeline?"
"There is no original timeline. He's stuck in a repeating loop," Summer answered before accepting the spoonful of Chunky Monkey that Ryan held up to her mouth.
"But that doesn't make sense! How could the future be changed then?" he protested, squirming on the couch and thumping his pillow into a more comfortable shape.
"That's why there's no real time travel, Seth. It doesn't make any sense," Ryan retorted. He returned the spoon to the bowl and dipped up some ice cream for himself, leaning slightly over Summer's shoulder to take a bite.
"Shh. We're missing it," Summer interrupted impatiently. "God, Ashton looks like a werewolf in this movie. Someone groom him, please!"
She rested her hand on Ryan's thigh and, with a surreptitious glance at Seth to make sure his eyes were glued to the TV screen, began to rub it lightly. She smiled as she felt Ryan Junior spring instantly to life against her rear. Ryan shifted a little, moved his hand down to cover hers and gently placed her hand back in her lap.
Summer pouted a little. If they were out in the pool house, he would have responded by kissing her neck and grabbing her boobs. If they were out in the pool house, there would be ice cream many other places besides just their mouths. If they were out in the pool house, they probably wouldn't ever find out how Ashton Kucher solved his time travel problems.
Then Ryan pressed his lips near her ear and whispered, "Later," gave her a little peck on the cheek, and Summer cheered right up.
The house phone rang and she was vaguely aware of Kirsten walking through the room on her way to answer it. On-screen Ashton's future had gone from bad to very, very bad and Summer was getting sucked into the movie.
Several minutes slipped by and even Seth managed to be quiet and let the plot unwind. Summer barely noticed when Kirsten, phone in hand, passed by on her way to another part of the house.
Ten minutes later, as the soundtrack built to a deafening crescendo and the story reached its final crisis and Summer was tucked in the warm circle of Ryan's arms with the melting ice cream set aside and forgotten on the floor next to them, Sandy walked into the room. He crossed to Ryan and touched him on the shoulder.
"Can we talk to you for a second?" he asked quietly.
Summer's heart leaped to her throat as she looked up at Mr. Cohen's grim face. She felt Ryan's arms loosen and release her as he said, "Sure."
She moved away so that he could scramble to his feet and follow Sandy from the room. Ryan didn't glance back at her, but his stiff posture let her know how nervous he was. Summer wished she could jump up and follow. She hated waiting to find out things and there was an extremely bad vibe coming from Sandy.
She turned to ask Seth what he thought, but he was still watching the movie, totally oblivious.
Minutes ticked by and Summer's tension grew. Something awful had happened and her gut instinct told her it concerned Dawn. After they had found her, drug addicted and destitute in Chino, Summer had been expecting a call like this.
Or maybe she was being overly melodramatic and completely misreading the situation. Maybe it was the school or Ryan's probation officer – yeah, at 9:00 on a Friday evening? Or perhaps something was wrong with someone else, Marissa for example. Although Marissa was still in the care of the rehab facility and should be safe, bad things happened sometimes.
Summer felt her pulse racing.
"Oh now that's just stupid!" Seth burst out. "The slate's clean, he's finally free to have a relationship with her but he walks away? What kind of an end.... Ow!" as Summer slapped his leg.
"Cohen, are you deaf and blind?"
"What? What'd I do now?" he asked, rubbing his calf.
"Something's going on! Didn't you see your dad in here just now?"
"No."
"Your mom got a phone call and then your dad came in all serious and asked Ryan to come with him. That's not a good sign." Anxiety pitched her voice up half an octave.
"Summer, calm down. I'm sure there's nothing to worry...."
"We're talking about RYAN here, Seth. How often do phone calls concerning Ryan turn out well?"
"Oh my god, you're right." Seth swung his legs around and sat up straight on the couch, looking worriedly toward the other room from which they could barely hear the murmur of voices.
"Should we...?" he raised his eyebrows and nodded his head toward the arch.
"Eavesdrop? No." Summer shook her head. "Not this time. I think we just have to wait."
At that moment Kirsten entered the room. Her face was drawn and pale and one hand nervously twisted the rings of the other.
"What happened?" Seth asked, rising from the couch. Summer wanted to stand too, she felt suddenly, ridiculously vulnerable down on the floor, but the adrenalin was coursing through her so hard she was afraid her legs would buckle if she tried to stand.
"It's Trey," Kirsten said, her voice low and weak. "He, uh ... He died."
Summer heard someone gasp and realized it was herself. She'd never met Trey, never even seen a picture, but Ryan had told her Chino stories in which his brother played a prominent role often enough that she felt as if she knew him in some fundamental way. She wanted to say something but was too shocked to form words. Seth, however, wasn't so afflicted.
"When? How did it happen? Did he get stabbed or something? Does Ryan's mom know? Does anyone even know where she is? What about his dad?" His voice rose a little more with each question, as he walked toward his mom.
Kirsten held up a hand. "Seth. Quieter, please." She glanced over her shoulder at the other room.
"How's he taking it?" Seth asked in a stage whisper.
She shrugged. "It's hard to.... You know, Ryan. He looks...."
'Like stone.' Summer completed the sentence in her head. She knew very well what Ryan looked like when he shut down.
"Trey died just a few hours ago at the prison infirmary. The diagnosis is that it was a burst cerebral aneurysm but they won't know until they do an autopsy."
"He was only, like, twenty-two or something. How is that possible?" Seth sounded as shocked as Summer felt.
"I don't know," Kirsten said wearily.
"Weren't there signs? I mean, what, did they refuse him treatment too long until it was too late or...?"
"Seth. Stop," she cautioned. "I don't really know all the details and it is not appropriate to start guessing about medical treatment or lack of right now. The important thing is to calm down and be there for Ryan, whatever he needs from us."
"Well..." Seth paused in both walking and talking then continued more slowly, "what about Dawn or Mr. Atwood. God, I don't even know Ryan's father's name."
"Glen," Summer said quietly. "It's Glen." She grabbed the edge of the couch and hauled herself to her feet, legs feeling like deadwood from sitting on the floor so long. Both Seth and Kirsten looked at her as if they had only just noticed her presence in the room.
"Mrs. Cohen, is it all right if I...? Can I see him?" Summer asked, feeling shy and uncertain of her place.
For a second Kirsten looked doubtful then she smiled slightly and nodded. "Of course. Go ahead."
Summer wet her lips, took a breath and began to walk toward the other room as if facing an executioner. She felt totally unequipped to say the right words.
Seth moved to come with her, but Summer noted from the corner of her eye that Kirsten rested a hand on his arm to prevent him. "Maybe one at a time," she suggested carefully.
And oh great, now Summer felt bad for usurping Seth's position as Ryan's best friend and pseudo brother. But she walked on anyway.
She paused in the arch between the rooms and watched the tableau before her. Sandy and Ryan were seated at the corner of the formal dining room table. Ryan's back was to Summer so she couldn't see his face. His arms lay on the table, hands resting on top of one another, his back was hunched slightly and his head bowed a little. Sandy was talking earnestly, his expressive face leaned in close to Ryan's as if his proximity and intensity would catch and hold Ryan's attention. One of his hands was on Ryan's shoulder, not rubbing nor patting but just touching.
He glanced up and nodded at Summer and she took it as permission to approach. She walked over to Ryan and put a tentative hand on his other shoulder.
"Hey," she said, so breathily she was surprised any sound came out.
Ryan turned to look up at her. His eyes were flat and empty like a doll's. It always amazed her how black his eyes could seem when she knew they were as bright blue as an August sky. She sat down in the chair next to him and dropped her hand from his shoulder to her lap.
"Hey," he said belatedly, as though the formation of words required more mental ability than he possessed just then.
Summer searched her mind for what people said in situations like this. She had never been involved with death in any way, not even to attend a grandparent's funeral or to bury a pet in the backyard. She felt stupid and useless and knew that if she opened her mouth only stupid and useless things would come out.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered.
Ryan nodded. He was still staring at her – or more precisely through her.
She tried to smile but her lips felt numb. She reached over and placed her hand on top of Ryan's where it lay on the table. His felt cool and dry. His eyes slid from her face to their hands and he slowly turned his palm up and entwined his fingers with hers.
"What ... happens next?" he asked Sandy in a quiet, level tone.
"The autopsy will take a few days," Sandy replied, "then Trey will be transported to the mortuary at the funeral home, which I'll call, and then...." He cut himself off. "You don't have to worry about all of this tonight."
Ryan blinked. His hand was clenching and unclenching in Summer's. "What?"
Sandy sighed. "Since we can't locate your mother and your dad hasn't really ... been in the picture for a while, it's up to you to decide whether to ... bury or cremate the body."
And just like that Trey had been reduced from a person to 'the body.' Summer felt sick. She looked at Ryan and thought that if it was possible he had gone even paler. He nodded again.
"I'm so sorry," Sandy said, and for the first time Summer realized how helpless and uncertain adults could feel too, even confident people like Sandy. He shook his head, frowning. "It's an awful thing. I wish there was something I could do to make it better for you but I can't."
"If he's cremated, will I be able to see him first? Before they...," Ryan darted a questioning glance up at Sandy then returned his gaze to his hand and Summer's locked together on the table.
Summer felt sweat forming on the palm of her hand and Ryan's had gone from cool and dry to moist and warm. It was wrapped around hers as tightly as a vice.
"Oh," again Sandy seemed at a loss. "Uh, yes. If you want to I'm sure that could be arranged."
Again Ryan nodded.
Kirsten and Seth had quietly come in. Kirsten had a steaming mug of something, which she carried over and set in front of Ryan before she sat down across from him. Seth hesitated in the doorway with his arms folded, shifting slightly from one foot to the other.
"Hey, man," he said when Ryan finally looked up at him. "I'm so sorry to hear about Trey."
The dead boy's name fell like a stone from his lips and lay there in the ensuing silence, hard and solid and unchangeable.
"Thanks." Ryan's voice was gravelly. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, finally releasing Summer's hand and crossing his arms over his chest. She put her hand back in her lap. When she glanced down, she noticed how pink it was compared to the other.
"Ryan," Kirsten said, breaking the silence. "If you want, I can hire someone to look for your mom. The funeral can wait a few extra days."
"Funeral," Ryan repeated the word as if testing how it felt on his tongue.
"Absolutely," Sandy agreed. "There's no rush. You can take your time deciding things."
"Is there a particular church your family attended?" Kirsten asked. "I could contact a minister to ... talk to you."
Ryan shook his head. "No. We never really went to church."
"Well, there'll have a chaplain at the funeral home to conduct a service if you want one." Kirsten seemed to suddenly realize that there was too much information for Ryan to process and she said, "But we don't need to discuss these details now." She paused then added, "Is there anything we can do for you? Any questions you have or something you want to talk about."
He barely shook his head. "Not really. I just...."
"Maybe you'd like some time alone?" Sandy suggested gently.
Ryan nodded once and rose from his chair.
Summer felt more extraneous than ever. She stood up too but then she didn't know whether to hug Ryan or give him space or if there was something more she ought to say so she just stood there feeling dumb.
Ryan looked at her and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips but his eyes remained vacant and dazed.
"Sorry," she said again since no other words came to mind. "Call me if you need anything?"
He nodded then walked toward the door.
As Ryan passed him, Seth grabbed his hand as though to pull him into a hug but only gave him a quick pat on the back, before releasing him. The two boys exchanged a brief look before Ryan left the room.
The Cohens and Summer sat in complete silence listening to his footsteps and the sound of the outside door opening and closing. After he was gone, Sandy heaved an audible sigh.
"Well, that was...." he trailed off.
"Yeah. No kidding," Seth agreed. He finally walked into the room and sat down heavily on one of the dining room chairs. "This sucks."
Summer stood with her hands resting on the back of a chair, wondering if she should go home now or stay.
"So what happens next?" Seth echoed Ryan's earlier words. He looked to his parents to provide answers.
"The prison has ordered an autopsy to confirm the cause of death," Sandy explained. "After Trey's body is released it will go to the mortuary and either be cremated or embalmed for burial. Ryan will have to make some decisions about that and what kind of service, if any, he wants. With his father's input, of course."
"The guy hasn't been there for his family in years, what right does he have to make any decisions now?" Seth asked, frowning.
"Seth, it's a big responsibility and I'm sure Ryan will be glad not to have these hard choices all rest with him," Kirsten said.
"Well then, you and dad should be the ones to guide him through it. You have more right than Mr. or Mrs. Atwood. After all, you'll be the ones paying for everything won't you?" Seth's disgust with the neglectful Atwood parents dripped from every word.
Summer was one hundred percent with Seth but kept her normally opinionated mouth shut.
"Badmouthing Ryan's parents is hardly helpful at this juncture," Sandy lapsed into lawyer-speak. "The best thing you can do, Seth, is to try to keep your thoughts to yourself and be there for Ryan. Give him a chance to talk for a change. Try being a listener."
Seth looked sullen but he dropped it. "I still don't understand exactly how Trey died."
Kirsten took up the story. "Late this afternoon Trey complained of a severe headache to some of the other inmates while they were in the dining hall, and then he fell down, unconscious. The on-site medic was called but it was already too late."
"Too late?" Seth echoed. "He was already dead?"
"Well, no, but...."
"Did they try to airlift him to a hospital?"
"It probably wouldn't have made any difference from what they said. A cerebral aneurysm is caused by a weakness in the wall of the aorta and when it ruptures the brain is flooded with blood. It's very sudden and unexpected and has no prior symptoms to indicate it might happen."
Summer swallowed. She felt her skin prickle as the hairs at the base of her skull rose. The thought of all the weird things that could go wrong inside your body without you even knowing about it scared the crap out of her.
Evidently it knocked the wind out of Seth's sails too because he finally fell silent.
There didn't seem to be anything else to say or do and Summer decided she should leave.
"I guess I'll go home now," she said softly.
The Cohens all gave her sympathetic smiles and said goodbye. Kirsten even walked her to the door and gave her a hug. "I know this is hard for you and Seth, too," she said. "It's not easy to know what to say or how to act when somebody you love loses someone they love." She gave Summer another quick squeeze then let her go. It felt weird but nice to have Kirsten hug her and left Summer feeling all nostalgic for her own mother's rare embrace.
Once outside the front door, Summer hesitated. She couldn't decide whether or not to take that familiar walk around the side of the house to Ryan's room. Part of her thought she should check in with him before she left but another inner voice told her to give him his space. Summer hated feeling uncertain like this. She had never hesitated to barge in anywhere at any time whether she was welcome or not, but tonight she felt like a child on the first day of kindergarten - waiting to be directed where to go and what to do.
Finally she got into her jeep, put the key in the ignition and drove off, thinking about the injustice of all the shit that had rained down on Ryan's life in seventeen years.
Ryan lay on his bed in the dark staring up at the lights dancing on the ceiling. The house lights reflected off the pool and created wavering ripples of light and shadow and if you stared at them long enough you almost felt like you were floating in water.
He imagined the Cohens and Summer in the house still talking about what had happened to Trey and discussing Ryan and how he was 'holding up.' They were so kind and caring and concerned – sometimes it pissed him off for no good reason.
Ryan could feel the spacious, perfectly air conditioned room around him and the soft bed under him and suddenly he was hit by a hammer blow of extreme homesickness for his own crappy bed in his closet of a bedroom with the TV turned up too loud on the other side of the thin wall and Trey and his mom shouting at each other over the noise. The stink of tuna casserole would permeate the house and if he listened through the immediate din he could hear Turo's car radio in the driveway between the two houses tuned to the bone thumping bass of heavy metal.
For a moment he felt he would even put up with that cocksucker A.J. if he could just go home again; set the clock back and make everything normal.
The burst of emotion passed and Ryan tried to concentrate on the dancing lights again, to calm himself and reach that zen-like floating state. He breathed slowly in and out, listening to the sounds of his new room – the quiet drone of the pool pump and the air conditioner, the natural sounds of crickets and frogs outside, and if he listened hard enough he thought he could hear the gentle roar of the surf hitting the beach far below the bluff on which these mansions were built.
He tried to picture what Trey looked like dead.
Ryan had been to a couple of funerals in his life; his Grandma Atwood when he was eight and there was still mom on one side of him and dad on the other as he gazed curiously at the waxen woman in the shiny wood box.
Then there was Brendan McKee when Ryan was ten. Everybody in their grade went to the funeral home to gawk at their classmate who had been laughing and fighting and shooting hoops on the playground only a few days before. He had been in a car accident, suffered internal injuries and died almost immediately. The corpse didn't look anything like Brendan no matter how many times the grown ups commented on how 'natural' he looked. He reminded Ryan of a store dummy all dressed up in a suit that Brendan wouldn't have been caught dead in. When that ironic thought crossed his mind, he had almost laughed out loud right in the middle of the service.
Freshman year of high school Xavier Avilla got shot during a convenience store hold up. He was trying to get the clerk to sell him a six-pack of Bud when the junky with the gun came in, things got out of control and pretty soon bullets were flying in the tiny store. Xavier's death hit hard. He was someone Ryan actually knew really well – a friend he had just gotten high with during lunch hour on Tuesday. And again, as he walked past the fake looking kid in the casket, Ryan knew there was nothing 'natural' about it at all.
He didn't want to see Trey look like that.
Ryan heard the engine of Summer's jeep turn over and was glad she hadn't stopped in to see him before she went home. He was even happier that Marissa was no longer his girlfriend because she would have been weeping and hanging all over him trying to be supportive. That was something he just couldn't take right now.
A few minutes later he heard a quiet knock on the door.
"I'm awake," he called even though he would rather have faked sleep.
The door opened and Kirsten entered the room. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light then crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. He felt rather than saw her smiling down at him.
"Here. I thought you could use these."
Ryan sat up and took the tablets and glass of water she was offering him.
"They'll help you sleep. I know I had a lot of trouble with that when my mom died."
He took the pills, drank from the glass and handed it back. "Thanks."
She hesitated a long moment then reached out to pull him into a quick, awkward hug, which turned into a hold as Ryan clung to her just a little longer than he expected to. She felt thin and breakable in his arms, like Marissa used to, nothing like the solid curves of his own mother. It made him wonder where Dawn was right now and if Kirsten's P.I. would actually find her. And it made him sick thinking about the kind of money the Cohens had had to spend on things like that because of him.
"Get some sleep," Kirsten whispered after he released her. She ruffled a hand through his hair, making him feel like a shaggy puppy.
She got up from the bed and left the room. Ryan lay back down and stared at the ceiling again until his eyes finally drifted closed.
To be continued....