A/N: I really didn't want to continue with So God Made Me This Way, as I felt like...well, I don't know what I felt like. I just figured I couldn't go on with the tone that had already been established. However, this is for those of you who liked the idea and wanted more of poor brain-damaged Ryan. To be honest, I don't like it that much. I don't think its any good, and there's definitely like...some grammar issues in the writing, but I've been in a daze so I apologize, but I don't feel that sorry. I think my main issue is I don't feel like I can get Ryan's voice into this brain-damaged kid, so I'm attempting to establish the other members of the household as they usually are to make up for it. Ahhh..I don't even know what I'm ranting about anymore.I'm tired. I'm insecure. I hope you don't hate it. Thanks to all of you who reviewed! It made me feel special. Also, I'm too lazy to think of a clever title, so um...I just took the title of a Bright Eyes song. Thank YOU, Conor Oberst.
A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not
He may have been more affectionate, but Ryan still didn't talk enough… or not enough for Sandy, anyway. Strangely, it hadn't been very odd the first time he had heard Ryan's voice call him 'Daddy'. Part of him thought he had expected it to happen all along; at some vulnerable point within the duration of Ryan's stay, the boy was bound to start thinking of him as a father. However, he had never expected it to occur under these circumstances.
Ryan was broken. His new boy was cracked.
Kirsten was drinking up a storm and every time her glazed eyes found Ryan, it was like watching the spectator of a highway car accident. Her retinas were soaking up the blood-stained glass with a horrific kind of awe, and she was just so…good. Kirsten was always so good. She couldn't stay away. She needed to help. Sandy knew this about her.
And that was why she drank.
Because he knew. Because she couldn't just leave. Because he knew that she couldn't leave.
"How about a bowl, sweetie?" Kirsten asked tiredly, taking the box of Cap'n Crunch away from a loudly crunching Ryan. Sandy watched over the rim of his coffee cup as Ryan shook his shaggy blonde head and reached out for it, his fingers making grasping motions as if expecting the cardboard to materialize in thin air just because he willed it to.
"I like it dry," the boy whined quietly.
"You can have it dry, baby," Kirsten promised. "Just…in a bowl? Please? For Mommy?"
Ryan shook his head again. "I like it dry in the box. You let Seth eat it dry in the box."
"Well, Seth isn't allowed to. He just does it anyway."
"I've always eaten it out of the box, Mommy," Ryan insisted. "Daddy? Tell her."
Sandy cleared his throat and sat up straighter on his stool. He hated when it came down to this – Kirsten's weary eyes versus Ryan's hopeful ones; Ryan's wanting hands, Kirsten's sighing breath; his broken child's quivering lip, his wife's mounting irritation.
"Kiddo, it'll taste even better in the bowl. I promise," he finally said, because he hadn't gotten laid in days and maybe, just maybe, he could persuade Kirsten to not drink herself dead tonight.
Ryan gave in. It was rare that he continued to protest unless it was about something he considered to be really important. Like staying up late if Seth was out and hadn't come home yet. He had considered that important enough to break a vase.
Watching his foster son pick individual bits of cereal out of a bowl, Sandy remembered the boy he used to be: the smart, quiet, shy, out-of-the-way son; the brooder, Seth's only friend, and the voice of reason. And for a while there, Sandy thought, Ryan's future had seemed so bright. That kid could've gone anywhere with those brains and that personality and those looks.
"Morning, family."
Seth shuffled into the room, his hair out of sorts, rubbing sleep from his eyes with juvenile fists. "Ah, I see we have the usual selection of cereal, coffee, and bagels. Hmm…let's see." Sandy hid a smile of amusement behind his mug as he watched his son waggle his fingers contemplatively. "I think my old friend the Captain of Crunch sounds like the superior choice today." Seth grabbed the box and shoved his hand in, as they all had expected him to do, bringing out a fistful of cereal which he then shoveled greedily into his mouth.
Sandy looked to Ryan, expecting perhaps some sort of protest, but his other son just stared glumly at his bowl.
"Seth. Bowl. Now," Kirsten said through gritted teeth, fluttering out of the room to do God knows what, leaving a startled Seth staring after her.
Sandy felt his son's questioning eyes on him as he drained the last of his coffee.
"Dad, what's up with Mom?"
"She's just not having a good day, kiddo. I suggest you get a bowl if you're going to continue with the cereal."
"Oooookay."
Sandy watched his boys interact as they had almost every single morning since they had brought Ryan home from the hospital. Ryan kept his blue eyes trained on Seth as the latter poured his cereal. Once unoccupied, Seth raised his gaze to Ryan, who quickly looked away, back at his food, anywhere that wouldn't lead to direct eye contact. Seth gave a quick, unconscious, sad shake of his head as he shoveled a handful of freshly-bowled cereal into his mouth with adolescent gusto.
"Seth?" Ryan asked in a voice Seth couldn't hear over the sounds of his own crunching. To Ryan, the lack of response equated to being ignored. Sandy watched as his fractured child's bottom lip gave a telltale quiver.
"Seth," Sandy said quickly. "Ry said your name."
"Yeah?" Seth asked through a mouthful of Cap'n Crunch, looking curiously at his foster brother. Then, feigning normalcy, "What's up, bro?"
"Hi." And that was all Ryan had to say.
"Heya," Seth replied. Then, obviously feeling guilty, "Wanna play video games when I come home from school?"
Sandy beamed at his son.
But Ryan shook his head. "Sailing?"
Sailing? Sandy frowned. And Seth, eyes wide with panic, shook his head quickly at Ryan and then shrugging, assumed a confused expression as he looked to his father.
Seth grinned, "Don't know what the guy's talking 'bout."
Sandy narrowed his eyes, "Seth Ezekiel…"
The boy cringed. "Enough with the middle name! Don't you believe me?"
But Sandy was a lawyer, and as a lawyer, he knew how manipulate people, how to weed out the truth from the most vulnerable of witnesses.
"Ryan, did Seth take you sailing?"
But Ryan shook his head. Again. "No."
Damn, the kid was a better liar now than he had been before.
"Ryan, you lying?" Sandy tried again, his voice slightly more firm than it had been a second ago. "Because you know how I feel about lying."
Which was the perfect time for Kirsten to stride into the kitchen, inserting an earring into her left ear.
"Lying about what?" she asked, looking from Seth to Ryan to Sandy.
Sandy gulped. Perfect. He had wanted to spare the boys the wrath of the Kirsten, and himself the wrath of the Kirsten, but here they all were: about to succumb to the wrath of the Kirsten.
Ryan was fidgeting now, picking up a piece of cereal and dropping it back in the bowl, his eyes lowered as if ashamed. Seth was shifting from foot to foot, opening his mouth one second as if to speak and closing it the next. Sandy was glad that Seth was coming to realize that there were times when he shouldn't say anything. He wasn't sure that this was one of them, but he was still glad.
"Lying about what, Sandy?" Kirsten repeated, looking thoroughly annoyed.
"Sethtookmesailing," Ryan mumbled, much to the distress of Seth, who, sure that his mother hadn't heard, made a throat cutting gesture to stop Ryan from saying it again.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, could you say that again?" Kirsten asked.
"Seth took me sailing," Ryan said more clearly and Seth fell to the ground in overly-comic timing.
"Seth Ezekial!"
"What? He wanted to go! He had fun! Buddy, tell them you liked it."
Sandy watched as Kirsten beat Ryan to the punch. "I don't care. We told you before no on the sailing. You took him sailing."
"God, Mom, you're so not being fair-"
"Grounded. Get your things and get in the car. I'm taking you to school." Kirsten's voice was crisp and cool and filled with the kind of demanding that Seth knew better than to defy. So off he went, stomping up the stairs and grumbling about bitchy mothers beneath his breath. Sandy didn't think the situation could get any worse until Kirsten spun around to scold Ryan. "And you, young man, don't lie for Seth. Understood?"
Ryan flinched, as if her words, her tone of voice, had physically struck him. "Yes, Mommy." Then, timidly, "Do you have yo ga la tees today?"
At the inquiry, an amused smile flashed across Kirsten's face and Sandy almost breathed a sigh of relief. "No, sweetie, I don't. How about saying it all as one word?"
"Yogalates," Ryan said quickly.
"Yogalates," Sandy echoed, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Yogalates!" Ryan exclaimed, a wide smile on his face. Sandy felt the surge of pleasure that could only be brought by seeing Ryan smile so wide.
Seth came stomping down the stairs, backpack slung over his bony shoulder, looking distinctly irate.
"Bye, Dad. Bye, Ryan," he said in passing, picking up a piece of Cap'n Crunch and throwing it at his brother, mumbling something that sounded to Sandy like, "Might as well change my name to Gilbert Grape" before he exited the kitchen, and then the house.
Kisses were exchanged before Kirsten followed suit and then it was just Ryan and Sandy left.
"Why do you always lie for Seth, kid?"
Sandy felt it was the best time to ask him, when they were alone. Usually, it was when they were alone these days that Ryan actually opened up, told him things that he had always wanted to know.
"I need to protect Seth," Ryan shrugged.
"Why?"
"Because he needs me to," the boy replied. He looked up to meet Sandy's eyes and smiled a soft smile, that made Sandy believe that Ryan knew a hell of a lot more than he ever let on these days. "Seth's my brother."
Sandy nodded. "He is."
"He is," Ryan nodded, solidifying the affirmation. "And you're Daddy and Mommy's Mommy and I'm Ryan. We're family."
"We are."
"We are." Ryan paused, crushing a piece of cereal in his fist. "And we love each other, right, Daddy?"
Sandy kissed the top of Ryan's head. "We do. I love you, sweetheart."
"Thank you, Daddy. And you love Mommy and Seth?"
"I love Mommy and Seth."
"And Mommy loves Seth and Seth loves Mommy?"
Sandy wondered where this was going. These questions…
"Yes, of course, baby."
Ryan was silent for a few moments after that, crushing more bits of cereal into a fine powder in his bowl. Anyone who wasn't watching closely would have thought he was concentrating on his task, but Sandy saw Ryan's dazed blue eyes and knew he was still thinking about the conversation.
"Seth doesn't love me anymore," he finally said.
Sandy was taken aback. "Of course Seth loves you."
But Ryan shook his head slowly, sadly. "Maybe, but not like he used to. He used to love me more. He loves me less now. And you love Mommy, but she hurts you and you hurt her and I hurt Seth and Seth hurts me and Mommy hurts Seth and Seth hurts Mommy."
And now Ryan was crying. Heavy tears spilled down the sides of his face, and he rubbed them quickly away with grubby, cereal-covered hands. Sandy stroked his hair soothingly, but he really didn't know what to do.
"What's wrong, Ryan? Don't cry, honey. Don't cry…"
"I didn't…I didn't want to do this to us," Ryan sobbed, turning around and burying his face in the lawyer's chest, his hands grabbing the untidy suit with the same desperate need they had earlier wanted to grab the cereal box. Ryan was innocent, Sandy knew, and he might now have called Sandy by a different name, but he was still the same Ryan. Desperate not to be a burden, to glue people and relationships back together, to fix everything that had ever been broken, whether he had been the breaker or not. And here was his Ryan, his broken boy, adamantly taking the blame for whatever the hell had happened to the Cohen family. "We're broken," Ryan mumbled before drawing in a shaky breath.
Sadly, Sandy knew just what he meant.
To be continued, if you don't hate it.