Title : Empty Diary
Author : Helen C.
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Car accident. Ryan. Amnesia. There, that's clear, isn't it?
Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N. This fic wouldn't be seeing the light of day if it hadn't been for Joey's enthusiastic comments and invaluable help. Thanks, again!
Chapter Six
When he first left the hospital, back in Newport, Ryan told himself that he'd never get used to the amnesia, that he'd never get used to not remembering his past, the Cohens, his family, and even Seth.
"People adapt," one of the doctors told him. "Even if your memories don't come back, things will grow familiar again. You won't always feel like you do now."
Ryan was sure, then, that the man was full of crap and too enamored of his own voice to realize that Ryan didn't believe a word of what he was saying.
How could anyone ever get used to feeling like this?
How could the Cohens ever become his family?
Of course, eventually, things changed.
It has been months, and it turns out that maybe that doctor was right after all.
Sure, Ryan still feels slightly disappointed when he wakes up in the morning and his memories are still… gone. Yet, for the most part, he has grown used to his life here.
At some point, he stopped seeing the Cohens as strangers and they have now become a comforting presence.
At some point, Ryan has started to like the way Sandy grins and clasps his shoulder when he's proud of him, and the way Kirsten smiles and rolls her eyes when Ryan argues for an extension of his curfew. The way they both manage to spare time for Ryan and be kind to him after the devastating loss they suffered is still baffling, but it makes Ryan feel safe and loved, and he wonders how he could ever consider them strangers.
The Cohens feel more like family than just generous strangers who took him in.
It must have been a gradual process, because Ryan can't remember when it happened. He only realizes it has happened when Sandy comes home early one evening, looks at Ryan with a sober face and says, "Your mother called me this morning."
For a heart-stopping moment, Ryan is scared that she wants him back, that he's going to lose his new life, his friends, and worse, the Cohens.
A few months ago, he would have given almost anything to hear that news.
Now, he just thinks that he should have been more careful what he wished for.
"She wants to talk to you," Sandy adds. "I gave her our number. She'll call you later tonight."
"Where was she?" Ryan asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Now is not the time to ask the thousand questions that fill his mind.
Why did it take her so long?
Why now?
Will she want me to leave here?
Will I have to if she does?
Sandy's voice snaps him back to the present. "Reno. She says she only learned about the accident when she moved back to Chino a few days ago. She spoke to Trey."
Ryan nods, stiffly gets to his feet and gestures to the stairs. "I'll be…" He trails off and hurries out of the room, under the concerned glance of Sandy.
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It turns out Ryan was wrong to be worried about Dawn asking him to come live with her. She doesn't even allude to it, just asks him repeatedly if he really doesn't remember her, and what the people he lives with have told him about her, and really, doesn't he remember her at all? She starts crying when he snaps, "No, I really, really don't remember anything."
"I'm sorry," she wails. She starts babbling incoherently about how her life has been difficult for the last few months, making Ryan wonder if she's drunk, or high, or both.
She sounds frantic, scared and plaintive all at the same time—so different from Kirsten that Ryan doesn't know what to make of it, how to react to her.
Then, there's a male voice in the background, and she says, "I'll call you back later, baby."
She hangs up before he can even say goodbye, leaving him feeling empty and depressed.
He doesn't want to leave the Cohens, but he can't help being hurt that his mother didn't even ask if he wanted to come back live with her.
Shouldn't she at least want him to?
When Kirsten peeks inside his room, asking him how he's doing, he smiles bravely, suddenly ashamed. The Cohens may not be related to him, but they're still the closest thing he has to a family. He doesn't want to lose that.
He just wishes his mother had at least told him she misses him.
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Dawn takes to calling him about once a week.
Usually, she's either drunk or screaming, in which case Ryan closes his eyes and weathers the storm until she stops talking and hangs up on him, or she's sober and she makes small-talk to avoid answering Ryan's questions about his past or her life.
Today falls under the latter category. In ten minutes, they have gone from talking about the friends he has made to the classes he's taking—"you're definitely smarter than I ever was, kid"—and to whether or not he's going to join the soccer team.
"The number of times you've come back from a soccer game with bruises on your face," Dawn says, chuckling. "Trey always said you were a tough little son of a bitch."
"Did we play often?" Ryan asks, trying not to sound too eager. Talking with Dawn is very much like coaxing a wild animal out of its hiding place. If he doesn't choose his words carefully, if he sounds too impatient, too needy, if he insists too much, she snaps into defensive mode.
"How would I know?" Dawn shoots back, her tone growing colder. "You were always going off with him, and never telling me where you went."
Just like that, the window of opportunity snaps shut.
"I need to go," Dawn says after a tense silence. "I'll try to call again soon."
"Wait—" Ryan starts to say, but the dial tone is his only reply.
Ryan hangs his head, defeated.
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Matt and the others have stopped asking him questions. They know the bare facts and have dealt with the fact that their friend isn't going to magically get his memories back overnight, so they moved on.
Whenever they start talking about their childhood, Ryan wishes he had something to contribute. The stories the Cohens tell him about his time with them are not enough to fill the void, and hearsay isn't the same as living things, so he has to settle for listening.
Whenever they start talking about their parents, Ryan wonders whose family he should talk about. The Cohens, whom he's starting to know? His biological family, who's so distant and out of reach?
"The Cohens seem very nice," Julia tells him once when they're alone—Matt and Steve went to a basketball game but Julia hates games and Ryan didn't feel like going out, so they're vegging out on the couch in Julia's house, trying not to fall asleep in front of the Two Towers movie.
"They are."
"And your mom…"
Ryan shrugs. There have been five phone calls so far, and Ryan has learned a lot about his mother. She's unstable, and a little scary, and it hurts to speak to her. He wants to help her and doesn't know how, and more than anything, he wishes she'd tell him that she loves him, that she misses him, even once. Instead he has to make do with small talk and with Dawn's tendency of constantly avoiding anything remotely approaching a meaningful conversation.
Julia studies a moment. "You're going all silent on me again. It really bugs you, doesn't it?" Her voice is nice, belaying more concern than curiosity, and Ryan can't be angry at her for being worried.
"Of course it bugs me." Hearing his mother has made him start wondering again. The Cohens have talked about his rough past without giving him details, claiming they didn't know much, but the few contacts he has had with his mother have given him… disturbing clues about what life might have been like in Chino.
Why does his mother hang up every time her boyfriend comes home? Is he violent? Does he hit her?
Did any of his mother's boyfriends hit Ryan or Trey? Is that why Trey refused to say anything about Chino?
Just how rough is rough?
And is there any way he can get these answers?
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At the beginning, when the Cohens were still living in Newport, Ryan spent most of his time trying to imagine what his home life had been like. In his mind, he'd picture a room filled with clothes, posters on the wall, maybe some toys or books. The room wasn't as well-furnished as the one he occupied at the Cohens, the wallpaper was a little faded, the paint a little cracked, but it was clean and sunny.
He imagined his mother complaining about lack of money, and trying to cling to a job.
He imagined his brother teasing him, playfully punching his arm.
Other times, he imagined his brother teaching him how to drive, how to smoke, talking about girls, asking about Ryan's life.
His mother and her boyfriend fighting in the kitchen.
His mother taking care of him when he was sick.
His mother ignoring him when he was sick.
Nothing felt right.
Nothing felt real.
Then, he had met Trey, had seen how edgy, how dangerous his brother was, and he had stopped playing the guessing game.
He was never going to win; he was never going to guess what their lives had been like.
Now that he's in semi-regular contact with his mother, he knows he was right.
He'd never have thought his mother was so… desperate.
He'd never have thought she could make him feel so empty, so hurt, only by talking to him.
Everything aches when she calls him, as if someone has taken something vital to him and is refusing to give it back.
Having talked to her and Trey, Ryan is starting to understand why the Cohens were reluctant to tell him about his past, why they claim they don't know much.
What he doesn't understand is why he still wants to know more. He wants to know how things got to what they are now, wants to know what the hell happened to them to make them all so screwed up.
So, he decides that it's time to stop asking questions, and start looking for the answers himself.
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Even though Ryan has a plan to learn more, he hesitates several weeks before actually executing it.
The plan is simple. Unfortunately, it doesn't work too well—or rather, it does, but the results aren't the ones he was hoping for.
Ryan slips into Sandy's office while the Cohens are both out. After all, he reasons, if Social Services are involved in his life, there must be papers about him somewhere, maybe even papers documenting his life in Chino.
He rummages through Sandy's drawers and tells his guilty conscience to shut the hell up and let him work. He feels like a thief, but damn it, he wants to know.
Every time he looks into another drawer, he must remind himself that he needs answers and that it's the only way.
He reaches the bottom drawer without having found anything. When he opens it, he finds pictures of Seth—Seth on his boat, Seth in the pool, Seth in formal wear. A picture of Sandy, smiling, a surfboard under the arm. A picture of Seth and Ryan engrossed in a play station game. A picture of Kirsten smiling.
Ryan looks at the pictures for a while before setting them aside and reaching in to remove the next thing—a birth certificate. Seth's birth certificate.
Ryan wonders how much time Sandy spends in this room, looking at these old pictures, thinking about everything he has lost. He almost stops there. This is private, and he shouldn't be looking through Sandy's things.
Then, he sees a file under the certificate and his heart misses a few beats when he spots his name on the cover.
He picks up the file and hesitates for a long while, staring at the cover, afraid of what he'll find inside.
It turns out that he doesn't find much.
There's an arrest report as well as a mug shot that makes him cringe—he looks so young, so scared despite the defiant air. He doesn't like to think about what Sandy thought about him the first time they met.
There are a few reports from a school in Chino, documenting his record of truancy and the three times he was suspended for fighting.
A hospital report from when he was admitted to the ER with a broken arm, caused by a bike accident.
A police report for disturbance at his home—obviously, nothing came out of it.
He closes the file, feeling stupid.
He should have known.
The Cohens have told him repeatedly that they don't know much about his past, and enough time has passed that he knows they wouldn't lie about that. If there had been something in his file, they would have told him about it.
"Ryan?"
Sandy's voice startles him so badly that he drops the file and hits his head on the desk when he stands up.
"Sorry," he says, looking at his feet—anything to avoid having to meet Sandy's eyes.
Sandy sighs. "I should have known." He crouches to gather the file and the pictures.
"I'm sorry", Ryan repeats. "I just…"
Sandy puts everything back in the drawer and slams it shut, the noise making Ryan jump slightly.
"You just wanted answers, I know."
Ryan feels a blush creep up his cheeks.
"Did you find them?" Sandy asks, his nice tone making Ryan feel even more guilty, if that was possible.
"No," he says, almost choking on the word. "There's nothing in there."
"I know."
Why isn't there anything in that file?
The way Trey and my mother behave, the way you look sad every fucking time I ask questions, it had to be worse than a bike accident and a few fights at school, Sandy. So why isn't there anything in there?
"Do you know something else? Besides what's in there?" Because damn it, Sandy, there has to be more.
Sandy sits on the ground, and gestures for Ryan to come join him. Ryan hesitates briefly before sitting cross-legged next to Sandy.
When Sandy speaks again, his voice is even, almost clinical. "Not really. I know your family was poor, I know your mother is an alcoholic, I know your brother has an impressive record, I know you had some problems with your temper, I know you and Trey stole a car and got caught."
He pauses to look at Ryan who tries to look unaffected.
"Are you sure you want me to go on?"
Ryan nods.
"Fine. When we were still hoping things would work out with your mother, she came to the house. We had diner. She said something about her boyfriend dealing drugs and hitting her. And you."
Ryan nods dumbly. That much, he pretty much expected. It does explain why his mother is always quick to leave the phone whenever her boyfriend enters the room.
"I don't know if he was the only one who had done that."
"But you doubt it," Ryan states flatly.
Sandy closes his eyes for a moment. "Yes. I doubt it."
There's a tense silence.
"What else?" Ryan asks.
Sandy turns to face him. "Nothing, Ryan. We're not hiding anything from you. You once said that your memories of holidays consisted of your mother getting drunk and you getting your ass kicked, and that's about the extent of what you told us about your life." He smiles sadly. "We didn't want to push you to talk. We wanted to wait until you were comfortable enough to come to us." The smile fades as he finishes, "We never reached that point."
"I'm sorry," Ryan offers. "I shouldn't have looked into your things."
"No, you shouldn't have." Sandy pats his shoulder. "But I understand why you did. I wish I could answer your questions, but I can't. I don't know if anyone can."
Ryan nods, thinking that he knows of two people who actually can.
Wondering if he should turn to them for answers.
Wondering why the hell he didn't tell the Cohens anything, or the people who filed the few reports that are in his file.
Wondering what he'd find if he pushed his brother and his mother to talk.
TBC