Six Days After Christmas
Part 8
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Jimmy Cooper sat in his car, his engine running, sipping a Grande Mocha.
Just casually sipping a cup of hot java, in the driveway…of the Cooper-Nichol estate.
He hadn't been to bed tonight, hell this morning.
All he could think about was his teenage daughter and how she would react if she found out he had known about Ryan Atwood and failed to tell her. Marissa was so emotionally removed from her mother right now, it wasn't even satisfying to him. As much as he blamed Julie for the breakup of their family, he hated the continually growing rift between his ex-wife and oldest daughter. He felt bad, dismissing his promise to Kirsten, but Julie and he couldn't afford for Marissa to be mad at him.
He was the only parent she was still talking to.
Besides, even if Marissa went to the hospital, that didn't mean the Cohens had to let her in to see Ryan. They could certainly screen the teenager's visitors.
Jimmy set down his coffee, gathered his mental strength and prepared to enter the lion's den.
Or more specifically the lioness's den.
Sure he and Julie had been doing the horizontal mambo lately, and while he was confident nobody knew about it, Julie was gonna' freak when he showed up out of nowhere, at her new house, at five-thirty in the morning.
He'd have to talk fast.
Jimmy rang the doorbell, heard it echo through the vast palace that Julie pretended was a home.
The door flung open after the fourth round of rings.
"Jimmy!"
Angry.
Oh great. Good morning Jules. He was almost hoping for Caleb.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed under her breath.
"I came to see Marissa, Julie. It's important."
Julie cocked her head, squinted her eyes. "Is everything ok, Jimmy?" she asked carefully.
"No," he answered, stepping through the threshold. "It isn't."
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There was a phone ringing in Summer's dream and that really pissed her off.
It wouldn't stop ringing and that pissed her off even more.
What the hell?
She groped for and found an alarm clock.
5:47 a.m. Where was the damn phone? She grabbed it. Marissa's number shined out in the dark.
"Coop?" She half asked, half shouted. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yes," Marissa blew off Summer's obvious irritation. "Sum, there's been an accident."
Summer sat straight up in bed. "Are you ok Coop? God, tell me you weren't drinking."
"No, no, it's not like that," Marissa answered. "It's Ryan."
"What about Ryan?" Summer asked, shook her head trying to clear it.
"He's at HOAG. My dad was there, last night, with the Cohens. It's bad Sum. He's in Intensive Care."
"What?" Summer struggled to follow the conversation.
Marissa started crying. "Can you please just come get me Summer? I want to go see him. My dad offered to take me, but I'd rather go with you."
"Yeah, yeah of course Coop," Summer readily agreed. "Give me like five minutes to brush my teeth and update the step-monster. I'll be there in like fifteen minutes."
"Ok," Marissa sputtered, "You're going to hurry, right?"
"Absolutely," Summer soothed, tried to keep her best friend calm. "Coop, listen, this is Chino we're talking about. He's like Mr. All Tough and Shit. I'm sure your dad is just exaggerating."
"I don't think so Summer," Marissa's voice hitched. "Just please hurry, ok?"
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Kirsten cleared her throat, tried to find her voice.
She needed to take charge.
Seth was refusing to look at anyone.
Sandy was as close to a mess as he ever allowed himself to be, staring at the wall, so still he could be mistaken for a mannequin.
Kirsten was reminded of the day after Sophie left, the only time Sandy had allowed himself to process his mother's illness in front of a witness. They had sat together outside, by the pool, holding hands.
Quiet, still.
That was Sandy's version of anxious.
It unnerved Kirsten more than any overt display of energy could possibly.
"Guys," she attempted to coax a response from at least one of them. "The uh, the surgeon said it was going to be awhile before…Ryan is done. We really should go grab a bite to eat. We should do it now, while we have time."
"I'm not hungry," Seth grumbled. "You two go."
"I'd feel better if you came with us Seth," Kirsten said gently.
"Well, that's too bad Mom, 'cause I'm relatively sure I'd feel better if I didn't."
He looked up at her, his eyes apologetic.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just really don't want to leave this room right now."
"Ok," Kirsten conceded, pulled at her husband's arm. "Come on Sandy. Let's go. You need to eat something."
He nodded, actually went with her, as if, unlike Seth, he lacked the energy to argue.
"Seth," Sandy finally spoke, "If anything…happens, if they need to find us for any reason, you'll tell them where we are?"
"Yeah, yeah of course," Seth answered. "Cafeteria. Got it."
And just like that, he was alone in the waiting room.
He sat in silence for a few minutes.
Ryan was in surgery.
The shit hitting the fan, previously described as serious, had now reached critical mass.
Ryan was in big trouble. Ryan was being carved up like a Christmas ham.
God, what was wrong with him, making that comparison. He was a sicko. He was like one step away from having the middle name Wayne.
He was Jewish for god's sake. He shouldn't be combining life saving procedures and pork products.
Deep breaths Seth. He encouraged himself, Happy, non-surgery thoughts.
He wanted to keep his eyes open, figure out a way not to have to blink. Every time his eyes flashed shut, he saw Ryan, in that fucking bed, with that fucking bald spot and those goddamn tubes.
Seth swallowed, breathed heavily, trying to keep his emotions in tact.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at it, assuming it was Lindsay.
Who else would be calling?
Summer.
Summer?
His ex-girlfriend's number was highlighted in red. She had to have found out about Ryan. There was no other reason for her to call him this early in the morning, not anymore, not since he sailed away.
Seth stared at the phone, finally flipping it open.
Wait.
What about hospitals and cell phones? Maybe, with the mere act of flipping the phone open, he had killed some old guy in the room next to Ryan's.
God, it was official now. His middle name should be Wayne.
He managed to say hello.
"Cohen! Crap, what the hell is going on? Coop just called me; she's a babbling mess. I'm on my way over to her house to pick her up, something about Ryan being in an accident? Can we come to the hospital? Is it ok with your parents? Is Ryan ok? He's ok, right? Cohen? Cohen, are you there? Answers Cohen. Answers would be nice."
"Um," Seth's voice cracked. The phone slipped down to his thigh. He could still hear her barking at him.
A muffled, "Cohen?" Then a calmer, clearer, slower, "Seth?"
She called him Seth.
He wanted her to be here, with him, so bad. Summer was always the stronger one in the relationship. He wanted her to burst thought the waiting room doors and take over. Tell him how to act, how to behave.
How to stay calm, how to stay focused for Ryan and not lose himself in his own fabricated and real fears.
He put the phone back up to his ear.
She had changed tactics, from aggressive to comforting.
"Seth. Are you there? Is it serous? Is Ryan actually hurt?"
"Yes," he said softly. He was losing it big time. He could deal with her anger, but Summer's sympathy was eating at his resolve. "It's um. He's um. They just took him into emergency surgery. I'm...it's confusing. Something about a collapsed lung and internal bleeding."
"Ok," Summer's voice was no nonsense. "Listen to me Cohen, Marissa and I are on our way right now. Where are you?"
He told her, his forearm over his eyes, big gulps of air.
Fuck. He was starting to cry. He should hang up on her before she realized it.
"My dad's a doctor, Cohen. I'm telling you, people have surgery for this kind of shit all the time. Ryan's going to be fine, ok? Marissa and I are on our way. Just wait there for us, ok Seth?"
He nodded, tears rolling down his face now, somehow knowing she'd understand, despite the lack of a verbal response.
Before he flipped the phone shut, Seth heard a final, "I coming, just wait for me Cohen."
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Sandy pushed a bagel across his plate.
He wasn't hungry. He wasn't thirsty. He wasn't tired.
He was scared as hell for Ryan.
Seth was right.
They should never have left him alone.
He was still a child for God's sake. No parenting book would ever approve of leaving a seventeen year old alone for four days. The whole world knew that it was asking for trouble. He and Kirsten were always insisting that Ryan relax and be a kid. But did they ever, really, start treating him like one?
"I have to get a hold of Dawn," Sandy relayed his thoughts to Kirsten. "This has gone too far. Before, when we thought it was just the ribs, and the lung was getting better, and Ryan's concussion seemed under control, I figured I'd wait until this afternoon, when things had calmed down. But with this latest development, I can't make the decision that she shouldn't be included. I won't be responsible for making that decision." He stopped rambling, asked Kirsten, "What should I do? Would Ryan want her here?"
Kirsten stirred her tea, listened to the spoon clang against the side of the cup. Dawn should be called. She was Ryan's mother. A year and a half, no matter how positive, no matter how mutually productive, could wipe the slate clean of sixteen years. Ryan and his mother were once a family. Dawn had left her son with them for a myriad of reasons, some of them certainly selfish. But mostly, Kirsten believed in the very depths of her heart, mostly Dawn had abandoned Ryan in Newport, because she loved him.
Wanted more for him than she was capable of giving.
"Call her Sandy," Kirsten answered. " She's still his mother. Dawn should be here."
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"Coop, you have to get it together. I mean it. I'm not taking you to see the Cohens with you all mucusy and stuff."
They stopped at a restroom on the lower level. Marissa blew her nose, threw water on her face.
"Seriously Coop, if we are going up there, we need to be like completely in control of ourselves. Sandy and Kirsten don't need a bunch of weepy and clingy teenagers. I'm sure they have enough problems they're dealing with."
Marissa nodded. "You're right, you're right. I'm ok."
"And besides," Summer lightly hit Marissa on the shoulder, "We don't even know for sure what's happening with Ryan." She rolled her eyes, "Cohen is so dramatic. Chino could be perfectly fine for all we know."
Marissa blinked at her, big blue eyes studying Summer, wanting to believe her optimistic prognosis.
"Really?"
"Hell yeah! Trust me Coop, we're going to all be laughing about this in a few hours. I mean, come on," Summer kicked up a pink, furry, slipper clad foot. "Hello….still have slippers on here."
Marissa let out a tension-filled laugh, wiped her eyes one last time.
"I love you Sum."
"Love you too Coop. Now let's go see what those two idiots have gotten themselves into."
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Ken Morrison swiped the cap off his head as he left the surgical suite and strode down to the OR desk to write the post-op orders.
What a bloody mess that kid's belly was. That lacerated liver was oozing like a bitch. Fortunately, the organ damage wasn't really severe, just nasty. An hour and a half of patching the pulpy organ and the patient was now off to Recovery. Another day or two in ICU and he should be good to go. At least as far as the abdomen was concerned.
Now, to clean up and then explain everything to the understandably worried family.
It was always a relief to be able to deliver news when it's good, much easier than informing parents that their child needs emergency surgery. And this time, thankfully, it was positive news. The kid was young and strong. Morrison guessed the teenager should recuperate without further complications.
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"The number is out of service," Sandy snapped his phone shut in frustration. "She promised me she would call me if she ever changed numbers."
"Do you have an address?" Kirsten asked hopefully.
"Who knows?" Sandy shrugged. "I do, but it's over a year old. I could contact Social Services, but I doubt that they have any new information. If they did, Ryan's social worker is supposed to forward it to me. This is basically my fault, for not keeping better track of her. I should have anticipated a need in the future to talk to Dawn for something. But instead, I don't know, it was just easier to almost…"
"Forget she existed," Kirsten finished the sentence.
"Yeah," Sandy nodded, "that sounds awful, I know."
"No it doesn't," Kirsten disagreed. "I think Ryan does the same thing. I think it's easier on him and all of us know it, so we just ignore Dawn's existence along with Ryan."
"Yeah, well, be that as it may, we have a moral obligation to both Dawn and Ryan to let her know what's going on with him. I'll call that guy that found Dawn for me last year, maybe he'll get lucky again."
Sandy glanced at his watch. "We should head back up," He paused, ran his fingers through his hair, "in case Ryan gets done early."
Kirsten took Sandy's free hand, "He's going to be okay honey."
"I know," Sandy lowered his head, "It's just the getting to the okay that's the hard part. We are officially done bringing children into the Cohen house. I gotta' tell ya' honey, these two are killing me."
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Summer conned her and Marissa's way into the ICU waiting room.
"Cousins?" The nurse asked skeptically.
"Kissing," Summer answered, not waiting for a response, signing the ICU log sheet for both her and Marissa.
"Come on cousin Coop."
The two girls located the waiting room and Summer peeked in. Seth was alone, curled up in a chair.
"It's just Cohen," she told her friend. "Give me a second."
Summer slipped in.
Seth noticed right away.
Quickly wiping a sweatshirt-covered forearm across his eyes, he sat up strait, averted his eyes, "Hey Summer. You uh, you guys got here like warp speed." Seth glanced around Summer's body, squinted, "I uh, I thought you said Marissa was coming with you."
"She was, she is," Summer pointed a thumb in the direction of the hallway, "She's uh, I asked Coop to wait a sec. I wanted to talk to you, alone, a minute."
Seth sat up straighter. "Yeah, of course. What do you want to talk about?"
Summer stared at him and Seth squirmed in his chair, nodded his head. "About what an idiot I am for even having to ask. Ryan."
"Uh, yeah." Summer bobbed her head up and down, "Ryan. What in the hell exactly happened?"
"Um, abbreviated version?" Seth grimaced. "I prefer that one, 'cause the long version involves graphic violence. So, Lindsay, Ryan, date, sort-of, dinner, fun chit-chat, getting late, walk to car, mugging, fight, gun…" Seth abruptly stopped, took a deep breath.
"Uh, where was I. Oh, right. Gun…to Ryan's head, then against Ryan's head, as in hit…against, followed by evidently a Beckham style kicking drill to the stomach…which brings us to ICU and currently emergency surgery."
Summer cringed, bit her upper lip.
"Oh," Seth pretend perked, twirled a finger in the air, "Did I mention that all this took place while my father and I were being held captive at my mom's lame friend's house in RPV?"
"Yeah," Seth nodded "It's been one hell of a winter vacation. But hey, I don't need to tell you that, you were there for my grandpa's unveiling. So how's the rest of your vacation working out for you? Pedicure, manicure, Zachacure?"
"Seth."
"I'm sure, that you know, you're keeping busy. Thanks, by the way for coming over. It's uh, really a nice gesture, and completely unnecessary. But I'm sure Ryan, will be flattered, well, not that he actually gets flattered, I'm not really sure, he's uh, got like three facial reactions and two of them involve being arrested."
"Cohen!"
Summer walked over to him.
"Just," Summer blew out a breath, "Just stop and breathe and…." She looked around the room. "And get me a chair. A comfortable one. I'm staying for a while."
Seth nodded.
"I'm going to go get Coop. Just breathe Cohen."
Marissa came in, gave Seth a shy smile, a small wave. "Is this weird, me being here?" She asked quietly. "I just, I heard what happened and I … I really needed to be here."
"Weird?" Seth asked as he rearranged the furniture. "Um, I don't know. Weirder than the fact that we're now related or that Ryan is dating my half-aunt?"
Marissa helped him slide a chair over, "Yeah, I see what you mean."
Seth glanced around the small waiting room. "Not weird so much as…crowded."
"Where are your parents Cohen?" Summer asked, settling in to a cushy chair, folding her legs under her butt. "I figured they'd be camped out."
"Uh, eating actually. They um, thought that they better do it while they had a chance, 'cause once Ryan comes back from surgery…"
His voice trailed off.
"Come sit by me Cohen," Summer patted the chair next to her. "We need to develop a Chino recuperation plan."
Seth stared at her.
Summer held out her hands, "I mean Ryan's gonna' have like all kinds of time sitting around at home and if he's anything like my step-monster after her boob job, he's going to need constant entertainment. We can't have him sitting in the pool house, alone, brooding all day. So, let's make a list of movies or whatever and when Marissa and I get done here, we'll go and make a 'Welcome Home Chino' pack. Ok?"
Seth shifted his weight, picked at his cuticles, "Um, he may be here…for a while. There's other stuff wrong with him. They were talking days before the surgery, but now, I don't even know how long he'll be stuck here."
Summer considered the comment for a second before adding, "Ok, no problem. We'll make two recoup packs, one just for the hospital. He'll want toothpaste, 'cause hospital toothpaste is just icky, and a toothbrush, I mean…that goes without saying. Oh, and gum, 'cause even if he can't really eat anything right away, maybe he can have some gum. I always gave away a whole lot of gum in my striping days. Does Ryan even chew gum?"
"No," Marissa piped in, "At least, I've never seen him chew it."
The girls starting chatting back and forth, first debating over what type of gum Ryan would chew if forced to, and then, moved on to the actual impact of gum chewing on jaw alignment.
Seth listened to the babbling, finding it surprisingly relaxing. He tried to stifle a yawn, gave up, and let a huge one out.
In the old days, he'd used Summer's shoulder as a pillow.
Summer glimpsed at him, kept talking, stood up, took his hand, led him over to a small loveseat.
Seth sat down wearily, not sure what to do.
"Sleep Cohen," Summer commanded. "I'll wake you up when there's news."
She was just being nice, just being a friend.
He knew the difference now; he knew where their relationship stood, or didn't stand, or whatever.
He laid his head in her lap, manipulated his lanky legs so that he was comfortable in the limited space.
Summer and Marissa's discussion moved from gum to the The Valley. Evidently the Christmas episode had been particularly action packed.
Whatever.
He was so tired.
Summer started absent-mindedly stroking his hair, playing with individual curls, just like she used to.
Seth yawned again, closed his eyes. With Summer here, the images of Ryan in the ICU were replaced by happier times, him and Ryan, on the Summer Breeze, sailing in the afternoon sun.
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Linda assisted in the process of transferring all of the medical equipment attached to Ryan back to the various wall outlets, devices, and IV poles.
"Morrison will be up in a minute to talk to the parents," the anesthesiologist, Dr. Wilson, told her. "He may be an asshole in the people department, but the guy can cut. He's fast as hell."
Linda nodded, watched as her colleague detached the ambu bag and connected Ryan to the vent. The boy reacted to the changes in pressures and rhythm, shifting his head slightly.
"Good," Dr. Wilson observed. "He wasn't giving me much to work with in Recovery so I held off on the sedation. I was beginning to worry that the head trauma was coming back to bite us in the ass."
"Ryan?" Linda leaned in close, "Can you open your eyes for me?"
The anesthesiologist raised his voice, going for the opposite approach than the mothering Linda, in a deep baritone instructed, "Ryan Atwood, open you eyes."
Just like that, Ryan's eyes snapped open.
Dr Wilson smiled smugly, "Ha. Works every time."
Linda concentrated on Ryan, positioning her face so that Ryan could zero in on her. His eyes flittered around frantically, failing to focus in on any one thing.
"Slow down your breathing Ryan," Wilson commented from above, fidgeting with the settings and alarm buttons on the vent.
Linda shook her head.
Doctors.
Jesus, the kid had just woken up. Maybe Wilson could wait ten seconds before he began barking orders at the patient.
"Hey, Ryan," Linda gently moved Ryan's head slightly, trying to help the teenager focus on her, "I'm Linda, your nurse. You're in the hospital. You've been in an accident Ryan; I don't know how much you remember from when you met me earlier. I'm guessing from the look in your eyes, not much."
His chest still heaving, Ryan's eyes locked with Linda's.
The teenager appeared terrified and suspicious all at the same time and Linda didn't blame him one bit. She smiled at him, "Hey. Hi there. Do you understand what I'm telling you Ryan? You've been in an accident but you're doing fine. You're on a ventilator to help you breathe Ryan, but it's just a precaution. A very uncomfortable precaution, I know that. Let the machine do the work for you, just go with it."
Ryan dug the side of his head into his pillow, his wrists testing the restraints.
"Calm down," Wilson instructed sharply. "You're not going anywhere."
Ryan's eyes shifted immediately to the man with the booming voice hovering over his head. He couldn't figure out why this man was angry with him, yelling at him. What the hell did he do wrong this time?
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Linda suppressed a laugh. If eyes alone could tell someone to go to hell, Wilson would be burning. She couldn't do much about Wilson's demeanor; he could be just as insensitive as Morrison. Instead she asked him, "He's all set, right?"
"As long as his breathing evens out."
Linda winked at Ryan, "It will. Can you do me a favor and go get his parents? Dr. Morrison should have briefed them by now. They should be in the waiting room down the hall, last name is Cohen." She turned her attention back to Ryan.
"What do you say Ryan, calm down, don't fight the vent, and we'll get Mr. And Mrs. Cohen in here to see you. They've been here, with you, the whole time Ryan. They're going to be so relieved to see you awake. Can you do that for them? Stay calm so they can see you?"
Linda watched the numbers on the vent's monitor regulate.
She tapped Ryan's upper arm. "That's it. That's perfect. Now what do you say you and I get a few things done while we wait?"
She began a cursory exam of his eyes, making sure he could track her movements with both. The penlight caused an immediate reaction; Ryan's eyes clamping shut, turning his head, trying to escape the intrusion.
"I imagine that head is hurting, huh?" Linda asked sympathetically. "Sorry."
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Oh God, fucking light hurts like a son of a bitch.
Ryan's senses rushed back at him. The grogginess was still winning out over everything else, but disjointed thoughts were beginning to break through the haze.
Hospital.
Something wasn't letting him breathe properly.
He vaguely recalled the sensation of not being able to breathe at all.
Pain.
But not really pain, more like a toothache when it first starts, a throbbing and gnawing with the promise of pain to follow.
"Ryan, open up your eyes. Try and stay awake."
That lady was talking to him.
He cautiously opened his eyes, concerned that it took so long just to manage the task.
He took a deep breath and more air than he was counting on rushed into his lungs, causing him to choke. He heard foreign sounds, like buzzers and bells on a pinball machine, going off right near his ears.
He looked at the woman with desperation. Certainly she could see that this thing down his throat was killing him.
"Hey, it's ok, you're working with a ventilator, remember. Just try and relax."
What the fuck had happened to him?
His eyes drooped shut. He felt the woman lifting up the blankets that were covering him, cold air rushed in, her fingertips gentle, gingerly pushing on his stomach.
His chest felt like a millions pounds were resting on it.
Ryan knew he was supposed to stay awake but he couldn't remember why.
It was easier to breathe if that was all he thought about, so he kept his eyes shut and listened to the unfamiliar sounds that surrounded him.
Beeps, one after the other. He felt himself drifting in rhythm to them. Somewhere mixed in with the beeps, someone was calling his name.
"Ryan…Ryan…"
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Sandy and Kirsten entered the waiting room expecting to find their son. Instead, Marissa and Summer stared at them, Seth curled up asleep, his head on Summer's lap.
"Um, hi, girls," Kirsten said uneasily. "This is a is uh, a surprise. Did Seth call you?"
"No," Marissa stood up, "Actually my dad told me about Ryan and I sort of dragged Summer here. We don't want to be in the way. We can uh, go wait somewhere else," Marissa looked at Kirsten apologetically, "if you guys want us to."
"No, no of course not," Sandy shook his head, "It's just that we weren't expecting visitors so soon. Ryan is um..."
"In surgery," Summer spoke up, "Seth told us."
The awkward moment was cut short by the entrance of a man in scrubs. Sandy and Kirsten recognized Dr. Morrison and stood to join him.
The doctor seemed to prefer the standing position. He crossed his arms and looked at both of them, stating, "Ryan did fine; he's being transferred back to ICU as we speak. He tolerated the surgery well and we were able to stop the abdominal bleeding. He had several small nicks in his liver that we patched but I don't foresee him having any long-term effects or problems. Recovery from this type of surgery can be painful, but we'll keep him comfortable. Kids tend to bounce back a whole lot sooner than we would. As soon as we get Ryan settled, you'll be able to go in and see him. I'll be consulting with Ryan's attending physician, but I'm confident he won't be requiring any more of my services. I wish you luck with your son's recuperation."
With that, Dr. Morrison exited the waiting room as quickly as he entered, leaving Sandy and Kirsten feeling stunned yet elated. Sandy hadn't even had a chance to fire off any questions.
Shortly after Dr. Morrison left, another man in scrubs entered the waiting room, his manner just as succinct. "Mr. and Mrs. Cohen? My name is Doctor Wilson, I'm the anesthesiologist who assisted with Ryan's surgery. He's waking up from the anesthesia, if you'd like to come and say a quick hello. I can't promise how long he'll remain conscious."
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Sandy grabbed Kirsten's hand and barreled down the corridor towards his foster son's room. The door was open and, to Sandy's dismay, Ryan looked as though he was already back asleep.
The couple cautiously entered the room, making their way to Ryan's bed slowly.
"Ryan…..Ryan."
Linda gently shook the teenager's arm. She glanced up and smiled to acknowledge the Cohens.
"Ryan, wake up, your parents are here."
Kirsten grimaced. Ryan looked truly awful. He was white as a ghost, which only accentuated the ominous bruising. If it was possible, there were more wires and tubes than before he went to surgery, most prominently a skinny tube attached by white tape to the inside of his nose. Yet another tube, forced unnaturally into his body. Suddenly, she didn't want him awake, didn't want him to have to deal with what was happening, what was being done to him.
She and Sandy couldn't help. They wouldn't be able to stop the pain.
"Maybe we should let him sleep," she suggested quietly, looked up at Sandy. "Maybe it's better this way. Better for him."
"He needs to see you Mrs. Cohen," Linda said. "He's confused. Knowing you're here will be good for him."
Kirsten nodded, watched as Linda tried again to wake up Ryan.
His head began shifting and Kirsten nearly jumped. It was the first movement they had seen, the first indication that Ryan would actually come back to them.
"Ryan, open you eyes. Your parents are here."
Sandy, unable to sit on the sidelines any longer, leaned over the bedrail, sharing the space with Linda.
"Hey kid, Kirsten and I don't expect cartwheels. Just open your eyes for us Ryan."
At the sound of Sandy's voice, Ryan's head movements abruptly halted.
"It's Sandy, Ryan. Kirsten and I are both here. I told you we weren't going anywhere."
Ryan's eyelids opened half-mast. Linda noticed that the lack of visual acuity was diminished. The teenager instantly zeroed in on his father.
"Hi kid," Sandy smiled. "It is damn nice to see you."
Linda subtly stepped away, making room for Kirsten, who slid in next to her husband, slipping her hand into Ryan's right one. She rubbed the top of it and stopped when she realized he was trying to grab her fingers.
His grip was stronger than she would have thought it would be.
Ryan opened his eyes a little more, back and forth, from Sandy to Kirsten.
Kirsten felt better with the decision to wake him. The nurse was right. Ryan needed this.
She'd never seen the normally unreadable teenager look so scared or vulnerable. Not even in jail, not even with an arm wrapped around his neck attempting to cut off his oxygen supply. Not even being led away handcuffed, not even waving goodbye to his mother.
Kirsten waited for her time with him, listening to Sandy's sanitized explanation as to why Ryan was waking up in a hospital bed, restrained, medical equipment for an anchor.
When Sandy finished speaking, Ryan appeared a little calmer.
He trusted them. Always trusted them. Even here, probably in pain, half-asleep, confused, scared, he still trusted her and Sandy to make things right.
Sandy stepped aside, drew her in closer with his arm around her waist.
Kirsten leaned over the railing, kissed Ryan on the cheek, pushed back his hair, whispered into his ear, "Welcome back. We missed you."
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End of part 8