Well, first of all, thankyou to my lovely beta, Teresa, for taking that pains to go through this chapter and correct my mistakes. Thank you. you know you rock!
Well, second of all, this chapter is long. But it is pivotal and took me hours and hours of re-writes before i coiuld even make it halfway decent. And that was before i gave it to teresa to read, so you can imagine. But it is important and so i don't regret it. I enjoyed writing it a lot and hope you guys will find somthing in to enjoy too.
And, third of all... Well, there is no third of all except read on. and if it manages to touch you in some small way.. review! wont ask for more. thank you.
Chapter 7:
"Umm… welcome to our home." She tentatively whispered to the boy standing next to her as she opened the huge ornate gates of her home. The words sounded rusty and hollow and lame… but she didn't know how to do this, didn't know what to say… didn't know what the protocol was or what the rules were when you welcomed an ex-convict to your home. The last time she had seen him without an orange suit, she had been drugged and bound and his dad had been breathing down her neck.
So Yeah…
She shook her head slightly as she dropped her set of keys in the foyer and switched on the lights before moving deeper into her plush interior. Thankfully Ryan's car was nowhere to be seen, which meant that he was still at work and for once in her life; she was glad that he wasn't home yet. She needed this time to compose herself, to bring some semblance of order to her thoughts, to make sure that she got everything screwed the right way on before she threw her decision in his face. She just... wanted to take a long deep breath, stop the motions of time for that one, small infinitesimal second, before everything around her snowballed.
And it was going to snowball. If nothing else, she was sure of that.
Lost in her own thoughts, it was some time before she realised that Seejay had not followed. Turning around, she saw him still standing awkwardly in the doorway, exactly the way she had left him. His ill fitting, less than flattering clothes hung loosely to his thin body, his hands were clutched tightly to the duffel bag, and a distant and forlorn expression graced his face. If you looked long enough, you could see the darkness under his eyes, feel the helplessness that clung to his clothes, experience the futility that marked each and every one of his move.
With a start, she realised just how difficult this must be for him. She hadn't even asked him how he was faring, if he needed anything, if he was alright... But he had handled everything so maturely - never questioning, just accepting all that was happening around him- that it had been easy to forget that he was just a fifteen year old boy grappling with fact that his father… the only parent he had known… was dead. For any person to handle that would be difficult, but combine it with the fact that she had just busted him out of jail for playing his own part in all that had happened, however justified that may be, towards a future that was as bleak if not more so… the pain must be unimaginable.
And she hadn't even asked.
"Hey, are you all right?" she softly questioned.
His unsteady eyes wavered at her soft, anxious question and he visibly gulped, his throat working furiously in an attempt to formulate, but no words came out. Was he alright? He couldn't even process all that was happening, much less whether he was okay with it. If he were to close his eyes, he could still feel his dad pulling him towards their Newport home, promising him that this time would be different... promising him that he would be different, promising him the fresh start that he had always wanted. Everything had changed that night in the warehouse. His whole life had been turned upside down in that one cataclysmic moment and now he was left clutching at the straws and his dad... his dad... his dad... He shook his head and bit his bottom lip painfully. He couldn't allow his emotions to run amok like that, couldn't allow her to see just how broken he was. "The last time I was here… it seems a million lives away." He took a small step forwards, the ball of his feet burried deep into the floor as gave a painful shrug. "I was welcome then."
"You are still welcome now."
Abruptly his eyes clashed with hers, as just for a moment, the vulnerability and the pain that he was so desperately trying to hide, shone through. "Am I really?"
Try as she might, she couldn't lie to him. Forget what Ryan would say, or how Jason would behave, forget about everyone else; she herself wasn't sure just how much she could trust and welcome him here. All she knew for certain was that there was something in him—some indefinable quality that cried out to her and after the way he had shot to her defence in the prison, she couldn't have left him there.
"I don't know." She decided not to sugar coat. "I haven't even spoken to my husband and there are just too many things up in the air."
He got the unspoken meaning behind her words. "One of them being that Oliver is my dad." He looked up at the ceiling. "Was-" he tightly corrected.
She sighed. "Among other things."
He nodded mutely at her, his eyes downcast. Mr. Atwood had welcomed him before, helped him more than anyone else had ever done, but that had been before his dad had... And now... He didn't think his charity extended towards seeing the living, breathing proof of that mistake standing right in front his eyes. "I am sorry for what my dad did to you... and...I am grateful for all that you are doing for me. Really I am..., it's just... " he swallowed hard, and stared deeply at her . "I need to know why I am here."
She cocked his head to one side looking at him quizzically. "Well, what do you mean?"
"I mean…" He looked down at his feet, his voice was gruff with emotion, trying to hide the fear that he felt. "If anything else happened today… If I got hurt in any other way… I don't know how much more of this stuff I can take." he bit his bottom lip and painfully mumbled. "It would be better if I left."
His eyes were sooo brown as he said the words, but if she were to close her eyes, if... just for a second... she were to take herself to another time in her life, she could so easily mistake them for a deep, cerulean blue.
I stole a car… crashed it.
Actually my brother did, but then he was drunk and he had drugs on him so now he is in jail. I got out… then my mom threw me out. She was a little pissed off and drunk. So, Mr. Cohen took me in.
She tightly shut her eyes, the memories crashing around her. The driveway dissolved, imperceptibly morphing into an empty pool.
But your mom has to come back for you, right?
Nah... she is a bit of a trainwreck.
And your dad?
Armed robbery. Impressive huh?
She forcefully opened them, tears stinging at the back of them, as her heart went out for the boy he had once been. She forced herself to come back to the present, forced herself to realise the struggling boy standing in front of her. He was breaking down in front of her, slowly disintegrating... bit by bit... like chips from a fading wall and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
'it would be better if i left'
And he was trying to be so brave...
"Oh Honey, you don't have to do that." Swiftly in two quick strides, she crossed the room, enveloping him in a tight hug. "I don't know what is going to happen and I wish you didn't have to go through all that, but I promise you that we'll work through it. Trust me, eventually it'll be okay. I promise you that."
He clutched her tightly to him, clutched at the promise she was offering with all the strength that he possessed, as he desperately tried to burry himself in her soft neck. It had been so long since he had felt any kind of comfort that he lapped it up as fast as he could. He didn't have any energy left to fight, to be strong, to hold back any longer, as for once in his life, he felt himself completely crumble.
She could feel his fingers digging hard into her shoulders, feel the soft wool of her dress getting soaked where his head lay and her fingers shook as she comfortingly ran them through his hair, offering him what little comfort she could give.
"It's gonna be okay, baby… gonna be okay…" she soothed, as she felt the poignant tears crash and burn and soak and singe through her rapidly dampening shirt.
….
"Mom?" Jason tentatively whispered, as he stood in the hallway looking at the scene unfolding in front of him.
He had been playing Video games in the other room when he had heard voices coming form the end of the hallway. Thinking that one or both of his parents had come home, he picked himself up to see what all the noise was about. Lately, well more specifically since the new years eve, they were never in the best of moods and although he didn't understand everything that was going on, he was sure that his once upon a time friend, Seejay, was in the middle of it. So, the fact that Seejay was standing here, in his house no less, with his mom wrapped around him, shocked the hell out of him.
"Hey Baby..." Marissa exclaimed, disentangling herself from the embrace when she heard her son's voice. "I thought you weren't home. The lights were all off and your car wasn't in the driveway."
Momentarily distracted, Jason automatically answered. "Yeah, I had to take it to the garage for short wires, so Amy dropped me home."
"Oh okay, you should have your dad look at it." She answered casually, "It's happening quite often, isn't it?"
He looked at her queerly. He didn't get why was she talking about cars, and driveways and broken wires when the real question in the room, the real elephant in the room remained unanswered. "Yah… But mom," He was immedietely interrupted by her quelling glare.
"Honey, why don't you take Seejay up to the pool house and get him settled? I'll be out with you shortly and then we'll talk." She pointedly muttered.
Getting the hint, Jason silently nodded. "Okay."
…
The ornate lights in the pool house weren't bright enough, she randomly thought, as she observed the pool house doors from her vantage point on a bench at the far end of the pool. She'd have to get Ryan to change that. And the sheets were pink. What guy liked to sleep on pink sheets? She'd have to get Rosa to spread some new ones, probably blue. And there was the small matter of a tooth brush, a tooth paste, some clean clothes to sleep in etc… etc… etc..., that she hadn't yet attended to. She didn't think that bag that he lugged around was of any use at all. Who the hell fit their entire belongings of fifteen years in one, small infinitesimal, non- colour coordinated duffel bag anyways? Wait, Ryan did.
God, Ryan once did that.
She knew she was rambling, she knew her thoughts were bordering on crazy but she was very, very close to the edge, the decision she had made weighing heavily on her heart. Kirsten must have seen him exactly the way she was seeing Seejay now. Sitting here, on the deck next to her pool, had she seen the same hopelessness, the same struggle beyond the pool house doors that very first night? Had she felt the same fear, the same apprehension of making a horribly mistake?
She felt, rather than saw her son sitting next to her, but her eyes never wavered from the pool house doors as they silently took in the boy sitting at the very edge of the makeshift bed—his face in his hands, hung between his shoulders. It was unfair for so young a person to suffer so much, when all he should be doing is worry about girlfriends, and school and whether the next Vin Diesel movie had the kind of action he was hoping for. But, she guessed life wasn't fair. Hell, she knew life wasn't fair. Suddenly she felt grateful and terribly glad that she could protect her children from all of that.
"Grace… Is she alright?"
"She's trying to get Rosa to teach her Spanish." Jason answered easily from beside her. "But other than that, she is spiffing fine. It's Rosa, I am worried about."
She permitted a soft chuckle to escape her lips."The last time she tried that our nanny left within a week. How long do you think Rosa is going to last?"
"Probably less than that." They shared a laugh. Little moments. Like dittany. Spreading and sifting, just temporarily healing until the cut spread anyway.
"Mom?" Jason prodded, asking the question that hovered silently in the air, "What's going on? What's Seejay doing here?"
She considered not telling him for a moment, considered protecting him, but quickly decided against it. He deserved to know the whole story from her and form his own impression. He was old enough for that. "We should have spoken to you sooner," she began, "explained to you better, right after the New Years, but with everything that had happened and the atmosphere in our house was so strained we just… we thought we would protect you from all of that."
"I am not a small boy anymore."
"I know that honey," she ruffled his hair tenderly. "But it's kinda our job."
He nodded at her, dismissed her over-protective words immediately. "So who exactly is this Oliver? And what has he got against you guys?"
"Had-" she sighed. "He is dead now."
"Oh."
"Yeah." She paused and took a deep breath, and wondered just how she was going to put the whole Oliver thing in front of her son. Slowly she relayed to him the entire sordid saga, told him of the time that Oliver had come into their life, told him what he had done to her, told him about the kidnapping and her going to meet seejay in jail. She told him everything as clearly as she could while protecting him from the more sordid details as he looked on at her with rapt attention.
"No wonder Dad wanted to kick that scumbag's ass." He angrily breathed. "If you'd told me sooner, I'd do too. The Jackass!"
"Jason!" Marissa exclaimed.
"What?" he defiantly muttered. "I would."
"No, you wouldn't." she stated angrily. "There are going to be no more fights. We've been over this once; we've been over this a hundred times. No fights."
"Fine!" he glared. They stood like that, both in deadlock, her angry at him and him staring mutinously at her. It irritated her that he would be so pigheaded about this. Boys… why didn't they understand there was more to life than fights. Her gaze once again glanced at Seejay through the clear panes of the doors. He hadn't moved from his position yet, and the only way anyone could know that time had elapsed, was if you noticed that his head had come up a little bit and he was now staring at something clutched tightly in his hands. He just looked so lost. She never wanted Jason to feel that way.
"Mom, I've got to hand it to you." He said after a long moment, lightening the mood. "You lived one hell of a crazy teenage life."
"You could say that again." She bitterly laughed. "But, we never expected our past to come and bite us in the butt like that."
"Please dont say 'butt'", he teased.
"Sorry." She blushed, looking at him sheepishly. "never again."
The time had gone by so quickly that she hadn't realised how late it was. The balmy evening had turned to a starry night. The gentle breeze ruffled and the shining and shimmering pool glittered against the moonlight. She would soon have to go inside, make sure that Grace was up and ready for dinner. And Ryan would be home any moment now.
"So what's going to happen to Seejay?" Jason piped softly from beside her. "I mean, his dad is dead now… and I don't think he has anywhere left to go."
"He can stay here for a while," she truthfully answered. "Just until we can figure out what to do. I haven't even spoken to your dad yet. And Ryan isn't going to be too happy with Seejay."
"But Seejay isn't like that." Jason forcefully whispered. "He could never do what that bastard… sorry for the language… did to you."
The young were the innocent, she thought. They always believed everything at face value and they never judged. "We don't know what happened or how involved Seejay was."
"No. I am sure of it," Jason rejoined. "I have seen him... spoken to him… I know him. He could never do that."
She turned to look at him, look at his trusting, innocent, clear blue eyes. She wanted to assure him in the same breath that she wanted to warn. He had never truly faced a crisis before, never had someone betray him, and had never seen the cruel side of life. She wanted to holler at him 'look out', but at the same time she wanted to allow him to make his own mistakes and learn from them. The two contradictory emotions pulled at her. "I hope you are right. I really do, with all my fingers crossed. But until we know for sure, all we can do is wait… and hope that by bringing him here, I haven't done a terrible mistake."
…
Ryan dropped his keys on the foyer as he got out of his work jacket and loosened his tie. After a long day at work, he liked nothing better than to rid himself of his less than flattering attire. Although he donned the ensemble that was required for his position, he had never quite liked it. He was more of a T-shirt and jeans kind of a guy. The pants and the shirts and the ties always felt a little stifling to him. Thinking back to the time when he could wear just that, thinking back to the time when he worked construction, he grinned to himself. Who'd have thought that he would have gotten where he was now. Without Sandy...none of this would have been possible. He would still probably be working construction or even worse... in jail. And without Marissa... well... he would be just as lost. The last couple of weeks had been hard for them as a family. Something had not quite felt right. Marissa was not herself, Jason was unusually quiet and Grace had been dull. And, it was all because of... Oliver. A sigh of relief had escaped his lips when he had heard the news today. At least now, they could finally begin to move on.
And it was the weekend. Perfect.
Walking into their kitchen, a huge grin formed on his face, as he looked at the mother and daughter pair standing side be side with their backs to him. Marissa was chopping a salad for their dinner, while Grace was perched neatly on the kitchen counter, her blonde hair mingling with that of Marissa's, her ever roving, mischievous hands playing happily with Marissa's hair. Neither had noticed that he had entered, so he just decided to take his own fun and observe them unnoticed. On a closer look, that wasn't exactly what their daughter was doing. Strangely amused and seriously horrified at the extent of his daughter's larceny, he saw Grace sneakily pull the broccoli and the baby tomatoes out of the bowl that Marissa was putting in, and carefully apply Gel-O to them so that they would stick. Doubly making sure that her mom wasn't paying any attention to her, she slyly applied them on Marissa's long hair giggling at her mom's stupidity and her own handiwork.
Suppressing a chuckle at his daughter's devious games, he wondered whether he should alert Marissa to it. But, really, his daughter was doing for free what he would have paid her to do; i.e. get Marissa mad. He loved the way Marissa's eyes flashed when she got angry turning a deeper shade of blue, or the way her chest heaved with frustration when she screamed empty threats at their daughter, or the cute, puppy dog look she threw his way when Grace just wouldn't stop. Hell, he even liked the way she snuggled into him, needing the reassurance because she made Grace cry. Besides, he figured, mad Marissa equalled a horny Marissa. And he LOVED horny Marissa!
"Mommy, your hair looks pretty." Their daughter declared, when her handiwork was completed to her satisfaction.
"Umm, yah, okay…" Marissa muttered distractedly. So intent was she on the job in front of her that she didn't realise. "Honey, please stay away from the bowl. The edge is sharp. You could get hurt,"
"Okay Mommy," she giggled devilishly, her blonde curls bouncing around her round, plump face. "But, first you have to see your hair. So pretty…"
"My hair?" Marissa innocently asked, completely clueless and Ryan had to suppress another laugh. God, this was fun. "Umm, what's with my hair?" Involuntarily, her hand ran across the sticky mess and the moment it did, the entire caricature of sticky tomatoes and broccoli fell down with the thud and Marissa yelped in surprise.
"Grace Atwood… you sneaky little…"
"You really can't blame her." He laughed, as he entered the kitchen. Walking to her side, he ran his hand through the sticky mess of her hair and sexily grinned at her. "It looks like Cameron Diaz in 'there's some thing about Mary'" he gave her a completely and obviously lewd once over. "Really, very pretty."
Marissa rolled her eyes at him, annoyed. "Right!"
"No, Seriously," He teased, locking his arms across her waist as he pulled her in for a long, deep kiss, and then just… forgot to stop as he took her lips again and again and yet again. "Heady," he purred… "and addictive… and sexy as hell… and…" he moved softly against her neck. "and did I mention pretty?"
"Ryan…" she breathlessly laughed, forgetting why she was angry. Pulling away from him, she looked at him quizzically. "What's with the mood?"
"What? Can't I kiss my wife?" He naughtily challenged, cocking his eyebrows playfully up at her. "Besides, it's the weekend. Live a little."
There was no way she could resist that. Thankfully Grace interrupted them; otherwise she wasn't sure where this would lead. Wait, she was... with her flat on her back and a thousand dollar worth of kitchen appliances down on the floor.
"Daddy!" Grace squealed, running up at her father at full force the moment she realised he was there. Picking her up in one fluid motion, he twirled her around making her giggle. The moment he stopped, she scrambled up him like a monkey and sat pat on his shoulders. "Daddy, you're home." She happily sighed.
"Were you being naughty for your mommy?" He playfully asked.
"Maybe…" She bit her lower lip in the cutest way possible and pouted up at him, "Am I in trouble?" she didn't miss a trick in the book. She was such a little Marissa.
"Well that depends." He answered, blowing loud, wet raspberries against her soft belly. "Tickle trouble, that's for sure."
"No, Daddy, No." Giggling and screaming, she fought against Ryan's strong hands. "Daddy, please, It tickles… it tickles so bad."
Marissa leant against the kitchen counter as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. It looked like one of those Kodak moments that you wanted to capture but never could, unless they came out all natural. She sighed. He looked so happy. It seemed cruel to do this to him right now. But she knew she had no choice. She had to ell him what she had done. She had to tell him about Seejay. Seejay was staying in their poolhouse and she didn't want him accidentally running in on him. Now THAT would go down well.
"Grace, honey…" she regretfully called, finally breaking their moment. "Baby, why don't you see what your brother is up to? Daddy and I need to talk."
Frowning at her, Ryan brought Grace down and placed her on the floor.
"But, mommy, I want to play with daddy." Grace immediately whined, not willing to let her Daddy go just yet.
"Baby, please don't be difficult." Marissa ordered.
"But, Mommy…"
Ryan gently bent down till he was eye level with Grace and looked into her apprehensive eyes. "Baby, do what mommy says. I promise you we'll finish this later."
"You promise?" she cocked her head, meeting his eyes hopefully.
He smiled as he playfully touched the button of her nose with his fingertips. "I promise."
…
The easy grace with which he pulled open the fridge and drew out his favourite beer, the sweet way in which he helped her pick up the mess that Grace had made on the floor, the relaxed way he moved towards her before placing a sexy kiss on her shoulder when he leaned over her to pick up something from the counter, the casualway he rested against the kitchen table as he silently asked her what she wanted to talk about… was all lost, the moment she opened her mouth.
The easy grace with which he pulled open the fridge and drew out his favourite beer and took a long swig, the sweet way in which he helped her pick up the mess that Grace had made on the floor, the relaxed way he moved towards her before placing a sexy kiss on her shoulder when he leaned over her to pick up something form the counter, the casual way he rested against the kitchen table as he silently asked her what she wanted to talk about… was all lost, the moment she opened her mouth.
"You did WHAT?" Shock and incredulity rapidly replaced them as he blew up at her. "NO."
"Ryan, please…" She begged.
"NO." He hated to deny her like that. But there was just no way… NO. He still had trouble actually believing the words that he was hearing. He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up in frustration. "What the hell were you thinking, Marissa?"
"I wasn't, at least not at first." she bit her bottom lip guiltily. "But then, he came to my rescue in the prison, and you should have seen the guy, Ryan…" she implored. "He really shouldn't have been going up against that guy, but he did. And… well, they were going to kill him in there." She shrugged helplessly up at him, "What else was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to let it be." He angrily sighed, pacing the room from side to side. "You were not supposed to allow a guy who has already hurt this family... another shot at it. You were not supposed to give him another chance."
She scrutinised him for a moment as she looked at him pointedly. "When did you become so cynical, Ryan?" she silently asked.
"I've always been cynical." He balefully answered. It wasn't that he didn't understand her need to save someone. Hell, he understood that perfectly well. But this was Seejay they were talking about. Seejay, as in Oliver's son. And after all that had happened… No. "When did you become so sanctimonious?" he questioned.
"He didn't do it, Ryan," She softly whispered. "It was Oliver's fault."
"And you really believe that?" he incredulously looked at her.
"Yes."
"Well, I don't," he firmly argued. From experience he knew that it never worked that way. He also knew that Marissa had a penchant for trusting the wrong people. And, so what if at the start it had been him that had believed that Seejay was a good guy… And so what if he knew that he would be applauding her right now if it had been someone… anyone else that she brought home, and so what if... if in a small corner of his mind he actually admired her for having the guts and big heart to do what she had … well, SO WHAT! He wasn't taking the chance. "No, I don't believe it. Not with Oliver as his dad."
"Yes, Because we all know that that's what matters the most." She quietly retorted.
"And What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," she cruelly answered, "That you of all the people should know that it shouldn't matter who your parents are or where you come from."
He felt as if he had been slapped as he looked at her. After seventeen years of marriage, after three more years of being together, after knowing all that she knew about him, did she really think that he didn't get that? Was he being hypocritical in not giving Seejay a chance? Was he not upholding the standards that Sandy had set for him by not giving Seejay a chance? Was there even a modicum of truth to that?
His blue eyes locked with hers as he rolled his tongue across his lower lip and clenched his jaw against the emotions that he felt swirling in his mind. His constant need to do the right thing, his almost desperation to give back to the world the same chance that he had been given, warred painfully with his need to protect this family and make sure they suffered no harm. He felt spliced in two. Part of him rejoicing in the way Marissa had helped this hurt and lonely boy, and the other part horrified. If only it was someone… anyone except Seejay that Marissa had brought home…
"Do you know what I went through when I realised that you had been kidnapped?" his voice shook with rough with emotion. "Do you have any… any idea of the amount of fear and desperation I felt when I walked in on you bound and helpless at the mercy of that jerk?" he took a deep breath and looked at her. "He could have avoided that." He stated simply, poignantly, "If he would have come to me sooner. But he chose not to." He sighed, gruffly. "How I can I trust a guy after that?"
She had always been able to read Ryan easily, and she knew first hand how protective of her Ryan could get, but she wanted him, no... needed him to give Seejay a chance. She truly believed that she wasn't wrong and she truly believed that Ryan would regret it later on if he didn't. "I get it, okay." She softly whispered, holding tightly to his hands. "I get why you can't do that. And I know why you can't trust him. I am not even asking you to. I am asking you to trust me," She implored, looking up at him with soulful, glassy, wet, blue eyes. "I am asking you… no begging you to take a chance."
He was powerless to deny her when she was like that. "Fine!" he caved. "But as soon as the offices open on Monday, he goes out. And I don't care where…."
The fifth plate set on the dinner table was empty. Except for Grace creating her regular, dinner table ruckus and Jason interjecting one comment here and there, all was silent. They both barely looked at each other as they waited for the fifth chair to fill.
"Jason, could you go and check again?" Marissa asked, looking at the pool house doors.
"He said he is not hungry, mom."
"I'll go." Ryan interjected, as Marissa's surprised blue eyes flew up at him. This was no caring visit. This was no concerned hand. This was just a means of knowing what the hell Seejay was up to. "I just want to check him out."
They had never planned on using the Pool house; both knowing that it was built more for sentimental reasons than anything else. And then, when the size of their household grew, it had been Jason's first crib, then for some time a storage place, and later, Grace's playground. So it was decorated in that way… with pink sheets and neon lights and toys that glittered and scattered every which way.
He wondered if Marissa knew what it would do to him, walking up to this particular room like that. Wondered if some part of her had purposefully done that, knowing it would set him at a clear disadvantage. No matter. If he thought about it long enough, he would feel safer having Seejay outside rather than inside the house anyways.
The doors creaked open under his hands, and the blinds were drawn; the lamp, the only source of light, casting a dull glow on the lone occupant of the rusty room. He seemed not to have noticed his presence, seemed not to notice much of anything else as he sat at the very corner of the bed clutching something tightly in his hands. He looked frail and easily breakable as he stared at the contents with something close to desperation in his eyes. Ryan's eyes scanned across the room seeing NOTtheneon lights or the bright pink sheets or the glittery toys but instead he saw a different room, a different place, a different time… a different boy.
"Staring at it, wishing for it, won't make it come back."
It was as if his voice was a blast of ice cold water, so fast did Seejay stand up. Overwhelming fear and incredulity reflected in Seejay's voice, like he had just been woken up from a bad dream, like he wasn't quite sure of where he was or how he got there as he furiously looked to his surroundings and then towards Ryan. "Wh…whh…what?"
Indicating to the photograph in Seejay's hand, Ryan pointedly answered. "Staring at it… It never helps."
Immediately Seejay's eyes dropped down, as he bit his cheek and muttered in a small voice. "How would you know?"
"I've been there. I've done that." Ryan shrugged. "I know."
Seejay's eyes flew towards him, assessing the truth of his words and when he saw how clear they were, he believed that maybe there was truth in it after all. His lower lips trembled as he desperately tried to stem the tears that threatened to spill across his eyes. "It is the only photo of my dad I got."
Ryan sighed. He knewthat too. He had done the same thing with the photo of his father the first couple of times before, annoyed, Trey had snatched it away. Walking towards the cabinet where he knew that they kept the band aids and the disinfectants he pulled out a small bottle of Dettol. Picking at the cotton from one of the bags, he brought it to where Seejay absently sat. He seemed removed from his surroundings, removed from everything around him and Ryan had to grant, that even in his darkest hour, he had never been this broken.
He soaked the cotton in a generous amount of Dettol and sat down next to him. "Dab them there." He indicated at the various blue, purple and brown bruises littered across his face, neck and hands and handed him the cotton, figuring any kind of touch at this stage would only have him scampering back. "It helps."
Seejay's hands shook as he took them from him, and he stared at Ryan with confused eyes wondering why this man was helping, or even cared. When the first couple of attempts failed, Ryan pulled the cotton away and finished the job himself.
"I… I am sorry." Seejay brokenly whispered. It came out more like a tortured plea. "I... I… I didn't want to do it. I… I kept telling my dad. But he… I… he… and then he was pulling a gun and… well, you were there… and you had been so nice… and… and…" the tears spilled, fast and hard and watery. "And now he is dead."
There was just something too honest and too poignant in the words for Ryan to think that they were fake. There was something too raw and painful for him not to recognise the similarities there. He couldn't believe that he was going to utter the next words as he pressed his hands deep into Seejay's shoulders. "It wasn't your fault." Ryan sighed. From experience he knew no words of comfort ever helped. He had gone through this. He, if anyone, knew just how hard it was. He leant a little forwards and looked at the lost and lonely boy. Talking about those parts of his life was still difficult. Guessed would always be difficult. "If I tell you that I have been in this position… If I tell you that I have lost someone like that… would you believe it of me?"
"No."
"Well. I have." Ryan answered simply, staring hard into his blood shot eyes. "And trust me it gets better with time."
Seejay took deep, rattling breaths at the words. Again, and again, and again, and yet again. The voice that came out was breathy and barely audible, a conglomerate of facts and illusion as the two blended as they so often did. "You don't get it, Mr Atwood. I pushed the trigger." It cracked, till Ryan could barely make out the words and he realised that the guilt was completely focused inwards. "I wanted to pull the gun away. I… didn't want him to hurt anyone. But, I was the one who pushed the trigger. And I was the one who..." He hung his head down in shame and remorse and just a little bit of everything as if he was still clutching at the incomprehensible straws of his life. "And now everything is a mess."
"Well, not everything." Ryan found himself answering. Pointing towards the glow, coming through their dining room, where Marissa stood clutched to the window staring at them, with Grace on her shoulder and Jason standing beside her, he motioned towards himself. "You do have this one dinner left."
….