A/N.: Thanks to my Beta ParisAmy and thanks for all those nice reviews. Hope you'll enjoy this!
2. Change – Some things change, my feelings for him didn't
I put my son's laundry back into the shelves. I have to do something. Yes, I'm still working at the office, but my Dad had changed his mind. He doesn't allow me to work more than everyone else. I guess he'd been shocked when he found out what was wrong with me and I'm grateful he intervened. He'd been there for me and still is. He's there for me and my family. When I was in rehab he has been the one keeping things at home upright. He spent his days sailing with my son, showing him how to cook and do a fantastic barbecue. He went to the movies with him and allowed his grandson to introduce him into the world of comics. He finally became the Grandpa for my son I wished he could have been for so long. But better late than never and he had become a father to me. I can rely on him. I can talk about everything to him and he had left his prejudices behind. He became somehow soft, leaving the rough shell of business man at his office. He still conducts his business with a strong and rough hand, but when he's at home with us, he's another man. He even started having dinner with us every evening. It's a good feeling having him around that much. It really means something to me – he means something to me. We find the time to talk. We've sorted things out, beginning in the time of my childhood without a Dad, to his way of dealing with Mom's death. He visited me every day in rehab and he never left me alone. He gave me the feeling of finally having a Dad who cares about me, explaining that he always had been there, though not physically, but in his mind and he's visibly sorry that it hadn't been enough. He even made peace with my husband, but there is one secret he never talks about. I know there's something, but he refuses to tell me. I asked him once, why he had stood in the kitchen that one morning and turned all our lives upside down. Until today he never answered it. I know there must have been a trigger, but he won't allow me to find out. Tonight my Dad will cook for all of us in our kitchen and yes, I'm really looking forward to. I have a real family again, a …no…not a whole one. One part is missing and it hurts not knowing where this part is and how he feels. The day I came home from rehab, I hadn't expected him to jump for joy. I've been nasty enough to him for giving me the silent treatment for decades. I don't even want him to forgive me for what I've said to him. But he was gone and that had hurt more than every kind of ignorance he'd been able to impose on me. I sit down on my son's bed, starting to remember the time when Ryan was still with us, memories, which aren't so nice.
"Kirsten I guess, you've had enough of it for today." He said and took the bottle away from me.
"Who the fuck are you to tell me when it's enough and when not, huh?" I screamed at him. I had lost temper at the slightest occasions and usually – always –hit him. He was the punching bag for my aggressions which he the reason wasn't for.
"Nobody, I know. I'm only worried." He always stayed calm. He never flipped or screamed back at me. He swallowed it all - no matter what I said to him. He took all of it and stood still, solid as a rock. I still admire him for his never ending patience.
"Nobody and that's still too much. You're fucking Chino scum. Your mother didn't even want you – not even your own mother wanted you around, so why the hell would I want to have you, huh?" I hysterically screamed at him. I feel so embarrassed when I think back to this behaviour. He didn't deserve it. He had done everything to make the whole situation easier for all us and I said all those hurtful things to him, as if they didn't mean a shit to him.
"You shouldn't want me, but now I'm there." He answered quietly. If I'd been sober, I might have heard the sadness and hurt in his voice, but I nearly had one bottle of vodka in me and it hasn't even been noon. I slapped his face in frustration.
"No back talk, do you get that!" I screamed, grabbed the bottle and disappeared. It was him, rubbing my back and holding my hair back together when the alcohol had taken its toll.
"Shh…you'll be better soon." He said. When my stomach became calm again he'd given me a glass of warm water. Then I passed out and when I woke up I lay in my bed, tucked in. It must have been him, bringing me to bed. I can't imagine anyone else. He used to clean up after my puking. He did everything not to let people from the outside notice what was wrong in our household. He'd done everything for us and given us everything he had.
When I came home from rehab, I entered the pool house. I had prepared myself for this step. I had to talk to him about this. I had to tell him that I was wrong and that I loved him – like a son and that I was grateful for his help and his composure; but the pool house had was empty and deserted. His cloths were still there – all cloths I had bought for him where neatly folded together in their shelves, but the life was gone. I checked the pool house, although you could detect everything at one view. He'd been gone and this reality hit me like a rock. I went back into the house.
"Sandy, where's Ryan?" I asked my husband. Why hadn't he said anything? I mean…one of our sons had left, and he sat there drinking his morning coffee as if nothing had changed.
"I don't know. The day your father came here, he was gone." He only answered, some tone of indifference swinging in his voice, but lay the newspaper aside, which made me relax about the tone again.
"And why didn't you tell me?" I asked him.
"I…thought it might be a little too much for you. I didn't want you to worry." He answered plainly, as if it would worry me any less now where I was home and felt the urge to embrace my family.
"Do you care that he's gone?" I asked him. I had a curious feeling about this. He didn't even look concerned about Ryan's absence. In fact he was way too calm for the fact that one of our sons had left the house.
"I do, but I can't change it. He didn't talk to me, nor do I know where he went." He replied. I couldn't believe the sound of his voice. It was impossible this could have been the man who brought Ryan home to us in first place. All the enthusiasm about having the boy as part of our family had vanished, as if it had never existed before.
"Did you search for him? Call the police? Hell, Sandy, what if something has happened to him? What if he's hurt and alone? Maybe he needs help?" I've been frustrated. This behaviour my husband confronted me with was upsetting me.
"Sorry, I couldn't." He whispered and then I detected a path of guilt in his voice, a feeling I didn't know was part of Sandy's emotional costume.
"Why? Sandy, what had happened between you and him?" I asked him.
"Yes Dad, tell her how often you've slapped his face after he told you that Mom needs help." My son stepped into the kitchen. I looked startled at him. I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Or tell her about the dinner incident, when Ryan cleared the table and accidentally dropped a glass." My son went on.
"Sorry." My husband said, guilt washing all over his face, before he disappeared.
"Okay, then you'll tell me what's going on here."
"Sorry I can't. This is Dad's mess and I'm reluctant to sweep up the pieces he had caused."
And that had it been. I still don't know what has happened, despite that my husband slapped his face, something I can't forgive him for. We were driving the strict no physical punishment policy and I saw no reason for breaching it. Despite that I can imagine that Ryan has had enough beatings in his life. He didn't need my husband doing so either. I can't even imagine what this must have caused in side of the boy. He had trusted us. And then first I turn out to be an alcoholic bitch like his mother and my husband as a violent asshole like his mother's boyfriends. I can understand that he left, but I miss him. I so badly want to explain to him what had caused my breakdown. I want to tell him that I didn't mean what I said to him and that I love him. There is so much I have to say to him. I never can. I don't know where he is, or whether he's well or not. That's the worse part. Not knowing, whether he's well. I'll never forgive myself if he was suffering and nobody was there to help him. Well, there are so many things I'll never forgive myself for. I have to let him go. I don't know why I hadn't searched for him. Maybe because it's hopeless. He's a smart boy. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be found. I don't even know if he's still in this state or this country. I take a deep breath. I miss him. His lopsided smiles when he doesn't know how to handle any kind of parental affection; his big blue eyes telling you everything, no matter how tough he tries to seem; his loyalty you can always rely on, no matter how hard you've been on him. I miss him. I want to get up, but my hand touches something…an envelope. I have a look. The handwriting is awful. Does Seth have a pen friend? I don't think so, despite that he's much too old for this. I look at the return address. Boston. Whom does he know in Boston? I have no clue. I get up and hear something dropping onto the floor. A letter. I put it back on the bed, but a quick look makes me hesitate. Did I read a 'Ryan'? I know I shouldn't read my son's mails, but…if this is about him? What…I don't care. I unfold the letter and start to read.
Dear Seth,
I know we don't know each other. I'm Ryan's brother Trey. You might find it strange that I write you a letter instead of Ryan. I have to, because I know Ryan would never write this letter to you. As I guess you know him pretty good and that he'll never would show anyone if he doesn't feel well. I write to you, as I think you're his best friend. He's talking about you a lot and only in good manners. After this letter it's up to you, whether Ryan means as much to you as you mean to him.
The reason for my letter is easy. Ryan's sick, really sick. I don't know how long he can hang on. I don't know, whether he'll make it. I only know that he has to work like an ox for the treatments and for keeping his scholarship. He's fading with every day more. They call it Leukaemia. I call it hell. He needs someone who can take care of him and find him a donor otherwise he won't make it. I beg you pleas to help him. As Ryan is talking about you, you seem to be quite a smart guy so please help us to find a solution. I can't help him any further and I don't know whether Ryan can help himself.
Best regards,
Trey Atwood
My heart is pounding heavy in my chest. I wanted a sign so badly, but not this. Oh my God. And… My head goes blank and I only feel deep sadness. He's sick and he has nobody who can take care of him. He's all alone in such a situation, even his brother doesn't want to be there for him – at least that's what the tenor of the letter says.
"Seth!" I call my son. I have to talk to him about this. My son comes upstairs. He sees the letter in my hand.
"Mom…you can't read my mail! It's private!" He announces me and in every other case he would've been right, but under these circumstances I can't be bothered by his right of privacy.
"Yes? I don't think that this is only your business. When did you think to tell one of us?" I ask him. I have trouble to stay calm. My lost son…is somewhere, seriously sick with nobody who can take care of him.
"I…I don't know, but honestly I can't ask Dad, after what had happened between the both of them I'm pretty much sure that Dad is the last person Ryan wants to have around and…and you didn't seem to care a lot, when you found out that Ryan was gone." He says. His voice is cold and steely and I ask myself since when my son can be that ice cold. This must be the Nichols genes, because he can't have that from my husband.
"Seth! How can you say that? Of course I cared and I was…sad and still am that he's gone." I justify my actions. We oughtn't to fight. This here was too serious as if we have time to fight about negligibility. We need to act now and not only after a few days. Leukaemia…Ryan…this…
"Seth, do you even understand what this means? Ryan is seriously sick and he needs our help."
"Shit Mom, I know that!" He screams at me. He became more mature, but with the maturity he found his temper.
"Seth! What's wrong with you? Why do you freak out like that?" I ask him.
"It's…because…we're writing each other e-mails…everyday…but he never only once mentioned that he doesn't feel well. It's always the same. I'm fine and then only how I am." He says and sits down next to me. One news after another.
"You've stayed in contact after he left and you didn't see any necessity to tell me – or us?" I ask him.
"I…he told me not to. Mom, he was hurt, badly hurt. He'd…he'd done so much for me…he stayed although he wanted to leave and he let me stay overnight when I couldn't bear it in this house anymore. He has been there for me and helped me. I…couldn't break his trust in this." He explains to me. I put a reassuring hand onto my son's shoulder.
"Do…you think you can allow me to help?" I ask him. He's the only one who still knows Ryan. He's the only one who can tell me which step is the right one.
"I…don't know. I only know that I don't want to involve Dad in this…but I also don't know what to do. I mean…this…is huge…right?" He asks and looks into my eyes. There was sadness all over his face.
"Yes, it is." He nods. "Seth, let me take care of this…let us both take care of this. Right now Ryan needs a lot of help and…I don't want you to get…I don't want you to handle this, because this is nothing you could or should handle. Not in your age." I tell him. I want to keep him away from this, although I think he might be my only device to get through to Ryan. I notice that both of my boys were too young for what I have put them through. They are both too young for the life experiences they already have and I don't need to add another experience to Seth's still growing bundle of experiences. I'm afraid one day he might not be able to tell the good from the bad ones.
"I don't know…I mean, after your Mum and…" My son starts. I see the concern in his eyes. He had become so awfully mature during the short time since he had been at college that I feel the urge to make him a kid again.
"Don't worry about that. Right now it's only about Ryan and how…to…" I can't talk. The thought of meeting Ryan again mixed with the thought how this might end and how this might have ended if we hadn't known about any of this start to rebel and tears stream down my face.
"You really missed him." Seth says and takes me into his arms. It should be the other way round. But I'm thankful for him being there. I get reminded of my mother's sickness and how awful she perished. I don't want to watch Ryan like this. He's supposed to be the strong boy. I can't even think about him…like that. I can't watch my son dying, but I also can't turn my back and not care. He's still my son, no matter whether I did give birth to him or not and I don't care that I haven't seen him for more than a year now. I can't watch him die, thus I only can help him to get through to this. I have to. This is my job as a Mom and I am his fucking Mom and I don't care what anybody else says! I'll push him through this, oh no, he's not going to do what my Mom had done to me. I won't allow him.
"Can…can I ask you something?" My son asks when my tears run dry and I have won my composure back. I nod.
"The…the fact that he…has this thing…"
"Leukaemia." I say. We need to face the facts. It's no help if we hide and pretend as if the reality doesn't exist. We have to start to deal with it as soon as possible. Ignorance only leads to conflicts. I have witnessed how ignoring the facts had destroyed my family. I won't let it happen this time.
"I mean…that doesn't mean that he'll die, or? I mean there's a chance that he'll survive, right?"
"Yes, but it depends on how his shape is. Sweetie, I don't want to scare you, but it may well be that this letter already comes too late." The bloody truth. I can't lie to him to protect him. He's too old for that. He doesn't need to be protected that way. In addition to that it'll be the best for us that we get used to this idea as soon as possible. Nothing hurts more then destroyed hopes.
"So we should hope that we aren't too late?" He asks.
"Yes." Is all I can say before I take him into my arms. I know he's already an old man, but I can't resist this.
My Dad comes by early in the evening. It's always a pleasure when he enters the house. It's like a new wave of good mood comes by and that's what I – we, Seth and I – need right now. I wait until my Dad disappears in the kitchen. Then I can be sure he'll be alone or we'll be alone. My husband only enters the kitchen for breakfast and anything else cooked by his hand his barbecued. I enter the kitchen and watch his experienced hands preparing the dinner.
"Dad," I say to get his attention, and he looks at me. My expression must be enough to tell him that it is serious. He lays the knife aside.
"What's wrong Kiki?" He asks me.
"I need a few days off at the office." I tell him.
"And that's it?" He asks me. I don't want to tell him. I'm afraid if I tell him it might ruin our relationship. It's harsh to think, but I don't want anything else coming between him and me again. He's a big support for me and I fear when he leaves me again I break down under all the pressure.
"You know that you can talk to me about everything, right?" He asks me. I'm not sure, whether I can talk to him about this topic. He never liked Ryan and never tried to hide his distrust towards him.
"I…" I start. He takes my hand and guides me to the kitchen table. We sit down across from each other. I take a deep breath. Now it's the moment in which it's shown how good our relationship really is; or whether it only had been some kind of charade.
"Seth received a letter from Ryan…or better from his brother about Ryan." I say. Now it's out. I'm waiting for a reaction: the vein at his temple pulsing, his jaw clenching, something like that, something I can tell that he's angry.
"Really? I thought today everything is going via e-mail." Huh? I look at him. Something is wrong with this man. I can't hide my astonishment. I didn't count on that reaction.
"Don't look at me like that." My father says. How am I supposed to look?
"Well, I have to, because I was prepared for one of your harangues about how bad the boy is." I answer honestly.
"I've changed my mind."
"Why? And when?"
"It's a long story. So how is the boy?" He asks and I'm more and more astonished and curious. What went on between the two of them I didn't notice? What long story do they share?
"He…He's not good. He has leukaemia." I tell him and he nods to show me to go on. "Actually his brother wrote a letter, telling Seth how bad Ryan is and that he needs help. I guess the treatments are too expensive…he has to work to pay for them…I don't know. It's…he and Seth stayed in contact and in all the e-mails Seth received he never mentioned anything about it."
"And now you want to go and help him." My father concludes.
"Yes, I mean I have to. I…it sounds stupid, but I still feel like his mother." I admit to him. I see a concerned and worried expression on his face. I hadn't count on this reaction. This man really had changed and it surprises me every day.
"You should go and help him. Go to Boston and try to get him here. You know that he can get the best treatment here. And if he needs anything else, let me know."
"First of all I want to know where my father is and what happened to his body and second, the letter states something about the necessity of a donor, probably bone marrow." I say. I'm glad to have my father's support in this. I know I won't have Sandy's. I can't ask him to. I don't know what had happened between them, thus I need to trust my son, but I'm scared. My father had changed awfully and I don't know why. And how the heck does he know that Ryan lives in Boston? Did I mention it? Probably. Or did Seth tell him? I can't imagine, because we all had been afraid of his tirades.
"I'll see what I can arrange. You're flying tomorrow?" He asks me.
"I think so." He gets up and takes me into a strong hug.
"We'll push him through to this, I promise. We can help him." He says and pecks the top of my head.
We. I never had expected this 'we' in any case involving Ryan. Something has changed. A lot has changed. Not everything had become better, but some things have and that's better than nothing.
A/N.: I think you need to know that I don't own a medical degree. I am only a law student, who got involved in the question of the legality of nuclear power plants in respct to the potential risks of escaping radiation from the final storage. That's why I got to read a lot about cancer, espcially leukaemia, because it's said - but in the case I'm concerned with not yet proved - that these are side effects of escaping radiation from final storages. This is part of environmental law and thus I'm reading a lot reports and artciles, but I'm not capable of distinguishing when people are just exaggerating, because they want the government placing the final storage somewhere else, and I also don't garantuee that I understood all articles I read so far. But if you want to tell me anything about this topic or when I've made a mistake, let me know =) Otherwise I hope you can accept my amateurish descriptions.