Three down one more to go
Once again we sit in Dr. Kim's office together with some teachers, including his history teacher. How I hate this man. If we would be alone I would tell him what I think he is. But unfortunately we aren't and I have to think of both my sons in first place and not my own satisfaction. We need to talk to her, about Ryan, about whom else? We can take him home this week. But he's still not able to attend school and the year is nearly over. He had missed several important tests and assignments. My wife and I both know where this is leading to and we need to find another solution.
"Well Mrs. and Mr. Cohen, I guess you already can imagine why we're here today." Dr. Kim starts.
"I'm afraid to say, but according to Ryan's absence and his not attendance at tests and assignments he'll have to repeat this year." And did you think of how to tell him that? This was what he tried to prevent. This was what he had been working so hard for.
"But the year isn't over yet, so isn't there any possibility he can catch up on the tests and assignments?" My wife asks.
"Usually yes, but as you told me your son won't attend school again in the foreseeable future, so I have no idea how this should work." This woman is ice cold. I ask myself whether she has kids her own.
"I think it's a good solution for all of us, if Ryan repeats this year. His achievements were far away from those of the last quarter. And promoting him to the next grade would only be more stress for him. He has to catch up all topics he had missed this year and this added to the next grades topics it's impossible. It'll only be frustrating for him, if we expose him to such a pressure." One of the teachers says. Smart ass. Did he think of the mental stress coming up to our son, if he has to repeat this year? He would give up and then?
"Mrs. and Mr. Cohen, I'm really sorry to say that, as I think that Ryan is quite an intelligent boy. But regarding to what has happened to him lately and his grades it's obvious that he's overtaxed and I think the best thing we can do is reducing the pressure on a minimum for him. He'll have time to recover from everything and can start from new next year." Ah, now she's even a psychologist. Nobody of them had bothered getting to know the boy otherwise none of them would talk like that.
"Sorry Dr. Kim, but I don't share your opinion in this. It'll only be another setback for him and I doubt he can handle this. If you take away the only chance he has left, he'll give up and I doubt he'll ever come back onto his feet again." They need to see how wrong this decision would be.
"Mr. Cohen, we can't take care of every student's little aliments." Another teacher says. Little aliment? I would like to know what he's thinking about Aids and cancer.
"And why not? As far as I know you've been able to consider Marissa Cooper's rotten family life. Ryan's story is nothing different. So why can't you consider this either."
"No different? Let us see, maybe we need to consider where Ryan comes from and where from Marissa. Maybe we need to consider who Ryan's parents are and who are Marissa's. Honestly it only had been a matter of time until Ryan shows that he's not capable of adapting to our standards. Maybe you should better think of sending him to a public school. I guess he fits better there than here." Dr. Bork. This fucking asshole of history teacher. My wife looks at me, but this time she can't stop me. We're paying so much money for this school. I don't need to listen to this.
"Who Ryan's parents are? You're telling us, we're such awful parents that Ryan doesn't deserve a chance? Then I have to consider it as wonder that my other son Seth is allowed to attend this school further on?" I start. This bastard of a teacher won't ever again talk like this about my son. He didn't grow up in the best area of California and his real parents weren't the best one could think about, but I won't allow anyone blaming the boy for it.
"Mr. Cohen you know what I mean, I was talking about his real parents, not his foster parents." If he only knew how deep the hole already is he's digging himself.
"We are his real parents." I only answer.
"Mr. Cohen this is not the right place for discussing emotional issues."
"Do you want to have a look onto the adoption papers?" My wife starts. We'll show him who Ryan's parents are and from where he comes from. He grew up in Chino, but it doesn't mean that he comes from there – no, not since he's living with us.
"What and…you really thought about this carefully? I mean this can have dangerous consequences." Dr. Bork starts to stammer.
"I think this is not the right place for emotional issues." I only answer and then he's quiet.
"Excuse if I interfere," Mrs. Turner starts. She's the last one I needed. "Ryan only won't be able to come to school. But he'll be able to do normal school work." What's her point?
"Yes." My wife answers.
"Well, why don't we give him homework and assignments he can solve at home and his…brother Seth can hand them in for him. Then we'll be able to see whether he still meets the demands and he'll be able to work for making this grade. Thus we're able to consider our standards and his – sorry for saying that – Ryan's current physical and mental state."
"For me this sounds like a fair solution. What do you think?" Dr. Kim asks.
"I don't see any problems. As I already have a plan for the rest of the year, it's not much more work to work something out for Ryan." His – I guess maths teacher – says.
"Do the others agree with it?" Dr. Kim asks. It's a load off my mind, when I see the other teachers agree as well – although Dr. Bork doesn't look too happy about this solution. But I don't care about this anyway.
"Mrs. and Mr. Cohen?" Dr. Kim asks as at the end.
"Of course, this would be great. I think it'll be good for Ryan to be able to work on his achievements." My wife answers and I agree. I'm sure it'll help Ryan, not to fall into a hole of depression. He takes chances, when he gets them.
One down, three more to go. Meaning: getting Ryan home, getting over with the funeral and making our son realize that a therapist might not be the worse solution of all. Am I glad when we're over with that and can start our peaceful and quiet family life again. We come home and our other son is already waiting for us.
"Hey, how did it go?" He asks us. I'm glad I neither have to tell him that Ryan has to go to another school, nor that they won't be in the same year – for now.
"Quite well. They give Ryan a chance to make it trough this year, although of his long absence." I answer him. I see the smile on his face, at least one who allows me to cheer him up.
"That's great and I'll promise everything in my brotherly power to help him making it through this year. I mean he had helped me once, now it's my turn."
"You're not going to do his homework. We've had this problem once. I don't want to have to watch you making your homework again." My wife answers.
"I never would do that." Oh yes, of course. Nobody of them. It's amazing to see their relationship growing. If one didn't know their story, one would think they're brothers.
"Besides, I don't want to panic or something, but tomorrow Ryan is coming home, right? And we want to go to his Dad's funeral, right? I mean, did you think how to get Ryan through that day? Despite an expectable exhaustion he might suffer from…well you know one of his usual I'm-a-screwed-up-kid-not-able-to-cope-with-my-emotions-outbursts and I don't think this is too good for his health." Even our son realized what was wrong. Wow. Why didn't Ryan too?
"Then it's our job, to hinder him from running." My wife says.
"Yeah…well, I don't know, but enchaining your kids, is that legal?" Although this is not funny at all, my son manages to lighten up the mood about this topic. Well, the natural and healthy Cohen sarcasm.
"I don't think this is necessary, considering his leg."
"Don't underestimate his will. Think about Dr. Xavier. He's hiding his mental power, but only with his will he can kill hundreds of people at one go."
"Seth, this is a comic." My wife answers. Will my son ever grow out of comics?
"But it basis on an actual event."
"Yes, which one." I ask him.
"Uh…right…I…forgot about it. But know what? I go and do some internet research." And with these words he's gone.
The next day comes a little too early for my taste. Not that I don't want to have my son home. But…well my other son had scared me a little and I don't feel prepared enough for another round of outbursts. I'm on my way to the hospital. When I enter his room Dr. Conrad is showing him how to put on the knee brace. It really looks smaller and…more comfortable than the former ones.
"Okay, no moving or weight on this leg and you should wear the braces all the time, despite when you take a shower or the knee is swollen, what might happen often the next week, but should get better afterwards. And then you know steadying and cooling. All right?" My son only nods. I see the wounds on his leg and get reminded of how much luck he must have had, when he get off the accident that lightly. I see how he struggles to put on his jeans.
"Need some help?" I ask. He looks at me. He hadn't noticed that I was there.
"Uh…no thanks." After a few more seconds he manages to pull it on, on his own.
"You should let him doing everything on his own, as far as he's capable of." The doctor tells me. He might be right, but it's hard to stick to this.
"Okay, I guess you can take him with you and I don't want to see him any sooner than in a year. Understood?" He asks me son, who again only nods.
"C'mon kid, let's leave this place." He's insecure in the use of his crutches. I put a hand on his back, to make him aware of that I'm there to help just in case. He doesn't seem to notice. He's too concentrated on holding the balance on his crutches. I help him to get into the car and there it is. He's sitting on the passenger side and I'm driving. Panic crawls up my spine. My head lives through the night again and again. I can't drive. What if something happens? I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. It's not raining, it's no long way home and it had been an accident that doesn't have to happen twice to me. When I open my eyes again, I calmed down a bit. I drive as carefully as I can. Not only because of my fear of another accident, but because every bump and bounce is hurting his leg. When pull up the driveway my wife's already waiting for us. I get out of the car. My wife is already there to help our son, but this is my job.
"C'mon kid, let me help you." He carefully gets out of the car and he doesn't even fight my help.
"Hey honey, how are you?" My wife takes him into a tough embrace. These crutches really have the advantage that the boy isn't able to flee from our help and love.
"Tired." He answers.
"C'mon, let's get you settled." She carefully puts and arm around his waist. These crutches aren't safe.
"Okay Ryan, as we thought it could be a little difficult for you to get up stair on these crutches, we allow you to go back into the pool house. But don't even think this is your opportunity to get rid of us, because if you don't come in here, we easily can come in there. We'll force you to be social with us and this is no joke." My wife declares when we enter the kitchen. Well, two down only two more to go.
"Declaration of war, uh?" Ryan asks shyly.
"Oh yes." I only answer.
"So do you want something to eat or to drink?" My wife asks him, challenging.
"Uh…thanks…but…can…can I just lie down a bit…be…before…you know what?" And no, he's not ready for it. This can be a long trip for today. I look at my wife and she nods.
"C'mon kid, let's get you to the pool house." And then we carefully head for the pool house. As soon as the boy lay down, he fell asleep. I sometimes think it's some kind of defence mechanism.
So worse I feel that I have to wake him up out of his protection two hours later.
"Hey kid, time to get up." I gently pet his shoulder and feel bones where used to be muscles before. He looks so young when he's sleeping.
"mmm." I start to get used to this answer as: I'm awake.
"Do you need any help to get ready?" He slowly sits up and looks at me. He looks like someone awaking from deep sleep.
"Help? Uh…yeah…uh no…thanks…but I should be capable to put on my cloths alone." He answers. He doesn't look too confident.
"Okay, you have thirty minutes." I tell him and then leave.
"How is he?" My wife asks. Worry in her eyes tells me that she isn't sure about the funeral.
"Dunno." I admit. Our first born comes down stairs, already dressed.
"Is Ryan awake?" He asks. Even his face is marked with concern.
"Yes."
"Then I go and see…if he needs any help." I could tell him what Ryan told me. But I don't want to stop him. Ryan probably appreciates his presence.
It doesn't take long and both our sons step in. Seth helping Ryan with the doors.
"I go get the car." My wife says.
"You're ready for this?" I ask him.
"Is it possible to be ready for your Dad's funeral?" He asks back and I know what he wants to tell me. He is far away from ready.
It's a quiet and honourable funeral. Soldiers carrying the caskets of their comrades, covered with our flag. The military procedure makes shivers run down my spine and I can't help but flinch inwardly when the procedural guns get shot. I watch my boy. He's watching it all motionless and empty eyed. The caskets were let into the graves.
"Sandy, can…can we go now?" He looks at me and…he had lost the shell of maturity? There's a blond kid standing in front of me – a tired one. I put my hands onto his shoulders. Again he flinches.
"Are you sure?" I don't want him to make decisions he might regret in a few years. He nods.
"Okay, let's go." I had promised him we go, when he wants to and he had stayed longer than I thought he would. I put an arm around his waist – tight. I have the feeling as if he brakes apart every second.
"Sir, you already want to leave?" A Sergeant asks us.
"Yes." Why does he care? They don't even care that they send fathers into death with such wars and now care why we leave?
"May I ask for a reason?" I look at my wife and our eldest son to tell them they should already go on and wait at the car for us.
"I can't stay these lies." My son answers.
"Pardon, I guess I don't understand." The Sergeant says.
"My Dad robs a gas station, because he saw no other way to maintain his family and you lock him up for ten years, only because there had been a fucking gun in his car. A gun he didn't even use then. But when he kills countless innocents with your guns in some irrational and unnecessary war, because even without Iraq being a democracy we're able to maintain our families, he's a hero. That's what I mean." My son says. He's not talking a lot. But when he is, his words have a lot of power and leaves even Sergeants speechless.