Title : For Every Good Memory
Author : Helen C.
Rating : I'd say R (M) for language, but of course, I suck at rating stuff.
Summary : Ryan's relationship with his brother was too complicated to talk about—a series of five drabbles that are too long to actually be called drabbles, so perhaps I should say, a series of five very short stories.
Spoilers : Everything up to The Dearly Beloved.
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Many thanks to Joey51 for her help on this.
For Every Good Memory
Helen C.
5.
Ryan had never been good with words, had always found them woefully inadequate.
"My mom's boyfriend broke my arm" didn't even begin to cover the complexity of the situation, and of the feelings behind it. Neither did "My brother tried to rape my on-again, off-again girlfriend, and I tried to kill him, and he tried to kill me."
Ryan had always preferred mathematics and science to words and feelings. A scientific experiment was logical; it followed rules and procedures.
Human beings, on the other hand, couldn't be explained in a few words; expressing feelings in a few sentences reduced them somehow, and Ryan's relationship with his brother was too complicated to talk about.
Words like "betrayal," "anger," "bitterness," and "resentment," were poor ways to describe feelings, in Ryan's opinion.
………………………………………….
"I went to see Trey," Ryan announced.
Sandy froze briefly, his hand hovering over the grill. "Why?"
"I needed to figure some stuff out."
Sandy obviously wasn't pleased, but he was thinking and waiting until he had all the facts before judging, and Ryan loved that about Sandy.
"Did you? Figure stuff out?"
Ryan shook his head.
Every time he thought about Trey trying to kill him, he remembered that he had started the fight.
Every time he thought about Trey trying to rape Marissa, he thought about life in prison, and life in Newport, and how Ryan had been the lucky one, and how he could easily have become another Trey—bitter and resentful and violent and still hoping for a better life.
Every time he thought about Trey leaving him with Steve, he remembered Trey standing between him and AJ.
For every "No one messes with my brother but me," there was a "Toughen up, Ryan."
For every memory of Trey helping him, Ryan could think of a time when Trey had let him down.
For every memory of Trey screwing him over, Ryan could think of a time when Trey had defended him.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Ryan admitted.
Sandy kept his eyes on the steaks as he replied, "He tried to kill you, Ryan."
Ryan breathed in sharply, feeling the phantom fingers squeezing his neck. "Yeah. He did."
"Will you be able to forgive that?"
Ryan sighed. "I don't know," he said. "That's the point. I… he's my brother, Sandy."
"He tried to kill you," Sandy repeated.
"I wasn't blameless in that."
Sandy finally stopped pretending being interested in what he was doing and faced Ryan.
"It's complicated," Ryan said.
"So you keep saying. Ryan… You know how I feel about keeping you from your family."
Ryan nodded.
"I don't like doing it, I don't want to do it, partly because you're seventeen and you should be allowed to make that choice, and partly because they're your family."
"I know," Ryan whispered. "I don't want us to fight over this, but I'd like to go see him sometimes."
Sandy sighed. "I'm worried," he said. "I don't know what you think about all this, I don't know how you're doing, and you scared me to death that night, Ryan. I'm still scared."
Ryan tried to apologize, but Sandy went on, "I want to go with you."
Surprised that Sandy was agreeing, Ryan nodded. "Sure."
"And I know it's difficult," Sandy added, "but I'd like to know why."
He turned his attention to his cooking again, and Ryan took the opportunity to study him. Sandy looked a lot older than he had at the beginning of the summer. He seemed more tired, almost defeated. He was also a lot more protective, as if he needed to protect his family from the world.
Ryan was tired too, and he really wanted to say, "I don't know how to explain it," and leave it at that.
But Sandy had held his hand in the hospital while the doctors stitched his back and bandaged his ribs; Sandy has stayed all night next to his bed, waking him and calming him down when he had nightmares; Sandy had forced him to accept a room inside the house, then had helped him to decorate it; Sandy had held him while Ryan sobbed uncontrollably for half an hour, after his mom had called and yelled at him for fighting with Trey. Sandy deserved better than, "I don't know how to explain."
He couldn't talk about his feelings, because words were failing him, and "Trey also did good things for me" didn't even begin to cover it, but perhaps there were other ways to explain to Sandy that Trey was a part of Ryan, a part of his history, and that he didn't want to lose it.
Ryan had to at least try. Sandy deserved the effort.
"Just after we moved to Chino," Ryan started, "I was coming home from school…"
FIN