Ryan didn't turn up that night.

Or the next.

Or the night after that.

He'd do that sometimes. Just vanish, as if he had better things to do. Better people to see. For all she knew, he did and was enjoying the company of every last slut in Chino, California. Since, after all, Theresa wasn't his girlfriend or anything.

She wondered sometimes what it would be like to have a best friend who was really always there. Ryan was only her best friend by default and convenience, after all. Just like Trey was Arturo's best friend by default. She was pretty sure Arturo liked Eddie more than he liked Trey, overall, especially after the whole bar fight incident last year that they both did thirty days for. Trey's fault, completely. Eddie, Ryan and Theresa were at Eddie's house that night watching Gladiator. Gladiator. That was all Eddie, and that was why Theresa was pretty sure Arturo wished he'd been with Eddie and not Trey that night.

But Ryan and Trey lived next door to Theresa and Arturo, and they had for five years now, and it was easiest to hang out with them because they were more or less the same ages, and it was just that easy.

What if somebody else lived next door? She'd been thinking about that a lot lately, especially with Eva talking about actually buying a house. Somebody had lived next door before the Atwoods moved in, but for the life of her Theresa couldn't remember who, and she could barely remember anything else.

The phone rang on the third day without Ryan, just as Theresa walked in the door from work.

"I'll get it," she called to the empty house, knowing that more likely than not, she was the only one home. She dropped her purse by the door. "Hello?"

"Theresa!" Becca's voice squealed, and Theresa braced for the worst.

"Hi. Becs."

"How are you, girlfriend? Do you know that I did not even sign your yearbook?"

"Wow," Theresa said dully. "Well, too late now. School's out."

"That's too bad," Becca said, and she did sound sincere. "Can we fake it?"

"No... Becca... what's up?" Theresa asked, feeling unusually tired.

"Well," Becca said. Her voice was like the Energizer Bunny, pink and relentless and droning and noisy. Theresa put her hand to her forehead. She wondered if that was a headache that she felt coming on. "Lily and I are going to the mall tomorrow. We thought you might want to come. Oh!" she added, as an afterthought. "I meant if you're not working."

Theresa smiled tightly into the phone, gritting her teeth. So it was Becca-and-Lily inviting her along now. How times changed. "My shift is at four," she admitted.

"Kickass!" Becca squealed. "Meet us at noon by the food court?"

Try as she might, Theresa couldn't come up with a reason not to. "...Sure," she said, against her better instincts. "Super."

"Fuck yeah! See you then!" The phone went dead and Theresa wrinkled her nose at it. Hanging out with the girls wasn't exactly top on her list right now, but if Ryan...

Ryan.

"Mama? Turo!" she called, peeking in the bedrooms. "No?" The coast was clear.

She felt in her pocket to be sure the keys were still there before slipping out the door, turning the lock behind her as she went. She crept around the corner to the Atwoods' porch, and rapped loudly on their door.

It opened almost immediately, and she jumped.

Theresa stared in shock at the last person she expected to see, as the wheels turned, processing, sorting out the pieces.

"Mr. Medena," she stammered. "I – uh..."

"What do you want?" he snarled.

"Is – is Ryan here?"

He stared down at her, his mouth hanging half-open. "No."

"Do you know where he is? Uh, is his mom home?"

"No," he said. "And no. Now get lost."

And then it hit her. Why A.J. Medena would be here, with the TV blaring behind him. Why Ryan had been so nervous the other day. Why he'd been missing – this time.

The new girlfriend.

"You still here?" Mr. Medena asked gruffly, staring at her.

"Theresa?" The voice sounded so small and faraway.

She glanced around Mr. Medena to see Ryan emerging from his bedroom, in a white t-shirt and his blue pants.

Shocked, she looked back at Mr. Medena. Why...? What...?

"Ryan," she said, in the calmest, steadiest voice she could muster. "You got a minute?"

Ryan glanced at Mr. Medena, then at Theresa, his eyes flitting quickly, barely making contact with the newest resident at the Atwoods' house. "Um, sure," he muttered, and shoved his way past the older man, whose eyes followed him the whole way.

"What?" Ryan snapped, once they had cleared the porch and the door had creaked shut behind them.

Theresa licked her lips, folded her arms, and noticed the worry lines in his forehead. She started to say something, then stopped. No. Ryan... was he trembling? Just a bit?

"Want to get out of here?" she asked suddenly.

Ryan seemed to relax before her eyes. "Yeah? Where to?"

She shrugged and reached for his bike. She hefted it to a standing position and offered him the handlebars. "Wait here? I'll get mine."

Theresa let Ryan lead the way, following a few feet behind, coasting down the roads winding through Chino. He was going fast, furious, an urgency in his ride that she only rarely saw in him. Her hair whipped in her face, but she was afraid to call out to him to wait for her to tie it back, afraid he would just keep going and ride straight on into oblivion.

Finally, in the woods near Carver Dairy, he stopped, hopping off his bike to start walking it down the path. She followed him, brushing through the forest until they reached the train tracks that ran alongside the edge of the river. They'd been here before. She knew this place.

By the time Theresa had hopped off her bike and settled it safely against a tree, Ryan was standing on the bank of the river, staring at it, his back to her.

Slowly, carefully, she approached him.

He bent down abruptly, startling her, to pick up a rock that he then hurled with great force into the water. It landed with a loud splash.

"Hey," she said softly.

He turned to look at her and tried for a grin, but it came out more of a wince.

"Why didn't you say?" she asked.

He kicked at the leaves with his boots. "Dunno."

"When did-?"

He hurled a stick into the water. "Last week." He glanced at her, then looked away quickly. "Eight days ago. That he moved in, I mean. I knew she was seein' him, I wasn't s'posed to say, though."

"Guess everybody'll know now."

"I thought you did." He shuffled his feet, crunching more leaves. "Or I thought – I knew you'd find out, I just..."

"Didn't want to be there when I did? No, that's not it. Didn't want to say it."

He nodded quickly, turning away to hide his face. "The second one."

Theresa thought of Brandon Medena, screaming at everything and hitting his baby sister. She remembered Mr. Medena yelling at Juana, and how little Juana seemed to miss him.

"Jesus, Ryan, I-"

"I mean, it's better, right?" he asked, his voice rising frantically. "I want her to be happy, and I should be happy to have a guy around the house again-"

"Hey," she said quietly. "You shouldn't be anything you don't want to be."

He stopped and turned halfway to her. "Guess not."

"How – how is he?" she asked carefully. "I mean, how do you guys get along?"

"Great," Ryan said, in a disgusted tone. "He's nice to me. In front of Mom. Then he pretends I don't exist."

She nodded and reached for her pocket, digging out her cigarettes and her lighter. She held the pack out to Ryan, who drew a stick out and waited for her light. He inhaled deeply off of the cigarette, relaxing as he puffed out smoke.

"Guess I won't be helping you sit for those kids anytime soon," Ryan added, letting the cigarette drop to his side.

She raised her eyebrows as she lit her own cigarette. "Yeah. Maybe not." She watched him for a moment as he stared away from her, and lifted her cigarette to her mouth.

She carefully made her way across the fallen leaves to his side, where she wove her arms beneath his from behind. She dropped her cigarette on the damp ground and he stamped it out for her, then followed with his own. He stared across the river and leaned back into her for support as she clasped her hands, holding him to her. She could hear his heavy breathing even against the sound of the river stretching out in front of them.

"It's gonna be okay," she said quietly. She turned to rest her cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You've said that before."

"I know, and I'm saying it again," Theresa snapped. "Jesus."

"It's Ryan, actually," he said, his voice rising to a slightly more cheerful tone.

She pulled her arms away and slapped him across the back of the shoulders, hard. How could he even think of being funny when...? "Sure. Be funny already."

His shoulders shook a little bit as he laughed at his own joke, still turned away from her.

Theresa reached out and pulled him back to her. She reached around him and her hands wound down his chest, her fingers digging, tugging at the front of his pants, familiar, safe territory. At first his hands flew up to grab her wrists, his body stiffening, as if he was going to stop her.

She froze, stopping in her ministrations, fearful that he was going to push her away.

But no, now his hands were clutching at her, desperate, wanting more, needing relief that only Theresa could give. And she would. Because she wanted to.

She couldn't make A.J. Medena go away, she couldn't make his family perfect, but she knew she could make Ryan happy for just a little while. And really, that was enough. It was enough to know that he still had some happiness. It was enough to know that Theresa did everything she could.

She bit back the urge to whisper to him, to soothe him, to tell him somebody still cared. Because she knew there was no better way to drive him away.

Instead, she told him with her body, with her hands, and he seemed to understand.

She listened to his sounds for the pleasure, the joy, and when she heard it, felt it, she was satisfied, too.

She had done her part.

She had done enough.