Monday morning, and Ryan was as exhausted as when he fell asleep. Sitting outside Sandy's office, feeling the stare of the receptionist, he wished he'd done a better job cleaning up. But, he figured, she was probably used to people looking like he did. So why did she keep staring at him?
Monday morning, and Sandy was exhausted. He hadn't been able to fall asleep last night, and when he finally did, Kirsten had woken him up by getting out of bed. He had followed her down to the kitchen, and they had spent the rest of the night sitting by the table drinking orange juice, worrying, not talking much, and knowing the other one was just as worried.
The receptionist was used to Sandy looking down when there was a kid he couldn't help, but never had he looked as bad as this. Like he hadn't slept at all. She couldn't help herself; she constantly looked over at this kid, wondering what it was that made him so special to Sandy, so different from all the other kids.
"You can step inside now." she said when it was time.
Sandy looked up when Ryan entered his office. The boy looked awful. As he guessed he did himself. By the surprised look Ryan gave him, he knew he was right.
"Sit down" he said quietly.
The boy seated himself in front of the desk, eyes down.
"Have you heard from your mother?" Sandy asked.
That Ryan had found his mother had been the hope the Cohen family had clung to during the night. Or that he'd actually found a friend to stay with. Ryan shook his head, and Sandy had only the feeblest remnants of hope left.
"Ryan, where did you sleep last night?" he asked tiredly.
Ryan shot him a surprised glance. "At a friend's house. I told you yesterday."
Sandy sighed. "The friend you called from our house?"
As soon as Mr. Cohen started to ask all those questions, Ryan knew he was busted. Rosa must have told on him. Was Mr. Cohen mad? Ryan's heart started beating harder and his thoughts swirled. Maybe that was why the receptionist had stared at him, had Mr. Cohen told her he was in trouble?
Now Ryan was looking at him. "Yeah." he answered.
Ryan looked right into Mr. Cohen's eyes, knowing the man wouldn't believe him. But sometimes, if you weren't sure exactly how pissed somebody was, this was a good way to find out. Well, maybe not good, as it more often than not ended in some sort of physical pain, but it was efficient. And Ryan wanted to know how mad Mr. Cohen was. Whatever was coming, he'd rather have it over with so he could go back to his shed and sleep.
Leaning back, Sandy asked: "Ryan, where did you sleep last night?"
Ryan looked down at the desk and refused to answer.
"Come on, Ryan." Sandy urged. "I know you didn't call anyone."
The boy didn't move.
"What I don't know is why you'd do such a thing. And you'll have to tell me where you slept. Did you find someone to let you in?"
Sandy studied the boy in front of him, head bent, shoulders slacking. "Ryan, look at me."
The boy raised his head and looked him in the eye, but Sandy saw that he wasn't really looking at him, he was shut off, hidden behind a shield.
"Where did you sleep last night?" he tried again.
Very quietly, but very clearly, Ryan answered "A playground."
Looking somebody straight in the eye and telling the truth was sometimes even more efficient. Ryan had already realized that Mr. Cohen wasn't mad enough to actually hurt him, but maybe to slap him around a bit. If that was the case, he'd rather have it over with.
Some part of Ryan really wanted Mr. Cohen to hit him. It would be easier that way; he'd be able to believe that this man was just like all the others and he wouldn't have to feel guilty about lying, or about that look on Mr. Cohen's face. That part made him stare into the man's eyes, pretending not to be ashamed of lying and getting busted. Trying to provoke him.
"A playground?" Sandy said, softly.
At this, Ryan averted his eyes, and again refused to answer. Sandy continued.
"Where do you plan to sleep tonight?"
Ryan shrugged. "I.. was going to say I can stay with my friend. For as long as I want to." he finally said.
"That would have meant what? That you can sleep in the playground for as long as you want to?" Sandy asked, upset.
The tone of his voice made Ryan wince, but his gaze was hard when he replied: "It would have meant I can take care of myself for as long as needed."
"And how long is that?"
No answer. Sandy studied the boy closer, he was very pale. But then again, sleeping in a playground probably did that to you. Suddenly he was no longer the slightest bit angry with this kid who thought he was an adult, because he realized that in some ways he probably was.
"Will you, if I ask you, come and stay with us for a few days? While we try to find your mother?" he asked.
Ryan started to say something, but seemed to change his mind.
"What?" Sandy inquired.
Yes, Ryan wanted to stay with them for a few days. But not if he'd cause any trouble, because then they'd grow tired of him and.. and what? Throw him out on the street? Well, he was already there, wasn't he? So what did he have to loose?
He could of course screw up so badly they decided to kick his ass, but wasn't a few nights in a real bed worth that? It was not like the risk of getting his ass kicked was smaller on the streets of Chino. Besides, he figured he could go a few days without screwing up that bad. At least he hoped he could, Sandy looked pretty strong, and he knew he couldn't fight back. Not after accepting to stay with them.
"Your wife.. she doesn't want me to." he said hesitantly.
"She rather want you to stay with us than in the streets, okay?"
Ryan nodded. "Okay." he whispered.
For the third time in the past three days Mr. Cohen drove him towards Newport in his fancy car. Ryan had the sudden feeling that this was the only constant thing in his life at the moment, and he didn't want to think of how pathetic that made him. Especially the fact that he found comfort in the familiarity of the scene.
"So what do you want for lunch?" Mr. Cohen asked. Before Ryan had time to tell him it didn't matter, Mr. Cohen seemed to think of something, and added "Where did you have dinner last night?"
Ryan opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. Mr. Cohen looked at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the street.
"Did you have dinner last night?" he asked.
Ryan shook his head.
"Why not?"
"No money." Ryan said, quietly.
"You should have- Hang on, what about the bus? Did you have money for the bus?"
Again, Ryan shook his head.
"But why-" Sandy stopped himself. He knew Ryan wouldn't have accepted his offer. "How did you get to Chino?"
"Walked."
"You walked?" Sandy wasn't aware he'd raised his voice until he saw Ryan shifting uneasily.
"It's not like I had anything else to do. It's okay." the boy said.
Ryan looked out the window. How could Mr. Cohen be angry with him for that? He hadn't bothered him or his family, he hadn't- oh, right. He'd lied. About the money. Of course. He was busted – again.
"I'm sorry." he said, hoping that would be enough. Nervously, he kept glancing over at Mr. Cohen, trying to predict his next action. One lie could probably slip, but two? It was bound to be some paying for that.
"When did you last eat?" Mr. Cohen said.
Ryan frowned. That he hadn't expected. He didn't understand what that had to do with anything.
"I don't know. I'm sorry I lied. About the money." he tried again, wanting to get the reaction over with.
"It's okay, Ryan. But when did you eat? Kirsten said you didn't have breakfast yesterday. And you didn't stay for lunch."
Okay, so maybe he wasn't very angry. Or he just waited until they got out of the car and he could get a better swing. Either way, Ryan decided to drop the subject. Instead he tried to remember when he'd last eaten.
"Um, that would have been on that fashion thing. I think."
Mr. Cohen didn't answer, but Ryan saw his jaw tighten. Bad sign. A few seconds later they pulled off the freeway, soon coming to a halt in the parking lot of a small diner.
Mr. Cohen stepped out of the car. So that was it then, Ryan thought. He was about to be smacked around. In a parking lot. Funny thing, he didn't find the same comfort in the familiarity of that scene.
For some reason, lying didn't piss Mr. Cohen off, but not eating did. Odd. Reluctantly he stepped out of the car and faced Mr Cohen. Don't fight back, he reminded himself, you agreed to stay with them. He braced himself for what was to come, but Mr. Cohen just turned and walked away.
Sandy realized the boy wasn't beside him, and turned around to find Ryan hadn't moved. He was still standing beside the car, looking tenser than ever. And that was saying a lot, because if there was something Ryan wasn't, it was relaxed. He went back to the boy, but when he moved to put his arm on Ryan's back, the boy jerked violently. Gritting his teeth when he realized what the boy had expected, he again reached out, and gently put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. This time the boy didn't move, but Sandy could feel him trembling under his hand.
"Come on." Sandy said softly. "We're just going to eat. It's okay."
Ryan blushed. With the gentleness of Mr. Cohen's touch, and the kindness in his voice, Ryan realized he'd made a fool of himself expecting to get beat up. He nodded, even though he knew he couldn't afford anything in that diner. Anything anywhere, actually, since he still had no money at all. But he figured he'd just have to let Mr. Cohen buy him something. He'd pay back later, either when he'd found his mom or a job. Or he could offer the man a blow-job. But he knew he wouldn't, Mr. Cohen wasn't the type. It would only embarrass him.
Silently Ryan scanned the menu for the least expensive menu, but Mr. Cohen didn't wait for him to decide.
"Their burgers are the best. You'll have to try them." he said, and without pausing he turned to the waitress and ordered two burger meals.
Ryan glanced at the menu and memorized how much the burger was. Then he closed it and turned his attention towards Mr. Cohen, wondering what he wanted him to do now.
Sandy studied the boy. He seemed a little more relaxed now. Sandy gritted his teeth again at the memory of how the boy had reacted to his touch, and he saw Ryan tense up again. He realized Ryan was watching him as closely as he himself watched Ryan, only more covertly. He forced himself to relax, and smiled.
"Seth'll be happy to see you again." he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Ryan gave him a small smile and briefly met his eyes. Sandy saw this was a safe subject, maybe even a good subject.
"You like PlayStation, I take it. You any good?" he continued.
"I haven't exactly played much. Not as much as Seth, anyways."
"Well, you'll get some practice when we get home, I bet."
Again he saw the flicker of a smile on Ryan's face. Right now Sandy wouldn't let himself think past the following few days, and about what would happen to Ryan when they found his mother. Or if they didn't find her. Right now he'd just relax, watch the kid relax, and believe things were going to be okay, somehow.