Disclaimer: The OC dosen't belong to me. I just love it. Spanish gangsters however, I created all on my own.
A/N: Sorry it took me so long, be here it is the long overdue Trey chapter.
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Everything was growing dark. With my eyes closed, I could hear the squeak of the abandoned swings, the whistling of the wind through chain link fences. The far away traffic from my front stoop. I was so tired. Newport all but disappeared.
I just sat on the porch all night. I didn't know what else to do. What could I do? Search the streets? Chino was big, it was dangerous and there were so many numerous places a boy of 11 could hide. What chance did I have? He was 11, he went to school, hell he liked school, he had to come home.
Even if he hated Chino, even if he hated Mom, even if he hated me. He had nowhere else to go.
Or maybe I just felt guilty. Me, his big brother, his sworn protector. Comrade in alcoholic mothers, imprisoned fathers, Spanish thugs, groups home and cigarettes, had hit him across the face.
I was so angry at him. So angry with all the things he said. What right did he have at 11, to be so damn articulate, to be so damn right? Yeah, I was fucking dealing drugs, I was doing them, I was fucking stealing. I was putting my life down a one way street that would have me like my father in no time. I fucking knew this. But there was nothing I could do. What could I do with my life:
Graduate high school, get a low paying job, struggle to make ends meet, knock up a girl early, end up unhappy with a bullet in my brain by 30? I would rather go to jail, at least there, amongst people just like me. I know where I stand.
I lit another cigarette. I was fucking worried. Ryan stayed out all night, where was he? Sure he could handle his own, but he was 11! He might not think like a little kid, he might not act like it, but he looked it. That's what worried me.
I took a drag off my cigarette, Mom hadn't even noticed. She had asked me at midnight where he was, when I was already on the porch thinking I would see him stroll down the street anytime. I had responded like everyone knew.
"he's 11 Ma, he's in bed." I knew she wouldn't check on him, she never did.
Here I was 7 hours later, still waiting for him. Maybe now I knew how he felt, always waiting on me. No matter where I went, how long I was gone. Ryan was always here when I got back. Sitting on the porch, in our room, the kitchen. Always waiting. Is this what he goes through every time. Does he worry I'm dead, off bleeding in some random street? That I'll never be seen again?
I've never thought of bodies and causes of death so much in 7 hours before. How would I tell Mom if I got her baby boy killed, because I hit him?
Oh god.
I take another drag off my cigarette and there he is. Walking along the street, I recognize his walk, his stature even if I can't see his face. He gets closer. I clench my teeth, blink my eyes. Ryan, you have to be kidding me.
Tino Chavez? Tino fucking Chavez? What the hell was Ryan doing walking along the street talking with Tino Chavez? We had rallied against kids like that. What the hell was Ryan doing with bruises on his face, that I certainly didn't give him.
I take a final puff off my cigarette. I recline on the saggy bottomed couch on our porch. Like I haven't been waiting for him, I'm just fucking casual.
Tino leaves him at our driveway, with a pat on the back, and a knock of Ryan's fist. I resist the urge to get up and beat that shit to death. Ryan saunters up the walk like nothing happened. He barely sees me.
"Hey Trey." he says casually dropping his eyes past me. No animosity, no fear, no explanations.
He disappears in the house, I can see him crawling into bed, just waiting for Mom to awaken from her hung over state and burst in, late for school again.
I shake my head, maybe this kid is a lost cause for me to protect. Maybe he doesn't need me. He's getting big, he's moving up in the world. He is an Atwood after all.
I crawl into my bed. Fuck school, fuck the kids who are expecting to get high under the bleachers today. Even drug dealers can take mental health days.
Ryan is curled up in his regular ball, but he isn't sleeping.
"Ry." I whisper, its not a question, he better answer me.
"Trey." He replies back.
"Want to tell me what you're doing with Tino Chavez?" The air is silent like humidity.
"Nothing, him and I, we just understand each other. That's all."
Understand each other? Understand each other?
"Where were you last night?"
Ryan sighs, a sigh too old for his age. "Out by the factories. I was thinking." Everything about Ryan is too old for his age. I wish he was young enough to hug, because I've never felt more relieved than I did to see him walking down the street.
I listen to him, until his breathing levels out, he snores softly. He's safe, he's home, at least today.
TBC- Leave a review