Summary: Dawn pries too much into Ryan's life.
A/N: I AM SO SORRY. I feel terrible that this update is so late. I really, truly am. I kept trying to get this up sooner than now, I was ashamed that it had been so long...but I had a million things to do. But hey, I wrote part of this while in French, and on the way to the Green Day concert (which, btw, ROCKED. Holy crap, it was amazing). Let's see...We are coming up to the funeral chapter (and most likely the end) pretty soon. This chapter, as always, didn't turn out the way I had envisioned it, so tell me what you thought. About the whole song thing: I may just totally forget it. I have no idea how to work it in and I can't think of any good ideas. If you have any, feel free to leave them. Thanks to previous reviews. PLEASE please please leave a review like the awesome ppl below did.
Shout outs.!.!.! kursk: AU! Makes so much sense now. Thx. I hope Dawn redeemed herself in this chapter...And I thought ep. 303 WAS awesome. How bout you? Dogsbody: lol. Your reviews are always funny and totally out there. Sometimes I wish Ryan punched more people. Especially his mother. And about the season: I thought the second and third episodes totally rocked. The fourth SUCKED. So I don't know about their continuity. J: I watch like all the episodes like three times, so don't feel bad. lol. Thx for the review, as always. Pyrinsomniac: LOL. I totally agree about becoming superficial. They are coming out with a new clothing line, you know? gag Sorry, but we don't need more people copying. Get your own style, not one of a fake character. TeacherTam: WOW. Your review was AMAZING. I love it when readers leave me personal, intimate things. It makes me feel like I'm really connecting, which is the real reason why I write. Let's see, where to start? That part about letting them in is the tragedy is totally amazing. I might have to use that line later in the story. And the music...lol. We could keep this up for ages. You should really listen to more music, any kind of course. Rock (Green Day, Trapt, Staind, NIN, MCR, etc) is my personal choice, but whatever suits you. Pretty interesting bout your family tho. I'm sure you play piano just fine. Thx for the wonderful review. Red-Satin Why thank you, and I apologize for this being so very late.
P.S.--Did anyone else think The Last Waltz sucked? I'm sorry, but it was totally bland and boring and pointless. Tell me what you thought because I have heard from a lot of ppl that they loved it.
P.P.S.--Part of the reason this is so late is because I have started writing reviews for Editorial Newport (http/newport. The site is amazing, and I'm not just saying it because I write for them. There are like four other writers who are all talented. If you want to find out what my opinion was (in depth), head over there. My name is Jenni, so look for mine. But read all of them. lol.
P.P.P.S--I am so going to die without the O.C. for a whole month.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the O.C.Nor do I own The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. I do, however, own the story. Do not steal and do not copy.
Sobriety isn't everything it's cracked up to be.
At least not to Dawn.
Now, hours after her argument with Ryan, she was sober.
And she almost liked Newport better when she was hung-over.
Almost.
For the first few minutes after Ryan stormed out on her, Dawn had stood motionless in the kitchen. Motionless because she couldn't believe what had just happened, as well as the fact that she hurt less standing in one spot.
Then, she had gone through and looked for any drop of alcohol. Turns out that when the mistress goes to rehab for being an alcoholic, all the booze gets thrown out.
Damn.
She had returned to the pool house without alcohol.
Hours later, she was still sitting there. Blinking, she realized she couldn't recall what she had been doing for the past few hours. Most likely, she fell asleep.
Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to retreat to her son's room. The son that had just called off their relationship…
The pool house didn't scream Ryan, but it didn't whisper it, like his room back at home had. It was somewhere in the middle. The decorations were iffy, definitely not bad-boy enough. Then again, he was never the typical bad boy.
She walked over to the "dresser". It wasn't really a dresser, what with its cubby holes and drawers. It was, however, way nicer than anything Dawn had ever owned.
One of the cubby holes was filled with wife beaters. She had to smile to herself at that. Looking through the other drawers, she wasn't surprised by what she found. Jeans, shoes, button down shirts, etc. In the final cubby hole, she found a canvas duffel bag. Dawn recognized it as the one Ryan had left the house with, back when she had kicked him out.
The bag was surprisingly heavy. The zipper stuck a little, but with a few tugs, the bag was open. Inside were things Ryan had obviously chosen not to unpack. At first, she thought it was from when he had left Chino. Then thinking harder, she realized it was probably from when he had lived in Chino with Theresa.
On top was a hoodie. Nothing special there. Then there was a pair of dirty jeans. They appeared to be his constructions pants. Searching through the pockets, she found a plan ticket stub. Dawn expected there to be some other things, but all that was left was pocket change. Next was something Dawn hadn't expected—a piece of baby clothing. It was a blue onesie. Flipping over the tag, she was astonished at where it had come from. Definitely way too expensive to be from Chino. The note attached to the outfit proved her right.
Dear Ryan and Theresa,
We are so happy to hear it's a boy! Congratulations. Boys are definitely…tricky, but I have loved raising sons. I hope you two do as well.
I know you said not to send anything, but I just couldn't help myself. Shopping, even for the unborn, is something no woman can resist.
Once again, congratulations. Be sure to send us pictures later on.
Love,
Kirsten (and Sandy)
Sons. Plural. Multiple. Meaning Ryan.
A part of Dawn felt bad about invading what were obviously Ryan's most intimate things. However, the other part of her justified it as one last ditch attempt to reconnect with her son.
Gingerly, she placed the onesie to the side. Would she have made a good grandmother? Would Ryan have even wanted her to be a grandmother? Hell, he hadn't ever actually told her he was going to be a father. If the pregnancy had gone to full term, would he have ever told her? Surely, a child deserved to at least acknowledge his grandmothers. Then again, there was Kirsten, who had already proved to be a better mother than her. It would figure that she would be a better grandmother.
Sighing, she turned her thoughts back to the bag. The bag had gotten much lighter and she could only see a few more things in there. She reached her hand in and swore. Pulling her hand quickly out of the bag, she sucked on her finger. Something in the bag had given her a paper cut. She reached around to the other side of the bag and felt her hand slide against something thick.
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. What the hell was that? More importantly, what the hell was it doing in Ryan's run away bag? Sure, Ryan had always been a reader, but this was just absurd. This book was thick. Dawn flipped it over and read the back cover.
Joe Kavalier, a young Jewish artist who has also been trained in the art of Houdini-esque escape, has just smuggled himself out of Nazi-invaded Prague and landed in New York City. His Brooklyn cousin Sammy Clay is looking for a partner to create heroes, stories, and art for the latest novelty to hit America—the comic book. Drawing on their own fears and dreams, Kavalier and Clay create the Escapist, the Monitor, and Luna Moth, inspired by the beautiful Rosa Saks, who will become linked by powerful ties to both men.
Bor-ing. Once again, why would Ryan want to read this? She flipped back the front cover and read the name scrawled in the top left. Seth Cohen. Leave it to that nerd to force Ryan to read a book like this. Then again, if Seth had forced Ryan to read it, why had he taken it with him to Chino? This was all a little confusing.
Dawn flipped through the heavy book, scanning the pages full of words and absorbing the page numbers. All of a sudden, something fell out of the book.
Lovely. Just what she needed, something to alert Ryan that she had been through his stuff. Bending down, she groaned at the pain in her back and swore again. The picture seemed to elude her, sliding slightly on the floor and tucking part of itself under the bed. She sighed and lowered herself to the ground, resigned to her fate of not getting up.
Dawn groped under the bed for the picture and felt, instead, a box. Pulling it out, she wasn't surprised by what she found. It was a box of condoms. However, a second glance showed that the box was unopened. Apparently, someone wasn't getting a lot of action here. That surprised her, considering Ryan and Marissa were all over each other.
Ducking her head under, Dawn marveled at how neat Ryan was. Not even under the bed was messy. Usually, people had stuff under the bed they didn't want anyone else to find. She knew that under her bed was a stash of coke and alcohol, as well as a gun and some money. It seemed the only thing Ryan wanted to hide was a box of condoms. Not exactly what she considered buried treasure.
A bit of white showed through the dark and Dawn remembered why she was on the ground in the first place. She reached her hand a little farther and grasped the corner. Pulling it out, she turned towards the door turned over the picture.
Of all the pictures to be carrying around, she had not expected this one. It was a gorgeous, glossy picture of none other than Marissa. And Ryan, of course. She had her arms around his neck and a great big smile on her face. Ryan had his arms around her waist and a smile on his face, something rarely seen. In the background, Dawn could see what looked like a Ferris Wheel and other carnival rides.
The edges of the picture were crinkled, as if it had been looked at many times. No doubt Ryan had looked at this picture while in Chino, wishing he could be any where other than Theresa's house.
With a groan, Dawn pulled herself back up to the bed and gingerly set the picture back inside the book. The light in the room showed that there was still one more thing left in the bag. Wondering what it could be and expecting anything, she reached in and took out a spiral notebook.
What the hell was a notebook doing in this bag? Ryan was definitely not a writer; writing was just speaking on paper. She flipped open the cover and was met with blank page after blank page. Finally, she came to a page with hasty writing. It appeared to be a letter that had never gotten sent.
Dear Theresa,
Um…hey. You know how I suck at this letter writing stuff. But I figured I might as well give it my best shot. I don't really know why I'm writing, actually. It's just…I can't leave things the way it was when I left.
Are you sure you're okay with me leaving? You never showed me the scans of the ultrasound, you never let me talk to the doctor; maybe we should have gotten a second opinion. Who am I kidding? We both know this summer was hard and awkward. That doesn't mean I didn't want to be with you and the baby. I did. It was just hard to grasp, you know? What am I saying, of course you know.
Maybe we should look at this as a sign. We wouldn't have made good parents, would we? Seriously, parents at age 17? At least now we can have normal lives. Or, as normal as we have ever had.
Who knows, maybe we will see each other again. One day in the future. Maybe we will be married to other people and have kids of our own. Seems pretty far off, doesn't it? Right now I just want to focus on getting through of high school. And not kicking any more water polo player's asses.
Hope everything's good with you.
--Ryan
No wonder Ryan hadn't sent that. Dawn sniggered. Water polo? Who the hell played water polo?
She flipped to the next page and found another letter.
Dear Theresa,
How is Atlanta? I hope it's nicer and better than Chino. Everything is just as crazy here in Newport as ever. Same girl trouble for Seth, same dumb parties for the adults, and same…me.
I know it's crazy, but I keep thinking maybe I will run into you at one of those parties. You know, catering? Maybe if I just saw you again, I could make everything right. Not a day goes by when I don't think about you or him or what could have been.
I'm sure you realize there is an ulterior motive here. All day I have been thinking about it. We passed a pregnant woman the other day at the diner and I thought about you. Today was the due date. Can you imagine what it would have been like? I would have been so messed up and you…would have been just as strong as ever.
I'm sorry, it was dumb of me to write this. It's just brining up old issues that I'm guessing you have buried already. Maybe it's time I have as well.
--Ryan
P.S.—I'm still waiting for a letter from you.
Holy shit. That was a lot of shit to carry around, not to mention all the other lovely things that accumulated over the years. So where exactly did Ryan's loyalties lie? Dawn guessed it was with Marissa, but what about Theresa? Maybe if she got Theresa involved, she could win Ryan back…
What the hell was she thinking? Ryan had made his decision, and it wasn't her place to try and change it. She wasn't the conniving bitch everyone made her out to be, was she? Sure, she was a bit of a gold digger, but who could blame her? Everyone in Chino was a gold digger. And okay, so maybe she had used her sons a little more to her advantage than she should have. But hey, she had given up her son so that he could have a better life. At least, that was why she thought she had given him up.
Oh god. Maybe she really was an evil, conniving bitch. Truth be told, most of the time Dawn was pretty sure she had given Ryan up to make her life easier, not his. True, it had made his life much better, but had that been the actual intent? Or had she just seen an escape and taken it? It didn't do much good to think about this now.
The thing was, she didn't want to think about what she should be thinking about. Could she accept Marissa? If Dawn wanted any kind of a relationship with her son, and at this point in sobriety she did, she would have to make peace with Marissa. Was she wrong to not want to? Seriously, this girl had killed her son. Most people don't ask their mothers to reconcile with their son's killer.
But, as always, this wasn't the standard case. How could she overlook the fact that Trey had been killing Ryan? Now that she was sober, things were a littler clearer. Weren't they? Oh hell, they seemed just as fuzzy as ever. Sometimes, Dawn wondered if there wasn't a permanent filter on her vision that made everything very fuzzy.
Hell yes there was a filter. It's called alcohol.
Dawn put one hand on the bed for support and used the other to hold up her head. She sobbed softly, over what she wasn't sure. Perhaps the tears were for her lost son. Or perhaps they were for the son that had lost her. Maybe the sobs were for the husband who had abandoned her. Or maybe they were for all the times she had abandoned herself for alcohol. Most likely the tears were for all the rotten things that had happened in her life, both because of something she had done and something she had no control over.
And that was how Ryan found her hours later. He walked into the pool house, not sure what to expect, but not expecting what he found.
The canvas bag was sitting on the bed, wide open. Private things were strewn all over the bed and the floor. Things he tried hard every day to put out of his mind. His dirty construction pants, his stupid hoodie, and the book Seth had lent him. Ryan shook his head, remembering how Seth had said he couldn't be his friend until he read it. In Chino, he hadn't read it either.
With a gasp, Ryan realized that meant that his mother had also found the picture he had used as a bookmark. Peering around his mother's form, trying not to make any noise, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the blue onesie. He had almost completely forgotten about that. Theresa had stuck it in his bag to give back to Kirsten, but he had never got around to it.
Okay, so that wasn't true. He had taken it out while unpacking his things, but had not been able to part with it. It was the only link connecting him to his awful summer. More than that, it was the only link connecting him to what might have been.
Ryan crept closer and was thankful there weren't any squeaky boards in the pool house.
Dawn was holding her head in her hands, a spiral bound notebook on the bed. He started as he recognized his own writing. Holy shit. His mother had found his letters, the letters he had meant to send to Theresa, but never had. The writing was now smeared with tears and dripping slightly down the page.
All of a sudden, Ryan was filled with a white hot rage. He had come back to talk to his mother and try to work things out, but now all he wanted was for her to get the hell out.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ryan hissed. Dawn turned around, surprised to find her son standing almost next to her. She looked around at the guilty pile surrounding her and started backtracking.
"Ryan, it's not what it looks like. It's not what you think!"
"What am I supposed to think? This isn't like the time I found you with a syringe and you passed it off as medication. Right? This isn't just like the time I found you with a half empty bottle of cough syrup and you said you had developed a cough? This sure as hell isn't like the time I found you about to give Trey his first heroin injection, right? Of course not. God, didn't you ever think that maybe I didn't believe you? Did it ever occur to you that I never actually thought you guys were sick all that time?" Ryan was so pissed off by now that he couldn't think straight. Memories were flooding his brain and words were spilling out of his mouth.
"What the hell are you doing with my personal stuff? There is a reason I kept it hidden."
"Hidden?" Dawn asked incredulously, trying to gain lost ground. "Ryan, if you want something hidden, you put it under the bed like a normal person. Unfortunately, all you seem to really want hidden is a box of condoms. Unopened, I may add."
Ryan thought ironic that was. Most mothers would have been overjoyed to find an unopened box of condoms, but not Dawn. She used it as leverage, to show that he had gone soft since Chino.
"So what, you just went looking for anything to use against me? Don't you think I've looked under your bed as well? I've lived in your closets, right next to your skeletons, Mom."
"If you would just let me explain, baby," she pleaded. Taking a step forward, Dawn reached her hands out to Ryan.
Ryan took a giant step back.
"Baby? I was never your baby. Baby's get care and love and protection. I didn't get any of those things from you."
"How can you say that? How can you say that to your own mother? I gave birth to you, I fed you, and I clothed you, and I put a roof over your head," Dawn seethed.
"You fed me moldy bread and dry cereal. You put me in clothes that were two sizes too small, two years too old, and two more sweat stains than needed. That "roof" you put over my head? Yeah, real stable there, Mom. I hated being at home. You know why? Because of guys like Dave, Joe, and A.J. Have you ever really looked at the scars they left on me? Have you ever taken a good, long, hard look?" Ryan was breathing heavily by now, all of his scars burning painfully.
"It's impossible to look at emotional scars, babe."
"I'm not even talking about emotional scars," Ryan said unbelievingly. "See, this is why I just can't stand you! You were always too drunk or too high or too busy having sex to realize what those guys did to me." He shoved his bare right wrist in her direction, showing the small scar that ran up and down. The one he had tried to keep hidden by a wrist cuff. "That is what Dave did to me." Ryan pulled down his collar, revealing a larger scar on his collarbone. "That is what Joe did to me." Putting the collar back in place, he lifted up his wifebeater, showing off a long, but faint, twisted scar that ran all down his left side. "This," he said jabbing at it, "is what A.J. did me. Trust me, you don't even want to see the other scars."
Dawn gaped at what he was showing her. How could she have ever missed these things? Sure, she had scars of her own, but how could she have not realized what those guys had done to her boys? At night she would sometimes hear them beating up on them, but it always ended with a black eye and a bruised stomach. Nothing dangerous, right?
"Ryan, I didn't come here to fight. The reason I was looking at all this," she said, sweeping her arm around the bed, "is because I want to know more about you. You're right, I don't know enough about you. And I want to. I want to be in your life, if you will let me."
"I already asked you this question and you posed another one. Look, I'm not gonna accept you without Marissa. I love Marissa, okay? More than I love you. More than you have ever loved me. Just get over it. Can you be okay with the two of us?"
"Ryan, what you're asking of me…I can't do it. I'm sorry, but, I mean, she killed him."
"No, Mom," Ryan replied, tears shining in his eyes. "His hate killed him. His hate and his messed up attitude and his addiction and okay, maybe even the Atwood luck. That is what killed him. He's been dead a long time now, Mom. All Marissa did was pull the trigger."
"So where do we go from here? Do you want me out of your life? Do you never want to see me again? I'm not gonna fight you—if you want me gone, I'm gone."
A door opened in the house and Marissa stepped out. She could tell, all the way from across the patio, that Ryan was talking with his mother. Marissa sighed, knowing that she was getting in the way of them, knowing that they had to work out their differences, knowing Ryan didn't want her to let them work them out.
"I don't know what I want. I don't know what I'm supposed to want. Maybe you shouldn't stay here. I don't mean leave Newport, just…leave the Cohen's. Sandy can put you up in a hotel, and we can go from there."
With a slight nod, Dawn wiped the tears from her face and started gathering up Ryan's things.
"You don't have to do that," he began.
"No, I do. I'm sorry I looked at them. This stuff obviously means a lot to you. The letters, the baby clothing, the book…and the picture. Does Marissa know about any of this stuff?" Dawn asked casually, not trying to pry.
Ryan flushed. "Like I said, it's private stuff. Not even Seth knows it's here."
Their words drifted on the breeze over to Marissa, who wondered what they were talking. The baby clothing, the picture? She could only guess it had something to do with Theresa.
There was a moment of silence, and then Ryan turned and walked out the door, revealing Dawn holding a blue piece of tiny clothing.
Ryan stopped walking when he saw Marissa. She was staring at the baby clothing, trying to pretend she wasn't. Dawn, completely unaware of what was going on, moved around the pool house gathering things.
"Marissa," he said, walking slowly towards her. "What are you doing here?"
She held up his sweatshirt. "You left this at the lighthouse tower. I had to pass the house on the way home." Marissa took in the scattered things in the pool house and Dawn's red face. "You guys were fighting about me again, weren't you?"
"Actually, no. We were talking about, other stuff," he replied, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the house.
"So then why is she leaving?"
"She can't stay here. I don't know if I can be around her constantly. Whenever I'm around her, I worry about her, and I smell every glass she has, and I check the sheets to make sure she didn't shoot up on the bed, and… I just can't take it. I'm not supposed to be the adult. Not anymore."
Marissa didn't know what to say. She never worried about her mom, or hardly ever. She had no idea how to check the sheets to see if drugs are on them, and she had never considered having to monitor her mother's drink tally.
"Where is she going?"
Ryan shrugged. "The motel probably. Hopefully Sandy will be back soon."
"What do we do until then?"
"We wait."