Bottling up is annoying

This morning is going to be everything else than joyful. Last night Ryan had made two steps back, after he had been able to make one forward. I can understand my husband. This boy is the first case he really has to fight for. This is a case he feels helpless towards. I'm sad too, about the fact he didn't let us in on his problem at school – in on his thoughts. My husband wanted to have this 'little' conversation alone with him. He hasn't figured yet that the boy is frightened and intimidated by him. How should he? No kid had been before and he doesn't intend to frighten him, but he does. I take a mug and pour coffee into it. He'll need it, when Sandy starts his lecture. I walk to the pool house. When I open the door I see he's still sleeping in the same position in which we have left him last night. This position tells me even in his sleep he's afraid of getting hurt. I put the mug onto on of the bed stands and then open the blinds. This doesn't wake him. I go to him, stroking through his hair. I know what he had done wasn't right, but last night we all have made several mistakes and I can't blame him for his.

"Hey Ryan, time to get up." I say to him, carefully.

"hmmm.", is all I get. He's awake.

"You should be awake, before Sandy comes." I warn him. I don't want him feeling defenceless. I know we have to act around Ryan very carefully and patient. My husband does either, but sometimes he just forgets about it. We both know the boy is hurt, we both want to help. Only Sandy is at his wit's end. All usual methods don't work with Ryan and realizing this is hard.

"Shit. Take a shower first?" He mumbles.

"Sure." I answer. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. He slowly crawls out of bed. He's hangover, I can see it. But he doesn't want me to notice. Thus I remain silent about it. He slowly grabs his cloths and disappears in the bathroom. It doesn't take long and my husband enters the pool house.

"Ready to rumble?" He asks me, before kissing me. This is only a joke, but in the moment I don't think it's funny. There a fundamental conflicts in our relationship to the boy and we need to solve them soon.

"Don't be too hard on him. We both know he only tries to satisfy us. Don't blame him only because it doesn't work." I try to calm him.

"But we need to explain him that he can…has to come to us, when he has problems at school and we need to explain him that he needs help and that this school thing is just an effect of something much bigger than school." I guess the boy already knows that. He just doesn't tell us. He doesn't have to cope with everything on his own, but he does. He still behaves like a guest who just doesn't want to bother us too much. I see him exiting the bathroom. He's not wearing a t-shirt, thus his back exposes some huge scars I haven't seen before – scars he'll never tell us, where they come from.

"Sorry." He excuses for not being fully dressed and then immediately pulls over one of the white t-shirts. By means of the fading stains on it, I figure it is the one t-shirt I wanted him to chuck away. This is the symbol of all his suffering and I can't imagine he likes wearing it. He's inflicting pain to himself this way. Voluntarily or just by accident? I can't tell. I only feel the urge to rip it off and burn it. I don't want him wearing it anymore.

"Ryan, we need to talk, about last night." My husband, who had taken place in one of the basket-chairs, starts. Ryan slowly goes to the bed and sits down – with sufficient safe distance.

"I'm sorry for jumping on things like that. I should have waited for an explanation." Ryan's expression on his face is defensive and sceptical. He tries to figure whether to trust these words or not.

"I can understand you were angry about it. I would have been either. But getting drunk of frustration is no solution and I thought you have gotten rid of this habit." He starts to become agitated and I see Ryan is making more distance between my husband and him.

"Sorry." He only whispers. There is no self-confidence in his behaviour. It's nothing but fear and defence and if he starts acting like a brat I know it's because he's afraid of getting hurt. He wants to show us: you can't hurt me. Worse of all is to notice that we can hurt him easily with one wrong word, with one gesture. He's so fragile and everyday is a fight for keeping him in one piece.

"Ryan, sorry isn't what I wanna hear. I wanna hear that you have problems at school, what they are and that before I'm faced with the results." Now he's speaking very vigorously. Ryan's focusing the floor, his eyes rapidly pacing around - being prepared.

"We're here for you to talk to us, about anything. You're no longer only a guest…but our son. You're our responsibility and we don't want them to take you away again, only because they think we can't handle you. Ryan, you need to meet us somewhere on this way. We want to help you. That's what we are there for. But we can't read your mind. You have to come to us and talk. You should be smart enough to understand this." Ryan remains silent. Not moving. I doubt he's even breathing.

"Ryan, can't you say something about this?" My husband encourages him.

"I screwed up, what else to be said?" I sigh. When he doesn't fight back, he takes the whole blame.

"This is not what we wanna hear. I want to know what's the problem with you history teacher, for example."

"Hell, do I know?" Now he's in rage and I look at my husband, trying to tell him he needs to be careful right now.

"He came in one day and told me I shouldn't expect any kind of…pity and that he won't make it too easy for me. That's it. I haven't even said something to him then. He just hates me for some damn reason." A few months before he would have used the word 'fuck' in this sentence. A few months before, he wouldn't have told us. My heart jumps a little, because this means he starts to trust us. There is this one step forward again.

"And what about the other classes?" My husband asks on. He shrugs his shoulders.

"Ryan?"

"Dunno. I really work like hell, but…doesn't work. Just too dumb, I guess." Now he's whispering again. He feels uncomfortable. But he gives us some truths. He lets us in into his inner world. This is only a little piece, but it's a lot for now. My husband looks at me and I see in his eyes, he's feeling the same.

"Did you ever come to the conclusion that this might be the result of something else?" Sandy asks on.

"Maybe…a public school is a better place for me." At least he didn't deny that there was something wrong. Maybe last night wasn't as bad.

"No Ryan. You were such a good student in the first quarter. I can't imagine you turned from smart into dumb that fast." I notice what my husband wants to say. This is definitely a sore point.

"Did you ever think you might be overstrained? Coping with your mother's and brother's loss, trying to adapt to a whole new world. This is too hard for you on your own." I watch Ryan clenching his jaw. Sandy is close to the edge of a new fight – too close.

"I…dunno…but what had happened … doesn't excuse…everything." Ryan admits he had understood. He only doesn't want to accept the fact that his past is bothering him badly.

"Ryan, this is no excuse. It's an explanation. It's a little hard to get a head around this report after the first quarter went so well. Ryan, you got a scholarship and you made it without any help." I start to intervene. I see that he needs help and with every passing day it'll be harder to help. He's getting drowned in his problems and doesn't even realize. He's so focused on satisfying and not bothering the others, he doesn't notice he's unable to cope with everything on his own.

"Ryan, you have to adapt to a whole new environment. You have to handle Harbor High. You have to cope with a lot of shit of your past. This is a fight at three fronts and you…haven't even managed to win one of these fights. This is impossible. You need to solve this step by step." My husband starts to explain Ryan what his problem is.

"I know, I pretty screwed up this time and I'm really sorry for it. But this doesn't make my whole life a problem." Ryan answers. He doesn't see what we do.

"It is Ryan!" My husband now yells. This was what I wanted to prevent. Ryan's body language tells me, he close to run again. He's tetchy.

"No. It's not your whole life. But it's obvious that some things of your past are bothering you and as long as you haven't solved this problem, you can't solve the other ones." I step in to calm both my men down.

"Mum?" My son disturbs our conversation.

"Seth, can't you wait a minute?" I call back.

"Uh…no…this is…important…really. There's someone at the phone who really wants to talk to you."

"Tell him I call later." I don't want to leave Ryan now. This here was too important.

"Uh…Mum…this is really, really important." I sigh. "Sorry." I say and then go into the kitchen. Well done. Now Ryan will have the feeling as if everything else was more important to me, than his well being. I pick up the phone

"Kirsten Cohen?"

"Mrs. Cohen?…Hello…my…my name is Frank Atwood. I'm…Ryan's father…" My heart drops. I never had counted on this.

"Yes…uh…nice to hear from you." I answer unsure what to say.

"Well, might…might I talk to my son?" This is quite a bad time. But I can't say no. He's the only family member the boy has left.

"Yes…o…okay." I answer take the phone and go to the pool house.

"Ryan, it's for you." I say. He looks at me questioning. But I can't tell him more. I'm too busy to order my feelings. What if he hurts Ryan? The boy already was hurt enough by his family. He doesn't need his father to do so either. What does this man want? As far as I'm in the know Ryan hasn't been in contact with his father for ten years. This was a long time. I watch the boy. He looks confused and has no idea what to say. He only mumbles something I can't understand. He comes back and hands the phone to my husband and then leaves. The expression on his face says: pain. I don't know what to do now? Shell I go with him? He probably wouldn't like it. I still remember the appointment at the orthopaedist. He has had trouble with his knee for too long and I only wanted to be sure it wasn't something serious. Thus I had made the appointment. He wasn't too happy about it. His knee was only very bad bruised and I was relieved to hear that. But since then I know, I better leave him alone when there are problems. It's not right, especially not now. But what shell I do? I don't want him to draw even further away from us. When my husband's finished he switches off the phone.

"He's out. He wants to meet us and…Ryan." He says. Oh no. This was even worse as I thought it was.

"He will take Ryan away from us, will he?" I ask. This thought hurts. Things aren't easy with Ryan, but I can't lose him. He's a part of me, as my son and my husband are. And no matter if he understands or not, I love him like that.

"Maybe. But…first of all we have to see whether Ryan wants to and if his father is capable to care for him." My husband wants to take my pain away. But he can't.

"I…can't give him away. Sandy, no matter how difficult things are and how hard he pushes us – me – away, he's my boy. I don't give it to some kind of man who decides after ten years that he has a son." The frustration speaks out of me. It was the first time we had a real conversation with Ryan. A conversation in which he started to open up to us. He was ready to meet us somewhere on this way. This was more than we have achieved last months. And now I'm afraid his father might destroy this progress. I go into the main house. Seth and Ryan a playing video games – as if nothing had happened.

"And…how do you feel about this…phone call?" I hear my son ask.

"Dunno."

"Well, just as an info, this whole not talking and all bottling up behaviour might be cool in Chino, but here it's just annoying."

"I think about it."