Disclaimers apply...
So today's my birthday! Doesn't that make you want to review? ;)
Sorry if the chapter is semi-boring. Next chapter is better...I think. Just had to get this one out of the way.
And I should be updating The Ex sometime this week.
"Ryan." Theresa smiles, beckons for him to enter the room. Ryan steps across the threshold and walks over to Theresa's bed. She presses a button on the side of the bed and soon is in an upright position. He clasps her hand in his and presses it to his heart.
"I'm so sorry," whispers Ryan.
"Don't be." Theresa shakes her head. "It wasn't meant to be, Ryan."
She doesn't understand. Or have the doctors not broken the news to Theresa yet? Ryan's spoken with them; what's paining him so much is the fact that Theresa is sterile now. She lost the baby, their baby, and to make matters worse she can't have any more children. Ever.
"Theresa, do you know…?"
"I know, Ryan," Theresa says gently, "and it's not the end of the world. I'm seventeen, I don't know what I want to do with my life and having a baby would just complicate things. I guess I wasn't meant to have children, either."
"But—" Theresa silences Ryan with a glare.
"We're done talking about this. It's just going to upset me." But it already has. A tear has formed in the corner of her right eye, watering the brown abyss of her pupil.
Ryan gently lets Theresa's hand go. He can't handle this…seeing her…when he did this to her. It's not fair. Life just isn't fair, he thinks. Ryan has to go. If he'd never gotten her pregnant—oh, if only he hadn't slept with her that one time—she would still be able to bear children. She'd still be happy but she's not. Because much as Ryan would like to go back in time and do things differently, change the past, he knows he can't. And it's not fair.
It's really rather ridiculous to connect himself in such a way, Ryan knows, but nevertheless he can't not do it. It's in his nature to place the blame on himself, when, really (at least this time), no one is at fault.
"I have to go."
Theresa nods her head, understanding fully. Ryan's nose is itching and he feels as though he drank too much soda. He knows he's going to tear up if he doesn't leave this room, this room that reminds him of his mistakes and failures, and how he's ruined Theresa's life. The white walls cry to him, all of the people he's wronged are crying to him. And although the walls are blank, devoid of any decoration, Ryan can see his mistakes—talking back to his mother, stealing cars with Trey—written and depicted in full color.
He power-walks down the hallway once he's left Theresa's room, opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator so he won't have to compose himself in front of anyone. Ryan breaks into a run in the lobby and doesn't stop running until he reaches a small park about two miles from the hospital.
Then, he sits down in a swing, the chains holding the simple rubber seat already rusted.
And alone, in the deserted park where the sandbox hasn't held sand for years, Ryan cries.
A small bird chirps in the large, weathered oak tree next to the swings. Ryan looks up, nose dripping and cheeks wet with salty tears, and finds a place in his heart to wedge some hope in.
Ryan helps Theresa up the steps of her house. He opens the door and leads her into the kitchen, where Theresa's mother is waiting with a chocolate frosted cake and rosemary chicken. It's a treat for lunch and he knows they'll be finishing it off for dinner as well.
Lunch and dinner go by without a hitch. Ryan is sitting in the kitchen reading the job ads. Theresa's mother is out somewhere and Theresa is lying in bed, resting.
"Ryan," yells Theresa. Ryan gets up from his chair and leaves the paper on the table. He runs into the bedroom.
"Are you okay?" he asks worriedly.
Theresa smiles. "Sit down, Ry. We need to talk." Ryan obeys. "You need to go home."
What? "What?" Ryan is flabbergasted. This is his home. "I am home." What drugs do they have Theresa on? He is home, here, with her. She still needs his support, and he's still willing to give it to her, although there is no baby in the picture anymore.
"No, Ryan." Theresa sighs. She pushes the covers away from her body and sits up. "I mean, you need to go home. To the Cohens."
"No." It's as simple as that. He's not going home. He doesn't want to go home. Wait, the Cohen house isn't even his home. So really, he's just not going back…there.
"I want you to go home. Look at you. You'll be miserable here. Ryan, you deserve better."
Ryan lies back on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. She's kicking him out, that's what she's doing. He's not good enough for her. That must be it. "So now I'm not good enough for you?" he challenges.
Theresa laughs. "That's not the issue and you and I both know it. Stop lying to yourself, Ryan. You need to go back there. You need to work things out with Sandy and Kir—your mother, and get on with your life."
"But you need me," protests Ryan, "and she's not my mother."
"I don't need you, Ryan. Not as badly as they need you, at least." Theresa pauses, lets Ryan consider this for a moment. "And she is your mother. I know you've always been jealous of Seth, for having her. Well, now you have her too. Don't waste it, embrace it."
"I'm staying here. Or I'll find somewhere else to live. But they—she doesn't want me in her house. I'm going to take a shower," Ryan says firmly, and exits the room. Theresa sighs deeply. How will she get him to understand?
As if on cue, the phone rings. Theresa gets up to answer it.
"Hello?" Theresa can hear the shower running.
"Theresa? It's Sandy."
"Hi, Mr. Cohen."
"Is Ryan there? I need to talk to him."
"He actually just got in the shower, but I can have him call you back."
"Okay, thanks Theresa."
Theresa is just about to hang up the phone when she hears Sandy's voice through the receiver.
"What was that, Mr. Cohen?" she asks, pressing the phone up to her ear again.
"I was…can you tell Ryan that we miss him? And we really want him to come home. He's always welcome here." Sandy's voice cracks a few times. "Thanks." He hangs up the phone and Theresa is left with the dial tone.
Poor Mr. Cohen, thinks Theresa. She can't even imagine how Kirsten is faring. She resolves to have Ryan back with the Cohens, no matter what. They really need him, and, as much as Theresa feels like being selfish and keeping Ryan, she knows it's not what's best. She and Ryan shouldn't be together. Their only link was the baby, and there is no longer a baby in the picture.
Once Ryan is out of the shower and dressed, he gets into bed with Theresa, who has, by this point, returned to her warm and comfortable bed.
"Ryan?" Theresa asks, not sure if Ryan is sleeping or not. Most nights he comes in after she's already asleep, but the nights that she isn't, he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
"Hmm?" Ryan mumbles. Good. He's not asleep but not fully awake right now. In this state maybe he'll be more willing to listen to Theresa.
"Mr. Coh—Sandy called earlier. He sounded really upset." Theresa stops to make sure Ryan is still listening. She can hear him breathing steadily and wonders if he's just fallen asleep.
"Really?" Ryan sounds uninterested, but then again, what can Theresa expect from an exhausted, half-asleep seventeen-year-old.
"He really misses you. And he wants you to come home." Theresa contemplates telling Ryan that the message was from Kirsten too, but decides against it. Maybe it's better to not mention her at all. "I think you should go home."
"I think…I should go home…" Ryan mutters, "but…Theresa…she needs…me. And I can't be in two places at once."
"Sometimes it's not about what other people want," Theresa answers softly, brushing Ryan's cheek with her hand. He turns slightly onto his right side, facing Theresa. "What do you want, Ryan?"
Ryan is quiet and Theresa wonders if he's heard her last question and is just choosing to ignore it, or if he's thinking about his answer. She strokes his cheek and he sighs.
"I want to be…home. Where I belong, where I'm wanted…with the Cohens…"
That's a good enough answer for Theresa. She leans over and kisses the top of his head.
"'Night, Ryan."
The next morning, around eleven o'clock, sees Ryan, suitcase in hand, walking down the steps of Theresa's house. A shiny black Beemer is purring in the driveway, the driver a dark haired man with overly excited eyebrows.
Ryan walks around to the trunk of the car, which opens automatically. He puts his suitcase in the trunk and shuts it. Theresa is standing on the steps in her light blue bathrobe. He walks up the first step and hugs her, kisses her on the lips, as a friend.
He smiles at her and gets in the passenger side of the BMW. Theresa waves at the two men until the car roars out of sight.
Then, she sits down on her steps and cries.
For her lost child.
For her lost fertility.
For her lost Ryan.
She sniffs and goes back inside her home to start the daily tasks and get on with her life.
If Theresa weren't so focused on mopping the kitchen floor she thinks she just might cry again.