No, hell has not frozen over. Two chapters in one day. Count them... One,
two... I wrote half of this while waiting at the psychologist's office for
my son. Yes, the Romie family gene pool has reared its ugly head. I can't
even foist the blame on Mr. Romie. He has the perfect Ozzie and Harriet
family. Except they're Dutch.
Yes, I know this chapter is short, but it seemed like a good place to stop.
All disclaimers still apply.
Chapter Eleven.
Sandy forced his eyes open as he searched for his cell phone.
3am.
Who the hell would be calling at 3am?
Oh fuck...
He grabbed the phone and went out into the hallway.
"Sandy Cohen..." His voice was coarse and raspy.
"Sandy, it's John..."
"Tell me some good news..."
There was a hesitation. Sandy's heart fell.
"John, talk to me...." He tried to keep the panic from forcing its way out.
"I just got a call from the Sacramento PD. It's not good..."
"Oh God, no..." Sandy slid down the wall and sat on the faded carpet.
"I'm going to the morgue at Sierra Sacramento Valley. I'll call you when I get there."
"NO!" Sandy roared, pulling himself up. "I'll meet you there." He lowered his voice. "I have to do this..."
He snapped the phone closed and let himself back into the hotel room. Seth and Summer were awake and waiting.
"Dad..."
Sandy couldn't look at his son as he rifled through a pile of clothes.
"I don't know....Seth... Please... I have to meet John..."
Seth stood in front of his father.
"Meet him? Meet him where...?"
Sandy dodged around his son and escaped into the washroom. Summer kept Seth from following his dad. She held him tightly, fighting her own tears. Sandy emerged from the washroom fully dressed and clearly disheveled. He barely noticed the teenagers. Seth stopped his dad just as he was about to leave the room.
"It's going to be okay..."
Sandy enveloped him in a hug, kissed him on his forehead and then left the room.
"No... It's never going to be okay again..." He whispered.
He didn't know if he could do this... But he had to. Sandy took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, willing his hands to stop shaking. Somewhere between the Holiday Inn parking lot and the highway leading to the Sierra Sacramento Valley Medical Centre, Sandy felt himself detach from his surroundings. He wasn't actually aware of arriving at the hospital. He sat in the Beemer, staring straight ahead, his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. A knock on the window brought him out of his trance. It was John.
John opened the car door for Sandy and pulled the keys out of the ignition.
"Hey..." He said softly. "I can do this... You can wait here..."
Sandy's lifeless eyes flickered.
"No," he said hoarsely. "I owe Ryan this much... I have to be there for him..."
John waited until Sandy could get himself out of the car. The walk to the main entrance of the hospital seemed to take forever. The walk to the morgue seemed to take no time at all. An attendant met them. Sandy lost his ability to speak. He vaguely heard John's voice through the white noise that filled every part of his being.
"Sandy... Are you ready?"
Sandy's head nodded.
How can one ever be ready for this?
The room was cold. Sandy felt the chill cut through him. Bile churned in his stomach . A drawer was pulled open. A shock of sandy blond hair haloed the lifeless face. A face that not to long ago was strong and vibrant, but in death was a mask of unfulfilled promise.
Sandy ran from the room, heaving uncontrollably in a wastebasket. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, stumbling out the service door. He leaned against the wall, his legs holding him briefly before he collapsed.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Seth and Summer waited, neither speaking for fear of voicing what played in their minds. The fear of the search for Ryan ending with a 3am phone call. The fear of recrimination and the fear of facing a future broken by words of anger and acts of violence. She cradled Seth in her arms, listening as quiet sobs wracked his body.
There was nothing she could say.
There was nothing to say.
Every minute Sandy didn't call confirmed their worst fears. She held Seth tighter. She held him closer. She held him as his sobs gave way to a fitful sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sandy pulled himself up, leaning his back against the brick wall. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds. His breaths came in ragged gasps. He rested his head on his knees, trying to purge the image of a young man lying cold and alone.
A life ended before it had begun.
John slid down beside Sandy and waited for him to compose himself. When Sandy finally looked up, John stood, holding out his hand to pull the distraught man up.
"Sandy... I'm sorry... You shouldn't have had to..."
"Had to what? Sandy asked, his voice now acquiring a hard edge. "Look at the body of a dead boy? Praying it wasn't Ryan? Being grateful that it wasn't? That child in there is somebody's son.... He shouldn't be alone, John... He's cold and alone..."
John led Sandy to his car and helped him into the passenger seat. He leaned his head against the window, staring at the scenery as John drove him back to the hotel. He steered Sandy to the room, and guided him to a sitting position on the bed.
"I'd like to be alone for a while... I'll call you in a few hours." Sandy was staring at the floor.
"We'll find him Sandy..."
Summer raised her head and understood the meaning of his words. Ryan was still out there somewhere, waiting to be found. She lay back down, her body relaxing. Her eyes closing. The peaceful darkness calling her.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was well after 1pm when Sandy woke again, the events of the early morning fresh in his head.
He wanted Kirsten.
He needed Kirsten.
He wanted her strength.
He needed her faith.
Seth sat up, carefully untangling himself from Summer's arms. He saw his father looking at the missing person flyer of Ryan.
"Dad..."
Sandy looked up at the red-rimmed eyes of his son.
"It wasn't Ryan... It wasn't him..."
The weight was lifted from Seth's shoulders.
"You better ground his ass until he's 50... Any chance of opening the mini bar? You know... Maybe a little stress release?"
Sandy hugged his son for a long time. He filed away the picture of a dead blond teenager, sending up a prayer for the boy's parents. He took a deep breath and held his son a little longer.
Seth didn't mind. It renewed his spirit.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan lost himself in his work. He found it increasingly harder to keep memories of the Cohens from invading his thoughts. It was worse at night when he was alone. For the last 3 nights he'd taken the Murray's dog for a late night walk.
Peanut was a good listener and best of all, he didn't talk too much. He allowed Ryan to work things out for himself. Ryan thought about calling Seth, in fact he'd dialed the number countless times, disconnecting before he entered the last digit.
He had totally fucked things up with the Cohens. Walking away from a family that actually gave a damn about him.
It was also at night when he felt the impact of Sandy's fist against his face.
Why did it hurt so much?
He had been hit harder.
He'd been hit more.
This wasn't the first time he'd had a black eye.
Hell, he'd lost count.
There were times when he could still see the bruise Sandy inflicted. It faded like all the rest , but he knew it was there. It was now a part of him, permanently scarring him.
Even if he wanted to, he couldn't go back...
Ryan pushed harder on the small pry bar he was using to separate a layer of improperly bonded 1/8" plywood. As he felt the veneer release, he eased the pressure on the sharp tool. The veneer cracked. Ryan lurched forward, the pry bar shooting upwards. He swore and grabbed his left hand, pulling off the work glove. He watched in strange fascination as the blood welled when he clenched his fist. Uncurling his hand, the slash opened up, bleeding freely. He wrapped his hand in the bottom of his t-shirt, soaking the light grey material.
Brilliant move, Atwood.
As the shock wore off, the pain came in full force. Ryan tried to stay calm.
"Marty?" Greg was now beside him. "Let me see. C'mon Marty... give me your hand..."
Ryan let his co-worker look at his hand.
"It's okay... It's just a scratch... I'll clean it up..." Ryan didn't want any fuss. It "was" just a scratch. Nothing serious.
"Sorry bud... You're going to need to see a doctor." Greg noticed Ryan's glazed eyes. "Let's get you fixed up."
Yes, I know this chapter is short, but it seemed like a good place to stop.
All disclaimers still apply.
Chapter Eleven.
Sandy forced his eyes open as he searched for his cell phone.
3am.
Who the hell would be calling at 3am?
Oh fuck...
He grabbed the phone and went out into the hallway.
"Sandy Cohen..." His voice was coarse and raspy.
"Sandy, it's John..."
"Tell me some good news..."
There was a hesitation. Sandy's heart fell.
"John, talk to me...." He tried to keep the panic from forcing its way out.
"I just got a call from the Sacramento PD. It's not good..."
"Oh God, no..." Sandy slid down the wall and sat on the faded carpet.
"I'm going to the morgue at Sierra Sacramento Valley. I'll call you when I get there."
"NO!" Sandy roared, pulling himself up. "I'll meet you there." He lowered his voice. "I have to do this..."
He snapped the phone closed and let himself back into the hotel room. Seth and Summer were awake and waiting.
"Dad..."
Sandy couldn't look at his son as he rifled through a pile of clothes.
"I don't know....Seth... Please... I have to meet John..."
Seth stood in front of his father.
"Meet him? Meet him where...?"
Sandy dodged around his son and escaped into the washroom. Summer kept Seth from following his dad. She held him tightly, fighting her own tears. Sandy emerged from the washroom fully dressed and clearly disheveled. He barely noticed the teenagers. Seth stopped his dad just as he was about to leave the room.
"It's going to be okay..."
Sandy enveloped him in a hug, kissed him on his forehead and then left the room.
"No... It's never going to be okay again..." He whispered.
He didn't know if he could do this... But he had to. Sandy took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, willing his hands to stop shaking. Somewhere between the Holiday Inn parking lot and the highway leading to the Sierra Sacramento Valley Medical Centre, Sandy felt himself detach from his surroundings. He wasn't actually aware of arriving at the hospital. He sat in the Beemer, staring straight ahead, his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. A knock on the window brought him out of his trance. It was John.
John opened the car door for Sandy and pulled the keys out of the ignition.
"Hey..." He said softly. "I can do this... You can wait here..."
Sandy's lifeless eyes flickered.
"No," he said hoarsely. "I owe Ryan this much... I have to be there for him..."
John waited until Sandy could get himself out of the car. The walk to the main entrance of the hospital seemed to take forever. The walk to the morgue seemed to take no time at all. An attendant met them. Sandy lost his ability to speak. He vaguely heard John's voice through the white noise that filled every part of his being.
"Sandy... Are you ready?"
Sandy's head nodded.
How can one ever be ready for this?
The room was cold. Sandy felt the chill cut through him. Bile churned in his stomach . A drawer was pulled open. A shock of sandy blond hair haloed the lifeless face. A face that not to long ago was strong and vibrant, but in death was a mask of unfulfilled promise.
Sandy ran from the room, heaving uncontrollably in a wastebasket. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, stumbling out the service door. He leaned against the wall, his legs holding him briefly before he collapsed.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Seth and Summer waited, neither speaking for fear of voicing what played in their minds. The fear of the search for Ryan ending with a 3am phone call. The fear of recrimination and the fear of facing a future broken by words of anger and acts of violence. She cradled Seth in her arms, listening as quiet sobs wracked his body.
There was nothing she could say.
There was nothing to say.
Every minute Sandy didn't call confirmed their worst fears. She held Seth tighter. She held him closer. She held him as his sobs gave way to a fitful sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sandy pulled himself up, leaning his back against the brick wall. The sun was just starting to break through the clouds. His breaths came in ragged gasps. He rested his head on his knees, trying to purge the image of a young man lying cold and alone.
A life ended before it had begun.
John slid down beside Sandy and waited for him to compose himself. When Sandy finally looked up, John stood, holding out his hand to pull the distraught man up.
"Sandy... I'm sorry... You shouldn't have had to..."
"Had to what? Sandy asked, his voice now acquiring a hard edge. "Look at the body of a dead boy? Praying it wasn't Ryan? Being grateful that it wasn't? That child in there is somebody's son.... He shouldn't be alone, John... He's cold and alone..."
John led Sandy to his car and helped him into the passenger seat. He leaned his head against the window, staring at the scenery as John drove him back to the hotel. He steered Sandy to the room, and guided him to a sitting position on the bed.
"I'd like to be alone for a while... I'll call you in a few hours." Sandy was staring at the floor.
"We'll find him Sandy..."
Summer raised her head and understood the meaning of his words. Ryan was still out there somewhere, waiting to be found. She lay back down, her body relaxing. Her eyes closing. The peaceful darkness calling her.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was well after 1pm when Sandy woke again, the events of the early morning fresh in his head.
He wanted Kirsten.
He needed Kirsten.
He wanted her strength.
He needed her faith.
Seth sat up, carefully untangling himself from Summer's arms. He saw his father looking at the missing person flyer of Ryan.
"Dad..."
Sandy looked up at the red-rimmed eyes of his son.
"It wasn't Ryan... It wasn't him..."
The weight was lifted from Seth's shoulders.
"You better ground his ass until he's 50... Any chance of opening the mini bar? You know... Maybe a little stress release?"
Sandy hugged his son for a long time. He filed away the picture of a dead blond teenager, sending up a prayer for the boy's parents. He took a deep breath and held his son a little longer.
Seth didn't mind. It renewed his spirit.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ryan lost himself in his work. He found it increasingly harder to keep memories of the Cohens from invading his thoughts. It was worse at night when he was alone. For the last 3 nights he'd taken the Murray's dog for a late night walk.
Peanut was a good listener and best of all, he didn't talk too much. He allowed Ryan to work things out for himself. Ryan thought about calling Seth, in fact he'd dialed the number countless times, disconnecting before he entered the last digit.
He had totally fucked things up with the Cohens. Walking away from a family that actually gave a damn about him.
It was also at night when he felt the impact of Sandy's fist against his face.
Why did it hurt so much?
He had been hit harder.
He'd been hit more.
This wasn't the first time he'd had a black eye.
Hell, he'd lost count.
There were times when he could still see the bruise Sandy inflicted. It faded like all the rest , but he knew it was there. It was now a part of him, permanently scarring him.
Even if he wanted to, he couldn't go back...
Ryan pushed harder on the small pry bar he was using to separate a layer of improperly bonded 1/8" plywood. As he felt the veneer release, he eased the pressure on the sharp tool. The veneer cracked. Ryan lurched forward, the pry bar shooting upwards. He swore and grabbed his left hand, pulling off the work glove. He watched in strange fascination as the blood welled when he clenched his fist. Uncurling his hand, the slash opened up, bleeding freely. He wrapped his hand in the bottom of his t-shirt, soaking the light grey material.
Brilliant move, Atwood.
As the shock wore off, the pain came in full force. Ryan tried to stay calm.
"Marty?" Greg was now beside him. "Let me see. C'mon Marty... give me your hand..."
Ryan let his co-worker look at his hand.
"It's okay... It's just a scratch... I'll clean it up..." Ryan didn't want any fuss. It "was" just a scratch. Nothing serious.
"Sorry bud... You're going to need to see a doctor." Greg noticed Ryan's glazed eyes. "Let's get you fixed up."