"I brought lunch," Ryan announced as he made his way into the kitchen of the Cohen house on Sunday afternoon.
Kirsten looked up from the stack of bills she was perusing. "Hey," she said in surprise, taking the bags from his hands and searching through the deli sandwiches for one she might like. "I thought you were studying at Macy's today," she said when she found the vegetarian sub with her name on it.
Ryan shrugged and sat on a barstool at the end of the counter. "I was going to. But she had some meeting with her dad this morning? And she wasn't home yet when I got over there," he explained.
Sandy entered and clapped his hands together. "What's that smell?"
Kirsten handed him the meatball sub and accepted his quick kiss. "Ryan brought lunch from Vanetti's."
With a smile at his surrogate son, Sandy opened the paper and allowed the scent to fill his nostrils. "Oh, I love meatballs from Vanetti's." He looked through the cupboard for a plate and offered one to Kirsten. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at Macy's? Studying for finals or something?"
Ryan's shoulders sagged a little bit further. "She wasn't home from that thing with her dad yet," he explained, taking the cheese steak sandwich that Kirsten offered.
"I thought you had a key," she said, distractedly doctoring her sandwich with condiments from a drawer in the kitchen island.
He didn't know how they managed to get him to talk about things he would never normally discuss, but Ryan knew this was his safe place – these were his parents. He could tell them anything, right? "She's usually pretty amped after she talks to her dad, so I thought I would give her a little space. Let her cool before I go back over."
Before either Cohen could comment, Seth entered the kitchen. He was sporting a goalie's helmet, catcher's vest, boxing gloves, and huge swim fins, his eyes darting around the kitchen. Kirsten nearly choked on her lunch, while Sandy moved toward his over-protected son. "Um, Seth?" was all he could manage to say.
Seth made jerky movements as he turned his head from one family member to the next. "Shh. Don't reveal the secret identity until I'm sure that's him," he pointed toward Ryan with one gloved hand.
"Who?" Kirsten asked, looking at Ryan and then taking another gulp of water. "Ryan?"
"Son, have you been hitting the reefer?"
Seth pushed the mask up on his head as smoothly as he could in mittens, and gave his father a hard look. "Dad, don't say "reefer" ever again," he scolded and then looked back at Ryan, who had cracked the beginnings of an amused grin. "I just wanted to be sure that you were understanding, hopefully forgetful, mildly passive-aggressive Ryan. But I thought I'd be prepared for belligerent, holds-a-grudge, likes the punching and ass-kicking Ryan, as well," he explained.
Ryan leaned over the edge of the island to look Seth over completely. "And you were gonna do what, if I did hit you? Humiliate yourself at the hospital?"
Seth rolled his eyes. "It's the only protective gear I could find in the garage."
"Seth, you're wearing flippers," Kirsten stated the obvious as though it were ridiculous.
He nodded and pulled the boxing gloves off to retrieve the last sandwich from the back. His steps were long and measured as he lifted his legs high to move the flippers. "I didn't know if there would be a need to make a speedy getaway. A proper fighter is always prepared, right? Might have needed to hide out under water, make a fish-like swim for it?"
"What? Around the pool?" Ryan asked, nearly laughing now.
Seth rolled his shoulders and took a bite of the turkey sub. "Fear causes one to be a bit irrational, ya know? So what's the deal, man? Are you still pissed or can I take this thing off now?" He pulled at the heavy vest.
Nodding, Ryan took another bite of his sandwich. "We're fine, dude," he said, standing with his sandwich in hand. "I'm gonna go call Macy, see if she's home yet," he informed, heading toward the back door to the poolhouse. Before he exited, he turned back. "You do know the cup goes under your pants, right?"
Seth looked down, gave his friend, and his parents, a withering look, and then went back to his sandwich as Ryan slid the door shut behind him.
Truth be told, he couldn't stay mad at Seth for long. It was just like his bond with Trey, only moreso. Seth was his brother, even if they didn't use the term. If anyone was looking out for his best intentions, it was Seth. As easily manipulated as he could be by Summer, the kid always came through in the end. He was one of the three people that Ryan knew he could count on in the world.
He entered the poolhouse, sat his sandwich on the counter, and then moved toward his bed to call Macy. He was distracted by an envelope with her curly handwriting. "I love you, Ryan," was all it said.
His heart dropped into his stomach. What had he done? What had Robert Campbell done? He knew it was bad news before he even opened the thick stationery and pulled out the carefully written letter. A letter? He sank to the bed and started to read.
Ryan,
I'm so sorry I couldn't do this in person, but I'm in a huge hurry and I have to make this as quick as possible. I need hours to tell you everything I'm feeling, but since I don't have that, I hope I can say everything I need to say. Now I'm just being ridiculously redundant in an attempt to delay the inevitable. Can you tell?
This morning's meeting with my father did not go as expected. He didn't yell or lecture. In fact, he offered me a job. He's building an new orphanage and he wants me to oversee the construction, and the start up. It's a great opportunity, and as much as I hate to work for him, I don't think I can pass it up. Before you get too upset, or think me a complete idiot, I do realize that he's just trying to send me away so that we won't see each other. But you know how I've always wanted to go to Thailand, with the jungles, and the people, and the cultures. I don't know how I could say "no." Frank is going to take over for me at The Bait Shop, and my father's going to buy out my lease on the bungalow. I'm going to take a semester off of school while I'm away, and then I'll decide when I'm going to go back after the orphanage is up and running.
I know this must seem like the most sudden thing in the world to you, it kind of was for me, too. But I'll be honest – after last night, at the charity thing – I wasn't really surprised. Not because my father didn't like you – after our meeting this morning, I'm convinced quite the opposite. He says that once you've completed your architecture degree, he'd love to have you on board. He thought you had some very interesting ideas during your conversation. Maybe he's lying, who can tell anymore, right?
I'm going to stop trying to be all cutesy now and just say answer the question I know is on your mind. "What about us?" Please don't think that leaving you will be easy for me. I wanted us to work so badly. I really wanted to love you. But in crashed the real world, ya know? And all the delusions of grandeur we had been operating under came crashing down on top of me, leaving me amongst the rubble of a stinging reality. (See, you're not the only poetic one here.) I saw the truth last night, Ryan, and it wasn't all that appealing.
Since the day I met you, I have been trying to tell myself that we were perfect for each other. But the reality is that we are almost perfect. I'm almost everything you need and you're almost everything that I want. But, at that party, I saw the real Ryan Atwood. I saw the guy who belongs in Newport Beach, no matter how much he claims he doesn't. I saw the guy who likes those parties a little more than he's willing to admit. And I saw the guy who loves his family and his friends too much to leave them behind. And I saw the slight hesitation of a guy who kinda wants a girl who likes to dress up in fancy clothes and make up and enjoy those parties with him.
I'm not that girl, Ryan. I'm the girl who is now one hundred percent certain that she doesn't belong in Newport Beach. I'm the girl who wants to spend the next six months in Asia, sleeping on dirt floors, not caring if I get to shower, giving kids a great place to stay while they wait for a home like yours. I'm the girl who felt the pull today, the desire, for someone who could drop everything right now to do the same thing. You're not that guy.
Please don't take this to mean that you don't have an incredibly special place in my heart. I've never met anyone quite like you, Ryan, and I will never forget that. But I didn't love you, and I don't think I would have, even if I had stayed in Orange County. We were safe – easy, even. That's not the stuff of great romance. Great romance is risk, and work, and compromise. Great romance is the angst that we both try so hard to avoid, and the great sense of accomplishment when you overcome it all, together. I have no doubt you will find your great romance, the love of your life (if you haven't already) and you will live happily-ever-after. I will, too.
I wish it could have been with you. I'll miss you, Ryan Atwood. At night, when I can't sleep, I'll think of your poetry, and I'll smile. When I see some kid who thinks he's tough enough to not care that his parents have abandoned him, I'll think of your twinkling eyes and I'll give him an extra-tight hug. And when I'm suffering through bug bites, all dirty from not showering, and I'm so tired I want to give up, I'll think of your silent strength, the way you hold me when I'm not strong enough, and I'll be grateful that I had a chance to be almost perfectly happy at least once in my life.
Macy
He read the letter three more times, put it back in the envelope, and reached for the telephone. As he dialed, he smiled one last time for the almost love of his life.