AN: Okay. People wanted more Chino!Ryan and this is what happened. I'm still currently on hiatus, I'll be updating all of my unfinished stories in August but I wanted to get a reaction to this one. It'll be updated again when I update all the rest. Hope this answers some questions and I hope all the readers will be sated for a little while longer. Thanks to Jo for her guidance!
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"Are you awake?" Seth's voice is tentative. As if I can sleep. The dreams keep me awake. But they're not even dreams. They're memories. Dreams aren't real. Memories are real.
"Yeah." I don't open my eyes. He won't go away either way.
"You hungry?"
"No." I sit up anyway. The Cohens are obsessed with feeding me. I swear, every room must have a mini fridge because no matter which one I walk into, someone is waiting to force me to eat. I've been here for twenty hours and I've eaten at least every two hours. My stomach feels like it's swollen. It burns worse than I remember. It's been a long time since I'd let myself eat a whole meal. My stomach just hurt too much. It's part of my punishment.
"Can I come in?"
It's nice that he asks. Out of everyone here, Seth's the one that's being most careful with me. I think he's the only one who knows how hard this is for me. Either that or he's scared of me.
He sits down on the edge of the bed. "It's night. We've all had dinner and Mom says…"
More food. I don't tell him that I'm going to puke if I eat anything else.
"Man, will you just come out for a while? We're worried about you," Seth whispers. They're always worried about me. I lower my feet to the floor and stand up. I could use a cigarette. He stands up, too, and leads the way into the hallway.
"Hey, kid. You get any sleep?" Sandy smiles at me from the kitchen. I shrug. Sleep doesn't mean rest anymore.
"If you're hungry, there's…" Kirsten starts immediately. I glance at the arrangement of food spread out on the counter. Chicken, steak, tacos, lasagna, some sort of pasta and assorted other meals. I'm nauseous just looking at it. "There's everything if you're hungry."
"We're going to talk about how we can get you some help, Ryan," Sandy says. At least he's honest with me. They've been totally honest about everything and I can't fault them for that. Honesty's something new to me these days.
"Can I smoke a cigarette?" I barely recognize my own voice. I guess I haven't said much in a while.
"Go ahead. We'll just be talking in here, okay?" Kirsten gives me a small smile. I can't read her. She's smiling but her eyes…her eyes are a mixture of kindness and fear. I don't want her to be scared of me. I don't want her to be scared for me either.
I walk outside. It's cool out but I'm not walking back in for a jacket. I pull my cigarettes out of my pocket. Sandy had put a carton on the dresser of the guest room and I'm grateful. Whatever little bit I can get to help me through. I don't feel like sitting, so I pace. I trace a path by the pool. Five steps one way, turn and take five steps back.
By the time I'm halfway done with my second cigarette, I can hear them arguing. Not really arguing, but discussing things loudly. Discussing me.
"He'll die if you put him in the hospital, he can't take it," Kirsten's voice is shrill.
I can't take the pity in her voice. It should be disgust.
"What do you want us to do, Kirsten, keep him locked in the guest room like an animal?" Sandy's voice is calmer.
This isn't right. They shouldn't be arguing. Not about me. Not about how to help me. I don't deserve their help, I don't deserve anything. Not from them. They don't know what I've done, the sins I've committed. Eddie might have told them some things, but he didn't tell them everything.
"He won't even talk to me, Dad…" Seth's voice breaks through my thoughts.
I have to tell them. I have to tell them about where I've been, what I've become. I won't stay a second longer until they know about the person that I've let myself become. I'm not someone to be proud of, I'm not someone that deserves to be loved.
I can't get better if I let myself take their charity. I don't deserve it and it's not fair to them. It's not fair for them to let a criminal stay in their house when they don't know my crimes. I won't do it to them.
I finish my cigarette and slowly walk toward the house. I open the door to the kitchen. They don't hear me. I step inside.
"There's nothing we can do for him here, he needs professional help…" Sandy mutters.
"He's not going to listen to some doctor, he doesn't need to be with strangers, he needs his family…" Kirsten replies.
"He just needs time to get over what that bitch did to him…" Seth adds.
I sit down at the counter. They still don't see me.
"We have to focus on what's right for Ryan, for his health…" Kirsten starts.
"Stop it. Please." I can't hear anymore. This is wrong.
They notice me now. Kirsten blushes, Seth's mouth drops open in surprise and Sandy just looks at me. I put my hands flat on the counter. I can't remember a time when I didn't shake.
"Ryan, we thought…" Sandy starts.
I have to try and talk. I have to tell them everything. I have to be honest. It's the only way. I won't accept their help until they know what they're dealing with.
"What's up?" Seth asks when his father doesn't continue. He sits down beside me in the empty chair at the counter.
"You guys have done so much for me. But I can't accept anything else. Not until you know the truth."
"The truth?" Seth whispers.
"I owe you an explanation. You all need to know about the things I did, the people I hurt. It's not fair for you to be helping me when you don't know…"
"Its okay, Ryan, we don't care about any of…" Kirsten starts.
"You don't care because you don't know." It's true. They have no idea.
"Eddie told us…" Sandy takes over. It's almost like they don't want to hear it. But they have to. I have to tell them.
"Eddie's not me. I should be the one to tell you."
They're silent. It's a rare moment in the Cohen house.
"Okay, Ryan. What do you want to tell us?" Kirsten speaks. She's leaning on the counter beside Sandy and he has his arm around her. Their eyes are on me as if they think I'm about to scream at the top of my lungs and break all the windows out of the house. They support each other, though.
"What do you want to know?"
Now that they're listening, I don't know where to start. I keep my hands on the counter. The hand where the IV had been is still tinged blue.
"What happened?" Seth whispers from beside me. "Because I…I just can't wrap my head around…I can't process what happened to you…"
I press my hands flat. I am steady.
"I went to Chino."
"But Teresa's mom…" Seth starts.
"She didn't want Teresa raising a bastard in her house. I had just enough money to get us a motel room for a week."
20 bucks a night and if you left the lights on, the rats wouldn't bother you. We didn't unpack, we barely had anything but two duffle bags between us. Teresa was pissed. She sat down on the dingy yellow bedspread and crossed her arms in front of her.
"What the hell are we going to do now?" She snapped.
"I don't know, we'll figure it out…"
"We'll figure it out? What the hell does that mean, Ryan? Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to do?"
I sat down beside her and put an arm around her. She stiffened. Maybe I should have tried to touch her a little more. Kissed her. Given her a little more attention. But that's not what she wanted. She wanted me to marry her. But I couldn't. I can't.
"You're supposed to take care of me, take care of my child," She whispered.
"I will, Teresa, I promise…"
"You better…" She snapped.
"Why are you being such a bitch?"
She slapped me but I deserved it. She'd taken to hitting me a lot lately. She used to hit me when we were just kids, when we were just dating early on. She seemed to know that it was one of the only ways to get a reaction out of me. I shouldn't have called her a bitch.
I stood up.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?"
"I have to take care of you. I have to take care of our child."
"Ryan…"
"Greg told me about this game tonight. I can make some money…"
"A game? You're going to gamble?"
"I'm going to make us some money. Do you care where it comes from?"
She didn't answer. She crossed her arms again, pouting.
"Teresa…"
"Go. Just get out of here. Leave your pregnant girlfriend all alone in a roach-infested motel while you go out drinking and playing cards…" She hissed.
"What do you expect me to do?" I didn't mean to raise my voice at her, I just don't know what she wants from me.
"Go, Ryan. Just…go make money." She stormed to the bathroom and slammed the door. "The money, it's all that matters to you anyway, right?"
"So you started playing cards for money…"
The bar was dark and steamy. I tried to follow Timmy's dusty form but I almost ran into him as he stopped abruptly in front of me.
"What's up?" I had a busted lip from a bad game of pool earlier in the night but I knew that I could win some more cash if I could just get into another game. I had two grand in my pocket and three more back in the motel room under the mattress under Teresa. She hadn't complained since I started bringing home the rolls of cash. She'd ice my bruises and bandage my cuts and hoard the money.
"You sure you're ready for this, kid?"
"Yeah." I walked past him. Nobody recognized me. I'd let my hair grow long and I let it shield my eyes. My eyes were what usually triggered the Atwood recognition. I needed to stay under the radar.
"Take a seat," One of the old men grumbled at me. I could barely see the table through the smoke. Someone was smoking a cigar and the smoke was thick.
I sat down. I took a quick look around. I recognized a couple of the older men. I think that Trey had gotten his ass kicked by all of them at least once. But I was better than Trey.
After the first couple of hands, the old man across from me gave me a hard look. I met his gaze steadily. He laid his hand down and I took his money. I didn't back down. He obviously wasn't used to losing but I had to make my mark. I had to win.
I'd drank at least six glasses of scotch before I saw the woman walk in. She was clearly wasted. Dressed in a short denim miniskirt, tube top and torn pantyhose, I didn't recognize her until I saw the clover on her lewd cleavage. A four leaf clover tattooed in cheap blue ink. Dad always said he'd get lucky if he could find the clover. He'd given it to her before he'd gotten arrested. She must've been really wasted to be showing it off.
I didn't let myself respond. What did I expect, she was clean and sober somewhere teaching Sunday school? Not Dawn. Not my mother. That was almost as implausible as me living in Newport and going to private school. Neither of us would ever find our way out of this place. I studied my hand again. I couldn't let her affect me. I was stone. No one could see me. The cards were all that mattered.
"Hey, Georgie…can you help me out?" Her slurred voice fucked my concentration.
"Shut up, bitch, we're in the middle of something here. Go buy a drink," The old man across from me snapped. He tossed a few dollars from his stack over his shoulder. They fluttered to the floor. She kneeled despite her skirt and gathered the bills in her hands.
"Thanks, Mack," She said, satisfied.
I laid my hand down. I wouldn't lose. Not tonight.
"What about Eddie?"
God, I was so fucking tired. I'd been drinking since noon, trying to stop the throbbing pain in my shoulder and ribs. I'd taken on some city punk at the bar last night in pool and after I'd won a few games, his buddies decided that I didn't deserve the money. I'd gotten away, but not after taking a few hits from the bastard. I'd broken his nose, though. I couldn't fight off all four of them, but I'd broken the bastard's nose and made it out with my money.
I parked Teresa's car in the motel parking lot outside of our room. We had money now, more than we knew what to do with, but the motel was the perfect place for us right now. We could make a quick getaway and we were close to most of the games and clubs I'd been frequenting.
I heard something as I was walking toward our room. The lights were off but that wasn't unusual. Teresa didn't wait up for me.
I slid the key into the door and swung the door open. I saw him first. Eddie. He was lying beside Teresa in the bed.
I didn't turn the light on. He knew I was there because he sat up. I could see from the lights in the parking lot but he was blind, struggling to find his shirt. I waited, not moving. He found his shirt, pulled it over his head. Teresa didn't move. I knew she wasn't sleeping, I could tell by the way she was breathing. She was listening. This was a test.
God. I was working so hard, I was fighting and gambling and stealing and working so fucking hard for her. And she was fucking Eddie. In the bed that I shared with her. She was lucky that I would never hit a woman. 'Cause she fucking deserved it.
He stood up in his boxers and searched for his pants. I leaned against the door, holding it open. Finally, finding his jeans, he stumbled to the door. "Ryan…"
I nodded and he walked outside barefoot. I closed the door to the dark room and turned to face him.
"Ryan, man…"
"Shut up." I rarely spoke anymore. The games I played didn't need words. Teresa didn't need words anymore, she hated me but loved my money. We were bound by the child in her stomach and that's all. Words didn't connect us anymore. I didn't need words.
"I'm sorry…"
I could smell the liquor on his breath. He'd never been a drinking man, his dad was almost as harsh as mine so I knew that he was messed up if he was drinking.
"She called me, she said that you had left her, that she needed me…" Eddie stammered. He looked genuinely sorry.
"You hurt her, Eddie."
"I've never hurt her, I've never laid a hand on her…"
"She came to Newport with a black eye…"
"She trashed my car, Ryan, I'd never, I've never…" He whispered.
"Why the hell should I believe you?" I barely realized that I had him pushed up against the wall. He wasn't fighting me but I wouldn't let him. I held him with my bad arm but he'd never know it was hurt. I was too pissed to feel the pain. I didn't feel anything. I'd walked away from my life for Teresa and she was fucking Eddie. Eddie.
"I'd never hurt her. I love her…" He gasped as I wrapped my hand around his throat. His eyes were glued to my face. He wanted me to believe him.
"She said you hurt her…"
"She got drunk and wrecked my car. I walked here. I haven't been able to find a job, I don't have a car, I've lost everything, Ryan…I never hit her, man…I swear…"
"You swear."
"I fucking swear."
I released him. He gasped for breath and finally seemed to recover as he leaned over with his hands on his knees.
"Ryan…"
"You love her, don't you." I wasn't asking the question, I knew the answer. I just needed to hear it from him.
"I love her. I'm sorry…"
"Don't be sorry." I lit a cigarette. I didn't love Teresa. But I had to support her. The baby wasn't Eddie's.
Eddie seemed to relax slightly. "I wouldn't have come if I'd thought…"
"You fucked her. Right? Just now?"
He didn't answer me. I slammed my fist into his face. He spit blood on the sidewalk in a thin spray.
"You deserved that," I muttered. He nodded at me.
"Okay, Ryan…"
"So. You don't have a job."
"I haven't had a job in months."
I glanced at him. I trusted the bastard. It might be nice not to worry about Teresa anymore. And it would piss her off so much if Eddie and I became allies. Her plan had backfired. She wanted to make me jealous? She wanted to make me want her? This wasn't the way. She shouldn't have lied about Eddie. She shouldn't have fucked him in our bed.
But it wasn't Eddie's fault. And I could use him. I offered him a cigarette.
"Ryan…"
"You want to go get a drink?"
"What about the drugs, Ryan?"
Dawn had introduced me to Harris a few days after I'd seen her at the game. She got all her drugs from him and he always had product at hand. Eddie and I had started off small, I'd go to the card games and he'd have my back, selling drugs while I played. By the end of the night, we were making a lot of cash. People respected me from the games and people recognized him and had started calling him to score. We were a team but no one knew anything for sure.
But we had to do something more. Eddie was keeping Teresa satisfied, I was making money, but we needed more. Our child needed a stable environment. Teresa was out house hunting. I didn't care where or what, but I hated the fucking motel. I hated the sheets and the rats and the stale smell from the curtains.
I had told Eddie to trail Harris and he and I had convinced a few of his steady customers to start calling us instead. Eddie should've been a cop or something because he found out who supplied Harris in a matter of days. I met with the guy. A Cuban far from home with only four fingers on his left hand. He was hard. I wished I could be hard like him.
I'd dyed my hair platinum a couple of days earlier. It seemed like I always had a bruise on my face and when we went to meet Harris, I made sure that he could see that I was hard. I was cold.
I was also fucked up.
One of the customers we'd taken from Harris was Dawn. I had never used cocaine before. I'd never tasted it, I'd never smelled it, I'd stayed as far away from it as I could.
But when I'd walked into that fucking one room flat she was living in, I knew that I couldn't go back.
She was thin like always and her eyes were sunken in her face. Her skin looked like paper, like her bones were about to punch through.
"Baby, I knew you'd come…did you bring it?" She rubbed her hands together, eagerly.
She wasn't glad to see me, I don't think she even registered who I was. She was drunk and her arms were bruised. She was shooting something but I couldn't care. This was my job now. I put the baggies on the table.
"Thank you, baby, I've been waiting for this," She smiled, scrambling to pick up the drugs. She stuffed two of them into her bra and left one on the cluttered table. She used her hand to clear off a clean space.
"You got the money?"
"It's on the counter, in the jar," She muttered. I went to the counter and opened the gray canister that said 'Sugar'. I remembered the jar, it was where she always had kept her money. I think it must have been the only thing she had left of her mother. The 'Coffee' canister had been lost in an argument in Fresno with my dad and the 'Flour' one had been broken when Trey was hopped up on PCP a couple of years ago. I counted the money she owed me and stuffed the few spare dollars back into the jar.
When I turned around to look at her, she'd opened the bag and chopped up a fat line of powder on the table. She held out her hand to me, clearly needing something. I peeled a dollar off the wad in my pocket and passed it to her. She rolled up the bill with one hand and put it up her nose before lowering her face to the table. She inhaled and the line disappeared. She rubbed her finger on the table for the spare powder and rubbed it on her gums.
I realized that I couldn't go back. She looked at me with those pale blue eyes and smiled.
I couldn't do this by myself. I wasn't strong enough to watch this.
"Do you want a hit?"
"Fuck you."
She recoiled. "Baby, don't be like that…come on," She said, recovering. She shook out a small mound of coke. "You look like you need it."
And I did. I needed something. I was hard, I was cold, but I didn't know if I was hard enough for this.
She held out the bill and I took it. It was still rolled tightly and I put it in my nose like I'd always seen. I inhaled the powder. It made me strong. I could do this.
So when Eddie and I walked into Harris' that day, I was strong. I was cold, hard and in control. The coke gave me control. It gave me purpose again.
Harris was by himself. He must have known we were coming. We'd taken over his streets. His boys, the people that should have been there to have his back, were nowhere to be seen.
"What's up, kid?" Harris called from his couch. He stayed in a small apartment over a shitty little bar.
"We need to talk." It was pretty amazing what the coke did for my confidence. I wasn't scared of this punk. I didn't care that he was at least 20 years older than me, I was in charge. I'd taken his profit, I'd taken his customers, now I just needed to take him out of the picture.
"What's up?" His eyes flickered to Eddie. Eddie nodded back toward me. I was in charge.
"I appreciate all the hard work you've put in around here. But it's over. I'm taking over."
He stood up after a long moment. "You're taking over? What the hell, kid?" He walked toward me. I stopped Eddie from intervening. This was my fight. This was my chance to really make a place for my child. If I had his business, all his business, I would have all the money a kid could ever want. Harris walked until he was face to face with me. I could smell his breath.
"I'm taking over. This is your warning." My voice didn't shake. I wasn't scared. I almost wanted him to jump me, so I could release some of this fucking anger.
"Warning? What the fuck, kid, you just moved into town, you can't be serious…"
I punched him. I didn't even think about it, I just wanted to hit him. I felt the flesh give way under my fist and when I glanced at my hand, it was bloody. He staggered back, putting his hands over his face.
"Ryan…"
"Don't use my fucking name," I snapped. No one used my name, they called me 'kid', my mom didn't even use my name. He should have known better. I lunged again and started to pound the bastard.
I heard my words but I don't remember thinking about them. They just echoed through my head between punches. "You are going to get out of town. You're done here. I'm taking over. You're too old, too burned out to do this. You're going to get the hell out of here."
"Ryan." Eddie's voice startled me and I stopped. Both my fists were bloody.
"You don't know anything," Harris muttered through his bloody lips.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out the butterfly knife that Eddie had given me. It used to be Trey's. I flipped it skillfully and before he knew what was happening, I stuck it in his shoulder.
I was strong. I'd never been this powerful. I could kill him. He was afraid of me. I could kill him.
"Please…" He whispered now. His eyes were bright with fear and pain. Blood was gushing from his nose, from his shoulder. "Please don't kill me…"
"You are going to leave…" I pulled the blade out. It was slick with blood and it slid out a lot easier than it went in. I raised my hand again and he whimpered. He was like an animal. I slid the knife into his leg. I didn't slide it in, I stuck it in. He cried out.
"Please…"
"Ryan, man, come on…" Eddie said quietly.
I pulled the knife out, wiped it on his shirt and flipped it back to its safe position before returning it to my pocket.
"You're leaving, right?"
"I'll go…"
"Good. Nice doing business with you."
"So what about Roxie?"
I'd started meeting business associates at this strip club a few streets down from the house Teresa had picked out. The manager, Pete, was a steady customer, he kept his girls happy with free drugs that he'd buy from me. I liked the atmosphere, the ladies were pretty to look at and I was free to cut up coke on the table in the VIP room, there were no cops that would set foot in this place. Bikers and junkies, but no cops.
I hadn't been interested in sex since I'd been using the coke. I used to use sex as a release, a way to rid myself of all the pent up emotion and passion. But I didn't have any emotion, I didn't have any passion left. I was a criminal, a thug.
The punk that owed me money actually showed up and paid me what he owed me. I gave him a couple of ounces of coke so he could make his money, too, and we made a tentative meeting for the next day so he could pay me for the new trade.
I usually didn't pay much attention to the dancers. I mean, I wasn't blind, I saw the naked ladies and most of them were very attractive, it just never seemed right to stare. Pete had told me that he'd wanted me to see this one girl's show. He said that he'd thought we'd get along.
I knew that some of his girls would turn tricks to get by. I didn't want to get involved with a hooker, I'd never needed to go to a prostitute to get laid. Shit, if all I wanted to do was get laid I could go home and Teresa would gladly fuck me. But I didn't want her. I didn't want anyone. I didn't need anyone.
I heard the announcer talking about the next act and I glanced up to order another drink. I recognized the song, it was something Seth used to play. Loud and pounding. Roxie walked out. She was barely dressed when she stepped out, fishnet stockings held up by black garters. Black leather bra that was a size too small. She didn't wear a skirt or pants, but a thong instead. She was pale white, like she was wearing makeup on every part of her exposed skin. She caught my gaze. She didn't smile. But she definitely saw me.
I don't know what it was about her, but I realized that I wanted her. She didn't walk, she strutted. She owned the stage. The men hooted and howled and she just took their money. She didn't care about them. She was beyond the dirty old men in the club. One of them waved a twenty at her and she stepped off the stage and walked over to him, accepting his cash and unclasping her bra with one hand as she started on his lap dance. She had so many piercings that she seemed to sparkle in the lights. Her nipples were pierced, her nose, her eyebrow, her lip, everything. I'd never seen anything like it. She was beautiful.
"Hey, kid. That's Roxie, that's the chick I've been telling you about," Pete said as he set my drink on my table.
"Roxie."
"You want to meet her?"
"Is she working?"
"Oh, she's not one of my hos, she's just a little party girl," Pete responded. He waved his hands and caught Roxie's attention. She nodded to him. "She'll come over after her turn on stage is over."
I nodded my appreciation. I didn't watch her dance anymore. I wasn't interested in the way she danced. I was interested the way she'd taste, the way she'd feel. I drained my drink and before I could motion for another, I saw her approaching. By now, she was only wearing the stilettos and her thong. She walked with confidence, she knew she was pretty.
She was breathless from her performance and she was carrying a bottle of my favorite whiskey. She didn't sit down, she set the bottle on the table and started to straddle me.
"I don't want you to dance," I said.
"What?" She seemed surprised. I'd glimpsed the tongue ring when she opened her mouth.
"I don't want you to dance." She didn't move, she simply stood beside me as if awaiting instructions. I took her hand. She didn't flinch, she just watched. I ran my fingers up her bare arm. She was wearing makeup. Her flesh was painted with tattoos. She shuddered as I ran my hand back down her arm, stopping at her wrist.
"What do you want me to do? I'm not…"
"Shh." I didn't want her to talk, either. I just wanted to look at her. She seemed amused by my examination. She pulled her hand away from me and turned in place, holding out her arms.
I leaned back in my chair and topped off my whiskey. She stopped and walked over.
"You can sit down if you want," I motioned beside me with my glass. She nodded and sat down on my lap before I could stop her.
"This seat's better."
"Roxie."
"'That's my name. You…" She started.
But I kissed her. She was so close to me, sitting in my lap and I just had to taste her.
"You taste good," She finished when we finally separated.
"Thanks. You, too."
"So. You like me."
"I think I do. You want to get out of here?"
She seemed hesitant at first, I saw her confidence flicker.
"I won't hurt you…"
"But I might hurt you," She smiled, kissing me again.
"That sounds interesting," I grinned when she let me breathe again.
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I don't even know what to say. When he walked in, he was so quiet that we didn't even notice. He has spent his life learning how to be under the radar and he has none of the energy and noise that comes with being a Cohen.
So he said he needed to tell us what he'd done in Chino. The whole time he's speaking, I'm watching him. Mom and Dad are staring at him from across the counter and I'm sitting beside him.
He speaks slowly and quietly but we're hanging on every word. He doesn't say much, but he says enough that I can get visuals that I never wanted to get.
He tells us that Teresa's mom kicked them out. He tells us that he saw his mom cracked out at an underground card game. I understand all that. I can see it. I can just imagine what seeing his mom must have done to him. But as he continues, he tells us that his mother introduced him to her drug dealer. That he let Eddie back into their lives to pacify Teresa. That he sold cocaine to his mother. That he snorted his first line with his mother. That he stabbed a man.
And I don't know what to say.
Ryan's my brother. I look at him, sitting beside me with his whole body shaking, his pierced face and shaggy platinum hair. But I don't know him. He was right. I don't know who he's become. But the saddest part is, I don't think he knows either. It's almost like he shut off all his emotions and simply stopped caring when he left.
Mom's been crying since he told us about his mother at the card game. He didn't stop talking when her choked sobs became muffled in Dad's shirt. He didn't stop talking when the tears started streaking down my dad's face after he told us about the Harris guy.
Now that he's finished, the kitchen is silent except for Mom's sobs. I almost hope she didn't hear what he's said through her tears but I know she did.
Ryan's shaking worse now than when he started talking. He's quiet. He hasn't looked at any of us since he started, he's just staring at his hands. His hands are flat against the counter and I don't think he realizes that just because he's keeping his hands steady, it's not stopping his whole body from shaking. By the time he told us about Roxie, his voice was trembling.
And I still can't say anything.
"I'm sorry. I don't deserve your help. I thought you should know everything…I'm going to let you guys get back to your discussion…" He stands up and walks through the door to the patio. He's wearing boots but I swear that he doesn't make a sound. I watch him sit down on the edge of one of the pool chairs. He doesn't relax, he simply teeters on the edge of the chair. He puts his elbows on his knees and leans forward, finally settling with his face in his hands.
Mom and Dad are silent. I turn to them and open my mouth to speak, but I can't say anything.
"Seth…"
"Did you know all that? Did Eddie tell you all that?" I have to know if they knew.
"No. Not all that. He…he hinted at a lot but…but I don't think Eddie realized, I don't think Eddie knew about…" Dad starts. He glances over at Mom and stops talking. She's wiping her face but the tears still come.
"But…"
"Seth, let's just take a minute to get ourselves back together, okay?" Dad says quietly.
I glance out of the window. He's still sitting there with his face in his hands. He's not even smoking, he's just sitting there. I wonder what the hell he's thinking about.
"Seth, I'm not sure that you should have heard all that," Dad says after a long pause.
"I needed to hear it. He needed to tell it. He's right. He's…he's changed. He's not the same friend I knew…"
"Seth…"
"What? Are you going to deny it after what you just heard? He's a…he's a criminal now. He's…he's harder and he's colder…and I can't say that it's all his fault, but…but it's who he is now…"
"Seth, stop it," Dad snaps, anger flashing on his face.
"No, Dad! He just told us everything, he just admitted that he…that he did unspeakable things, unforgivable things and…"
"He did what he had to do," Mom says suddenly. She's serious when she glances at Dad and then at me. "He's still Ryan. Somewhere, underneath all that coldness, he's still the boy we know and love."
Dad doesn't respond. He shakes his head.
"He didn't think he could come to us. He's so stubborn and stupid that he doesn't know how to ask for help. So he did the only things that he knew how to do to get by. I don't believe that he's cursed, I don't believe that he's damned to a life of crime because of his shitty parents. He has us now. I'm not going to abandon him. All he needs is a chance."
"Another chance," Dad mutters.
"Dad, what are you saying? You think we should kick him out? You think we should give up on him after all we've been through? We went to Chino and took him out of a hospital, we promised him that we loved him…"
"We do love him," Mom says.
"Dad?" I don't think I've ever seen him like this. He's lost. He's confused. Shit, I'm confused.
"We'll get him back. It's not going to be easy…but we have to try," He whispers, pulling my mother close to him again.
"He came to us and told us things that he never wanted us to hear. He's trying. He took the first step tonight…" Mom says.
I glance out the window again. Ryan still hasn't moved.
"We should say something to him." I get up and go to the door. "He probably thinks we hate him, we didn't even say anything…"
Mom rushes past me, she must know that we made a mistake. She opens the door and immediately hurries to his side.
"Ryan?"
He doesn't move. He doesn't respond. I walk up to stand beside my mother. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes him gently.
"He's sleeping. He fell asleep…" How could he fall asleep after telling us all that? Does it really mean nothing to him? Does he even care what we think? Does he care about the people he hurt?
"He's exhausted." She gently pulls at the hands covering his face.
Ryan gasps, pulling away from her touch and glancing around in panic as he leans back in the chair and almost flips it over. I step back, scared that he's going to lash out.
"Ryan, it's okay, you're still safe, okay?" Mom doesn't react, she simply leans forward and takes his face in her hands and makes him look at her. "You're still okay…"
"I'm sorry…" He whispers, still startled from getting woken up. His blue eyes look around in fear, as if he's still confused about where he is.
"Let's get you back inside. It's too cold for you to be out here without a jacket," She says, putting her hand around his arm and pulling him to his feet.
"You…"
"Come on, Ryan. You're exhausted. Let's get you back to bed. We'll talk more when you're steadier." Mom takes charge, giving me a comforting look and leading Ryan back into the house. He obeys her silently, letting her tell him what to do.
He's not the same kid I knew. But he would never hurt us. He'd do anything to protect the people he cares about. He loved us enough to tell us the truth. Now we have to see if we love him enough to handle it.
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