"Light and fluffy" has become my new mantra. There's still far too much
angst happening. Storymom, Ryan's been in surgery for how many days now?
Is this a testimony to the American Health Care System? Famous 99 has now
added a Cranky!Ryan to her Sad!Wet!/Ryan. Connell has an Abused 8 year old
, smoking cigarettes with Trey!Ryan Silverweaver has a Semi-stressed, was
stuck in an elevator!Ryan and he's probably damned uncomfortable with the
way his sweatshirt is twisted around his cumbersome cast!Ryan. TeacherTam
has Psychoanalyzed by a Quack!Ryan who's waiting to get his slashed to the
bone chin stitched up while AJ is salivating on the sidelines!Ryan.
Parisindy has an Unconscious, half drowned, drip drying on a coast guard
boat!Ryan. Miss suga not only has an Alone in the Hospital and owied!Ryan,
she has a Jumpsuited!Seth. Sister Rose has aa I'm going to get fired any
moment!Ryan. Heath 007 has a Needs a good platonic hug and some serious
non sexual loving!Ryan Brandywine has Ignored!Ryan and her little hiatus
needs to come to an end.
I'm using snippets from "The Debut" and twisting them to fit my addled mind. Again, no copywrite infringement is intended. Josh, I had to bury the damn frog, you'll have to deal with Ratticus once again. He's awaiting your call...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Eight
Sandy was on auto-pilot as he and Seth checked into a room at the Holiday Inn. This would become "command central". Once they were settled in the room, Sandy called Kirsten to let her know they'd arrived safely and then called John. The investigator told him that they'd meet within the hour to discuss their next move.
Seth distracted himself by folding the bedspreads and placing them in the closet. He then disappeared into the washroom. Sandy watched as his son scrubbed his hands, just as a surgeon would. He gave his father a nervous grin.
"They change the bedspreads like once a year..."
Sandy raised his thick eyebrows quizzically.
"I saw in on 60 Minutes, dad.... I don't spend all my time watching MXC and Southpark. But enough about housekeeping standards and my TV viewing habits... What's next?"
Seth was becoming increasingly restless.
"Where do we go from here?"
Sandy slumped into a chair.
"We wait for John..."
"Dad... C'mon... In three weeks he's got us as far as Ryan getting on a bus to Sacramento. Are you sure he knows what he's doing?"
"Seth..." Sandy tried not to sound frustrated with his older son. Older son... That led to the assumption of a younger son.
The complete acceptance of Ryan as his son had flickered over him.
It wasn't forced.
It wasn't thought out.
It wasn't analyzed.
It just was.
His voice lost the edge that he'd been trying to control.
"Sometimes trying to find someone means you have to look in the last places first. We know Ryan wasn't in Chino or Fresno. What we didn't know was if he was with his moth... his... Dawn. And that meant we had to find her... again."
"And"
"And, John found her in Reno... And no, Ryan wasn't with her. Apparently she's mourning the fact that we stole him from her."
Seth exhaled sharply.
"She walks out on him twice that we know of... Abandons him and now thinks we stole him?"
Seth started pacing, his anger building.
"She left him a fucking note in an empty house. She couldn't even stay sober long enough for him to have one decent evening with her. She couldn't even give him a lousy 4 hours and now she's saying we "stole" Ryan away from her?"
Sandy reached out for Seth.
"Seth... She's an alcoholic... She has a disease..." He tried to swallow back the distaste in his mouth as he said the words.
"Don't give me that!" Seth raged. "SHE mad a choice. Every time she beat on him or let one of her boyfriends do it, she made a choice. There's other shit that's gone down in Ryan's life that she let happen. He wouldn't tell me what but I know it's there and it's keeping him from being part of our family."
Sandy became quiet.
"It wasn't just Ryan... It was me too. After all this time, I still treated him like a client. I didn't mean to, but I did and that's all that matters. If I really believed that Ryan was a part of our family; one of my sons; would I have hit him that night?" "Seth, that was my choice. I chose between you two and you won. I chose you. I didn't listen to Ryan, I didn't try. I hauled off and hit a 17 year old kid. I wouldn't have hit you..."
Seth finally felt the guilt his father had been carrying. It wasn't just the fact that Sandy punched Ryan, that he hurt him... It was that Sandy Cohen, the great liberal defender of children had made Ryan think that he was nothing.
He wasn't worthy of love.
He wasn't worthy of compassion.
He'd always be somebody's problem.
Somebody's altruistic project.
Never somebody's beloved child.
"Dad, I fucked up too. I would have never believed a brother would have cheated with my girlfriend. It was easier to believe that a criminal from the 909 did. I didn't ask Ryan, or talk to him about what I heard, I just tried to rip his head off. He's never lied to me, he's always had my back, even when I was being a total jerk. He's always been there for me..."
Seth stopped to catch his breath.
"He didn't even try to fight back. I punched him and he didn't hit me back... It was like..."
"We both fucked up..." Sandy interrupted softly. "Now we have to repair the damage. Make him believe he belongs with us as a member of the Cohen family..."
"And a life of insecurity and paralyzing self doubt..." Seth finished, then realized how true that statement was. Shit.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan drank the last of his water as he waited for the bus. He closed the spout of his thermos and crunched on the slivers of ice. He tried to wipe the dust and dirt from his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, but he just ended up smearing it around.
The bus came and he found an empty seat near the back. He put his head on the glass and closed his eyes, trying to keep the mix of sweat and grime out of them. The job site coated him, despite the hip-waders he'd worn. Spending the last 8 hours pouring concrete between styrofoam forms to build the foundations for a complex of townhouses left him feeling like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.
He hated that movie.
"There's no place like home..."
What a load of crap.
Thirty minutes later, he was off the bus. His legs felt like lead as he walked back to his apartment.
His apartment.
It wasn't home... He would never have a home. Just a roof over his head, a temporary shelter until the skies opened up again and shit would rain down upon his head in Biblical proportions, forcing him to move on. To move forward.
It was dark by the time he let himself in the gate of the Murray's backyard. He heard the kids giggling and Mandy asking about s'mores. The family was sitting around a fire pit, enjoying a quiet evening. Ryan felt like an intruder and briefly thought of walking over to the Dunkin' Donuts, grabbing a coffee and waiting for them to finish their family time. The Murray's dog had other ideas, barking at the interloper in their yard. It came charging at him, followed by Will.
"Peanut, get back here."
Will grabbed the large black mixed breed dog by the collar and proceeded to put a white "wifebeater" on him. Ryan wondered if it was one of his and if it was, why were they putting it on the dog?
"Sorry Marty... Peanut's just a big wuss."
He noticed Ryan staring at the t-shirt. He started to laugh.
"The shirt's Mandy's idea. She got tired of tripping over him at night, so he wears one of these... You want to join us? Sit and have a beer?
Before Ryan had a chance to refuse, Michael came running up to him.
"Hi Mr. Marty. Are you gonna watch the fire with us? Please....?" The four year old begged.
"C'mon, Mr. Marty. Mom's making s'mores..." Sam chimed in.
Sam. Samantha. Daughter. 7 years old... Ryan pulled the information from his mental file. Swimming lessons. Better dancer than outfielder. Loves dolphins...
"Please Mr. Marty...?"
Mandy laughed at her kids.
Reluctantly following Will and the "beater'd" dog, Ryan lowered himself into a plastic lawn chair. Will held out a beer. Ryan hesitated before accepting. Ryan Atwood may be 17, but Marty Nevis was 21.
Sam came over, holding a plate. Ryan looked at it.
"It's a s'more, Mr. Marty... Haven't you ever had one before?"
Ryan put down his beer and accepted the paper plate.
"Thanks Sam... What exactly is it?"
"It's roasted marshmallows and melted chocolate on graham crackers. Didn't you ever make them with your mom and dad when you were a kid?"
Ryan just shook his head.
"That's too bad." Sam replied softly. "Well, my mom makes them and they're really good."
She watched as Ryan took a tentative bite.
"It's great Sam, thanks..."
The little girl's face lit up with a big smile. She turned back to her mom, hoping to scrounge another marshmallow. Ryan took a long sip of his beer, trying to wash the taste of the sticky chocolate goo out of his mouth.
Will leaned over
"Peanut will eat it... They don't mix very well with a good German lager."
No sooner had Ryan put the plate down when the dog came over and devoured it. He let out a satisfied yawn and lay down beside Ryan's chair.
"You've made a friend for life..." Will bent down and addressed the dog. "You suck up... Don't forget who feeds you and puts the clothes on your back..." The dog turned away and ignored him.
---Don't forget who feed's you and puts the clothes on your back---
How many times had Ryan heard that same sentiment? If it didn't come from his father or Dawn, then it was said by whatever boyfriend was leeching off them that month. When the money was gone, so were they.
Ryan stared at the fire, trying to slow his breathing down. Watching the flames dance, he tried to fill his ears with static. He tried to block out the happy noises from the Murrays. He quickly finished his beer. Standing up, he put the empty bottle on the chair.
"Thanks for the beer. I'm pretty tired and I've got an early day tomorrow."
Ryan nodded at Mandy and the kids.
"Thanks again..."
Ryan grabbed his lunch pail, thermos and hardhat, quickly running up the stairs to the little deck on the second floor of the house. As he let himself in the apartment, he heard a little voice asking if "Mr. Marty" has a family. He didn't wait to hear the answer. He stumbled to the washroom, the "good German lager" announcing its return, mixing in with the blue tinted "Tidy-bowl" water. When he was positive the liquid barley had been purged from his system, Ryan flushed the toilet, brushed his teeth and turned the water on in the shower. He stepped out of his dirty clothes, adding them to the growing pile in the laundry basket. He'd have to go the laundromat tomorrow after work.
He let the water cascade over his body, the warmth caressing his tight muscles, washing away the day. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't wash away the memory of sitting in the Cohen's family room last summer.
"What if it doesn't work?"
"What do you mean?" Kirsten asked, puzzled.
"Well... What if something happens and you guys change your mind?"
"Like what? You steal a car? You burn down a house? You beat up the captain of the water polo team? Those ships have sailed my friend..." Sandy told him.
"You just have to promise us you'll stay out of trouble. From now on, no more fights..."
Ryan remembered Kirsten's careful hug.
He had tried his best to fit in, to stay out of trouble, but it wasn't good enough.
Maybe it was better this way.
He'd never have to be disappointed again.
He'd keep moving forward.
Leave everything behind.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Before some dog lover throws something at me, I know you don't give a dog chocolate. Even though I'd love to give the neighbour's dog a big piece of Callebut, it'd probably come back and crap all over my lawn. Stupid dog.
I'm using snippets from "The Debut" and twisting them to fit my addled mind. Again, no copywrite infringement is intended. Josh, I had to bury the damn frog, you'll have to deal with Ratticus once again. He's awaiting your call...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chapter Eight
Sandy was on auto-pilot as he and Seth checked into a room at the Holiday Inn. This would become "command central". Once they were settled in the room, Sandy called Kirsten to let her know they'd arrived safely and then called John. The investigator told him that they'd meet within the hour to discuss their next move.
Seth distracted himself by folding the bedspreads and placing them in the closet. He then disappeared into the washroom. Sandy watched as his son scrubbed his hands, just as a surgeon would. He gave his father a nervous grin.
"They change the bedspreads like once a year..."
Sandy raised his thick eyebrows quizzically.
"I saw in on 60 Minutes, dad.... I don't spend all my time watching MXC and Southpark. But enough about housekeeping standards and my TV viewing habits... What's next?"
Seth was becoming increasingly restless.
"Where do we go from here?"
Sandy slumped into a chair.
"We wait for John..."
"Dad... C'mon... In three weeks he's got us as far as Ryan getting on a bus to Sacramento. Are you sure he knows what he's doing?"
"Seth..." Sandy tried not to sound frustrated with his older son. Older son... That led to the assumption of a younger son.
The complete acceptance of Ryan as his son had flickered over him.
It wasn't forced.
It wasn't thought out.
It wasn't analyzed.
It just was.
His voice lost the edge that he'd been trying to control.
"Sometimes trying to find someone means you have to look in the last places first. We know Ryan wasn't in Chino or Fresno. What we didn't know was if he was with his moth... his... Dawn. And that meant we had to find her... again."
"And"
"And, John found her in Reno... And no, Ryan wasn't with her. Apparently she's mourning the fact that we stole him from her."
Seth exhaled sharply.
"She walks out on him twice that we know of... Abandons him and now thinks we stole him?"
Seth started pacing, his anger building.
"She left him a fucking note in an empty house. She couldn't even stay sober long enough for him to have one decent evening with her. She couldn't even give him a lousy 4 hours and now she's saying we "stole" Ryan away from her?"
Sandy reached out for Seth.
"Seth... She's an alcoholic... She has a disease..." He tried to swallow back the distaste in his mouth as he said the words.
"Don't give me that!" Seth raged. "SHE mad a choice. Every time she beat on him or let one of her boyfriends do it, she made a choice. There's other shit that's gone down in Ryan's life that she let happen. He wouldn't tell me what but I know it's there and it's keeping him from being part of our family."
Sandy became quiet.
"It wasn't just Ryan... It was me too. After all this time, I still treated him like a client. I didn't mean to, but I did and that's all that matters. If I really believed that Ryan was a part of our family; one of my sons; would I have hit him that night?" "Seth, that was my choice. I chose between you two and you won. I chose you. I didn't listen to Ryan, I didn't try. I hauled off and hit a 17 year old kid. I wouldn't have hit you..."
Seth finally felt the guilt his father had been carrying. It wasn't just the fact that Sandy punched Ryan, that he hurt him... It was that Sandy Cohen, the great liberal defender of children had made Ryan think that he was nothing.
He wasn't worthy of love.
He wasn't worthy of compassion.
He'd always be somebody's problem.
Somebody's altruistic project.
Never somebody's beloved child.
"Dad, I fucked up too. I would have never believed a brother would have cheated with my girlfriend. It was easier to believe that a criminal from the 909 did. I didn't ask Ryan, or talk to him about what I heard, I just tried to rip his head off. He's never lied to me, he's always had my back, even when I was being a total jerk. He's always been there for me..."
Seth stopped to catch his breath.
"He didn't even try to fight back. I punched him and he didn't hit me back... It was like..."
"We both fucked up..." Sandy interrupted softly. "Now we have to repair the damage. Make him believe he belongs with us as a member of the Cohen family..."
"And a life of insecurity and paralyzing self doubt..." Seth finished, then realized how true that statement was. Shit.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan drank the last of his water as he waited for the bus. He closed the spout of his thermos and crunched on the slivers of ice. He tried to wipe the dust and dirt from his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, but he just ended up smearing it around.
The bus came and he found an empty seat near the back. He put his head on the glass and closed his eyes, trying to keep the mix of sweat and grime out of them. The job site coated him, despite the hip-waders he'd worn. Spending the last 8 hours pouring concrete between styrofoam forms to build the foundations for a complex of townhouses left him feeling like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.
He hated that movie.
"There's no place like home..."
What a load of crap.
Thirty minutes later, he was off the bus. His legs felt like lead as he walked back to his apartment.
His apartment.
It wasn't home... He would never have a home. Just a roof over his head, a temporary shelter until the skies opened up again and shit would rain down upon his head in Biblical proportions, forcing him to move on. To move forward.
It was dark by the time he let himself in the gate of the Murray's backyard. He heard the kids giggling and Mandy asking about s'mores. The family was sitting around a fire pit, enjoying a quiet evening. Ryan felt like an intruder and briefly thought of walking over to the Dunkin' Donuts, grabbing a coffee and waiting for them to finish their family time. The Murray's dog had other ideas, barking at the interloper in their yard. It came charging at him, followed by Will.
"Peanut, get back here."
Will grabbed the large black mixed breed dog by the collar and proceeded to put a white "wifebeater" on him. Ryan wondered if it was one of his and if it was, why were they putting it on the dog?
"Sorry Marty... Peanut's just a big wuss."
He noticed Ryan staring at the t-shirt. He started to laugh.
"The shirt's Mandy's idea. She got tired of tripping over him at night, so he wears one of these... You want to join us? Sit and have a beer?
Before Ryan had a chance to refuse, Michael came running up to him.
"Hi Mr. Marty. Are you gonna watch the fire with us? Please....?" The four year old begged.
"C'mon, Mr. Marty. Mom's making s'mores..." Sam chimed in.
Sam. Samantha. Daughter. 7 years old... Ryan pulled the information from his mental file. Swimming lessons. Better dancer than outfielder. Loves dolphins...
"Please Mr. Marty...?"
Mandy laughed at her kids.
Reluctantly following Will and the "beater'd" dog, Ryan lowered himself into a plastic lawn chair. Will held out a beer. Ryan hesitated before accepting. Ryan Atwood may be 17, but Marty Nevis was 21.
Sam came over, holding a plate. Ryan looked at it.
"It's a s'more, Mr. Marty... Haven't you ever had one before?"
Ryan put down his beer and accepted the paper plate.
"Thanks Sam... What exactly is it?"
"It's roasted marshmallows and melted chocolate on graham crackers. Didn't you ever make them with your mom and dad when you were a kid?"
Ryan just shook his head.
"That's too bad." Sam replied softly. "Well, my mom makes them and they're really good."
She watched as Ryan took a tentative bite.
"It's great Sam, thanks..."
The little girl's face lit up with a big smile. She turned back to her mom, hoping to scrounge another marshmallow. Ryan took a long sip of his beer, trying to wash the taste of the sticky chocolate goo out of his mouth.
Will leaned over
"Peanut will eat it... They don't mix very well with a good German lager."
No sooner had Ryan put the plate down when the dog came over and devoured it. He let out a satisfied yawn and lay down beside Ryan's chair.
"You've made a friend for life..." Will bent down and addressed the dog. "You suck up... Don't forget who feeds you and puts the clothes on your back..." The dog turned away and ignored him.
---Don't forget who feed's you and puts the clothes on your back---
How many times had Ryan heard that same sentiment? If it didn't come from his father or Dawn, then it was said by whatever boyfriend was leeching off them that month. When the money was gone, so were they.
Ryan stared at the fire, trying to slow his breathing down. Watching the flames dance, he tried to fill his ears with static. He tried to block out the happy noises from the Murrays. He quickly finished his beer. Standing up, he put the empty bottle on the chair.
"Thanks for the beer. I'm pretty tired and I've got an early day tomorrow."
Ryan nodded at Mandy and the kids.
"Thanks again..."
Ryan grabbed his lunch pail, thermos and hardhat, quickly running up the stairs to the little deck on the second floor of the house. As he let himself in the apartment, he heard a little voice asking if "Mr. Marty" has a family. He didn't wait to hear the answer. He stumbled to the washroom, the "good German lager" announcing its return, mixing in with the blue tinted "Tidy-bowl" water. When he was positive the liquid barley had been purged from his system, Ryan flushed the toilet, brushed his teeth and turned the water on in the shower. He stepped out of his dirty clothes, adding them to the growing pile in the laundry basket. He'd have to go the laundromat tomorrow after work.
He let the water cascade over his body, the warmth caressing his tight muscles, washing away the day. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't wash away the memory of sitting in the Cohen's family room last summer.
"What if it doesn't work?"
"What do you mean?" Kirsten asked, puzzled.
"Well... What if something happens and you guys change your mind?"
"Like what? You steal a car? You burn down a house? You beat up the captain of the water polo team? Those ships have sailed my friend..." Sandy told him.
"You just have to promise us you'll stay out of trouble. From now on, no more fights..."
Ryan remembered Kirsten's careful hug.
He had tried his best to fit in, to stay out of trouble, but it wasn't good enough.
Maybe it was better this way.
He'd never have to be disappointed again.
He'd keep moving forward.
Leave everything behind.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Before some dog lover throws something at me, I know you don't give a dog chocolate. Even though I'd love to give the neighbour's dog a big piece of Callebut, it'd probably come back and crap all over my lawn. Stupid dog.