Disclaimer:
Things I own—one cat, some furniture, tons of psychology textbooks.
Things I do not own—anything worth over $200, any of the characters from The O.C.
Author's notes:
Whew! My apologies for the long delay in updating, but between writer's block and having a ridiculous amount of final papers due, I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. It's a rather pivotal one in this story and I went over and over it a number of times before I was happy with it. But here it is, and it's long in part because I had a lot of events I wanted to cover and part because I wanted to make it up to everyone who's been so patiently waiting for me to update. I hope people are still reading this!
BrokenSpirit20—um, I guess your command didn't work too well. Sorry about that! I hope this chapter makes up for the delay!
Number8goo—I'm glad you like this story. I wanted to give an honest portrayal of a difficult topic, and I'm happy you think I'm succeeding.
Ann—you're right, I've got a master's in psychology and am currently going for my doctorate. I try to get the details right, since that's a pet peeve of mine when stories don't, so I'm glad to hear from a fellow professional that I'm doing a good job with it.
Leentje—sorry for the delay, and I hope you like this update.
Melanie39—I agree with you about Caleb. He can be very tough in business, but he obviously loves his daughters a lot, so there has to be a heart beneath that stony exterior, even if he doesn't wear it on his sleeve.
HateToSayIToldYouSo—okay, Caleb hugging is weird enough to think about except if it's Kirsten or maybe Hailey, but Caleb crying is just scary, although I'm sure if they ever did have that on the show I might feel different. One of the things I love about the actors on the O.C. is that they can take what could be very unsympathetic characters and give them a very human side. Especially Melinda Clarke. I can never decide whether I hate or love Julie.
Elzed—I can't say how flattered I am that you like my story. You're one of my absolute favorite authors on this site, and it's a heady experience to hear you say you're enjoying reading this.
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Ryan slept badly the night before Caleb's birthday dinner, tossing and turning for a good three hours before falling into an uneasy sleep. He was repeatedly jerked awake by nightmares he couldn't remember, and by seven he gave up and went out for a walk on the beach, leaving a note for the Cohens so they wouldn't worry if they woke up and found his room empty. He walked for three miles along the almost-deserted beach, and when he finally returned to the house around ten, he felt calmer about facing the rest of the day.
Julie and Caleb arrived at five till seven that evening, bringing a bottle of what Ryan assumed was some exclusive and expensive brand of wine. He shrunk back as the Cohens greeted their guests, hoping vainly that Julie wouldn't notice him, or at least, that she wouldn't make a scene in front of everyone. He hadn't seen her since the funeral, and she looked thin and tired. He realized how upset she must be about Marissa, and he almost felt sorry for her, but then Julie caught his eye and gave him a piercing look. Ryan ducked behind Sandy, mentally planning to stick close to him for the evening. Sandy wasn't much fonder of Julie than Ryan was, and he wouldn't let Julie say anything harsh to him.
"Julie, I'm so glad you could make it," Kirsten greeted her stepmother, taking her coat and handing it to Sandy. "How are you holding up?"
Julie sighed. "There are good days and there are not so good days. I still find it hard to believe that she's not just at college."
Ryan felt Sandy's hand clutch his shoulder, and was grateful for the support.
"I can't even imagine experiencing a loss like yours," Kirsten continued. "I've said it before, but if there's anything Sandy or I can do, please don't hesitate to let us know."
Julie managed a smile. "Thank you," she replied, her eyes locking with Ryan's.
Sandy clapped his hands. "I don't know about everyone else, but I'm starved. Is dinner ready, sweetheart?"
Ryan allowed himself to relax a bit as everyone moved to the dining table. The dinner conversation consisted mostly of Caleb and Kirsten discussing the new housing development project that the Newport Group was developing, while Sandy and Seth reminisced about Berkeley. Ryan stayed mostly silent, picking at his food and doing his best to avoid Julie's gaze from across the table.
He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready to face Julie Cooper, or to sit around while everyone talked about what a tragedy Marissa's death was, and what a promising life she had ahead of her. All he wanted was for the evening to be over so he could retire to his room and be alone with his guilt.
Everyone convened in the living room after dinner was over. Ryan was about to join Seth on the couch when he felt someone tap his arm.
Julie was smiling, but her eyes were ice cold. "Ryan? Can you help me get something from the car?"
Ryan swallowed. Sandy glanced at him, his bushy eyebrows drawn together, the expression in his eyes clearly asking if Ryan wanted him to intervene. He was tempted, but he couldn't hide behind the Cohens forever. They had done so much for him already, and they deserved at least one evening without having him involve them in his personal dramas. He gave a little shake of his head and followed Julie outside.
To his surprise, Julie reached into her purse and took out a cigarette. To his even greater surprise, she offered the pack to him. "Want one?"
Ryan shook his head. "I quit last year." Although, dammit, he could really use a smoke right now. "I didn't know you smoked."
"I'd quit too," Julie sighed. "Eighteen years ago, when I was pregnant with Marissa. I started again after she died. It seemed appropriate."
"I…um, I mean…" Ryan searched for a response and came up empty-handed. What could he possibly say?
"She'd decided on Columbia," Julie continued, not seeming to notice him at all. "She was really looking forward to living in New York."
Talking about Marissa with Julie Cooper was more than Ryan could bear. He hadn't talked about graduation night with anyone, not his therapist or the Cohens. Maybe someday he would be able to talk about it, but not with Julie. Not when she'd told him flat-out that he was responsible for her death. He knew Julie was grieving over the loss of her daughter, but did he have to be responsible for her too?
"Tell me, Ryan," Julie pleaded. "Did she say anything to you that night?"
Ryan swallowed. "Uh, not really."
"What do you mean, not really?" Julie asked quickly. "Did you talk to her?"
Shit. How was he going to get out of this one? "No," he lied.
He was a bad liar when forced to do so on the spot, and Julie's eyes narrowed. She obviously knew he was hiding something from her.
"Tell me, Ryan," she began, her voice as sweet as cotton candy. "I understand you had a little breakdown in Boston."
He was going to kill Caleb. Wait, no, not a good idea. It was Kirsten's fault for telling Caleb. But he couldn't be mad at Kirsten. Dammit, did everything in his life have to be so complicated?
"I'm just curious," Julie continued, in that horribly sweet tone. "Why is it that you weren't able to kill yourself when you were so effective at killing my daughter?"
He was going to be sick. He backed away from Julie and slipped inside through the front door, bolting past the living room and upstairs to his bathroom where he watched the little food he'd eaten at dinner come back up again. He flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth out before locking his bedroom door and climbing under the covers. He hadn't done this since he was a little boy in Chino, lying awake on hot summer nights trying not to listen to his parents fighting in the next room.
Ryan knew the Cohens would be worried about him, but he couldn't face anyone right now.
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Sandy and Seth had both noticed Ryan's return and subsequent departure from where they were sitting on the sofa. Sandy moved to get up and follow him but quickly changed his mind and sat down again. On his second attempt, he got as far as the door to the kitchen before returning.
"Sandy, is everything all right?" Kirsten asked.
Sandy managed a smile. "Of course. I was just going to get more coffee."
"But you didn't bring your coffee cup with you," Caleb pointed out with a smirk.
Sandy glared at his father-in-law. "You're right. My mistake."
He sank back against the sofa cushions next to Seth, who was giving his father a wary look. "Dad, are you sure you're okay?"
Sandy sighed. "Yes. I think so. I don't know."
"I thought you promised Mom you weren't going to let Grandpa get to you," Seth teased. "I guess old habits die hard."
Sandy had an idea. He had been debating over whether he should go upstairs to talk to Ryan or to give the boy some time alone first. He had been trying to give Ryan some more space as of late, as not to appear to be smothering him, but the kid had just gone outside to talk to Julie Cooper, which was enough to drive anyone crazy. "Hey, Seth, could you do me a favor?"
Seth grinned. "If I say yes, can I have an advance on my allowance for next month?"
"Seth." Sandy gave him a weary look. "Honestly, you sound more like your Aunt Hailey every day. I'd like you to go upstairs and check on Ryan. Just make sure he's okay."
"All right," Seth agreed, partly to get away from this rather tedious dinner party and partly because his dad had that tired, worried look on his face again that he'd had when they were all in Boston. "We can talk about my allowance later," he added in an attempt to lighten the situation a bit.
Sandy managed a small smile, which Seth was happy to see. "We'll see."
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Ryan's door was shut, which came as no great surprise to Seth. The guy had just had an encounter with Julie Cooper, of all people. Seth wouldn't have blamed him if he'd dug himself a hole and didn't come out for a week. He knocked on the door. "Hey, Ryan!"
No response. Okay, so Ryan was upset, but he underestimated Seth's persistence. "Come on, buddy, I know you're in there. And if you don't let me in, I'll be forced to go back downstairs and join the old folks, and you know you'd never inflict a fate like that on me."
There was a rustling sound from behind the door, and a few moments later it opened to reveal Ryan, who looked even more drawn and tired than Sandy had.
"That's more like it!" Seth enthused. "Mind if I hang here with you for awhile?"
Ryan sighed. "Seth, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather be alone right now."
"Come on, now," Seth coaxed. "Who wants to sit and brood all evening when he can have my company instead?"
"Not now, Seth," Ryan persisted. "Please."
Seth could tell from his tone that Ryan was serious, but he didn't seem able to stop himself. The resentment and anger he'd been suppressing since Boston was threatening to break through the surface. "I mean it, Ryan. Up and at them!"
"I said not now," Ryan repeated, a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice. "I'd like to be alone for right now."
"What's your problem?" Seth demanded, matching Ryan's irritated tone. "I'm going back to Berkeley tomorrow, it's not like we see each other every day anymore."
"My problem is that you won't leave me alone," Ryan answered back. "How many times do I have to ask?"
"Right, you want to be alone so you can feel sorry for yourself," Seth fired at him. "I hate to say it, but it's just a tad selfish, Ryan."
"Look who's talking!" Ryan shot back.
Seth held up his hands. "Hey, at least I never tried to kill myself! That's selfish, Ryan, any way you look at it. Have you seen Dad lately? You're tearing him apart. I saw him crying in Boston, Ryan, actually sobbing. And if you honestly think so little of him, and of Mom and me to think that your dying would mean nothing to us, then you're far more selfish than I ever was."
He stormed into his room and slammed the door. Ryan watched him go, started to slam his, then reconsidered and shut it quietly. He went into the bathroom and took his medications, washing them down with a glass of water. Sandy and Kirsten had only recently allowed him to take them himself, instead of having one of them give him the pills twice a day. He had a bottle of sleeping pills as well, to be taken as needed, and for a moment he toyed with the idea of taking the entire bottle. He rejected the idea quickly, though, it reminded him too much of Marissa's overdose in Tijuana, and besides, the last thing he wanted was to end up in the hospital again. He took three pills instead, strong enough to make him sleep for a good, long time. Without dreams. The last thing Ryan needed was another nightmare.
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He slept soundly all night, and then fitfully until late the next afternoon. Seth's flight had been at eleven that morning, and Sandy had already returned from the airport by the time Ryan came downstairs. He put on a cheerful front and apologized for not having been up in time to say goodbye to Seth, but he'd been a bit overwhelmed last night and needed a good long night's sleep. He was feeling a lot better today.
Kirsten felt his forehead and insisted on taking his temperature, but seemed relieved when it was normal. Sandy offered, rather timidly, Ryan noticed, to play the ninja game with him. Ryan agreed, and as they played he shot quick glances at his foster father, noticing strands of gray near his temples and wondering if he had been responsible for them.
At night it was Sandy and Kirsten who went to bed early, leaving Ryan with the Playstation and his thoughts. He did his best to push them to the back of his mind, but the Seth of his thoughts, much like the real Seth, didn't like taking no for an answer.
Have you seen Dad lately? You're tearing him apart!
You're far more selfish than I ever was.
Maybe a change of scene would help. He scribbled a quick note to the Cohens and rode his bike out to the beach where he sank down onto the sand and tried not to listen to the building howl of the voices inside his head.
"Go get yourself killed for all I care! I'm through!"
"Hey, at least I never tried to kill myself!"
"Why is it that you weren't able to kill yourself when you were so effective at killing my daughter?"
And then there were the images:
The anger in Seth's eyes from the previous night.
Sandy's worried face, and his graying hair.
Julie's cold gaze at the funeral as she told him she held him responsible for what had happened.
The twisted, ugly expression on Marissa's face as she'd slapped him that night.
Throwing the keys at her feet.
How overly cheerful Kirsten looked the first time she visited him in the hospital, matched with the worry and fear in her eyes.
The razor blade in his hand, cutting a dark red line down his wrist.
Ryan was trembling as he rolled up his shirt sleeves and really looked at his wrists for the first time. The scars weren't a dark angry red anymore, but they still told a clear story of what he had done. They were ugly and he was ashamed of them, but they told the truth. And as he ran his finger lightly down his left wrist, tracing the scar, he realized that killing himself wouldn't make his problems go away. He had tried that already, and look what had happened. He had devastated the Cohens, the people he loved more than anyone in the world.
Caleb had been right. His last name might be Atwood, but he was still a Cohen, and whatever he did would affect not only him but also Sandy, Kirsten, and Seth.
The house was quiet when he got back, his note on the kitchen counter where he had left it. He crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash, then summoned his courage and walked upstairs past his room to the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
Kirsten was the one who opened the door when he knocked, with a squinty-eyed, rumpled-haired Sandy standing behind her, both Cohens wearing identical expressions of concern.
He was still trembling. "I need help," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you anymore." He took a breath, and his last words were even softer. "I don't want to hurt myself anymore."
Kirsten immediately put her arms around him and drew him close, rocking him against her. Sandy wrapped his wife and foster son in an embrace, and for the first time Ryan felt truly safe, that he was going to be all right after all.