Ficlet - The O.C. - Guilty Conscience - Chapter 3 (Trey/Seth)
Title: Guilty Conscience
Author: Jewel21
Rating: Hard R for sexual situations
Show: The O.C.
Genre: Angst/Slash
Pairing: Seth/Trey
Type: WIP
Summary: An unforeseeable event sends Trey and Seth back to Orange County.
A/N: This story contains slash. If you are offended by such pairings, please don't read. This story also follows after my series ‘Guilty Pleasures.’ I would suggest reading that first to better understand this story. That fic is as follows: Guilty Pleasures, Seth Knows, Stolen Moments, Risky Games, Confrontations and The Commencement
Special thanks goes out to my betas, scarlet and black_london.
Oh, and reviews are very much appreciated. Seriously, they are like crack to me. Please don’t deny me my fix ;)
________________________________________________________________________
Disclaimer: I don't own The OC. It belongs to a bunch of people I don't know and Fox.
Chapter 3
It was Seth who woke him up. The sensation of hands running lightly through his hair and along his jaw, before finally settling on his arm, roused Trey from another dreamless sleep. Seeing Seth sitting on the edge of the bed, sporting a major bad case of bed-head, he had almost forgotten about the previous night’s events. But within seconds it had all come rushing back to him. The phone call, his mother, Ryan and looking around he had realized he wasn’t in the tiny apartment he shared with Seth but in the Cohen mansion.
“Hey,” Seth said softly, dropping his hand from Trey’s shoulder as he sat up in bed.
“Hey,” Trey said, his voice rough with sleep.
“My mom wanted me to wake you. She said you and Ryan need to leave in about forty minutes for the funeral home,” Seth continued gently and Trey felt his pulse quicken at Seth’s words.
“Okay,” he said tonelessly, as he threw back the covers.
Seth was still sitting there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands clasped together in his lap. Grabbing the back of his neck, his fingers tangling in the soft curls resting there, Trey drew Seth forward. His lips lightly brushed against Seth’s temple and he could feel the tension slowly start to leave Seth’s body. Seconds later, he was up and heading to the bathroom, Seth still sitting where he’d left him.
***
When he’d emerged from the shower, Seth was gone and he’d quickly gotten dressed before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Ryan was already there eating a bagel, along with Kirsten, and he reached for one himself before joining them. Seth and Sandy were no where to be found and Kirsten informed him that Sandy had to go to the office and Seth had joined him for the day, much to his surprise and disappointment.
Breakfast was awkward at best, neither he nor Ryan in the mood to talk, both content to focus all their energy on picking at their breakfast rather than on conversing. Ryan looked rough and tired, the creases on his forehead more pronounced, his skin pale and Trey frowned but didn’t say anything.
The drive to the funeral home didn’t take very long, and Trey hesitated a little before getting out of the car. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him and he returned his gaze until Ryan finally looked away. If Kirsten could sense the tension between them, she never said anything, and Trey followed her inside, Ryan trailing behind.
The funeral director wasn’t nearly as creepy as Trey thought he would be, and while he had been really dreading this part, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had imagined. There would be a small viewing tomorrow morning, closed coffin, and directly afterwards their mother would be cremated. Trey honestly didn’t see the point of even having a viewing; it wasn’t as though anyone would show up other than him and Ryan and probably the Cohens. His mother didn’t have any siblings and his grandparents had died before he was born. And he couldn’t recall if his mother even had any friends. Or at least none that she had bothered to keep in touch with over the years. It just seemed like a waste of money, especially with Kirsten and Sandy footing the majority of the costs. He and Ryan both had some money saved up, and they insisted on paying for what they could afford, the service being much more modest than the Cohens were probably used to. Or anyone in Orange Country, really.
By the time they had left the funeral home and bought new suits, something Trey had completely forgotten about until Kirsten had brought it up, it was early afternoon and Trey was exhausted and looking forward to just going home and maybe playing a video game or something. Anything to distract himself for a few hours. They’d stopped off for lunch first, some sort of fancy restaurant that made Trey feel like everyone was staring at him, and he was only able to relax once they were back in the car and on their way home.
Kirsten led them into the house before informing both Ryan and himself that she had to go to the office for a few hours but she would be back in time for dinner. Once she had gone, Trey plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote control. Seth and Sandy were still gone and he turned on the TV in the hope of finding a movie or something that would distract him until they came back. Ryan was still lingering by the door and Trey craned his neck back to see him.
“Playstation 3?” he asked, shrugging when Ryan shook his head.
“I’m kinda tired. I think I’m just going to head to the pool house. But I’ll see you at dinner,” Ryan said and Trey nodded before turning back to the TV as Ryan let himself out.
Sitting in the Cohens living room though, Trey’s thoughts kept drifting back to that of his mother. It was weird knowing that come tomorrow she would be nothing more than a pile of ash, and the thought made him feel queasy. He still hated the idea of cremation, but it was what she wanted and he wasn’t going to deny his mother her dying wish just because the thought of it freaked him the hell out.
Antsy, he turned off the television and headed to the kitchen. The house was deathly quiet and Trey found it unnerving. There was something he had been thinking about doing ever since Ryan had told him about their mother’s passing, but he kept putting it off. But with the funeral tomorrow he felt like he couldn’t avoid it any longer. The only problem was he didn’t have a car.
He could see the pool house from the kitchen and he hesitated before opening the French doors and walking the short distance to the pool house. The shades were drawn but the door was unlocked and Trey quietly let himself inside. The lights were closed but there was enough natural light that Trey could see Ryan asleep under the covers. Ryan’s keys were by the door and he picked them up as he watched his brother sleep. Torn, he looked down and turned them over and over in his hands.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked and Trey jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice.
Ryan was sitting up in bed, hair mused, as he watched him suspiciously.
“I think we should see dad,” Trey said after a moment’s hesitation and he watched as Ryan’s face registered shock at his suggestion. “I don’t know if anyone told him about mom, I don’t even know if he would care,” Trey said quietly, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “But I still think he has a right to know.”
Ryan didn’t say anything right away, but Trey could see a multitude of different emotions wash over his brother’s face as he weighed his words.
“Okay, give me two minutes,” Ryan said finally. Pushing back the sheets pooled in his lap, he reached for his jeans and headed toward the bathroom.
Trey started pacing the room, feeling anxious, and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake. He hadn’t seen his father in years, not since he’d been arrested for armed robbery, and he wasn’t sure how he would react to hearing the news. His father had always been an ass. Cold, abusive and prone to anger, Trey seriously doubted he had changed over the years. If anything, he worried that his father might actually be meaner, what with him being locked behind bars for so long.
“Trey?” Ryan asked, having emerged from the bathroom when he wasn’t looking, and Trey stopped in mid-pace at the sound of his voice.
He could see the concern in his brother’s face but he ignored it, hefting the keys in his hands before throwing them to Ryan. “You drive,” he said before turning and walking out the door. He didn’t wait to see if Ryan would follow.
***
Neither of them spoke much the length of the car ride. Trey was more than happy to stare out the window at the passing scenery rather than engage Ryan in any form of conversation. And Ryan seemed content to the do the same, both lost in their own thoughts.
The closer they got to Lompoc though, the more jittery Trey felt. Part of him wanted to tell Ryan to turn the car around, pissed at himself for even involving his brother. Not because he felt that Ryan didn’t deserve to see their father, but because if he hadn’t invited Ryan along, he could have just turned the car around himself and no one would be the wiser.
The prison was huge, composed of concrete and brick with a razor wire fence, and it reminded Trey way too much of Chino and his own time behind bars. His father was in the "high-security" area of the federal facility and he couldn’t imagine being surrounded by such hard-core criminals for so many years. When he was in Chino he’d been lucky enough to land in the “medium-security” area, where he had been surrounded by less violent criminals than the rapists, murderers and other long-term inmates that his father was currently housed with and he’d still had his fair share of run-ins.
It took awhile for them to get their parking pass and visitor badges. There was paperwork to sign, and then they were led down a long grey corridor before finally arriving at the visitors’ area. The room was rectangular in shape, a row of chairs and tables on either side of the thick glass partition that separated inmate from visitor. The guard directed them where to go and then left without another word. Approaching the area the guard had motioned to, Trey could see his father already seated and he faltered slightly before resuming his pace.
His father looked old. And smaller than Trey remembered. Not that Frank Atwood was a tiny man, but for some reason Trey remembered him being so much larger than the man sitting before him now. And he looked tired too. The kind of tired that came from being locked away behind bars for far too long.
And then his father was fixing his eyes on him and Ryan, and he could see the confusion there before the recognition kicked in. There was surprise too, and happiness, and Trey stumbled once more, forcing himself to keep moving with he felt Ryan’s hand on his shoulder.
He could feel the pressure slowly staring to built up in his head again, right behind his eyes, as he sat down across from his father. Clenching his jaw, he reached for the phone, watching silently as his father did the same. There were handcuffs around his wrists, they gleamed under the florescent lighting, and Trey watched the light bounce off of them before directing his gaze to his father’s face.
“Trey,” his father said before breaking into a tentative smile and Trey inhaled deeply before speaking.
“Dad,” he acknowledged, his tongue tripping a little over the word. He lapsed into silence, unsure of how to proceed but after several moments his father continued speaking.
“You look good. You boys got big,” his father said, pride in his voice and Trey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I was hoping you’d come and visit your old man one day,” he continued. “So what are you boys up to these days? Are you both still in school or are you working now?”
“Um, we’re good. Ryan’s at Berkeley actually and I’m working at a garage up in Rhode Island,” Trey said after a beat, feeling Ryan shift behind him at the mention of his name. Trey looked up and saw Ryan’s faint reflection in the glass separating them from their father. Ryan looked as uncomfortable as Trey felt. Somehow, the knowledge that his brother was just as freaked out as he was made Trey feel a little better.
“That’s great, boys. So Rhode Island, huh? What brings you back to California then? Vacation?” his father asked.
“No, not vacation. It’s mom actually,” Trey said before pausing. He didn’t know how to tell his father the news, and sitting across from him, he couldn’t help thinking how difficult it must have been for Ryan to tell him about their mother.
“What about your mother? Is she all right?” Frank Atwood asked, all trace of happiness now wiped from his face.
“No, she’s not okay,” Trey said. He sought out Ryan’s reflection again in the glass before speaking. “She died, dad. She’d been drinking and she ran a light and hit another car. The other driver was okay, but mom died,” Trey continued, the words now pouring out of him. “The funeral is tomorrow and we just, we wanted you to know,” Trey said before halting to an abrupt stop.
He watched in silence as a myriad of different emotions washed over his father’s face. Shock, regret, and ultimately grief.
“You’re mother and I weren’t close after the divorce but I never--” his father started to say before stopping. “Was it quick at least? Was she in any pain?”
“She was dead before the paramedics even got there,” Trey said tonelessly as he repeated the words that Ryan had spoken when he had asked him the very same question.
“God, what a fuckin’ tragedy. What a waste,” his father said and Trey tensed at his words. “She always had a drinking problem, you know? Since you kids were small. She used to hide her wine in coffee mugs and little juice cups. I would find them all over the house when I’d come home,” his dad continued and Trey squelched the urge to ask his father how he could possibly know considering he was never fucking around, too busy shacking up with whatever whore he was cheating with that week. “I told her so many times to get help,” his father said, anger causing his voice to rise.
His father’s words pissed him off, and Trey had to bite the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, so as to not remind his father that he was the very reason his mother had started drinking in the first place. Years of abuse, both physical and emotional at the hands of their father had caused her to seek refuge at the bottom of a bottle.
Trey wanted desperately to yell at his father. For years he had felt rage whenever he thought of his dad. He used to stay awake at night sometimes practicing all the things he would say to him if he ever got the opportunity. And now, sitting in front of him, hearing him rant about his dead mother, the urge to finally unleash all that rage that he had bottled up over the years was overwhelming. But now wasn’t the time or place and he didn’t want to cause a scene in a room full of people. Rising, he wordlessly thrust the phone in Ryan’s hand before storming out of the room.
***
When he finally emerged from the jail it was as though he had been submerged underwater and was just now breaking the surface. The sun was bright and searing overhead, and he blinked in pain at the sudden harshness. He’d felt claustrophobic sitting in that room across from his father. Every sound, from the guards and visitors talking, to the jangling of the handcuffs around his father’s wrists had made him feel like he was back in Chino and only now, out in the safety of the parking lot, did he feel like he could actually breathe.
He was shaking and he didn’t know if it was a result of seeing his father, or if it was a result of being back in prison -- even if he had been on the other side of the bars this time around. All he knew was that he felt nauseous and strung-out and he wanted nothing more than to go home and pop a few Tylenol before crawling into bed.
He didn’t know what his father had said after he left but when Ryan finally emerged from the prison he looked just as enraged as Trey felt. His brother’s lips were stretched thin with anger and his eyes were hard, his fists clenched by his side. Wordlessly, Ryan unlocked the car and climbed in the driver’s seat.
“Do you want to talk about it,” Trey asked when he got in the car and shut the door.
Ryan exhaled sharply before jabbing the key in the ignition. “I don’t get him,” Ryan said finally, his voice laden with emotion. “One minute he seemed so upset, tears in his eyes, and then the next he was ranting and laying blame on everyone but himself and it was -- I didn’t know what to say. He kept going on about how we should have looked out for her more, kept a better eye on her and it made me mad but… maybe he’s right. Maybe we should have watched out for her more. Been around more. Maybe it would have made a difference,” Ryan said as he turned to face him.
Ryan’s eyes were too bright and Trey hesitated before speaking.
“Dad’s an ass,” he said finally, his voice like steel. “Mom was the way she was because of him. Because of how he treated her over the years. We were just little kids when mom started drinking, Ry. We were too young to do anything about it. And even after they got divorced, she was still messed up. God, every relationship she ever had was with one loser after another. They were all abusive dicks who liked to drink just as much as she did,” Trey continued. “Even if we had been around more, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Hell Ryan, how many times were we there and either she was never home, or too busy shacking up with her latest boyfriend to give us the time of day,” Trey said, his voice a mixture of anger and bitterness.
Ryan didn’t say anything but Trey could tell he was listening closely and he took a deep breath before continuing.
“Mom was broken,” Trey said quietly. “She was broken for a long time and nothing you or I could have done would have changed that. Dad’s just feeling guilty and he’s trying to lay some of that guilt on us. Well, fuck him, Ryan. Because you know what? Thinking of all the things we could have done differently isn’t going to change what happened. ”
Ryan was still, his forehead doing that creasing thing again, and Trey watched as he took a deep breath and composed himself.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said finally but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. Turning the key, he started the car and pressed down on the gas.
Moments later they were back out on the highway, both once more lost in thought.
Author: Jewel21
Rating: Hard R for sexual situations
Show: The O.C.
Genre: Angst/Slash
Pairing: Seth/Trey
Type: WIP
Summary: An unforeseeable event sends Trey and Seth back to Orange County.
A/N: This story contains slash. If you are offended by such pairings, please don't read. This story also follows after my series ‘Guilty Pleasures.’ I would suggest reading that first to better understand this story. That fic is as follows: Guilty Pleasures, Seth Knows, Stolen Moments, Risky Games, Confrontations and The Commencement
Special thanks goes out to my betas, scarlet and black_london.
Oh, and reviews are very much appreciated. Seriously, they are like crack to me. Please don’t deny me my fix ;)
________________________________________________________________________
Disclaimer: I don't own The OC. It belongs to a bunch of people I don't know and Fox.
Chapter 3
It was Seth who woke him up. The sensation of hands running lightly through his hair and along his jaw, before finally settling on his arm, roused Trey from another dreamless sleep. Seeing Seth sitting on the edge of the bed, sporting a major bad case of bed-head, he had almost forgotten about the previous night’s events. But within seconds it had all come rushing back to him. The phone call, his mother, Ryan and looking around he had realized he wasn’t in the tiny apartment he shared with Seth but in the Cohen mansion.
“Hey,” Seth said softly, dropping his hand from Trey’s shoulder as he sat up in bed.
“Hey,” Trey said, his voice rough with sleep.
“My mom wanted me to wake you. She said you and Ryan need to leave in about forty minutes for the funeral home,” Seth continued gently and Trey felt his pulse quicken at Seth’s words.
“Okay,” he said tonelessly, as he threw back the covers.
Seth was still sitting there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands clasped together in his lap. Grabbing the back of his neck, his fingers tangling in the soft curls resting there, Trey drew Seth forward. His lips lightly brushed against Seth’s temple and he could feel the tension slowly start to leave Seth’s body. Seconds later, he was up and heading to the bathroom, Seth still sitting where he’d left him.
***
When he’d emerged from the shower, Seth was gone and he’d quickly gotten dressed before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Ryan was already there eating a bagel, along with Kirsten, and he reached for one himself before joining them. Seth and Sandy were no where to be found and Kirsten informed him that Sandy had to go to the office and Seth had joined him for the day, much to his surprise and disappointment.
Breakfast was awkward at best, neither he nor Ryan in the mood to talk, both content to focus all their energy on picking at their breakfast rather than on conversing. Ryan looked rough and tired, the creases on his forehead more pronounced, his skin pale and Trey frowned but didn’t say anything.
The drive to the funeral home didn’t take very long, and Trey hesitated a little before getting out of the car. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him and he returned his gaze until Ryan finally looked away. If Kirsten could sense the tension between them, she never said anything, and Trey followed her inside, Ryan trailing behind.
The funeral director wasn’t nearly as creepy as Trey thought he would be, and while he had been really dreading this part, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had imagined. There would be a small viewing tomorrow morning, closed coffin, and directly afterwards their mother would be cremated. Trey honestly didn’t see the point of even having a viewing; it wasn’t as though anyone would show up other than him and Ryan and probably the Cohens. His mother didn’t have any siblings and his grandparents had died before he was born. And he couldn’t recall if his mother even had any friends. Or at least none that she had bothered to keep in touch with over the years. It just seemed like a waste of money, especially with Kirsten and Sandy footing the majority of the costs. He and Ryan both had some money saved up, and they insisted on paying for what they could afford, the service being much more modest than the Cohens were probably used to. Or anyone in Orange Country, really.
By the time they had left the funeral home and bought new suits, something Trey had completely forgotten about until Kirsten had brought it up, it was early afternoon and Trey was exhausted and looking forward to just going home and maybe playing a video game or something. Anything to distract himself for a few hours. They’d stopped off for lunch first, some sort of fancy restaurant that made Trey feel like everyone was staring at him, and he was only able to relax once they were back in the car and on their way home.
Kirsten led them into the house before informing both Ryan and himself that she had to go to the office for a few hours but she would be back in time for dinner. Once she had gone, Trey plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote control. Seth and Sandy were still gone and he turned on the TV in the hope of finding a movie or something that would distract him until they came back. Ryan was still lingering by the door and Trey craned his neck back to see him.
“Playstation 3?” he asked, shrugging when Ryan shook his head.
“I’m kinda tired. I think I’m just going to head to the pool house. But I’ll see you at dinner,” Ryan said and Trey nodded before turning back to the TV as Ryan let himself out.
Sitting in the Cohens living room though, Trey’s thoughts kept drifting back to that of his mother. It was weird knowing that come tomorrow she would be nothing more than a pile of ash, and the thought made him feel queasy. He still hated the idea of cremation, but it was what she wanted and he wasn’t going to deny his mother her dying wish just because the thought of it freaked him the hell out.
Antsy, he turned off the television and headed to the kitchen. The house was deathly quiet and Trey found it unnerving. There was something he had been thinking about doing ever since Ryan had told him about their mother’s passing, but he kept putting it off. But with the funeral tomorrow he felt like he couldn’t avoid it any longer. The only problem was he didn’t have a car.
He could see the pool house from the kitchen and he hesitated before opening the French doors and walking the short distance to the pool house. The shades were drawn but the door was unlocked and Trey quietly let himself inside. The lights were closed but there was enough natural light that Trey could see Ryan asleep under the covers. Ryan’s keys were by the door and he picked them up as he watched his brother sleep. Torn, he looked down and turned them over and over in his hands.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked and Trey jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice.
Ryan was sitting up in bed, hair mused, as he watched him suspiciously.
“I think we should see dad,” Trey said after a moment’s hesitation and he watched as Ryan’s face registered shock at his suggestion. “I don’t know if anyone told him about mom, I don’t even know if he would care,” Trey said quietly, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “But I still think he has a right to know.”
Ryan didn’t say anything right away, but Trey could see a multitude of different emotions wash over his brother’s face as he weighed his words.
“Okay, give me two minutes,” Ryan said finally. Pushing back the sheets pooled in his lap, he reached for his jeans and headed toward the bathroom.
Trey started pacing the room, feeling anxious, and he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake. He hadn’t seen his father in years, not since he’d been arrested for armed robbery, and he wasn’t sure how he would react to hearing the news. His father had always been an ass. Cold, abusive and prone to anger, Trey seriously doubted he had changed over the years. If anything, he worried that his father might actually be meaner, what with him being locked behind bars for so long.
“Trey?” Ryan asked, having emerged from the bathroom when he wasn’t looking, and Trey stopped in mid-pace at the sound of his voice.
He could see the concern in his brother’s face but he ignored it, hefting the keys in his hands before throwing them to Ryan. “You drive,” he said before turning and walking out the door. He didn’t wait to see if Ryan would follow.
***
Neither of them spoke much the length of the car ride. Trey was more than happy to stare out the window at the passing scenery rather than engage Ryan in any form of conversation. And Ryan seemed content to the do the same, both lost in their own thoughts.
The closer they got to Lompoc though, the more jittery Trey felt. Part of him wanted to tell Ryan to turn the car around, pissed at himself for even involving his brother. Not because he felt that Ryan didn’t deserve to see their father, but because if he hadn’t invited Ryan along, he could have just turned the car around himself and no one would be the wiser.
The prison was huge, composed of concrete and brick with a razor wire fence, and it reminded Trey way too much of Chino and his own time behind bars. His father was in the "high-security" area of the federal facility and he couldn’t imagine being surrounded by such hard-core criminals for so many years. When he was in Chino he’d been lucky enough to land in the “medium-security” area, where he had been surrounded by less violent criminals than the rapists, murderers and other long-term inmates that his father was currently housed with and he’d still had his fair share of run-ins.
It took awhile for them to get their parking pass and visitor badges. There was paperwork to sign, and then they were led down a long grey corridor before finally arriving at the visitors’ area. The room was rectangular in shape, a row of chairs and tables on either side of the thick glass partition that separated inmate from visitor. The guard directed them where to go and then left without another word. Approaching the area the guard had motioned to, Trey could see his father already seated and he faltered slightly before resuming his pace.
His father looked old. And smaller than Trey remembered. Not that Frank Atwood was a tiny man, but for some reason Trey remembered him being so much larger than the man sitting before him now. And he looked tired too. The kind of tired that came from being locked away behind bars for far too long.
And then his father was fixing his eyes on him and Ryan, and he could see the confusion there before the recognition kicked in. There was surprise too, and happiness, and Trey stumbled once more, forcing himself to keep moving with he felt Ryan’s hand on his shoulder.
He could feel the pressure slowly staring to built up in his head again, right behind his eyes, as he sat down across from his father. Clenching his jaw, he reached for the phone, watching silently as his father did the same. There were handcuffs around his wrists, they gleamed under the florescent lighting, and Trey watched the light bounce off of them before directing his gaze to his father’s face.
“Trey,” his father said before breaking into a tentative smile and Trey inhaled deeply before speaking.
“Dad,” he acknowledged, his tongue tripping a little over the word. He lapsed into silence, unsure of how to proceed but after several moments his father continued speaking.
“You look good. You boys got big,” his father said, pride in his voice and Trey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I was hoping you’d come and visit your old man one day,” he continued. “So what are you boys up to these days? Are you both still in school or are you working now?”
“Um, we’re good. Ryan’s at Berkeley actually and I’m working at a garage up in Rhode Island,” Trey said after a beat, feeling Ryan shift behind him at the mention of his name. Trey looked up and saw Ryan’s faint reflection in the glass separating them from their father. Ryan looked as uncomfortable as Trey felt. Somehow, the knowledge that his brother was just as freaked out as he was made Trey feel a little better.
“That’s great, boys. So Rhode Island, huh? What brings you back to California then? Vacation?” his father asked.
“No, not vacation. It’s mom actually,” Trey said before pausing. He didn’t know how to tell his father the news, and sitting across from him, he couldn’t help thinking how difficult it must have been for Ryan to tell him about their mother.
“What about your mother? Is she all right?” Frank Atwood asked, all trace of happiness now wiped from his face.
“No, she’s not okay,” Trey said. He sought out Ryan’s reflection again in the glass before speaking. “She died, dad. She’d been drinking and she ran a light and hit another car. The other driver was okay, but mom died,” Trey continued, the words now pouring out of him. “The funeral is tomorrow and we just, we wanted you to know,” Trey said before halting to an abrupt stop.
He watched in silence as a myriad of different emotions washed over his father’s face. Shock, regret, and ultimately grief.
“You’re mother and I weren’t close after the divorce but I never--” his father started to say before stopping. “Was it quick at least? Was she in any pain?”
“She was dead before the paramedics even got there,” Trey said tonelessly as he repeated the words that Ryan had spoken when he had asked him the very same question.
“God, what a fuckin’ tragedy. What a waste,” his father said and Trey tensed at his words. “She always had a drinking problem, you know? Since you kids were small. She used to hide her wine in coffee mugs and little juice cups. I would find them all over the house when I’d come home,” his dad continued and Trey squelched the urge to ask his father how he could possibly know considering he was never fucking around, too busy shacking up with whatever whore he was cheating with that week. “I told her so many times to get help,” his father said, anger causing his voice to rise.
His father’s words pissed him off, and Trey had to bite the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, so as to not remind his father that he was the very reason his mother had started drinking in the first place. Years of abuse, both physical and emotional at the hands of their father had caused her to seek refuge at the bottom of a bottle.
Trey wanted desperately to yell at his father. For years he had felt rage whenever he thought of his dad. He used to stay awake at night sometimes practicing all the things he would say to him if he ever got the opportunity. And now, sitting in front of him, hearing him rant about his dead mother, the urge to finally unleash all that rage that he had bottled up over the years was overwhelming. But now wasn’t the time or place and he didn’t want to cause a scene in a room full of people. Rising, he wordlessly thrust the phone in Ryan’s hand before storming out of the room.
***
When he finally emerged from the jail it was as though he had been submerged underwater and was just now breaking the surface. The sun was bright and searing overhead, and he blinked in pain at the sudden harshness. He’d felt claustrophobic sitting in that room across from his father. Every sound, from the guards and visitors talking, to the jangling of the handcuffs around his father’s wrists had made him feel like he was back in Chino and only now, out in the safety of the parking lot, did he feel like he could actually breathe.
He was shaking and he didn’t know if it was a result of seeing his father, or if it was a result of being back in prison -- even if he had been on the other side of the bars this time around. All he knew was that he felt nauseous and strung-out and he wanted nothing more than to go home and pop a few Tylenol before crawling into bed.
He didn’t know what his father had said after he left but when Ryan finally emerged from the prison he looked just as enraged as Trey felt. His brother’s lips were stretched thin with anger and his eyes were hard, his fists clenched by his side. Wordlessly, Ryan unlocked the car and climbed in the driver’s seat.
“Do you want to talk about it,” Trey asked when he got in the car and shut the door.
Ryan exhaled sharply before jabbing the key in the ignition. “I don’t get him,” Ryan said finally, his voice laden with emotion. “One minute he seemed so upset, tears in his eyes, and then the next he was ranting and laying blame on everyone but himself and it was -- I didn’t know what to say. He kept going on about how we should have looked out for her more, kept a better eye on her and it made me mad but… maybe he’s right. Maybe we should have watched out for her more. Been around more. Maybe it would have made a difference,” Ryan said as he turned to face him.
Ryan’s eyes were too bright and Trey hesitated before speaking.
“Dad’s an ass,” he said finally, his voice like steel. “Mom was the way she was because of him. Because of how he treated her over the years. We were just little kids when mom started drinking, Ry. We were too young to do anything about it. And even after they got divorced, she was still messed up. God, every relationship she ever had was with one loser after another. They were all abusive dicks who liked to drink just as much as she did,” Trey continued. “Even if we had been around more, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Hell Ryan, how many times were we there and either she was never home, or too busy shacking up with her latest boyfriend to give us the time of day,” Trey said, his voice a mixture of anger and bitterness.
Ryan didn’t say anything but Trey could tell he was listening closely and he took a deep breath before continuing.
“Mom was broken,” Trey said quietly. “She was broken for a long time and nothing you or I could have done would have changed that. Dad’s just feeling guilty and he’s trying to lay some of that guilt on us. Well, fuck him, Ryan. Because you know what? Thinking of all the things we could have done differently isn’t going to change what happened. ”
Ryan was still, his forehead doing that creasing thing again, and Trey watched as he took a deep breath and composed himself.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said finally but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. Turning the key, he started the car and pressed down on the gas.
Moments later they were back out on the highway, both once more lost in thought.