Obvious FYI: I don't own anything that even remotely has to do with the O.C.!
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Ryan was looking forward to the end of school. Not only was 1:50 pm the end of the day, it was the conclusion of his first semester at Harbor. As he sat ignoring the teacher in his last period class, he briefly reflected on what had happened the past four months. Things hadn't always gone exactly according to plan, but at least it was better than life in Chino.
The bell finally rang and Ryan was the first out the door and heading for the lockers. Not long after he was done tearing apart his locker, Seth came bounding around the corner.
"Hey, little brother," Seth joked, slapping Ryan on the back. "You ready to become probably the most preppy touristos in all of Italy? Can you handle being one of those annoyingly-horrible skiers, camera trigger-happy, map and Italian/American pocket dictionary-reading sightseers?" Seth was laughing.
"I get it, I get it," Ryan couldn't help but laugh as well. "To answer what I am assuming is your underlying question, yes, I am excited for Thursday. However, if you keep this up, I am pretending not to know you for the whole trip. Lets go," Ryan finished as he shut his locker.
Sandy and Kirsten had won at one of Kirsten's silent auctions a one-week stay at a time share just outside of Venice, Italy. The family had plans to leave in two days and Kirsten had practically every hour of the vacation planned with tours, shows, and as Seth appropriately named them, 'snow-filled activities.' What made Sandy happy was that he could tell Ryan was looking forward to the trip. The lawyer was apprehensive that his son might feel awkward traveling in such accommodations, but was relieved when the teen showed excitement. It was bound to be a memorable trip.
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Thursday finally rolled around and an airport shuttle came early in the morning to drive the family to the airport. Ryan slept the whole trip, but felt strangely awake upon arriving at the airport. Seth picked up on his brother's apprehension and questioned him.
"Bro, you're not going to go all Rain Man at the terminal, are you? No screaming and banging your head. Although I do respect Dustin Hoffman's scene, I promise, the plane's not that bad." Seth nodded his head in the direction of the gate. Ryan knew Seth was right.
"I know. I've never been on a plane before, you know that. Just forget it," Ryan tried to cover up his feelings.
"Dude, come on. The trip's gonna be great. I've got my laptop and a DVD of The Godfather to watch on the plane. I figured it'd get us in the Italian mood. Maybe not so much the skiing part, but the accents and stuff. And plus I've heard it's a decent movie." Seth pointed to his carry-on bag.
"You've never seen The Godfather, Seth?" Somehow that didn't surprise Ryan.
"What, and you have?" Seth looked genuinely surprised.
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Finally, after a total of three hours in delays, sixteen hours in actual flight time, and one flight change, the Cohens plus one arrived in Venice. Sandy picked up the rental car and the family loaded their many suitcases into the trunk.
"Geeze, Kirsten. What do you have in here?" Sandy grunted as he lifted one of Kirsten's over-stuffed floral suitcases.
"Well, you know, Sandy. It's Italy. Everyone looks good here. I just am keeping up with the crowd," Kirsten responded with a mocked look of innocence.
"It would be a shame to pass up this moment. Mom, I believe you should say, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.' Totally appropriate since we're in Italy. Come on, give that to me. Ryan? Yes?" Seth was now on his second wind and was overtired.
Ryan just rolled his eyes at Seth's comment and didn't return the high-five Seth was offering. Ryan was solely concentrating on a bed calling his name in the little villa.
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After what seemed like an eternity to Ryan, the family reached the villa entitled 'Bella.' The cottage stood up to its name. It looked beautiful with the snow all around it. Icicles hung from the porch, and the trees surrounding the small property were bent with the weight of the snow, almost as if they were bowing down to the family. There was a small, lattice car port on the side of the house where Sandy parked the rental. Kirsten was already using half her memory card taking pictures of the gorgeous landscape.
"Lets get this stuff inside and then we can rest, ok, boys?" Sandy looked at his two teenage sons, both of whom were now nodding off.
"What's this?" Seth turned around a large and heavy bucket in the corner of the car port. The label was in Italian. When he opened the lid, Seth saw a bunch of what looked like large grains of salt.
"That must have been what Tom Jackson meant." Sandy now understood what the owner of the villa told him. "That's ice melt. It's kind of like sand and treated salt mixed together. Tom said to put it on the walkways and the outside stairs in the front and back. Apparently there's black ice everywhere. Little different than Newport, huh?" Sandy smiled at Seth.
"Can we just do that later, please?" Seth whined. "All my contract says is put the suitcase in the bedroom. Then I'm sleeping. We can do this ice melt thing tomor—" Seth's protest was cut off by a loud crash from the front of the house. Sandy, Seth, and Kirsten bolted out of the car port just in time to see the ghastly sight.
Ryan had been carrying his suitcase up the front walkway and made his way to use the key that Sandy gave him. Not much to his surprise, rolling suitcases weren't made for un-shoveled, icy walkways and stairs, so Ryan picked up the bag in order to get it the few feet to the door.
As Ryan made it to the top step, his right foot slipped from under him and knocked his body over his suitcase. Ryan's grip left the handle, sending the bag down the stairs and making an echoing noise on the stone walkway. Thrown off by the sudden movement, his left foot slipped and before he could catch himself or brace his arms, he fell forward, smacking his head on the railing.
The icy, black railing quivered with the force of Ryan's head. Snow that once covered the banister was now falling onto Ryan's body. Horrified, Kirsten, Sandy, and Seth ran over to the fallen teen, nearly slipping themselves.
"Ryan?!" Kirsten bent down to study her son. Blood was running down the left side of Ryan's pale face and collecting in his closed eyes.
"Ryan? Talk to me! Ryan?" Sandy was gently shaking Ryan's hand, afraid to move him. Sandy's voice grew more desperate as he received no response.
"Dad?" Seth sounded panicked. "What do we do? Do they have 911 here?"
Kirsten realized Seth was right. What were they supposed to do? Right now a secluded villa in the hills of Venice sounded like the worst idea possible. After a terrifying moment of indecision, Sandy stood up.
"We drive him into town and ask for help," Sandy declared.
"What?! Sandy, we can't move him!" Kirsten turned towards Ryan. "He's barely breathing!"
"Well we can't stay here! I don't even know who to call! I don't even know the word 'help' in Italian! Seth, go bring the car around," Sandy demanded as he threw the keys at Seth who ran as fast and carefully as he could back to the car port. "Kirsten, lets get this snow off him."
As the two began to clean off Ryan, Kirsten tied her scarf around Ryan's head in an effort to slow the bleeding. Kirsten's tears were spilled over the edge when she saw how quickly the white fabric became saturated with the crimson blood.
Careful not to move him more than necessary, Kirsten and Sandy laid Ryan in the back seat of the rental car. Sandy ran around to the driver's seat and Seth jumped into the passenger's side. Kirsten sat in the back with Ryan's head in her lap, putting additional pressure on the wound, feeling as though she were literally holding his head together. Ryan still hadn't stirred. The only consolation in the situation was the slight rise and fall of Ryan's chest giving some kind of reassurance to Kirsten that her son was still breathing.
"Hurry, Sandy!" Kirsten cried in between the tears that fell on Ryan's bloody face.