Standard disclaimers apply. Sorry for the long wait. I'm a sophomore in
high school, and I have finals all next week, so I've been studying pretty
hard and all that jazz. Enjoy.
Chapter 8
"Why do I like, always kick your ass at this game?"
Seth paused his fervent tapping on the controller buttons long enough to throw his brother a dazzling smile.
"Crap," Ryan muttered, watching his ninja die for what seemed like the thousandth time.
"Hey, at least you're better than my dad," Seth offered, snickering. "If there is some way of slicing your own guy's head off, my dad will find it."
"You had enough to eat?" Ryan asked, glancing at Seth's dinner plate, which was streaked with macaroni and cheese residue.
"Yeah. I'm good," Seth answered, scratching his stomach and yawning.
"And you don't feel nauseous?" Ryan asked, giving him a pointed look as he peered out from underneath his thick bangs.
Seth threw up his hands in disgust. "God, puke up a lung once and you never hear the end of it." He shook his head. "I'd hate to see how you would've reacted if Mom wasn't around. Though I must commend you..you can yell really loudly."
Seth had had a mild bout of vomiting shortly before Kirsten and Sandy went on their dinner date. Ryan, walking into the kitchen to find Seth bent over the trash can, was thrown into a state of pale-faced panic.
"Sandy! Kirsten!" He'd yelled, his voice cracking, his body shaking, having no idea what to do.
And the parents, as was in their job description, swooped in and took care of things, actually relieved to see that the problem was only throwing up. Their minds had managed to conjure up several thousand more horrific scenarios between the time they heard Ryan's yell, and the time they arrived in the kitchen. Kirsten got into mom mode, kneeling beside Seth, massive high heels and all, and rubbing his back gently, while barking orders at Ryan and Sandy to bring her various health care items. She could be such a motherly mother when she needed to be.
After Seth and Ryan were calmed down, it took considerable cajoling from Ryan and Seth, and babying of Seth from both of his parents to bring Sandy and Kirsten to leave the house. Seth assured them that he was fine, but it took a lot of convincing before either Sandy or Kirsten willingly left the house. Kirsten had even pulled Ryan aside and made him promise that he wouldn't let Seth eat any more than he could handle. Ryan had been obedient, though Seth had moaned a bit at his smaller portion of macaroni and cheese.
After dinner, the boys retreated to the living room for a heated video game tournament, at which Seth was demolishing Ryan.
Seth stretched his arms over his head, looking thoughtful. He swallowed and eyed Ryan nervously.
"You know, with me sick and all, you'll probably have to see a lot of really gross stuff..and you know, like there's a little symptoms that go along with this. I mean, it's not like some mucus-ed up alien is gonna pop out of my chest or anything, but there's some pretty barf-tastic things that'll be going down." Seth exhaled loudly. "Are you gonna be cool with it, like seeing me like that or whatever?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. No, it's cool." Ryan shook his head fervently. "I mean, I just have a thing about stuff..stuff that comes out of the body all that."
"Ah." Seth nodded knowingly. "A little squeamish about projectile vomit. I see." He shrugged. "No big deal. Just don't want you coming to the hospital all the time if you can't handle stuff like that." He sniffed a little, eyes glued to the screen. "What's say I beat you again, Atwood?"
Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat. "Sure." He tapped the start button gently. "And I can handle it. No problem," he added, sneaking a glance at Seth, who was currently sneaking a glance at him.
They both smiled.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Sandy took a small sip of wine as he perused the menu. Nothing sounded particularly appealing to him, but then he hadn't eaten much in the past week. He glanced up at Kirsten, who stared at her menu with all the seriousness of a doctor performing open heart surgery. Sandy smiled faintly.
Kirsten felt Sandy's steady gaze and met his eyes briefly. She let out the breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding, and closed the menu.
Sandy took her hand from across the table and squeezed it gently. He sniffed.
"You know, this was really sweet of Seth and Ryan and all, but we don't have to stay here," Sandy suggested, voice low.
"Wha-what do you mean?" Kirsten asked, forehead wrinkling. "You want to go home?"
"No, no, not that," Sandy insisted. "But, I don't know." He sighed in frustration, unable to voice his feelings coherently.
Kirsten looked down at herself, her fancy black dress, her shoes that pinched her toes painfully. She looked at Sandy, his suit slightly wrinkled, his face worn and his hair unruly. The hand he held in hers was shaky and nervous. Kirsten looked around them, at the candlelight, the stark white tablecloths, and all of the different forks that lay beside her plate. And everything seemed so, overdone.
"We could go to some burger joint," Kirsten suggested, biting her lip. "Remember back in college; God we practically lived in Wendy's."
Sandy nodded, laughing a little bit. "Those were good times." He paused. "These are good times. We have two good boys." He kissed her hand, thinking about how sophisticated the Cabin was, with its crystal chandelier and strict dress code. He didn't want that. He needed something simple, stress- free, where he could slurp his soda if he felt the need to.
Fifteen minutes later, Kirsten and Sandy were giggling in a booth at a nearly deserted Wendy's, eating hamburgers, splitting an order of Biggie fries, sipping sodas, and reminiscing on days past. They sat on the same side of the booth, holding onto each other, as if the happiness only existed when they touched.
"The roof leaked, there was mold in the walls, it smelled like skunk all the time, there was no air conditioning." Sandy nibbled on a fry. "We had the epitome of a couple's first house."
Kirsten snuggled her head into Sandy's chest. "You loved that house."
"I did," Sandy agreed, smiling fondly.
"You loved the creaky old porch swing. You loved watching the guests accidentally pull off the broken doorknob and frantically try and replace it before anyone noticed. And you love that bed." Kirsten smiled. "You remember that bed, don't you?"
While living in Berkeley with no financial support from Kirsten's estranged father or Sandy's estranged mother, they struggled to make ends meet. The house and their junker car constantly needed repairs, and there were the basic necessities of raising a kid: diapers, a crib, every adorable toy that happened to catch Kirsten's eye. By the time Seth grew out of his crib, a new bed for their son was out of the question financially. All they had was the large wooden bed in the master bedroom (if you could call it that) that had come with the house. Other furniture was scarce, and not large enough to comfortably house any of them for the night. All three Cohens had shared the bed, with little Seth sleeping in the middle, until they had come up with enough money to buy him his own big boy bed. It had been about two years.
"It made sex pretty damn difficult," Sandy reminded her. "We had to hire a baby-sitter and find some place to spend the evening."
"Or you took a day off work when Seth had school," Kirsten added, rubbing her hand over Sandy's chest. She sighed.
"And there was that nasty bed wetting phase he hit after the diapers came off," Sandy said, cringing. "That lasted a little too long for my liking."
Kirsten smiled a little. "Waking up wet, we always used to say."
"I loved that bed," Sandy said, kissing the top of her head gently.
And they had, despite all of those drawbacks. They loved the cozy family they had had in Berkeley. They loved cuddling together on the bed, watching their son doze off. When there were nightmares, they were both by Seth's side to soothe his fears and tears. It was nice, all the affection and love. They were a close-knit family. Even when Seth got his own bed in his own room, they had still shared three meals a day together and went for long drives on the weekends. When they moved to Newport, things had slowly come undone in their once close family. Seth drifted away, a little bit at a time, gradually retreating into himself and moving away from his parents. It was nice to remember a time when they had all had time for each other, when work and bills and charity events hadn't prevented them from being together all the time.
"How do you think they're doing?" Kirsten asked suddenly. "Should I call and check up on them?"
"I'm sure they're fine," Sandy reassured her. "Ryan will watch out for Seth." He paused, his eyes twinkling. "He's a good baby-sitter." He bit his lip, his face turning serious. "He's a good brother."
"He is," Kirsten agreed quietly, snatching a stray fry that had fallen onto their tray. "He's a lot like you."
"No." Sandy shook his head gently. "Seth is like me. Ryan..his situation is a lot like mine was, but he's like you. He has your quiet strength." Sandy kissed her temple lovingly.
"They're good boys," Kirsten whispered.
"The best," Sandy agreed. "Even if they get into trouble all the time."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Ryan rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and sighed in frustration. Pre-calculus was hell, and he had a killer test the next day. Even with Journey blasting in the background he couldn't seem to make sense of the equations before him. He slammed his book shut, shaking his head. Maybe he needed a break.
The clock next to the bed told Ryan that he had been studying for an hour and a half. He yawned, figuring he'd go check on Seth. He hadn't wanted to leave him, but he really had to study if he wanted to pass the class. Despite his high score on the placement exam, Ryan was barely scraping by in his weaker subjects, like math. They expected him to know a lot of things already, stuff he'd never been taught in the Chino schools. Ryan was basically playing a frantic game of catch-up in most of his classes.
Silencing Journey for the time being, Ryan exited the guest bedroom. Sandy liked it when he slept there, and Ryan was happy to do anything that made any of the Cohens happy. So he was moving his things from the pool house to the guest bedroom, albeit not all at once. Part of him liked to hang on to what Seth jokingly referred to as his "Fortress of Solitude."
Ryan smiled upon entering the living room, finding Seth lying on the couch, fast asleep, half of his body hanging precariously over the edge of the furniture. The video game was still on, bright colors flashing across the screen and making Seth's pale face glow ten different colors.
He sighed, knowing he had to bring Seth upstairs to bed. Ryan quickly packed up the video game console, shoving all the loose wires behind the television and fishing Seth's controller out from underneath the couch.
"Seth..hey..Seth.." Ryan shook his friend's shoulder gently. He frowned slightly at the dark purple rings that hugged Seth's eyes, and the unnaturally pale pallor of Seth's skin.
Seth stirred slightly, a tiny groan escaping his lips. He swallowed, and his body twisted a little.
"No.." he mumbled. "Don't wanna move."
"C'mon, Seth. Gotta get to your room, then you can sleep," Ryan offered, wrapping his arms around Seth's mid-section and helping him off of the couch.
"Carry me, Chino," Seth grumbled, a tiny smile making its way to his lips.
"Shut up, Cohen," Ryan answered, returning the smile.
The boys made their progress to the stairs, Ryan holding Seth up slightly, while Seth's head leaned heavily on Ryan's shoulder. Seth could hardly keep his eyes open so, resigned, he kept them closed.
"A lot of things are gonna change when I'm gone," Seth said, his voice thick and slow-sounding, as they reached the top of the stairs. Seth was practically breathless.
"You're not going anywhere," Ryan answered with a grim determination, surprised that Seth would talk so freely about his own uncertain mortality.
"I meant when I go to the hospital," Seth corrected him, chuckling softly.
The laughter poured into Ryan's ears and he felt an unexplainable surge of warm affection for the Seth. The kid was sick, confused, and exhausted, and still managed to make Ryan look stupid.
"What's going to change?" Ryan asked, pushing Seth's door open, thankful Seth had left it half-open.
"Stuff," Seth said, slurring the word slightly. "My mom and dad. Summer."
Ryan placed Seth gently on his bed. He pulled Seth's covers over his slender body, and Seth smiled appreciatively, eyes still closed.
"Thanks, man," he said quietly.
"How..how are things going to change?" Ryan asked, shivering at how noticeably sick Seth looked with the only light in the room being from the hallway lamp.
"Summer, she'll be kind of bitchy to others. Allow this to happen, as it's her one true release." Seth's voice cracked slightly. "She'll shop a lot. Make sure she doesn't go alone too often. Talk her out of going to any parties; she'll get wasted off her ass and do things we'll all regret. But if she really starts doing stupid things, please get her to talk to someone in this house."
Seth cleared his throat slightly. "Mom..you gotta watch her. Especially with the drinking. She does it a lot under stress. Gets pretty bad hangovers and all. She's got too much pride to risk being seen getting hammered, so she'll only do it around the house. Try and stop her if you can." Seth swallowed thickly. "When she drinks Mom and Dad fight a lot. Things get ugly. Just like, keep her occupied. And keep up the dinnertime conversation. You'll know she's at her worst if she turns on the Mannilow. If that happens, share a pint of mint chocolate chip with her and watch some sappy Tom Hanks movie. Works like a charm."
"O-okay," Ryan stuttered, thinking how open Seth could be when he was too tired to remember that he was self-centered.
"Be really careful around Dad if he starts speaking rapid-fire Hebrew. That's when you'll know he's on the edge of meltdown," Seth continued, his voice shaky. "Let him hug you and smother ya with love, because that's his way when he's really depressed. Tell him you love him if you don't have a problem with that." Seth sighed. "He'll want to do weird things like go through the old photo albums and watch home movies. Keep him company as much as you can. When he's alone and upset he does some pretty destructive things. And keep up the joking. He likes that." Seth coughed. "Oh, and smell him a lot. Check his pockets and briefcase. Can't have him going back to the cigarettes."
"Got it," Ryan agreed. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," Seth said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "There's this guy, Ryan, who carries the world around on his shoulders. He's got this crazy hero complex going on, which is why I trust him to take of the parental units and the girlfriend. But make sure you tell him to cut loose and shoot the shit sometimes, okay? Don't blame himself for everything, like if Mom gets drunk of Dad starts smoking again and he can't do anything to stop 'em. Tell him to keep those grades up, play his soccer, and that there's no luck with pot. Tell him he's a good brother."
Ryan nodded, feeling a tear trickle down his cheek. "I'll do that."
"Night, Ryan."
"Goodnight, Seth."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Ryan burst into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind him, his heart racing wildly.
He hadn't cried since he'd gotten the news of Seth's cancer, at least not really. He'd spilled one or two tears when Sandy first told him, but quickly dried up when he realized he couldn't worry Kirsten or Sandy. He hadn't cried when Seth came home from the hospital after his bone marrow aspirations, tired and forlorn. But now he couldn't stop himself.
An angry sob burst from Ryan's lips, and he grabbed his pre-calc book from the desk and threw it against the wall with every ounce of strength in his body. The damage was minimal, and not enough to soothe Ryan's rage.
Ryan leaned heavily on the door, his body sliding the ground. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed like a little boy lost. He hadn't cried like that since his father went to jail, leaving him alone to hold up his distressed mother.
This felt so much worse.
A/N: I should have another chapter soon. And don't worry, I pick up the pace a bit. As always, R&R
Chapter 8
"Why do I like, always kick your ass at this game?"
Seth paused his fervent tapping on the controller buttons long enough to throw his brother a dazzling smile.
"Crap," Ryan muttered, watching his ninja die for what seemed like the thousandth time.
"Hey, at least you're better than my dad," Seth offered, snickering. "If there is some way of slicing your own guy's head off, my dad will find it."
"You had enough to eat?" Ryan asked, glancing at Seth's dinner plate, which was streaked with macaroni and cheese residue.
"Yeah. I'm good," Seth answered, scratching his stomach and yawning.
"And you don't feel nauseous?" Ryan asked, giving him a pointed look as he peered out from underneath his thick bangs.
Seth threw up his hands in disgust. "God, puke up a lung once and you never hear the end of it." He shook his head. "I'd hate to see how you would've reacted if Mom wasn't around. Though I must commend you..you can yell really loudly."
Seth had had a mild bout of vomiting shortly before Kirsten and Sandy went on their dinner date. Ryan, walking into the kitchen to find Seth bent over the trash can, was thrown into a state of pale-faced panic.
"Sandy! Kirsten!" He'd yelled, his voice cracking, his body shaking, having no idea what to do.
And the parents, as was in their job description, swooped in and took care of things, actually relieved to see that the problem was only throwing up. Their minds had managed to conjure up several thousand more horrific scenarios between the time they heard Ryan's yell, and the time they arrived in the kitchen. Kirsten got into mom mode, kneeling beside Seth, massive high heels and all, and rubbing his back gently, while barking orders at Ryan and Sandy to bring her various health care items. She could be such a motherly mother when she needed to be.
After Seth and Ryan were calmed down, it took considerable cajoling from Ryan and Seth, and babying of Seth from both of his parents to bring Sandy and Kirsten to leave the house. Seth assured them that he was fine, but it took a lot of convincing before either Sandy or Kirsten willingly left the house. Kirsten had even pulled Ryan aside and made him promise that he wouldn't let Seth eat any more than he could handle. Ryan had been obedient, though Seth had moaned a bit at his smaller portion of macaroni and cheese.
After dinner, the boys retreated to the living room for a heated video game tournament, at which Seth was demolishing Ryan.
Seth stretched his arms over his head, looking thoughtful. He swallowed and eyed Ryan nervously.
"You know, with me sick and all, you'll probably have to see a lot of really gross stuff..and you know, like there's a little symptoms that go along with this. I mean, it's not like some mucus-ed up alien is gonna pop out of my chest or anything, but there's some pretty barf-tastic things that'll be going down." Seth exhaled loudly. "Are you gonna be cool with it, like seeing me like that or whatever?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. No, it's cool." Ryan shook his head fervently. "I mean, I just have a thing about stuff..stuff that comes out of the body all that."
"Ah." Seth nodded knowingly. "A little squeamish about projectile vomit. I see." He shrugged. "No big deal. Just don't want you coming to the hospital all the time if you can't handle stuff like that." He sniffed a little, eyes glued to the screen. "What's say I beat you again, Atwood?"
Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat. "Sure." He tapped the start button gently. "And I can handle it. No problem," he added, sneaking a glance at Seth, who was currently sneaking a glance at him.
They both smiled.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Sandy took a small sip of wine as he perused the menu. Nothing sounded particularly appealing to him, but then he hadn't eaten much in the past week. He glanced up at Kirsten, who stared at her menu with all the seriousness of a doctor performing open heart surgery. Sandy smiled faintly.
Kirsten felt Sandy's steady gaze and met his eyes briefly. She let out the breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding, and closed the menu.
Sandy took her hand from across the table and squeezed it gently. He sniffed.
"You know, this was really sweet of Seth and Ryan and all, but we don't have to stay here," Sandy suggested, voice low.
"Wha-what do you mean?" Kirsten asked, forehead wrinkling. "You want to go home?"
"No, no, not that," Sandy insisted. "But, I don't know." He sighed in frustration, unable to voice his feelings coherently.
Kirsten looked down at herself, her fancy black dress, her shoes that pinched her toes painfully. She looked at Sandy, his suit slightly wrinkled, his face worn and his hair unruly. The hand he held in hers was shaky and nervous. Kirsten looked around them, at the candlelight, the stark white tablecloths, and all of the different forks that lay beside her plate. And everything seemed so, overdone.
"We could go to some burger joint," Kirsten suggested, biting her lip. "Remember back in college; God we practically lived in Wendy's."
Sandy nodded, laughing a little bit. "Those were good times." He paused. "These are good times. We have two good boys." He kissed her hand, thinking about how sophisticated the Cabin was, with its crystal chandelier and strict dress code. He didn't want that. He needed something simple, stress- free, where he could slurp his soda if he felt the need to.
Fifteen minutes later, Kirsten and Sandy were giggling in a booth at a nearly deserted Wendy's, eating hamburgers, splitting an order of Biggie fries, sipping sodas, and reminiscing on days past. They sat on the same side of the booth, holding onto each other, as if the happiness only existed when they touched.
"The roof leaked, there was mold in the walls, it smelled like skunk all the time, there was no air conditioning." Sandy nibbled on a fry. "We had the epitome of a couple's first house."
Kirsten snuggled her head into Sandy's chest. "You loved that house."
"I did," Sandy agreed, smiling fondly.
"You loved the creaky old porch swing. You loved watching the guests accidentally pull off the broken doorknob and frantically try and replace it before anyone noticed. And you love that bed." Kirsten smiled. "You remember that bed, don't you?"
While living in Berkeley with no financial support from Kirsten's estranged father or Sandy's estranged mother, they struggled to make ends meet. The house and their junker car constantly needed repairs, and there were the basic necessities of raising a kid: diapers, a crib, every adorable toy that happened to catch Kirsten's eye. By the time Seth grew out of his crib, a new bed for their son was out of the question financially. All they had was the large wooden bed in the master bedroom (if you could call it that) that had come with the house. Other furniture was scarce, and not large enough to comfortably house any of them for the night. All three Cohens had shared the bed, with little Seth sleeping in the middle, until they had come up with enough money to buy him his own big boy bed. It had been about two years.
"It made sex pretty damn difficult," Sandy reminded her. "We had to hire a baby-sitter and find some place to spend the evening."
"Or you took a day off work when Seth had school," Kirsten added, rubbing her hand over Sandy's chest. She sighed.
"And there was that nasty bed wetting phase he hit after the diapers came off," Sandy said, cringing. "That lasted a little too long for my liking."
Kirsten smiled a little. "Waking up wet, we always used to say."
"I loved that bed," Sandy said, kissing the top of her head gently.
And they had, despite all of those drawbacks. They loved the cozy family they had had in Berkeley. They loved cuddling together on the bed, watching their son doze off. When there were nightmares, they were both by Seth's side to soothe his fears and tears. It was nice, all the affection and love. They were a close-knit family. Even when Seth got his own bed in his own room, they had still shared three meals a day together and went for long drives on the weekends. When they moved to Newport, things had slowly come undone in their once close family. Seth drifted away, a little bit at a time, gradually retreating into himself and moving away from his parents. It was nice to remember a time when they had all had time for each other, when work and bills and charity events hadn't prevented them from being together all the time.
"How do you think they're doing?" Kirsten asked suddenly. "Should I call and check up on them?"
"I'm sure they're fine," Sandy reassured her. "Ryan will watch out for Seth." He paused, his eyes twinkling. "He's a good baby-sitter." He bit his lip, his face turning serious. "He's a good brother."
"He is," Kirsten agreed quietly, snatching a stray fry that had fallen onto their tray. "He's a lot like you."
"No." Sandy shook his head gently. "Seth is like me. Ryan..his situation is a lot like mine was, but he's like you. He has your quiet strength." Sandy kissed her temple lovingly.
"They're good boys," Kirsten whispered.
"The best," Sandy agreed. "Even if they get into trouble all the time."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Ryan rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and sighed in frustration. Pre-calculus was hell, and he had a killer test the next day. Even with Journey blasting in the background he couldn't seem to make sense of the equations before him. He slammed his book shut, shaking his head. Maybe he needed a break.
The clock next to the bed told Ryan that he had been studying for an hour and a half. He yawned, figuring he'd go check on Seth. He hadn't wanted to leave him, but he really had to study if he wanted to pass the class. Despite his high score on the placement exam, Ryan was barely scraping by in his weaker subjects, like math. They expected him to know a lot of things already, stuff he'd never been taught in the Chino schools. Ryan was basically playing a frantic game of catch-up in most of his classes.
Silencing Journey for the time being, Ryan exited the guest bedroom. Sandy liked it when he slept there, and Ryan was happy to do anything that made any of the Cohens happy. So he was moving his things from the pool house to the guest bedroom, albeit not all at once. Part of him liked to hang on to what Seth jokingly referred to as his "Fortress of Solitude."
Ryan smiled upon entering the living room, finding Seth lying on the couch, fast asleep, half of his body hanging precariously over the edge of the furniture. The video game was still on, bright colors flashing across the screen and making Seth's pale face glow ten different colors.
He sighed, knowing he had to bring Seth upstairs to bed. Ryan quickly packed up the video game console, shoving all the loose wires behind the television and fishing Seth's controller out from underneath the couch.
"Seth..hey..Seth.." Ryan shook his friend's shoulder gently. He frowned slightly at the dark purple rings that hugged Seth's eyes, and the unnaturally pale pallor of Seth's skin.
Seth stirred slightly, a tiny groan escaping his lips. He swallowed, and his body twisted a little.
"No.." he mumbled. "Don't wanna move."
"C'mon, Seth. Gotta get to your room, then you can sleep," Ryan offered, wrapping his arms around Seth's mid-section and helping him off of the couch.
"Carry me, Chino," Seth grumbled, a tiny smile making its way to his lips.
"Shut up, Cohen," Ryan answered, returning the smile.
The boys made their progress to the stairs, Ryan holding Seth up slightly, while Seth's head leaned heavily on Ryan's shoulder. Seth could hardly keep his eyes open so, resigned, he kept them closed.
"A lot of things are gonna change when I'm gone," Seth said, his voice thick and slow-sounding, as they reached the top of the stairs. Seth was practically breathless.
"You're not going anywhere," Ryan answered with a grim determination, surprised that Seth would talk so freely about his own uncertain mortality.
"I meant when I go to the hospital," Seth corrected him, chuckling softly.
The laughter poured into Ryan's ears and he felt an unexplainable surge of warm affection for the Seth. The kid was sick, confused, and exhausted, and still managed to make Ryan look stupid.
"What's going to change?" Ryan asked, pushing Seth's door open, thankful Seth had left it half-open.
"Stuff," Seth said, slurring the word slightly. "My mom and dad. Summer."
Ryan placed Seth gently on his bed. He pulled Seth's covers over his slender body, and Seth smiled appreciatively, eyes still closed.
"Thanks, man," he said quietly.
"How..how are things going to change?" Ryan asked, shivering at how noticeably sick Seth looked with the only light in the room being from the hallway lamp.
"Summer, she'll be kind of bitchy to others. Allow this to happen, as it's her one true release." Seth's voice cracked slightly. "She'll shop a lot. Make sure she doesn't go alone too often. Talk her out of going to any parties; she'll get wasted off her ass and do things we'll all regret. But if she really starts doing stupid things, please get her to talk to someone in this house."
Seth cleared his throat slightly. "Mom..you gotta watch her. Especially with the drinking. She does it a lot under stress. Gets pretty bad hangovers and all. She's got too much pride to risk being seen getting hammered, so she'll only do it around the house. Try and stop her if you can." Seth swallowed thickly. "When she drinks Mom and Dad fight a lot. Things get ugly. Just like, keep her occupied. And keep up the dinnertime conversation. You'll know she's at her worst if she turns on the Mannilow. If that happens, share a pint of mint chocolate chip with her and watch some sappy Tom Hanks movie. Works like a charm."
"O-okay," Ryan stuttered, thinking how open Seth could be when he was too tired to remember that he was self-centered.
"Be really careful around Dad if he starts speaking rapid-fire Hebrew. That's when you'll know he's on the edge of meltdown," Seth continued, his voice shaky. "Let him hug you and smother ya with love, because that's his way when he's really depressed. Tell him you love him if you don't have a problem with that." Seth sighed. "He'll want to do weird things like go through the old photo albums and watch home movies. Keep him company as much as you can. When he's alone and upset he does some pretty destructive things. And keep up the joking. He likes that." Seth coughed. "Oh, and smell him a lot. Check his pockets and briefcase. Can't have him going back to the cigarettes."
"Got it," Ryan agreed. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," Seth said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "There's this guy, Ryan, who carries the world around on his shoulders. He's got this crazy hero complex going on, which is why I trust him to take of the parental units and the girlfriend. But make sure you tell him to cut loose and shoot the shit sometimes, okay? Don't blame himself for everything, like if Mom gets drunk of Dad starts smoking again and he can't do anything to stop 'em. Tell him to keep those grades up, play his soccer, and that there's no luck with pot. Tell him he's a good brother."
Ryan nodded, feeling a tear trickle down his cheek. "I'll do that."
"Night, Ryan."
"Goodnight, Seth."
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Ryan burst into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind him, his heart racing wildly.
He hadn't cried since he'd gotten the news of Seth's cancer, at least not really. He'd spilled one or two tears when Sandy first told him, but quickly dried up when he realized he couldn't worry Kirsten or Sandy. He hadn't cried when Seth came home from the hospital after his bone marrow aspirations, tired and forlorn. But now he couldn't stop himself.
An angry sob burst from Ryan's lips, and he grabbed his pre-calc book from the desk and threw it against the wall with every ounce of strength in his body. The damage was minimal, and not enough to soothe Ryan's rage.
Ryan leaned heavily on the door, his body sliding the ground. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed like a little boy lost. He hadn't cried like that since his father went to jail, leaving him alone to hold up his distressed mother.
This felt so much worse.
A/N: I should have another chapter soon. And don't worry, I pick up the pace a bit. As always, R&R