"Survivors"
PG-13
This story has been lodged in my brain a long time but I couldn't figure any way to tell it without creating a multi-part saga, which I hate doing, until now. I decided to skip the connective tissue of storytelling and present it in a series of brief scenes much like one of those montages set to music and intended to show the passage of time which follow a climatic event in a movie. It's up to the reader to fill in the blanks between.
As they stood at the graveside listening to the minister deliver his final, empty words of wisdom, Ryan felt nothing but anger. No. If he was going to be honest, not even anger anymore, just a strange blankness.
He glanced sideways at Sandy and Kirsten clinging to one another, dry-eyed, their faces distorted with fathomless grief. Then he looked at Summer, standing ramrod straight and staring at the shiny wood casket with a slight frown, as if she expected it to pop open and Seth to explain himself to her. Her hands twisted the strap of her little black purse in a repetitive movement.
Ryan noted that neither Summer's stepmother nor her supposedly devoted father had bothered to accompany her today. She looked so little, almost childlike, standing there all alone. He moved a step closer so that he was by her side. His arm brushed hers and she turned her head toward him, distracted from her trance but still frowning, still waiting for an explanation.
Ryan held her gaze for a moment, but there was nothing he could offer. A smile seemed wrong, a shrug inappropriate, so eventually he simply let his eyes slide away, back to the hole in the ground camouflaged by bright green Astroturf and to the highly polished coffin suspended above it.
After a moment he felt cold fingers slip into the palm of his right hand, and he curled his own around them.
There was only a month left of senior year. It should have felt pointless and surreal to finish out the year without Seth, but actually Ryan was kind of happy to have the routine to give shape to his life. He had a lot of catching up to do after the lost months when it was impossible to concentrate on anything except the progression of Seth's illness. Ryan was content to submerge himself in schoolwork now.
Meticulous note-taking, studying and marching through the minutiae of academics was all that held him together during the weeks following Seth's funeral. That and trying to give support to Kirsten, Sandy and Summer, all of whom relied on him in different ways.
It was painful to sit down to dinner with Kirsten and Sandy and look across the table at Seth's empty chair, but Kirsten seemed determined to have family meal time. During the past months they had fallen into the habit of eating randomly, heating individual portions of Newpsie-donated meals or takeout in the microwave whenever someone was hungry. Now they sat formally again, three of them around a table meant for four, and the silence radiating from Seth's seat squashing any attempts at conversation.
"How was ... school today?"
"Good."
Sandy nodded and then lapsed back into quiet.
Silence had become a constant. Ryan wished he could be more like Seth, that he could fill the void left by the absence of his friend's voice, but it was so hard to talk, so hard to think of anything at all to say. It made him realize how much he and Kirsten had relied on Sandy and Seth's banter to create a tapestry of sound, a backdrop to their lives, a solidly woven cloth to which they need only add an occasional thread. Carrying the burden of conversation was exhausting.
"You should be applying to colleges," Sandy added. "It's getting late."
Ryan nodded. It didn't matter what colleges accepted him if he didn't have the money to go and since it was late spring the deadline had passed for most scholarships. Since he was determined not to accept the Cohens paying for his further education, it meant that he would have to delay college a year; work and save up and apply for a student loan. But he knew that if he told them this plan they would insist on paying tuition so he kept his response down to a nod and delayed the issue.
More silence followed as Ryan and Sandy ate mechanically and Kirsten pushed the food around on her plate. Finally she gave up and set her fork down, pushed away from the table and began to clear dishes. The others followed her lead and another meal was finished.
That was how dinner at the Cohens went these days.
It was marginally better on the nights Summer stayed for dinner. With four people to carry on conversation there might be as many as two dozen words exchanged.
Ryan was surprised at how often Summer still came over. Then he thought about it and realized he shouldn't be. After all who else did she have to hang out with? She had severed ties with her society friends at Harbour when she chose to date Seth and whatever fragile connections remained were broken over the past months when her every after school hour was spent by Seth's bedside, talking and reading to him, feeding and entertaining him in a continuous effort to distract him from his pain.
Ryan had marveled at how upbeat and cheerful Summer continued to be, day after day. To him it began to seem that life had always and would always be like this, an endless stretch of time watching Seth slowly slip away. It was crushingly depressing. But Summer always acted as if the cure were just around the corner. For being a naturally bitchy person she was unflaggingly optimistic, never cut Seth any slack but continued to challenge him with her sharp wit and caustic comments right up to the day he slipped into a coma.
It was the day they realized that Seth probably wouldn't wake from the coma that Ryan finally saw Summer's mask slip. The girl behind it was worn, weak and wasted. Only then did he realize what it had cost her to keep up not only Seth's spirits but Sandy and Kirsten's ... and his own.
She sat on one side of Seth's bed, holding his now still hand, a hand that had always been in constant motion illustrating his words whenever he spoke. Ryan sat on the other, watching first his friend's sleeping face, smooth and peaceful and pain-free at last, and then watching Summer.
He wanted to tell her that he thought her behavior was close to heroic, but he didn't use words like that and besides it would only make her self conscious and irritated. When she glanced up and caught him watching her pale, shadowed face, he simply smiled quickly then looked away.
Summer might not be a saint, but she was one of the strongest women he had ever met.
A week after Seth died Ryan came home from school and entered the quiet house. He heard someone moving around upstairs.
When he reached the hall leading to the bedrooms, he froze. Someone was in Seth's room, opening and closing drawers. And for a brief moment against all logic he felt sure that if he walked down that hall and looked in the open door he would see Seth furiously rummaging through his desk, saying irritably, "Ryan, did you borrow the newest Legion? I can't find it."
But instead he found Kirsten and a half dozen packing boxes, some of them filled with Seth's clothes.
"Ryan. Good." Kirsten looked up at his arrival and ran a distracted hand through her hair. She glanced around the room as if uncertain what she was doing there then sighed. "They're coming to move out the hospital bed tomorrow and I thought I might as well get started on...." She gestured at one of the boxes.
"But maybe it's too soon." She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at one of Seth's trademark T's clutched in her hand. "I don't know. I just thought that if I.... if I didn't do it now, I'd never be able to come in here. That ten years would pass and it would be like a shrine I couldn't disturb." She drew a long shuddering breath.
Ryan waited, standing uncertainly in the doorway.
"Anyway, if there's anything of his you want or need...."
He was horrified. The idea of wearing or using any of Seth's things seemed so ghoulish and wrong he couldn't find words to describe it. But he saw that Kirsten was floundering, that she had no idea how to deal with this loss any more than he did, so he answered quietly. "No. No thanks. There's nothing."
She nodded, still staring at the T-shirt in her hands. "I know. When my mother died and we had to go through her things, I didn't think I could bear to keep any of it or even look at it again. But later on.... There was this little music box she used to have...."
Kirsten was silent for so long Ryan wasn't sure she was going to finish the thought. "I should have kept it. ... I wish I'd kept it."
Tears were slipping down her cheeks. He came into the room and crossed to the bed but still stood uncertainly in front of her.
"You don't have to do this right now," he said. "Maybe next month. Sometime when Sandy's home we can all go through it together." He paused, shifting from foot to foot. "You shouldn't do it alone."
Her indrawn breath was ragged and the tears flowed faster as she nodded in silent agreement. "Okay," she managed to force out after a few moments. "Okay."
Ryan held out a hand and she put hers into it. He pulled her to her feet and led her from the room, still clutching Seth's shirt to her chest.
"Score!" Summer crowed, tossing down the controller and smacking Ryan in the arm. "You're not letting me win are you? 'Cause I can't believe you're this bad."
"No. I really am," he assured her. "It's more Seth's game."
There was a moment of complete silence then Summer retrieved the controller from the couch cushion.
"So, you ready for another smackdown?"
"Sure."
Ryan let her win a third game because it was good to hear her laugh and gloat again.
One night Ryan passed by Sandy's study on his way out to the pool house. Sandy was illuminated in the glow of the desk lamp, leaning over a legal brief, studying it intently.
Ryan knocked at the open door then stepped into the office. "'night. I was just going out...." He gestured over his shoulder.
"Come in," Sandy said. "Sit down."
Ryan's heart sank. He really didn't want to do that, didn't want to search for things to say or hear a lecture about college applications, but he sat in the chair across the desk from Sandy.
"How are you doin', kid? Everything okay?"
"Sure."
"I was just going through Seth's mail." Sandy gestured to the papers on his desk. "Comicon registration."
Ryan's heart flip-flopped then seized up in his chest with a crushing ache. It was the unexpected little details that did you in.
"You never did get to go to it with him," Sandy continued. "I mean, first there was that Tijuana thing and then last year, well...."
He turned a page of the itinerary for the event. "I wish you could have gone. He really would have liked to share it with you."
Sandy smiled. "I never understood the whole comic book thing but man, I loved taking him every year. He used to get so damn excited. It was like Christmukkuh, Thanksgiving and his birthday all rolled into one. When he was younger, he'd dress up in a costume."
Sandy's smile faded and he continued to gaze off into space for a moment before gathering up the papers and stuffing them back in the envelope. "Anyway...."
Ryan wondered if he should offer to go to the Con with Sandy or something. But neither of them really cared that much about comics and he knew he'd only be a poor substitute for Seth. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
"No!" Sandy's blue eyes suddenly focused on him with intensity. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I just needed to vent a little. I didn't mean...."
"I wish...." For a moment he almost said it. 'I wish it had been me.' But he bit it back. There was no way to say words like that without sounding melodramatic, even if you meant them. Ryan knew Sandy realized he felt guilty for still being alive when his real son was dead. He knew that both of the Cohens understood that without him saying a word.
Sandy got up and came around the desk. He rested a hand on Ryan's shoulder and bent slightly toward him forcing him to look up and meet his eyes.
"Listen," he said, "you have a child and you want to protect him from everything ... from anything that could hurt him, but something like this happens and you realize how truly powerless we all are."
His eyes held Ryan's and challenged him not to look away. "Kirsten and I both want you to understand that we are so ... grateful ... to have you here, especially now. I don't think we've ever expressed it before and I'm sorry for that, but I want you to know that we care for you very ... deeply."
Ryan was mesmerized by those compelling eyes, red-rimmed from crying or lack of sleep.
Sandy continued gravely, "Asking you to live with us was one of the best things we've ever done for our family."
Ryan couldn't hold the look any longer. He nodded slightly but his eyes slid away.
Sandy removed his hand from Ryan's shoulder. "Just remember that, okay?"
"Okay," Ryan barely murmured. He stood up anxious to leave the room before he completely lost his composure. But Sandy wasn't quite done.
His one time lawyer wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a big bear hug. "You're a good kid," he said quietly against the side of his head before releasing him.
"I got accepted at Lassiter," Summer announced one morning as she approached Ryan in front of his locker at school.
"That's great."
She nodded. "Of course, I have no idea what I'm going to study but...."
A couple of books slid out of Ryan's locker and dropped to the floor. He bent to retrieve them.
"How about you?"
"How about me, what?"
"Ryan, you've got to quit messing around and apply somewhere. It's almost June."
He shrugged and stuffed the books into his bag.
"Is it the money thing again?" she asked. "'Cause you've got to let it go. You've been living with the Cohens for, what, two years now? You know they're more than happy to help...."
"I don't want to talk about it," Ryan interrupted, zipping his bag with a savage tug.
Summer paused, frowning and tapping a foot. "Maybe it isn't about the money. Maybe you're just hiding behind that and there's something more going on. Maybe...."
"Maybe you should look into a degree in psychology since you're so interested in it." He started walking quickly down the hall and she trotted along after him.
"I'm just trying to help." She stumbled on one of her heels and the shoe slipped off her foot. "Damn!"
"I know. Don't." Ryan held her elbow to steady her as she jammed her foot back into the glittery shoe.
"Fine. Whatever." Summer snapped and then changed the subject. "What's Kirsten ordering for dinner tonight? I'll come over if it's not Chinese again."
Ryan lay in bed and thought about the last real conversation he'd had with Seth.
"The worst thing is I'm so pissed off at how I wasted my life," Seth said. "If I'd known it was gonna end this soon I wouldn't have spent it going to a school I hate and living vicariously through comic books and sci-fi shows. I mean, I have absolutely nothing to show for my seventeen years on the planet and that's just ... sad."
"Seth, don't," Ryan said.
"Don't what? Tell the truth?" He blinked his eyes, long since shorn of their lashes.
Ryan was struck by how doll-like and unreadable a face became without the expressiveness of eyebrows. He couldn't see it but he was sure Seth was raising one. "I haven't done one thing that mattered."
"You think your life doesn't matter to your mom and dad?" Ryan's voice rose angrily. "Or to Summer. Or me?"
Seth shrugged. "Your parents have to love you and that's not what I'm talking about anyway. I'm talking about leaving something worthwhile behind, making a difference in the world instead of just taking up space and breathing the air."
"You made a difference to me. I don't know what would have happened to me, where I'd be now if you hadn't...." Ryan shut his mouth tight. He was suddenly afraid he was going to start crying and he hated that Seth had pushed him into saying what he had long felt but never stated. It was too cheesy and movie of the week to tell somebody he had basically saved your life and transformed you in a fundamental way, giving you back trust and faith in humanity's better nature.
Ryan cleared his throat and began again. "And Summer...."
"Oh yeah, I really changed her life for the better. Made her lose her popularity and taught her the intricacies of geekdom."
"She was partying too hard and she was miserable before she started going out with you and you know it," Ryan admonished, "You're just trying to find reasons to feel sorry for yourself."
"You're right," Seth admitted. "And I don't have to try very hard. I'm in constant pain and I'm reduced to using a goddamn bed pan, all right? So cut me some slack here, man." He smiled, a rictus grin that made him look more like a skeleton than a boy.
Ryan forced a smile in return then changed the subject. "Picked up the new Sandman." He retrieved a plastic bag from his backpack. "Want me to read it to you?"
Even a week before Ryan would have offered a game of Vice City but Seth didn't have the energy for video games anymore.
"Maybe in a bit." Seth was looking white and strained and Ryan knew he'd be drifting off to sleep again in a few minutes. "Maybe you could just ... talk to me for a while. Tell me something about school, about what assholes the jocks are, uh, except you of course, or what stupid assignments the teachers are giving out or even something about Dr. Kim. I just want to hear about something normal."
"Okay." Ryan thought for a moment then started to relate the story of the accident in the chem lab which had ended up with the whole school being evacuated.
He talked for about five minutes and only fell silent when he thought Seth was asleep. Then he heard him murmur, "Thanks."
"For what?"
"Saying I made a difference. Guess you're right." He held up a wobbly clenched fist and Ryan tapped knuckles with him.
"Of course I am," he said gruffly.
"Although it still would have been nice to invent or discover something ... like maybe the cure for cancer," Seth added.
Ryan smiled at the grim irony not because he felt like it but because Seth needed him to.
"Love ya," Seth mumbled. "It's not gay to say it when you're dying."
"Shut the hell up, Seth. You're not...." Ryan's voice trailed off as Seth shot him a look. "Love you, too, man," he finished and leaned in to give this frail remnant of Seth a one armed manly hug.
Ryan was sitting on the couch filling out college applications and Summer was beside him channel surfing on a Friday night in early June. He was vaguely aware that she had finally stopped on a program, some movie with over the top, swelling music, when suddenly he heard her begin to sniffle and then to cry. He looked up from his paperwork.
The movie was E.T. and it was at the very end where the little alien with the glowing heart was touching the boy's face. Ryan was surprised to see Summer shaking, tears streaming down her face. She hadn't cried once throughout the ordeal with Seth.
"Hey," he said, putting down his pen, moving the papers off his lap and reaching out a hand to pat her shoulder awkwardly. "You okay?"
She turned toward him and abruptly threw herself against him. He wrapped his arms around her, murmuring vaguely, "It's okay. It's all right. Sh."
Summer clung to him, her wet face buried against his neck, her soft hair tickling his cheek, her body half on his lap, and Ryan rocked her slightly and thought, "This is all right. People hold each other when they're upset. I'm comforting a friend."
Finally she pulled away a little, turning her face up toward his. She hastily wiped the back of her hand under her nose and blinked her teary eyes. Her face was so close he noticed how her lashes clumped wetly together and felt her breath when it puffed out, smelling the faint garlic tinge from the pizza they had eaten earlier. Then he knew that it was not all right. They were going to kiss now and 'just friends' didn't kiss.
He closed his eyes and leaned into it, felt the soft yielding lips and tasted the garlic. It occurred to him that he must taste like that too since they had shared the pizza. He thought inanely that he wished he'd brushed his teeth. Then he quit thinking at all and simply kissed her.
Summer threw her whole body into it. Her hands were in his hair, at the nape of his neck, pulling him down toward her. Her breasts were mashed against his chest and her hip pressed into him. He could feel her body yearning toward him and his responding.
It had been a long time since he'd kissed a girl. The summer he spent with Theresa waiting to find out if he was a daddy or not had been his last relationship. They had shared a bed, shared their fears and worries but in the end it had all come to nothing when she miscarried and set him free to return to Newport.
He had spent about two weeks with Marissa that fall before her final meltdown when she was sent away to the clinic to sober up. Then Julie left Caleb gathered up both her daughters and followed husband prospect number three, an oil tycoon she met at a fundraiser, to his ranch in Texas. After that Ryan took a break from women for a while, concentrating on schoolwork, soccer and hanging out with Seth and Summer. He was just beginning to think about dating again when Seth became ill.
He'd forgotten how good it was to hold the warm softness of a girl in his arms, but his body remembered and reacted appropriately. As their kisses grew deeper, they shifted around until Summer was lying beneath him on the couch. He pressed her back against the cushions and that familiar ache, that basic need to get closer, deeper, to get inside blossomed in his groin and swept through him like wildfire.
The conscious part of his brain was clamoring for him to put an end to this, to get control over himself and stop it because getting down with your dead best friend's girl was so wrong. But the lizard brain, the ego, refused to let the words past his lips. 'We should stop now' was not part of his vocabulary.
His lips and tongue roamed from her mouth to the line of her jaw, moving down to caress her neck. He could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her throat and felt the primal urge to bite down. Instead he licked over the pulse point.
Summer gasped and pushed against his chest.
'Good,' his id thought, breathing a sigh of relief. 'At least one of us has some sense.'
He straightened from her neck and sat up, looking into her dark, wide eyes, which regarded him with glowing intensity.
Summer sat up too and held out a hand.
He took it.
"Come on." She pulled him to his feet and led him out to the pool house.
Afterward, lying with her in his bed, his brain turned back on and guilt set in. At the same time he couldn't stop stroking the smooth skin of her back and feeling relaxed contentment. Her chest moved against his side with each inhalation and exhalation and her hand idly moved over his chest and stomach. It felt so good to cuddle her, to lay with someone else's warm body pressed against his.
But it also felt like he was going to hell.
He thought about Seth in those final days; a sleeping corpse, his skin a lighter shade of pale against the white sheets of the hospital bed. Summer and Ryan had sat vigil, one on either side of him, whenever they could convince Sandy and Kirsten to take a break and rest.
Now Seth was gone, planted in the earth like some insane gardener's idea of a seed, and here Ryan was barely a month later and already boning Seth's girlfriend.
Summer seemed to catch the drift of his thoughts although he never said a word. "We didn't do anything wrong," she said, her breath tickling his skin.
He didn't answer.
"We both needed this. Needed to be close." When Ryan still didn't answer she added, "I loved Seth. You know that. But he would understand. He'd want us to try to be happy any way we could."
"I guess." Ryan didn't want her to feel bad or guilty so he offered the words, but in his heart he was still ashamed.
"I'm serious." Summer sat up, propping herself on one elbow and resting the other on his chest. She looked down at him intently. "Don't let your stupid Atwood guilt complex take over. We were both lonely and we both miss him. Doing this was ... completely natural."
"Okay." Ryan managed a small smile then slid out from underneath her. "You thirsty? Want something to drink?"
He retrieved his boxers from the edge of the bed and quickly slipped them on before heading to the little refrigerator in the corner of the room. "I've got water and, uh, water," he said, looking inside.
He grabbed a couple of bottles and turned back toward the bed.
Summer was sitting in the middle of the rumpled sheets in all her bare-breasted, tousle-haired glory. It sucked the breath out of him for a beat.
She accepted the bottle he handed her but continued to stare at him thoughtfully as she twisted the lid.
"What?" he asked.
"You think you don't deserve happiness," she announced as though it was a revelation. "That's what makes you tick. You really believe it."
Ryan was so taken aback by the scary accuracy of her words that he couldn't think of a comeback for a second then he scoffed, "More pop psychology. Great."
Summer took a big swallow of her water. "And. You're stubborn," she said between gulps. "There's no convincing you any different." She recapped the bottle and stretched to put it on the bedside table.
"Do you charge for the character analysis or just the therapy?" Ryan asked, opening his own water and swigging it as he dropped down on the bed next to her.
"Hey! Watch it," Summer whacked him in the stomach with the back of her hand.
He recapped the bottle and set it on the floor. "Okay. For tonight, no guilt, no doubts, no second guessing," he promised, turning back toward her and running a hand down her arm from shoulder to wrist. Her warm flesh under his palm felt good and solid and ... there. A faint scent of something flowery, deodorant or perfume, emanated from her. He bent and kissed her shoulder.
"Good," she agreed lying back against the pillow.
He stretched out beside her, nestling his head on the pillow next to hers, chin resting on her shoulder, one arm slung across her body. There was the inevitable awkwardness about what to do with his spare arm, which was tightly wedged between them. Summer shifted over to her side so he could spoon up behind her instead and he bent his arm up under the pillow.
"This is nice," she said after a moment, her voice sounding sleepy and unfocused.
"Mm." Ryan thought that maybe they should get up before they got too comfortable and woke in the morning with Sandy and Kirsten glaring down at them. The Cohens' night out probably wouldn't last much more than another hour. But it was so peaceful lying like this and surely a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.
Seconds later he was asleep.
It was August and Ryan, Summer, Kirsten and Sandy were enjoying a picnic meal at the glass topped table on the veranda. They were celebrating Summer's birthday and a beautifully decorated cake occupied center stage on the table.
Ryan watched his girlfriend as she held her hair back and blew out the candles. She hit every one of the eighteen and sat back, regarding the wisps of smoke with a smug smile.
She would be leaving for Lassiter in a few days. Just the idea of her leaving made him miss her. He wished he could freeze this moment forever.
Already he could see the inevitable path their relationship would take. First eagerly awaiting fall break, winter break, spring break so they could rush home and be together again. But soon there would be new people, new relationships and they would drift apart.
They had shared so little time together, only a few months and most of that under the shadow of Seth. Ryan kicked himself for the wasted time spent trying to move past his feelings of guilt and acknowledge that he wanted Summer to be his girl.
Ryan watched Kirsten, smiling as she handed Summer a gift wrapped box, and Sandy, looking on as she opened it revealing an expensive watch with a slim, gold band. The shadow of grief they both wore immediately after Seth's death was slowly fading. There were only occasional glimpses of it now, darting across one of their faces like a cloud on a blue-sky day.
"It's beautiful. Thank you," Summer exclaimed fastening the watch around her wrist.
She smiled at the Cohens and then at Ryan. His heart started beating rapidly as he pushed his own gift across the table toward her. He hadn't wanted to buy her anything. God knew she had every article of clothing and footwear the mall had to offer. So he had created a more personalized gift but suddenly it seemed stupid and inappropriate instead of sentimental and thoughtful.
Summer ripped open the paper and her mouth opened soundlessly. Finally a little, "Oh," emerged. She ran her hand caressingly over the smooth glass. "Oh," she said again. "It's...." Her eyes glistened with tears and Ryan's stomach dropped.
"Sorry," he apologized, "I thought it would be.... I guess it's not."
"It's perfect," she finished, looking up at him with a trembling smile.
"When you're away, I just thought you might want to remember ... how it used to be."
"God, that night sucked." Summer started laughing as she looked at the photograph of all of them, herself, Ryan, Seth, Marissa, Luke and Anna ranged around the Cohens' living room. Ryan had the Playstation controller firmly affixed to his hand, eyes riveted on the game; Summer was wedged between Anna and Seth on the couch; Luke was poised to stuff a huge handful of popcorn in his mouth; Marissa's mouth was wide open, laughing at something Summer had said.
"Kinda did," Ryan agreed. "I hated Rooney."
"Except for this. This was fun." She added as an afterthought, "That Oliver was so creepy. I thought so from the beginning."
Kirsten reached for the framed photo, which was an enlargement of a snapshot she had taken that night. "Oh, I remember this. You woke us up with all the noise. I came down to ask you to be quiet, but you were all having so much fun I took a picture instead."
"I love it," Summer said, reaching across the table to give Ryan's hand a squeeze. "Thank you."
He smiled.
Later, Kirsten and Summer were in the kitchen talking and laughing as they tidied up. Ryan and Sandy were outdoors wiping down the table and cleaning the grill area. When they were finished they sat down in a pair of patio chairs and admired the sunset. In relaxing, kick-back times like this Ryan still craved a cigarette.
"It's going to be quiet around here without Summer." Sandy sipped his beer. "We'll all miss her."
Ryan didn't reply since the answer was obvious.
"You know, when Kirsten was still going to college I spent a year back in New York. A friend of mine was starting a free legal clinic in the Bronx and wanted me to help him with the project. The plan was to do this for a year and when she graduated, Kirsten would join me in New York. Well let me tell you a New York winter is long, cold and lonely when you have a beautiful woman waiting for you clear across the continent. I became convinced that with the time apart she would finally realize who I was, what kind of punk she was involved with and that she'd find somebody else, someone more Newport friendly."
Ryan nodded. He got that. He had always felt that it was just a matter of time before he was revealed as white trash in expensive clothing.
"But look at us now. Celebrating our nineteenth anniversary this year," Sandy continued. He looked over at Ryan. "If your relationship with someone is strong, it'll work out. You can survive a separation."
Ryan looked at him with a skeptically raised eyebrow.
Sandy laughed. "Always good with the nonverbal. Look. I know it doesn't really make it any easier but for what it's worth, I think you two will be okay."
"I hope so," Ryan said.
Even later, as he stood alone at the very edge of the yard, looking up at the starry night sky, Summer came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head between his shoulder blades. She felt good pressed up against his back, a warm human blanket against the chill night air.
"Quit worrying," she finally said. "We'll be fine. You just have to trust."
"Not so easy for me," he said.
"I know. Me either. But what else can we do?"
There was a long silence broken only by the chirp of crickets and a faint shriek from Kirsten inside the house followed by Sandy's full-bodied laughter.
"Okay," Ryan finally said. "You're right. ... I trust you."
"And I trust you," she replied. She hugged him hard.
Ryan took Kirsten's hand and helped her board The Summer Breeze. It was the day before he left for college, a beautiful, bright fall day, and they had decided to have a last sail before Ryan left.
He untied the ropes and cast off and soon they were sailing out of the harbor and into open waters.
"It makes Seth seem close, being out here, doesn't it?" Kirsten said, pushing her wind-whipped hair from her face.
"Yeah. He really loved this boat."
"I'm glad you chose to keep it," Kirsten said. "I remember when we bought it for him. Sandy and I knew he was unhappy here from the time we moved but it didn't get really bad until he went to middle school. We tried to encourage extracurricular activities and spend as much family time as we could to make up for his lack of friends at school. But hanging with your mom and dad isn't the same as having a buddy your age.
"When he showed an interest in sailing we gave him this boat for his eleventh birthday." She laughed. "I was a little apprehensive about giving something so potentially hazardous to an eleven year old, but Sandy convinced me that with a full course of lessons and setting strict parameters it would be a good growth experience for him."
Kirsten gazed at the horizon. "I hadn't seen such joy on Seth's face for years. He fell in love with it."
Ryan thought it was ironic that on his eleventh birthday he had received his bike. He completely understood the enthralling burst of freedom having a mode of transportation gave an unhappy eleven year old kid. It was strange to think of himself and Seth in two different worlds, both flying with the wind, trying to escape their lives.
"I never saw him quite that happy again until the day you came to stay. You were the brother he'd always wanted to have." Kirsten turned to look at Ryan and smiled. "You know, Sandy and Seth were always more intuitive than I am. It just took me a little longer to realize you belonged with us. I hope you can forgive me for that."
Ryan wanted to reply but thought he might choke on the huge lump in his throat if he spoke so he simply nodded and turned to the tiller as if the boat needed steering.
"We'll miss you so much when you're off at school. You have to promise to call and email."
"Okay."
"You won't be that far away. Come home on weekends, sometimes?"
"I will," he said, turning to look at her again.
Kirsten continued to smile in that sweet way of hers and Ryan smiled back, hoping she could read in his face what he couldn't express with words.
He packed his last bag the next morning then stood looking around the room ... his room, now as empty and bland as when he first arrived. He thought about the day he learned he was going to stay and how Seth had bounced on the bed testing its firmness and prattled non-stop while Kirsten lamented Ryan's lack of underwear and planned to take him shopping.
He thought of the times he had spent in this pool house; hanging with Seth, sleeping, studying, listening to music, kissing Marissa, brooding over his school suspension, escaping the endless round of Newport 'functions,' worrying about Theresa's pregnancy and more recently making love to Summer then lying with her quietly in the afterglow.
Now he would be in a dorm room, meeting a stranger who he had to share space with for the next six months. It was going to be weird not to have this place as a retreat when he was tired of dealing with people.
"It's gonna be awesome," he heard Seth's voice in his head. "Anything can happen. There's so much ahead of you, man. And if you get tired and need a break, you can always come back home. Mom and Dad are counting on it."
Ryan zipped up his duffel, shouldered it and headed for the door.
THE END
A long time ago I thought that the only way Ryan and Summer could get together without hurting Seth was literally over his dead body, but I tabled the idea until I could find a way to tell it. When I finally wrote this, I knew it had to be more than just a romance story and that Ryan's interactions with the Cohens should be explored. I like it better than the kind of long-winded thing I might have originally written.
I didn't know where to have Summer go to college so I invented the school name Lassiter. And I know she's a bit young – only turning 18 the summer after senior year, but 19 would have been too old and since when does logic play any part in The OC anyway? Plus I think I rushed them ahead a year by putting them in senior year after this summer, but oh well, do any of them really look like juniors in high school?
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