THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE COHEN By Allegra
(See Part One for disclaimers etc.)
Author's Note : A massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed & encouraged me over the course of these 10 chapters. I can't thank you enough! Sorry for the long wait.
PART 10 : SURFACING
It didn't take long for word of Ryan's outburst to reach Kirsten's ears. She was concerned for him but she also had vital work to do at the office - work she had neglected for too long already on account of the teenager's misfortunes. Kirsten was accustomed to coming to loggerheads with her father on numerous occasions but she usually had a reasonable leg to stand on in her defence. Pleading family issues - namely Ryan's - would not go down well and she didn't like the idea of listening to Caleb's berating. All those misplaced "I told you so's" about adopting strays off the street and Sandy's absurdly "apple pie" ideals concerning lifting criminals out of the gutter.
Listening to Caleb's voice in her head though somehow turned Kirsten's guilt around. She could fight a pathetic argument like that. Instead, she now felt indignant and determined to do what was right. Ryan was unwell and unhappy, partly due to a selfish decision on her part. She couldn't, no, wouldn't leave him when he needed her most.
Leaving a curt phone message on Caleb's answer phone, Kirsten braced herself and headed out to the pool house. She tapped lightly on the glass and peered into the main room beyond. She was surprised to see that Ryan wasn't in bed as she had expected - and as the doctor had ordered. This pushed her on and she opened the door, calling, "Ryan?" She instantly thought the worst.
Ryan wasn't one to hang around to talk through his problems. His instincts were always to run and, in his condition, that would be the worst thing he could possibly do.
"Ryan?" she called louder, trying to suppress the anxiety tinging her voice. Her heart lurched and then steadied in relief as the toilet flushed and the dishevelled teenager emerged from the bathroom. His eyes were bleary, still rimmed with red despite the obvious effort to cover up any evidence of tears. Kirsten knew better than to draw attention to it. "How are you fee...?" but her voice trailed off.
She asked that question every time she saw Ryan but she already knew the answer. She knew that he was feeling 'fine' on the outside while insider he was hurting both physically and emotionally in ways that would take a long time to heal. "I took the morning off work. You want me to go the video store for you? I bet you've missed out on a ton of new releases." The cheeriness in her voice sounded false to her ears.
Ryan didn't move from his position by the bathroom door. "Thanks but I think...Seth...left me enough."
"Are you sure?" Kirsten pushed, struggling to think of another topic to prolong their conversation. She was desperately seeking a way into meaningful conversation.
A shy smile crept across Ryan's battered face. "I guess I could watch the Star Wars films. I hear there's a great twist at the end."
Even Kirsten knew that he and Seth had watched the trilogy together on one of the first nights Ryan had stayed over. She managed a smile but it was no laughing matter. "Listen, Ryan. I know this must be very hard for you - living amongst virtual strangers and not knowing when it'll all make sense again, but I'm here to support you all the way. We all are."
Ryan nodded and he shifted from one foot to the other, wincing as pain lanced up his spine. The hitch in his breath was barely visible but Kirsten saw it. She instinctively moved towards him, ignoring his feeble protests. "Come on, let's you back to bed." She eased him down into a sitting position and rearranged the pillows so that Ryan would be comfortable. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the sheets, breathing through the pain until his body was positioned better.
Kirsten sat back, regarding Ryan carefully. "Is there anything else I can get you?" She stressed the word 'anything', pleading with him to want something from her, what little she could give him in recompense.
Once again, the wall came up around the teenager. "No...thanks."
"Okay, well, I'm going to head to the store and grab a few supplies. If you want anything, you just call me on my cell. Okay?"
Ryan nodded mutely again and Kirsten took advantage of his stillness to plant a light kiss on the top of his head before getting up. "I'll be back in an hour," she said a little too smugly. It wasn't every day one got that close to Ryan Atwood.
Summer regarded her best friend carefully. Marissa had been on another planet all morning, moping around and refusing to elaborate whenever anyone asked what was wrong. "What gives, Coop? You're driving me nuts."
Marissa looked up from her text book with a forced smile. "What do you mean? We're studying."
"Studying?! You're underlining EVERY word," Summer retorted. "It's that Chino guy, isn't it?"
Marissa's eyes widened a little. "No, don't be stupid."
Summer pulled a disbelieving face. "Hey, I've been seeing that expression since third grade. You ain't gonna fool me."
Marissa actually appeared a little relieved that her friend had found her out. She had been afraid Summer wouldn't understand. "It's just so awful...what happened to him." She stared blankly at her page once more, recalling the first time she had visited Ryan at the hospital.
Summer queried, "Is that all it is? Sympathy because he's gone through something so awful?"
"What do you mean?"
Marissa played innocent but Summer rolled her eyes, unconvinced. "Well, it's obvious that you and Luke aren't exactly love bunnies at the moment and you've been spending an awful lot of time at Cohen's house. So, unless you've developed a thing for Seth Cohen, I'm betting you're looking for a little bit of rough. Am I wrong?" Marissa pulled a shocked face but didn't dare deny it. Summer really did know her too well to be fooled.
"It's weird. I don't know why I like him, I just feel kind of drawn to him. I don't know," she struggled. "It doesn't make any sense."
Summer quickly replied with her psychoanalysis. "I think it makes a whole lot of sense - all girls like the bad boy, especially one from the wrong side of the tracks. Plus, Luke could do with a bit of jealousy to raise his game. There's no harm in a little manipulation, Coop. I say go for it if you don't take it too far." Marissa smiled at her friend's fabulous oversimplification of the issue. "Just be careful." Summer clasped her friend's hands with alacrity. "This Ryan guy's got a whole matching set of baggage. Be careful you don't get pulled in too deep. It's not worth the heartache."
Marissa smiled gratefully, afraid that it was already too late to take her friend's advice. "I will," she muttered.
Ryan lay uncomfortably on his bed, flicking channels on the television but unable to settle on a programme for longer than a couple of minutes. His attention span seemed to have disintegrated not unlike his memories. Pain jabbed bitterly in his spine and he began to feel the all too common signs of nausea. He didn't care how much more pain it caused him, he had to get out. He considered the pros and cons of leaving a note for one of the Cohens but decided better of it. Something in him told Ryan he didn't want to leave a trace. It always complicated things or led to unwelcome surprises.
Reaching for the phone, he stared at it blankly for a moment, realising he couldn't remember any taxi numbers. Biting back the urge to scream in frustration, he looked at the receiver and was relieved to see a list of the ten most urgent numbers - taxi ranking somewhere just below emergency services and the Cohens' doctor. He quickly punched it in and waited for the operator.
Ryan suppressed a moan of pain when he moved too fast, giving the address of the house. He was pleased with himself for at least managing to remember that part. Strange that a new address came more easily to his mind than his supposedly best friend's name. "Where to?" the taxi operator asked. Ryan froze. He might remember where the Cohens' house was but providing a destination address was going to be a lot harder. "Uh, the beach," he said, vaguely.
"I'm sorry, sir, you're going to have to be more specific," came the sing-song voice in return.
"Okay," Ryan murmured, wracking his brains for some detail, some café or hang-out Seth had mentioned. Then it came to him - the Crab Shack. That had to be near the beach with a name like that. It seemed to satisfy the operator who assured him a taxi would be with him shortly.
Next job on the agenda was to check how much money he had. Ryan got the distinct feeling it wasn't going to be a lot. He winced, reaching for his bag beside the bed. Rummaging through the contents, he pulled out a battered wallet and examined the contents. He was pleasantly surprised to find at least twenty dollars. He figured that would cover the cost of the taxi.
For a moment, Ryan couldn't help pondering how strange his mind truly was. It seemed ridiculous that he could remember how taxi services worked, know what the beach was going to look like but that he couldn't remember anything pertinent about himself or his life. He struggled to understand the logic - his whole world was one big topsy turvy mess.
Ryan forced himself up off the bed, realising that it would probably take him about fifteen minutes just to make it to the front door. He hadn't been fully prepared for how excruciating it would really be to walk such a distance unaided. Every step was like a knife in his kidneys and by the time he reached the hallway, Ryan was drenched with sweat, his face pasty and white. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he stopped.
He had almost forgotten what he looked like. It must be close to what an accident victim thinks when they see their own reconstructed face. You spend twenty years looking at your own face, only for it to become alien overnight. All the scars that marked your path suddenly erased. In Ryan's case, those scars were not erased; they were simply meaningless, redundant remnants from a life he hadn't lived.
Pushing a shaky hand through his hair, trying to gather a little dignity, he went outside to wait for the taxi. He didn't have to wait long and then he was taking the extremely painful, bumpy ride towards the beach. Ryan didn't recall there being so many pot holes when he had travelled in the Cohens' car.
The Crab Shack looked pretty uninviting to Ryan. He knew he looked like crap and had already warded off numerous inquisitive stares, some horrified and some scornful. If there was one thing he couldn't stomach right now it was seafood and more furtive glances, trying to get a better look at his bruises.
Limping pathetically towards the sand, Ryan found a secluded spot, as far from the throngs of people as he could find. He stood gazing at the ocean for a while, reluctant to move into a sitting position. His body ached all over, occasional jabs of pain highlighting the general throbbing throughout his waning frame. He did not know how long he had been standing there but it was only when his head started pounding and he feared passing out that Ryan forced his protesting body onto the sand.
Hours passed, the beach goers packed up their things and headed back home, but Ryan remained where he was, unable or unwilling to get up. He was desperately tired and the prospect of hailing another taxi or interacting with anyone seemed near impossible right now. He was suddenly conscious of how few thoughts he could actually recall from sitting here all this time. It was as if his mind had completely blanked out. Like the ocean, small anxieties lapped at the edges of his brain but the waves were too far out to focus on; the tidal wave they could form was theoretical not tangible, dim and distant.
He couldn't remember doing it or feeling the accompanying pain but Ryan found himself standing at the water's edge suddenly. His now bare toes felt the cold, salty water. As if by their own volition, his legs bore him further out, up to his knees, dampening his trousers. Soon the water was up to Ryan's waist. The salt smarted in some of the fresh wounds but somehow that was a comfort. It reminded him that there had been a beginning to all this - the cuts hurt almost as much as they had the day he first awoke in hospital. That day had become so distant, Ryan feared that with every passing moment he was losing touch with any part of him that might still remember who he was. Now, he felt closer than ever.
He could feel every laceration - from the deep gouges where his skin had been pulled together by stitches to the superficial cuts scabbing over. This was the same body, the same person he had been weeks ago, when he had a memory and a life - no matter how pathetic it might have been. Moving further out, pressing on, Ryan closed his eyes as the water lapped around his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he ducked his head under, completely immersing himself. The bitter salty water was like amniotic fluid around him - a womb of care, healing him through pain.
Ryan felt his breath running out and he opened his eyes to peer into the murky depths. Through the swirling sand and seaweed, he saw flashes of his life - his first bike, school, his brother...his mother. Like a bolt of lightning, there it was. The whole of his life reduced to a few seconds.
Bursting to the surface, Ryan drew a ragged breath of clear air and bobbed for a few seconds in the choppy water. The sun was low in the sky, casting golden ripples on the ocean surface. Despite building fatigue and near crippling pain, he felt more alive than ever. Like pieces of some cosmic jigsaw puzzle, memories came flooding back, one triggering off the next until his time with the Cohens finally came into sharp focus.
Dragging himself wearily towards beach, dazed and confused, Ryan allowed himself to sink to the ground and he closed his eyes once more. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
How long he lay there, Ryan couldn't be sure, but the next thing he knew, a strong hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"
Ryan gazed back, woozily. "I guess."
"Man, you look like you need an ambulance. You stay right here..." he began, his eyes trailing over the cuts and bruises visible on the teenager's body.
Ryan mumbled a refusal, "No, I've already been...I just need to get...get home or some place." He wasn't sure where home was right now. It wasn't the Cohens but he knew they'd be worried and he didn't want to complicate matters.
"You got a number for someone who can pick you up?" Ryan thought for a moment and told him about Sandy Cohen. The man tracked Sandy down and went to fetch a blanket for Ryan.
Fifteen minutes later, still staring out at the darkening ocean, wrapped in a blanket an holding a hot mug of tea, Ryan felt someone moving up behind him. Kirsten sat down beside him. He had half expected a lecture or a rant at the very least but she said nothing at first.
Then, she began, "Ryan, I don't know how to..."
"I remember everything," he cut in. There was no point in prolonging a futile discussion. He just needed his wounds to heal and everything would be back to normal.
Kirsten didn't speak for a moment, just stared at him mutely, digesting this bomb shell news. Then, the guilt she had felt all this time about abandoning him came rushing to the fore. Now he would remember how she had let him down. "I'm sorry I left you there. If I'd known..."
"It's okay, I understand." Ryan's face was controlled and betrayed no emotion, if indeed he felt any.
"Things will be different now." And this time, from the bottom of her heart, she meant it.
THE END
Well, that's all folks. I hope you liked it. I could have gone all angsty again & had a big set-back with drug dependencies & stuff but I thought better of it. I think Ryan has been through enough! Thank you very much for reading & reviewing, it makes all the difference to know there's an audience following the story & makes you try that much harder to do something worthwhile. I hope it has been!