The day was fading quickly, and the Cohens were worried. Ryan had promised to be home by dinner, but it had come and gone without a word from him. The phone had only rung once, and that had been from Child Services, calling with the information on Dawn. The paperwork had gotten misplaced, and the agent had apologized for being late in informing the Cohens and Ryan.
Sandy was angry. Angry at Social Services for being so inefficient all the time, angry at Trey for breaking the news to Ryan, angry at Ryan for not trusting them with the information, and angry at himself for not realizing how upset Ryan had been when he left.
"He may have gone to visit Trey." Kirsten broke the silence that hung so heavy over the kitchen where the three of them sat, picking at leftovers. "He may have been telling the truth. He could be stuck in traffic, he could have stopped for dinner -"
"But he still hasn't called," Sandy interrupted. "If he had been honest with us, we could have helped him with whatever knee jerk instinct he's working on right now."
"We don't know for sure that he lied. He could have gone to see Trey."
"Fat chance," Seth muttered, as he spun off his bar stool and headed out of the kitchen. He intended to retreat to his bedroom to call Ryan. He knew that it was far more likely that Ryan would answer if he saw Seth's number calling, but he didn't make it far.
"What did you say?" Sandy demanded.
Apparently Seth's comment had come out louder than he expected. "What? I didn't say anything."
"Seth Ezekiel Cohen. What do you know about all of this?" There was no denying Kirsten when she used that tone. Seth hesitated, trying to come up with some excuse to get him out of his current predicament.
"Seth, sit down." Now Sandy was in on the parenting too. "Tell us what you know."
Seth shrugged as he resumed his seat. "I can honestly say, I have no idea where he is."
"Tell us what you know," Kirsten ordered.
Seth stared back and forth between his parents, trying to gauge just how serious they were. He sighed. He knew he was stuck. "I don't think he went to see Trey." When it appeared that his answer was not enough to satisfy them, he continued. "I just know that the last time Ryan saw his brother, Trey sort of said good bye. In his own, unhealthy Chino like way"
Before Sandy could force Seth to fill him in on the details of the goodbye, the phone rang.
Ryan was drunk. Very drunk. He wanted to be alone, but he certainly didn't want to sit on the steps of his old house, waiting for AJ to return. It was time to go home, he knew that, but he was in no condition to drive. He started walking, hoping to sober up and come up with some sort of plan. The alcohol had at least taken the edge off his pain. He knew he must look like a mess, and he knew that it was getting late. The Cohens would be worried by now. He pulled out his cell phone and did the only thing he knew how to do.
Seth jumped to answer the phone, but at the look he got from Sandy, he quickly sat back down. Sandy answered it on the second ring.
"Hello?"
There was a hesitation on the other end. Ryan sighed. "Sandy?"
"Ryan, where are you?" His voice was firm, but calm.
"Chino." Sandy could here him taking a long, deep breath. "I need a ride."
Seth looked on, hoping Ryan wasn't calling from jail.
"What's wrong with the Rover?"
Kirsten's head snapped up. Not again.
Again Sandy heard a sharp intake of breath on the other line. Was he smoking? Why did his voice sound so off? "I just need you to pick me up, okay." There was a long pause. "I'm drunk Sandy"
Sandy nodded. "I'll be right there." Ryan quickly explained where he was and hung up.
Sandy stood up and grabbed his keys. Kirsten wasted no time pumping him for information. "Where is he? What's wrong?"
"Dude, don't tell me he got the Rover smashed up at the IMAX again."
Sandy shot Seth a look that let him know he didn't appreciate his attempt at humor. "He's in Chino. He's drunk. I'm going to pick him up."
"I'm coming." Kirsten wanted to be there, to make sure Ryan was okay. 'No, you stay here. I'll be back soon." He planted a kiss on her forehead and was out the door before she could protest.
Ryan was waiting at a gas station near his old house. Sandy spotted him immediately. He was leaned against the cinderblock wall, one leg up, smoking, just as Sandy had expected. It wasn't until he got closer that he saw the bruises.
Ryan didn't make eye contact with Sandy. He flicked away his cigarette and got in on the passenger side of the car. Sandy stared at him, waiting for an explanation. He knew there wasn't one coming. He eased the car into reverse and started back the way he had come. He didn't speak until they were safely cruising on the freeway.
"You want to tell me what happened?"
Ryan just shook his head and stared out the window. "Not really."
"Okay, we'll talk at home."
Ryan nodded and leaned his head back against the cool leather seat. He closed his eyes and wished that the ride would never end.