Sandy's barely holding on. Meanwhile, Kirsten writes a letter to Ryan from rehab, before she learns of the shooting and surrounding drama. There are things she needs to explain. But a shattered Ryan knows everything has changed …
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No characters, no concept, nothing. Just borrowing, for a few pages, okay? (Fine – maybe it's become more than a few pages.)
A/N: FYI -- Hmmm – turns out I was a bit optimistic about how quickly I would be able to wrap this up – after this, there will be at least one more chapter, likely followed by an epilogue…
I am hopeful that the next chapter won't take as long as this one has. But it could have been so much worse – I almost lost this entire chapter – computer glitch! – but happily the document recovery program actually worked. Lesson driven home, though – I'm just saying, back-up is a very good thing.
A/N 2: So, welcome to Planet Chase, where this story is now definitely AU… and all errors are mine…
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Time: Slightly later Morning of Day 5
Sandy sipped fresh mango juice, as he waited for Kirsten to return from her impromptu meeting with Dr. Woodruff. Ten minutes, she'd said, nearly twenty minutes ago. He didn't doubt that she needed the time ... seeing Ryan so lost was unnerving. He should know – he'd been watching the teenager struggle for days now. Knowing their roles in the boy's current emotional quagmire made it even harder to bear, and he was sure Kirsten's coping mechanisms were not functioning at anywhere near their normal levels.
Ryan had distanced himself while they waited for Kirsten's return, taking off his boots and socks, and climbing onto one of the boulders. From his vantage point, Sandy could see the boy's profile as the teen seemed to stare transfixed out over the Pacific. He had been reluctant to let Ryan stray even that far away, but when the kid had agreed to eat part of a bagel and have some juice in return for a few minutes of solitude, he had relented. Sandy hoped that the teenager was using this time to think about what he had heard so far, and that he was starting to let some of it soak through.
But if he were putting money on it, he'd bet the kid was at a loss. Sandy was struck by how much he was learning about his foster-son that he had just not grasped before. In some very perverted way, this tragedy might serve as a much-needed catalyst, prompting conversations like they were having today. Hopefully leading to changes in thinking and behavior – changes that would be positive not only for Ryan, but for the Cohens as well.
When they had first taken Ryan in, Kirsten had said they were in way over their heads. While he'd always known she was right, he hadn't realized just how right she had been. The kid's intelligence, his keen observation skills, and his desire to please allowed him to slide into any number of roles convincingly. And while Sandy hadn't been naïve enough to believe Ryan's issues would simply dissolve and fade away, until recently – at least on the surface – the boy had seemed to be adjusting well to life within their family.
And that was the problem, wasn't it? Because Sandy should have realized the kid was adjusting too well. That there were simply too many unaddressed issues from Ryan's past to reasonably expect the child to have moved forward unscathed. This much Sandy now clearly understood – the teenager's history needed to be dealt with before the inner child could heal. Because the emotional scars Sandy had so conveniently ignored? Were currently manifesting themselves in the form of devastating self-doubt, anger, and fear. And God only knew what else…
Earlier, Ryan had appeared bewildered by Seth's staunch faith in him, obviously unable to share it. And then with Kirsten, Ryan had spoken about himself as though he were practically valueless. Sandy's heart had cracked a bit when the kid said he didn't deserve what the Cohens gave him. And it had damned near shattered when Ryan made it clear that he expected almost nothing from them.
If Sandy hadn't realized before how little faith Ryan had in himself, or how flawed the boy's concept of self-worth actually was, those deficiencies had just been driven home.
"Sandy?" Kirsten's voice surprised him.
He looked up at her, and rose to his feet. As she slid an arm around his waist, he put one arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close against his body. He hesitated a second, before asking softly, "Are you still up for this, honey? If you need to take care of yourself, if this is too much right now…"
She shook her head, stopping him from speaking further. Her voice was resolute as she said, "This is where I need to be, Sandy. I've got a lot of work to do, and I know that, but I keep thinking about what's really important to me. The one thing that I want more than anything in the world is to have us back – our family." She looked out at Ryan, who was sitting with one leg pulled into his chest, arms wrapped around his shin, as the teenager continued to stare out toward the Pacific. "And it's not us anymore without him. He's ours."
"I know," Sandy mouthed, as he wrapped his other arm around his wife. Her perfume was subtle and evocative, stirring memories of days and nights together, as he brought his mouth beside her ear, whispering, "Just like you're my reason for being."
She turned her face towards his, her smile tremulous but real. "Oh, Sandy…"
Sandy's heart beat a little stronger, felt a little lighter, as he saw the love reflected in her eyes. This time, he promised himself he wouldn't take anything for granted. And yeah, he and Kirsten had a long way to go. He understood that.
But the fact that she loved him – loved her family – enough to fight through this? Together with his own commitment? Told him everything he needed to know about their chances.
He kissed her hair as she pressed her face into his shoulder and hugged him tightly.
Hesitant to break this renewed connection, but mindful of the reason they were there, Sandy murmured, "Then, if you're ready, we've got a son to get through to."
She shook her head, stepping back from his embrace and musing, "It's startling how closely Dr. Woodruff and Dr. Miller predicted some of his responses." She frowned slightly as she continued, "I hope we're not making a mistake by not having one of them here with us."
Sandy took one of her hands in his, as he reminded her, "They're only a phone call away, Kirsten. Or a couple of hundred yards… And even they thought, given Ryan's reticence, that he'd be more comfortable with us talking to him on our own right now. From what I've heard this morning, I've got to agree. Besides, as we said last night – there's no doubt he's going to need help, honey. Just like we will, as parents of a kid who's gonna' have to deal with what he's lived through. Not to mention this trauma with Trey and Marissa. But that can come next. First, we need to reach him, and I think we've got a better chance of doing that on our own."
She nodded her agreement, glancing toward Ryan. "Then go get him, Sandy. He's been alone long enough."
Sandy wondered whether she meant alone this morning or in his lifetime, thinking in either case she was right. He kissed her hand, answering, "Yeah, he has. But he's got us, now. Break's over."
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Ryan watched the waves crashing against the boulders, feeling the salt spray on the foot that he dangled over the rock he was sitting on. His jeans caught some of the spray as well, but he didn't care. It felt good, and it was something he could understand. Unlike most everything else from this morning.
Seriously, what were the Cohens thinking? And what had he said that sent Kirsten off to meet with that Dr. Woodruff character? And how much worse would her reaction be when she heard what he really needed to tell her? Should he just keep his mouth shut? Or would that be even more damaging in the long run?
Not to mention dishonest. Which is kinda' what this all felt like. All those amazing things were being said to the other Ryan – the shell he had fabricated. And now that fabrication was poised to crumble, like most things in his life seemed to do eventually …
Seth and Kirsten had been so open, saying things out loud that he had never expected to hear directed to him. Well, at least not the things that Kirsten said… and especially not now, after everything that had happened. She'd used words he'd give anything to believe.
And some of the other stuff she'd said? About failing him? After everything she'd done for him? He'd take the safety and sanity her home offered any day, over anything he'd ever known before coming to live with them.
Ryan assumed that Sandy would be next, unless he stopped this, the only way he knew how. By showing them how wrong they were about him.
Because until they understood? Their words were no more than mere illusions visible in the darkness, which stood to vanish in the light.
He had never allowed himself to count on Kirsten's affection. Her kindness and compassion were more than he'd ever hoped or thought to have, after his mother left him.
In some ways, Kirsten's gentle attention meant more than Dawn's tearful declarations of love. Declarations that were true but twisted, and that were followed time and time again with the same empty promises. And more recently, with goodbye.
The fact was, if there was a chance in the world that Kirsten might love him? Despite everything? That she'd still mean the things she'd said? He wouldn't know how to act. Or even what to think. He couldn't even imagine how huge that would be – couldn't wrap his head around what it would mean, to be truly loved by Kirsten Cohen.
And the truth was he didn't want to think about it too much. Because then it would only hurt more if – when? – she took back the things she'd said.
Sandy was a different matter altogether. He'd counted on his guardian for so much, from day one. Sandy had said way back when they'd first met that Ryan could do worse. As it turned out, Ryan couldn't imagine there was any way in the universe he could possibly have done better.
Sandy had unaccountably taken him in that first night Dawn had thrown him out, and since then, the man had gone out of his way time and time again, trying to make him more comfortable in their home, and in their community. Assuring him he was not the only one who didn't fit in. That everyone had their secrets, and their fears. From the very beginning, Sandy had made him feel welcome, and wanted.
The man had set rules that were fair. He'd tempered his guidance with good humor as well as genuine concern for Ryan's safety and well-being, and had unvaryingly forgiven his mistakes. And remarkably, no matter how badly he'd screwed up, Sandy had never resorted to striking him, or demeaning him. That simply wasn't Sandy's way.
Yeah, he'd let Ryan understand his disappointment at those times, but his guardian had always made it clear the issue was Ryan's behavior – not that he was irredeemable. Although that was a distinction Ryan wasn't sure he really believed. Especially not now, when his behavior had come from somewhere so very deep inside him. How could who you are and how you behave be different, if your actions rage uncontrolled from your very core?
Maybe Sandy had an answer… He had answers for many of the questions Ryan asked. Or often, for the ones Ryan was too embarrassed or too hesitant to voice. Like that one.
Ryan ran his hands through his hair, as he thought about how he'd come to rely on Sandy's guidance. Certainly not always, but way more than he would have ever anticipated. If he were being truthful, he'd have to admit that he'd missed it recently, as his foster father had been busy with more important things.
These last few days, though, he was convinced that Sandy's steady presence had been his salvation. Once again – like so many times before. He drew both his legs up in front of his body, and folded his arms over his knees, resting his chin on his wrists. Thinking about how different Sandy was from any father figure he'd ever known…
Because unlike most of the men Ryan had been obliged to answer to, from his father through the majority of his mother's assorted live-ins, Sandy didn't have to assert power or control over those more powerless in order to feel better about himself. That alone was almost incomprehensible, given Ryan's experience.
That Sandy had the capacity to empathize, to connect, to care, and to forgive – those things would be practically inconceivable, had Ryan not experienced them first-hand.
When he slept – when he couldn't keep his subconscious quiet – Ryan sometimes had dreams in which Sandy was his real father – not just his foster father. Amazing dreams, where Sandy told Ryan that he loved him.
And unlike his careful management of expectations concerning Kirsten's affection, until this whole thing with Trey, Ryan had secretly held out real hope that maybe Sandy's feelings for him were somewhere close to love.
This much he knew – hearing any version of 'I love you' coming from Sandy would be priceless.
And now, given this 'intervention', what if the real Sandy said those words this morning?
What if he said them to the other Ryan?
Because to actually hear those words from Sandy, only to have them ripped away when his foster father understood the truth? That was simply too devastating to think about…
So much better never to hear the words, than to be allowed to hold them in his heart for even an instant, and then lose them forever.
>>>>>>>
Ryan thought how his own parents had seen him clearly enough. How they knew every one of his faults, just like he knew theirs. How they hadn't been the least bit hesitant to list them all, repeatedly. Loudly. Sometimes violently. One thing was certain – they sure as hell wouldn't have been telling him how much he meant to them in the aftermath of his most recent fight with Trey. And if his real father were still in the picture, Ryan would have been lucky to survive the retribution he'd have faced at home.
He remembered the last time Dad had caught them fighting. The time he and Trey had gone at each other over – what was it? – yeah, the bike his dad had bought him for his sixth birthday. And that fight had only ended in a bloody nose.
He could still remember it vividly, which was one of the curses of having a freakingly good memory. He thought how much he'd like to forget some things forever. Like the end of that day.
The cake with six blue candles, the smell of hotdogs grilling outside, and the unbelievable present he had received. A new cobalt-blue bicycle from K-Mart. Dad actually laughing – a rarity – and Mom taking pictures of him blowing out the candles. Trey eyeing his new bike greedily.
Trey taking the bike the instant their parents turned their backs, laughing as he pedaled down the street and around the corner, easily outpacing Ryan's attempt to chase him.
Trey bringing the bike back a little later, frame scraped, and the fenders mangled. Laughing at a furious Ryan.
Trey taunting, "Nice bike, little bro. But it's a little too small, and it doesn't jump worth shit."
His threatening Trey, "Don't you ever take my bike again!"
His brother laughing, "Or you'll what? Tell Mom and Dad? Hell, Ry, even you know better than to do something that stupid!"
Ryan blustering, "Or I'll kick your ass, that's what!"
Trey smirking, "Yeah, I hear ya', Ry. Like that's ever gonna' happen!" Trey turning his back and sauntering away, chuckling to himself.
Ryan launching himself at Trey's retreating form with enough speed and force that he flattened the unsuspecting boy onto the sidewalk, bloodying his brother's nose in the process. The pair rolling across the sidewalk and into the grass, as the bigger boy quickly recovered from the surprise attack.
Punching and kicking and grabbing hold of wads of hair, as he struggled against Trey's greater size. Surprised Trey hadn't totally clobbered him. More surprised to hear Trey begging him to stop.
Realizing too late why Trey wanted the fight to stop. Not because Ryan was winning – because he wasn't. Rather, because Dad was storming down the front steps and out into the yard, already jerking his belt from around his waist as he bore down upon them.
Dad spotting the crippled bicycle abandoned in the grass, and demanding, "Who the fuck did this?"
Hearing his father's enraged voice, "Get the fuck on your feet, both of you! Inside, right now!"
Disentangling himself from Trey, and standing on legs that suddenly felt like marshmallows. Climbing the steps shakily, and hearing the screen door slam behind him, making a couple of bounces before it settled down.
Heart beating rapidly, standing in the living room, with Dad towering over them both. Watching Mom disappear into the bedroom, staying well out of Dad's way. Seeing what they'd seen – Dad was wasted, and furious – never a good combination. Knowing before his anger was spent, there'd be all kinds of hell to pay…
Dad looking at them both, nostrils flaring. The leather belt doubled, ready to be put to use.
"Which one of you wrecked this brand new bicycle?"
Seeing Trey's face, knowing he wasn't about to confess. Feeling like this was really his fault, because Dad might never have noticed the bike if they hadn't attracted his attention with their fight. Knowing that Dad didn't pay a lot of attention to their stuff, unless it got in his way. Worse, knowing that he had started the fight.
Stammering, "I did," trying to make it up somehow to Trey.
Dad glaring at him, until Ryan couldn't look at his eyes anymore. Until he dropped his head, and backed up a couple of feet.
Dad snorting, "Think you can lie to me and get away with it? I'll teach you not to lie, you little shit, just as soon as I'm done with Trey. I promise you, you'll remember this lesson for a long, long time."
Listening as his father laid into Trey, yelling at him for wrecking the bike. Then for fighting. Dad calling his older brother stupid and useless and worthless, and a bunch of other stuff a whole lot worse. Trey smart-mouthing something back that Ryan hadn't understood, making Dad even madder. Dad's eyes getting smaller, as he grabbed Trey's arm hard enough to leave bruises.
Dad snarling, "What did you say, boy?"
Trey realizing he'd just gone way too far, and backing down, "Nothing. I'm sorry."
Ryan thinking it was always smart to say that you were sorry, even if you didn't always know what you were sorry for. Sometimes, when Dad wasn't too wasted, or too angry, it was enough to stop him from hitting you. He'd let you off with just the yelling. Other times, it might be enough to stop him from hurting you more. Besides, you'd always have to say it before Dad would be satisfied, anyway. Probably say it more than once. Because holding back only made Dad madder and meaner.
Knowing this time, all the 'I'm sorry's' in the world wouldn't be enough to save Trey. Or him.
Watching Dad's face get redder, as he jerked Trey's arm. "I thought I taught you to call me 'sir'! Or did I just imagine that?"
Trey gulping as he stammered, "I'm sorry, sir."
Seeing Trey bite his lips to keep from crying out, as Dad's fingers dug deeper into his arm, and twisted cruelly. As Dad seethed, "I don't think you are, boy, but you will be… I'll teach you to respect me."
And then watching as Dad had taken his belt to Trey, not stopping until his brother was in tears. Which meant not stopping for a long time, because Trey didn't cry easily. Not stopping until Trey said he was 'sorry, sir' over and over, although it hadn't seemed real clear what he was supposed to be sorry for. For the mangled bike? For fighting? Or for not respecting Dad? Who knew? What did it really matter? The results were all the same…
And then it had been his turn.
There was Dad, turning to him. His face still contorted with anger. Still gripping the belt.
"Ryan?" the quiet voice at odds with the rage-filled face.
"Ryan!" the voice insisted, the face receding into memory.
Because that last voice was real. And very close.
Without thinking, he responded quickly. Out loud. "Yes, sir?" His voice sounded more like six than seventeen, as he struggled to re-orient himself to his surroundings.
"Whoa! Where did that come from?" .
Ryan felt relief flood through him, as he found himself looking down into the concerned face of his guardian. Sandy was standing only a few feet away, on the sand below him, eyebrows knit together, and head cocked to the side, apparently wanting some clarification. He wondered how long Sandy had been there, watching.
Swallowing, he met his foster father's eyes, "I .. uh, I was just thinking about my father."
Sandy frowned slightly, "You thought I was your father?"
Nodding, Ryan explained, "Pretty intense memory. I guess I was a little out there… Sorry if it looked like I was ignoring you."
His guardian surprised him by lithely climbing up to where Ryan was perched. Much to Ryan's relief, Sandy sat down on a rock a few feet away from his own, out of range of the salt spray. For the moment, a little distance seemed safer. He felt less vulnerable beyond arm's length.
"You want to talk about it?" the man asked, his tone cautious.
Ryan concentrated on his watch, tugging at the band. He glanced across at his foster father, who was eyeing him steadily. He stared at the watch face again, as he mumbled, "Not really."
Furtively looking across at Sandy, only to see the expression of concern on his guardian's face deepen, he made himself elaborate briefly, "Just Dad being Dad. Kicking ass. Trey's. Mine…" Ryan shrugged, and raised his eyebrows, trying to assure Sandy it was no big deal.
But Sandy didn't seem to see it quite that way. "I wish I could change what you went through back then, kid."
"It's okay, Sandy. It's done." He dug his toes into the pits on the rock surface, feeling the rough surface scratch against his skin, sloughing off the dead cells and some of the living ones as well. Wishing he could as easily erase the memories he had of the man whose DNA he shared.
Sandy shook his head from side to side, the movement barely visible. His eyes locked onto Ryan's and held them fast for several seconds. "I wish that were true, son."
Stunned by the intensity of the connection, Ryan dropped his head. He blinked his eyes, which suddenly seemed ready to betray him. He looked back up and raised his eyebrows, not trusting himself to form words that would not end in tears. Pretty pathetic when he couldn't even say me, too…
Ryan was grateful his guardian said nothing for a few seconds. He took the time to collect himself, turning once more to stare out across the sea. He was brought back by Sandy's voice.
"Do you know what you just did, kid?" Sandy was watching him closely once again.
Puzzled, Ryan shook his head 'no', but said nothing.
Sandy smiled, "You just let me inside your head. Just a little. Thanks for trusting me enough to do that…"
Ryan gave Sandy his best facsimile of a smile, while he cringed inside, thinking how much more he needed to say. Realizing how every kind thing they said or did made the thought of rejection only that much harder to bear. But he needed to keep this conversation separate from the one he had to have with both his foster parents. So not yet – not until they were all together.
Momentarily spared confession, he turned back to the topic at hand. To a waiting Sandy. He tried to keep his voice steady, as he asked, "Are we okay? Did I say something wrong before? What 'that' were you talking about, anyway?"
Sandy looked like he was rewinding their conversation, searching for his place. He flicked his eyebrows upwards, as he answered, "I was just surprised you'd addressed me as 'sir'. But you weren't talking to me. I take it you called your father 'sir'?"
"Yeah. We didn't have much of a choice…" Ryan let the sentence fade, hoping maybe Sandy wouldn't ask any more questions. He really didn't want to talk about his dad anymore.
His foster father nodded, signifying he understood. His face assumed a more relaxed expression, as he grinned wryly across at Ryan. "So, I don't have to worry you're gonna' go all formal on us? I mean, within the family? 'Cause I'm not sure how well we'd handle that…"
Ryan shook his head. Honestly. The respectful words his dad had busted him so many times for forgetting – or refusing – to say? Sandy didn't want. Had never seemed to need.
"Yes, sir. Got it," he answered, waiting for Sandy's reaction. Unable to hide his grin when his guardian's eyes flew to his face.
Sandy chuckled. "Careful, kid. You don't want to spoil me."
"Yeah, we can't have that," Ryan agreed. "Don't want to raise your expectations…"
The look Sandy gave him was odd, making Ryan wonder if he'd just screwed up again.
Sandy's voice was thoughtful, as he replied, "Maybe not. But I sure as hell want to raise yours."
When Ryan looked wide-eyed as his guardian, perplexed once more, Sandy stood up and smiled. "Come on, kid. Kirsten is waiting for us."
Ryan scrambled to his feet, following the surprisingly agile Sanford Cohen back down the spill of boulders to the sand.
As he walked beside his guardian, he thought again of his own father. How Dad had demanded his obedience, submission, and respect. How all Ryan had ever felt for his father was fear and loathing.
But this man? His guardian? Who asked for so little in return for all he gave? Had earned much more than Ryan could ever hope to offer.
For starters, though, he deserved the truth.
Ryan braced himself for what he had to say. Because, regardless of their plans, he was determined he was going next.
>>>>>>>
More than a little impressed with the rest facilities offered in their private alcove, Ryan stood in what he supposed would be the lobby of the stucco and stone structure. There, a fountain of water poured down a free-standing field-stone wall into a series of infinity pools, before disappearing under the marble floor, and reappearing outside as a stone-lined brook winding its way back through the greenery.
He'd already stolen a moment to rehearse his opening lines, taking advantage of the floor to ceiling mirrors that covered the back wall of the building. Now, reaching down to adjust the laces on his left boot for the second time since he had pulled his socks and shoes back on, he reluctantly recognized his own stalling tactics for what they were. Irritated, he forced himself to straighten and exit the building.
He walked with growing anxiety through the rows of palms, headed to rejoin his guardians who were now seated at the table. As he neared Sandy and Kirsten, the words he had planned to say flew out of his head. So much for the good memory he had cursed, he thought, annoyed. Knowing this memory failure was born of fear.
Too fucking bad, he told himself. Wing it, Atwood…
Ryan watched Sandy pull a chair close to his own, indicating that he should sit there. "Last, but definitely not least," his foster father said, his voice serious, but touched with humor.
Ryan stopped short, and planted his feet shoulder-width apart, keeping the table between them and himself. He felt his lungs tighten again – like the rubber bands were back. He did his best to ignore the sensation, as he said more sharply than he intended, "No, Sandy. I'm next. Actually, I should have been first – it could probably have saved you all a lot of trouble."
He watched as his guardians exchanged another one of their 'looks', but was unable to read it.
Kirsten answered, her expression earnest, "We want to do this, Ryan. We want you to understand how we feel about you. Please believe me, honey – our time with you today isn't any kind of 'trouble'.
She rose, obviously intending to cross to where he stood. He shook his head, and held up a hand, as he backed a few steps away. He cringed as he saw the hurt look that crossed her face, and the sharp glance he got from Sandy. But at least she stopped, and Sandy remained seated, and that was good. Because he didn't think he could get through this if either of them touched him.
Swallowing, he said firmly, "You guys are amazing – I mean that. But you've got to understand, before you say anything else – I'm not who you think I am."
Sandy's voice was firm, as his guardian pressed, "Then why don't you come here and sit down? Let's talk this through, together."
Ryan shook his head, afraid he'd lose his nerve if he didn't do this his way. From a distance. He clenched one fist, and wrapped his other hand around it, as his breathing became more labored. "You need to understand about last year. And about Trey."
Sandy rose from his chair, but only stepped a couple of feet in his direction. His eyes locked onto Ryan's, as he urged, "We want to understand, Ryan. Whatever you want to tell us – I hope you know that. But there's nothing you can say…"
Ryan cut him off, "I think maybe there is, Sandy. If you really listen to me this time." Ryan bit his lips as he waited for their response. His arms wound themselves around his midsection, as though he could hold himself in place. Keep from escaping from this thing he didn't want to do.
Another look passed between the pair, which ended in Sandy's movement toward him.
"Stop!" Ryan heard himself cry out, as he threw his arms out in front of his body, freezing Sandy in his tracks. Before his guardian changed his mind, and over-rode Ryan's command, he quickly pleaded further, "Just please – let me talk."
He gestured with his hands, pressing them forward, figuratively shoving his foster parents away. "I'm begging you. Just stay there, and listen. I need you to stay over there."
He could hear his voice shaking as he spoke, and cursed internally. This was only the start, and he was already choking. Fuck.
Ryan watched as Kirsten fingered her cell-phone, glancing across at Sandy. He wondered if this was when they called in reinforcements, and was relieved to see Sandy shake his head at Kirsten, and the phone disappear inside a pocket. Sandy leaned against the front of table, closer to Ryan than he'd like, but at least still beyond arm's length.
His guardian spoke carefully, "Okay, Ryan. We're keeping the distance you want. And we're listening. Say anything you want – we're not going anywhere, I promise."
"What is it, honey?" Kirsten added, taking her own position against the table. Her eyes were unsettled, and Ryan saw her hand grasp Sandy's tightly.
Ryan dropped his arms, winding one around his midriff, and clutching his shoulder with his other hand. He swallowed hard, and drew in his breath as best he could. He looked in their direction, but kept his focus on the landscaping behind them, sneaking only quick glances at their faces as he spoke. "About last year, first. Like I tried to explain in my email, last year was all a lie. Because when you let me come back? I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be sorry." He snorted softly, adding, "And look how well that turned out…"
"Ryan," Kirsten started, her voice soothing.
He quickly trampled over her words, afraid he'd lose his nerve. "Please, just listen." Seeing her head nod, he did his best to ignore the pain her eyes reflected, telling himself he'd hurt her less by telling the truth than by deceiving her further with his lies. He started talking, "So when I got back, I never talked about Theresa, or the baby. I figured you guys didn't need that. And Theresa wouldn't answer any of my letters, so it wasn't like there was much I could do, anyway. She made it pretty clear she didn't want me around."
Ryan watched Kirsten tilt her head, and saw Sandy grimace when she tightened her fingers around his. Not wanting to discuss Theresa, he moved on quickly, "I still really don't want to talk about that. It's just that I thought if I could just focus on school, and on staying out of trouble, maybe things would be okay. So, I took the classes that everyone wanted me to take, and gave up stuff that didn't seem so important at the time. Like… well, like soccer. You know, so I wouldn't have any distractions. I tried hard to concentrate on studying, and making good grades."
Kirsten nodded. "Okay – no talk about Theresa for the moment," she promised. "But about school? I thought you wanted to take the AP classes, Ryan."
Ryan frowned, "Because that's what I thought you guys wanted. I'm not complaining – I liked the challenge – but it's like I was just pretending– just going through the motions."
Ryan noticed his breathing was getting easier, as he continued speaking, "And then I met Lindsay, and you know how that went. I tried to be the perfect boyfriend – I pretended again. Pretended I understood all the times she wanted space. Pretended I understood about Caleb. I mean, I kinda' did, but it still hurt. I just didn't want her to worry about me. But in the end, it didn't matter. She still left. I mean, I get it – I know that family's more important, but it just brought up a lot of stuff from the past, you know? With my mom leaving and everything?"
"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, sweetie. That I made it harder for you both in the beginning," Kirsten offered, her voice catching a little.
He shrugged. "If I'd known that you'd get hurt, I'd never have gone out with her. Because the last thing I wanted was to cause you any more pain – I'd hurt you too much already. Especially because Seth took off when I left last summer."
"Seth's leaving was not your fault, Ryan," Sandy said firmly, "And you..."
"Please, Sandy. I know you say that. Seth says that. But it's not really true, and we all know it." Ryan flicked his eyebrows."But I tried to make things up to him, too. For leaving him like I did. Because if I understand anything? It's how it feels to be abandoned."
Ryan grimaced, as he toyed with how much to tell them. Before he made himself tell them everything, so they could see him for what he really was. "I don't know how much attention you were paying this year, but Seth? Was pretty needy. And more self-absorbed than ever. And it irritated the crap out of me, but most of the time I pretended like it didn't. I joined his comic book club, I listened to him when he was upset about Alex, and through all the stuff with Summer – all year I tried to be there whenever he needed me, and stay out of his way when he didn't. Because I owed him. Because I owed all of you."
"You don't have to put up with Seth's ego-centric behavior. You heard him this morning – let him know when he annoys you," Sandy counseled.
"Yeah, I kinda' did, when he really got to me, but that's not the point, Sandy. The point is, all year I was pretending to be someone I'm not with everybody. With you guys, with Seth, with Lindsay… The perfect student, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect brother. And I guess, the perfect son. Foster son, I mean. But it wasn't real."
Ryan took one more step back, until he could lean against a palm tree. He felt the rough bark against his back, as he continued uninterrupted, ""I didn't want you to think you'd made a mistake by letting me come back. And I thought if I could be who you wanted me to be, then maybe it could work this time. Maybe I wouldn't disappoint you like before… And the few times I dropped the pretense? I snapped at Caleb, and he had a heart attack. And I yelled at Marissa, and really hurt her."
Ducking his head, Ryan kicked at the sand. He raised his eyes, lifting his eyebrows in resignation as his guardians remained still. He'd gotten to the hard stuff. The unforgivable stuff.
"And then there was Trey. It's like, with his arrival, all the stuff from back home just came with him. And as hard as I fought to keep pretending things were okay, they weren't. We… Trey and I … we've just got too much history. Too many shared memories, and half-finished arguments, and too little trust…"
Ryan stopped, unable to speak further for a moment. He dropped his head again, and squeezed his eyes together, determined the bitter frustration he felt would not result in tears. Ryan sensed Sandy's movement, and stepping away from the tree, backed up to counter it. Lifting his head, Ryan pleaded, "No. Please, no. Just hear me out, okay?"
"I'm not going to stop you from speaking, Ryan. I just want to close this space between us."
"You're close enough right there. Please, Sandy? Don't crowd me…" Ryan's voice felt strangled, and harsher than he'd intended. But Sandy stopped, his face grim.
Glancing quickly from Sandy to Kirsten, Ryan drew in a deep breath, and made himself utter his next words. "With Trey? When I learned what happened with Marissa? I couldn't do it anymore. Pretend, I mean. It's like everything I'd felt all year, and all the stuff that came with Trey – it was just all there, you know? And when I went to his apartment that night? It was so much worse than what you think."
Ryan tried his best not to filter his thoughts too much. To let them see who they were dealing with… "I mean, when I left your house, I wanted to hurt Trey. Because of what he'd tried to do to Marissa. But when I saw him, when he pulled that gun on me -- something happened. It's like I snapped, and I didn't just want to hurt him anymore." Ryan paused for a second before he elaborated grimly, "Right then? I wanted to kill him."
Ryan felt his heart beating rapidly, as his breathing quickened. He surveyed his foster parents' faces, for signs that they had heard him. But Kirsten merely stared, while Sandy's face was blank of all emotion.
Frustration setting in, Ryan snapped, "Don't you get it? Don't either of you get it? I fucking tried to kill my own brother! I wanted him dead. I've… I've never lost control like that. And it all happened so fast – like one second I was upset with Trey about Marissa, and the next second, it was so much bigger. It was like every conflict I ever had with Trey surfaced all at once. All the times we got into it. All the lies. The broken promises… All the times I played his stupid little bitch. I just wanted it all to end. If Marissa hadn't shot him, I would have died that night – Trey had me. But if I could have gotten the advantage? Right then? The way I felt? I probably would have killed him."
Now they just looked stunned, Ryan thought. Kirsten's hand had moved up to cover her mouth, and Sandy's eyes were wide. The horror hadn't settled in just yet… Before it did, he had to explain one final, daunting, all-consuming fear.
He said softly, urgently, "And here's the thing… I can't guarantee that something like that won't happen again. I never knew I could lose it like that. That it could happen so fast, and so completely. I mean, now I'd do anything to be able to take it all back, but I just keep thinking – if I was ready to murder my own brother, what other unspeakable things am I capable of? How can anyone ever trust me? How can you trust me? When I can't even trust myself…?"
He didn't wait to see their reaction this time, but rather spun toward the Pacific, not stopping until he was standing in the breakers. Not caring that his boots were soaked, or that the water was half-way to his knees. The sound of the surf roared in his ears, as he stood with his eyes closed. Wondering if there was anything left inside him that wasn't ugly and despicable.
But at least he had finally done the right thing – the honorable thing – by telling them. It was something.
He swiped his eyes with the heels of his hands, feeling the hot tears that threatened to spill down his face.
>>>>>>>
He felt a hand on his back, and spun around to see Sandy standing in the surf.
The man's eyes sought his, as his guardian spoke, "We're not done, Ryan."
Ryan dropped his head, steeling himself to hear his foster father's words. He was sure they understood now how fucked up he was. And that they'd turn him out … because they'd be crazy not to.
Sandy placed his hand on Ryan's shoulder and allowed it to rest there, squeezing gently until Ryan looked up at him.
Ryan's heart pounded as he waited to be discarded. The sound of the surf and his wildly beating heart nearly drowned out Sandy's words.
As his guardian said softly, "We're not done, because I haven't told you yet how much I love you."
Ryan blinked, wondering if he could possibly have heard right.
Unable to move, or even think, he felt Sandy's hand move to cup his neck. Felt himself gathered into his foster father's arms, as Sandy cradled him against his chest, completely ignoring the surf and salt spray. Hugging Ryan like he'd hug a small child, tight and tender at the same time.
As he felt Sandy's chin resting against his head, and Sandy's hand stroking his hair, Ryan gave up trying to understand what this all meant. He gave up trying to think at all...
For the moment, for once, he simply felt.
And for the first time in his life, he shyly wrapped his arms around a father that he loved.
>>>>>>>
tbc
A/N 3: As ever, many thanks for each and every review – I continue to learn, with your help. And after the isolation of writing, it is a joy to hear from you! Your comments and insights continue to intrigue and inspire me. To those of you who take your time so faithfully -- you are absolutely incomparable, and your thoughts are so very much appreciated! And to those of you who have shared a piece of yourselves – like waiting in airports for Katrina victims, being 'half-adopted', or describing de-lurking to review – I'm touched…