The O.C. Fic: Move On (3/6)
Title: Move On
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / Hiatus (1-2)
Words: 6495
Spoilers: Season One
Disclaimer/ The O.C. is property of Fox.
Schmoopy Dedication / Note: With much gratitude to my beta, translator and friend demonic_cookie. This chapter is a monster, in every sense except the literal. It's quite possibly two chapters in disguise. A lame excuse for taking over a month to update, but there you have it. There's nothing like watching the last five episodes of The O.C. back to back to inspire fanfic.
Summary: Ryan's in Chino, Seth's gone travelling and Kirsten's had just about enough from both of them.
~~~
"Life is a sum of all your choices."
Albert Camus
~~~
When Seth awoke, the embers of the fire had faded to ash and charred wood and Maia had gone. Groggily, he rolled over and pulled his battered sleeping bag close around him, squinting in the hazy early morning light as he brushed a few grains of sand away from his face. Looking at the now empty space next to him, Seth smiled as he saw Maia had traced a parting message in the sand, signing her name with a collection of pebbles and shells from the beach and charcoal from the fire. It was just the kind of thing he'd expected her to do; bohemian, sort of romantic and utterly pointless. A year ago when Seth had been planning his trip, before his dad had brought Ryan home with him thus extending his social life beyond plastic horses to three-dimensional people his own age, a quixotic farewell note from a enigmatic girl had been the exactly the kind of scenario he'd fantasized about. Except that the enigma would have been Summer and the note would have been next to a pile of clothes and told him that she was in the ocean and waiting for him to join her. But things were different now.
Over the last year, he'd thought that his fantasies had come true and in a way they had. But as their time together had gone on, Seth had begun to find being with Summer more and more stressful, not because he'd didn’t enjoy every second of he was in her company, but because he was so terrified of it ending, of being alone again. When Ryan had left, the cracks had been beginning to show. The thought of potentially spending another summer alone, surrounded by memories of everything he'd lost had been too hideous to contemplate. So he'd sabotaged it, leaving before the cracks had spread and shattered his world. Unlike the solitude that awaited him back home in Newport, the solitude of the past two months had been elective. Seth hoped that Summer would understand why he left, even forgive him, but truthfully, all he wanted was to be enough for her to make her happy. Whether or not that meant being her boyfriend, her friend or staying out of her life altogether would be up to her.
~~~
A few hours later, Ryan and Sandy pulled into the Cohens' driveway. Before Sandy had even switched off the engine, the front door had opened and Kirsten stepped out to greet them.
"She has spies everywhere," Sandy joked to Ryan as he pulled the keys out of the ignition.
Ryan smiled in return as he got out of the car, taking a mental deep breath as he grabbed his duffel bag and headed over to her.
"Hey," he said to Kirsten, shifting his weight between his feet awkwardly.
"Hey," Kirsten replied, before pulling him into an inevitable hug, feeling both relieved and surprised when he not only let her, but even returned it.
"You look tired," she said, letting him go and examining him at arm's length.
"I'm okay."
"You had breakfast? I got in extra bagels. A whole mix."
"Chocolate chip?"
"Of course."
"Sounds good to me," said Ryan as he followed her into the house and through to the kitchen.
As well as buying bagels, Kirsten had clearly stocked up on enough oranges to sustain California's fruit industry for a month. A pot of coffee brewed on the stove. It was all so carefully thought out to be welcoming, Ryan couldn’t help but reminded of the first time he'd arrived at the Cohens' over a year ago. There was the same inherent air of kindness and unease in the room and his insides squirmed with embarrassment.
"Wow, this looks great," he said, cursing inwardly at his bumbling.
"Well, you know how I love to cook," Kirsten teased, smiling gratefully, "I made up your bed for you, why don't you go drop off your things and I'll get us some breakfast."
"Okay," said Ryan uncertainly, before nervously adding, "Uh, where am I? Upstairs or in the poolhouse?"
Kirsten's smile faded, "The poolhouse. Unless, you'd rather be in the house, which is fine if you want to be, I just thought-" Kirsten stopped and took a logical breath, "Wherever you want to be, we want you to be."
"The poolhouse is great," he replied honestly, "It'll be nice to sleep in my old room again."
"It's still your room, Ryan. It always will be."
Not knowing how to properly respond to Kirsten's heartfelt words, Ryan looked down at his feet. "Thanks," he muttered, relieved as Sandy joined them in the kitchen, breaking the tension.
"Wow, am I starved," he said cheerily, pretending to be completely oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere pervading the kitchen.
"I'm just going to…" said Ryan, hitching a thumb towards the poolhouse, trying to blow over the moment.
"Okay," replied Kirsten softly, offering a small smile to him. She waited until he'd left before sighing quietly, "God, this is awful. He's worse than ever."
"I know," replied Sandy, echoing his wife's sigh as he came around the island and slipped his arms around her. "But we knew this wasn't going to be easy. What Ryan's going through right now, it's not just about us."
"I know," snapped Kirsten, "It's also about Seth. And Theresa. And the baby he may or not be the father of."
"Okay, so stating the obvious, I know. But trust me," Sandy said, rubbing Kirsten's arm soothingly, "Ryan needs this."
"Was he this quiet on the ride over?"
Sandy's silence spoke volumes.
"Quieter?" she asked incredulously, already knowing the answer.
"Well, you know Ryan," Sandy said defensively, "Not big on the small talk or the early mornings."
"It's just like last year all over again. Next comes the fighting, the running away and if we're really lucky, jail."
"Hey, come on. Things are not that bad, nowhere near. Ryan's a different person than he was then, he just needs a little time to loosen up a bit, that's all."
"I just want this weekend to be special," said Kirsten, turning round and resting her head on Sandy's shoulder, "For all of us."
"I know," said Sandy, breathing in the scent of her hair, seeking for reassurance even as he offered it, "Me too."
~~~
Two hours later, Ryan sat on the beach looking out at the ocean, trying fervently to remember why it was exactly that he'd given this up. The quiet, the privacy, the wide-open space; it was hard to believe sometimes that this was only an hour away from Chino and all its delights.
"Is this a private brooding session or can anyone join in?"
Ryan turned to see Summer standing behind him, the soft-toned pink lipstick that highlighted her smile perfectly matching the color of her oddly un-Summer-like floaty pink sundress and the polish on her fingers and toes.
"Hey, Summer," Ryan greeted her warmly, before standing up and pulling her into a hug, "It's good to see you."
"What's with the hugging?" teased Summer as she returned the embrace, "I thought guys from the 'hood only did lame manly back slapping."
"For you I make an exception," Ryan said as they sat down on the sand, "You look good."
"So do you."
"You sound surprised," Ryan teased amiably.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean-"
"- It's okay," Ryan reassured her.
"It's just, you look kind of burly again. You been working out or something?"
"Or something. Construction."
"Oh. Well, that's cool," said Summer lamely. Ryan raised an eyebrow at her, "Okay, so it sucks, but at least it saves on going to the gym, right?"
Ryan laughed at Summer's attempts at tact, "Right."
"So, I heard it's your birthday," she said kicking off her flip-flops and pushing her toes into the sand.
"Oh, is that what you heard?
"Uh-huh," she said, reaching inside her matching petite purse, fishing out a small, carefully wrapped gift and held it out to Ryan, "All the best people have summer birthdays."
"So I hear," said smiling as he accepted it gratefully from her, "Thanks, Summer. You know you didn’t have to."
"And deny myself a chance to shop? Oh, please. I'll have you know I single-handedly uphold the ditz with the credit card stereotype; people are counting on me."
"Glad I could be of service," Ryan grinned, peeling back the silver paper to reveal a small jewelry box. Unsure and a little apprehensive of what he might find within, Ryan cracked it open to reveal a detailed thin gold metal disc no bigger than the size of a penny on a slender chain.
"It's a Saint Christopher medal," Summer said, embarrassed, as Ryan held it up look at it more closely, "It's supposed to be for protection, or good luck or to help lost souls, I can't remember which. One of those, anyway. I know, it's dorky."
"No, it's not," Ryan said hurriedly, closing the box and leaning over to give Summer a peck on the cheek, "It's great. Thanks, Summer."
"Well, I figured since you're living in the axis of evil now you could probably do with a little extra help," she teased, pleased as Ryan put the necklace on and slipped it under his shirt.
"I live in Chino, Summer, not Chechnya," Ryan shot back, pretending to scold her, smiling to himself as he remembered Seth saying almost the exact same thing to him close to a year ago.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you're doing okay, right? You and Theresa? 'Cause you look good," she said again, as if trying to convince herself.
"Yeah, I'm good, so's Theresa. The baby's fine. It's all still kind of weird, but good."
"Well, that's good," Summer replied, debating whether or not to pursue the conversation further, despite Ryan's increasingly closed body language.
"Yeah," Ryan jumped in purposely, before she got the chance to probe deeper, "But what about you? You okay, Summer?"
"Why, are you going to save me too now?"
"Excuse me?" said Ryan defensively.
"You're like Gunga Din, Chino. Always putting others first, which normally would be a good thing, but it's like all the time. Which would be fine if you were a nun, but you're still in high school. And also a guy."
Ryan looked over at her, trying to jovially dismiss her sentiments as rambling with another skeptically raised eyebrow aimed in her direction.
"You know what I mean," Summer said levelly, ignoring him, "You keep going up the mountain, sooner or later you're going to get yourself shot."
Unable to deny the truth in her words, Ryan didn’t respond. Afraid that she had overstepped the boundaries of their fuzzily-defined friendship, Summer searched vainly for something to say and the inevitable silence of awkwardness kicked in.
"So-"
"Hey-" Ryan said simultaneously with Summer after a long moment of quiet, sharing in her nervous laughter that followed.
"You first," he said graciously, hoping she wasn't going to keep on at him.
"I, uh, was just going to say I heard from Anna."
"You did?" Ryan, said relieved at the change of direction, "How is she?"
"She's good; backpacking round Europe, "She sent me a postcard, she's been going to all these music festivals."
"Sounds like Anna," said Ryan, feeling envious.
"Yeah. I'd be jealous, but camping, excessive mud, chemical toilets and permanent tinnitus don't really do it for me."
"Nah, me neither," said Ryan, smiling at Summer's bluntness, enjoying spending time in her company once again. After the past few months of tiptoeing through conversations, her cheery candor was refreshing.
"Cohen'd probably love it," Summer said softly after a moment.
Ryan looked over at her, troubled by how sad she looked suddenly as she hugged her knees with one arm, scooping the soft sand over her toes with the other. "Probably," he agreed finally, not knowing what else to say to make her feel better.
"Kirsten said he's coming home," she continued, "I thought I was pleased, but now I'm not sure. It's going to be so weird. At least while he's away I can just be mad at him, you know? I mean, running away from home at seventeen? Who does that?"
"It wasn't about you Summer," Ryan said guiltily.
"So I've heard. But I don't think Seth left because you wouldn’t sleep with him anymore."
"No, I think he left because I treated him like he was dispensable."
"You didn't-"
"- Didn’t I?" said Ryan, cutting her short. Without even realizing it, he mirrored her position, tracing patterns in the sand he flicked over his feet, "When I was growing up, I always hung out with Trey and his friends. I never had a guy friend like Seth before, and I totally took him for granted."
"Are you kidding me? You guys were like the three musketeers or something. Except with less of you," she said sincerely, wiggling her toes deeper into the sand.
"Hmm," grunted Ryan skeptically.
"Trust me, Cohen's way to screwed up for it just to be about you leaving town. You didn’t know him before. He was always by himself, he like, never went out."
"Are you making your point or mine?"
Summer sighed and shifted sideways to face Ryan, pushing her feet out to the side, "I don't know. You're probably right; if I was Seth and the only two people I knew left, I'd probably want to skip town too."
"Yeah, not much better," Ryan sniped, more harshly than he intended.
"You know what I mean," said Summer defensively, looking directly at him and making him look down, abashed.
"Yeah," he said kindly, "I do. Me too, I guess."
"Difference is, we'd stay put."
"Yeah, well, Newport's a big place to be lonely in," Summer said, sighing. She lay back into the sand with a melodramatic grunt, "God, I am such a heinous wench."
"What?!" laughed Ryan, "Summer, you are not a wench."
"Oh really? Then what else would you call someone who spent all yesterday morning flirting with this guy in the record store in the mall and then go and have lunch with Kirsten like everything was all roses and sunshine?"
"I don't know," said Ryan, a little surprised, but empathizing with her conflicting emotions, "Lonely?"
"We swapped numbers," babbled Summer guiltily, "He's taking me to the movies this week."
"Do you like him?" asked Ryan.
Summer shrugged, her shoulders making little ripples in the sand, "I don't know. He's cute. And he's funny. Not Cohen funny. Or Danny funny, " she added hastily, "Just normal funny, like you. Only more."
"Thanks," said Ryan dryly, looking down at her with a feigned scowl.
"You're burly, you don't need to be funny," justified Summer, "Zach's just nice. I don't know!" she said covering her face with her hands and rubbing her temples, "I guess I just want things to be straightforward, you know? And as much as I love Cohen, they just never are with us."
"I think you should do whatever makes you happy. And if Seth cares about you the way he says he does, he'd want that too."
"Does Theresa make you happy?" said Summer, letting her hands drop to her sides, squinting at Ryan in the bright sunlight.
"Theresa?" he said, startled by her sudden change of tack.
"Yeah. 'Cause when I said you looked good, I was being polite. You look kind of sad."
"That's a comfort," Ryan said, not really wanting to go down this road.
"I'm being serious, Ryan. You okay?" Summer persisted.
"I'm just tired. Really, I'm fine."
" 'Cause if you're not, you could tell me and I wouldn’t say anything. I'm surprisingly discreet for somebody so shallow," she joked, hoping for both the sake of his sanity and her burgeoning curiosity that Ryan would open up her to her, "Honestly. I mean it."
"Then, honestly? I don't know," said Ryan, lying back on the sand next to Summer, "Things with me and Theresa aren't great. Truth is, I don't know what they are. In one way, she's like the best friend I ever had, the girl I grew up with, fooled around with, you know? And in another she's like this stranger."
He looked over at Summer, grateful to have someone to talk to, to listen to him.
"Ever since the baby came along, she's different, but it's not all the time. When she's talking with her mom, she's so happy, or when we're all hanging together, it's like we're thirteen again. But then most of the time, when it's only the two of us, it's just, I don't know, weird."
"Weird how?" Summer asked gently, frightened that she might inadvertently cause him to shut down when it was clear Ryan was in serious need of a friendly ear to help him organize his thoughts.
Ryan shrugged, trying to collect them before continuing, "I don't know, I just know it shouldn't be weird because it's Theresa and it's never weird with her. We went through stuff together that- well, you know, that matters. Good and bad stuff, some really bad stuff. Now… it's just like, echoes of chemistry, or something. I don't know…" He looked away, almost ashamed of his feelings, "Hollow. And lately, I get this feeling she's keeping something from me."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, just something. I overheard her talking with Jay, the guy that lodges with us, they were fighting about something, and I don't know what."
"I don't follow," said Summer.
"Spanish," explained Ryan simply, "Not my strong suit. But I got the impression they were talking about me."
"Well, have you asked her about it?"
"No. I mean, it's probably none of my business."
"Great. Boy logic," Summer snarked. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked squarely down at Ryan, "You want things to be weird between you and Theresa? A good way is to not talk to each other about what you're thinking. That's what me and Cohen did and look how well that turned out; he got the hell out of dodge and could be in a ditch somewhere, and I'm here by myself, bored, lonely and definitely not having sex. She's probably just freaked out 'cause she's down there and she knows that you could bail on her any time and head back here."
"Summer, she's having a baby, I'm not going to bail on her," said Ryan, feeling the need to shrink back into the sand to avoid her wrath.
"Well, I know that and you know that, but does she know that?" she clarified, "I mean, no offence Ryan, but you're not exactly known for your scintillating conversational skills."
Her rant over, Summer sighed and dropped back on to the sand, "Just talk to her. Before it's too late, okay?"
Ryan looked over her momentarily, the unwavering honesty of her words offering clarity to his troubled thoughts. "You're right," he said, after he'd gathered them together enough to form a coherent sentence, "I should just talk to her."
"Damn straight," Summer replied, her tone lightening once more.
"Thanks, Summer," Ryan said, reaching his hand out for hers and weaving through her little finger with his own.
"Just call me Lucy van Pelt."
"Huh?"
"Lucy, in Peanuts? She gives out advice and stuff."
"Oh, right. Okay."
"Like you don't know what I'm talking about, Snoopy," Summer teased.
"Bite me," said Ryan, lightheartedly, letting go of Summer's hand to give her the finger.
"In your dreams, Chino," Summer replied breezily, returning the gesture, before squeezing her hand around his and letting their lightly clasped hands drop to the sand contentedly, "In your dreams."
~~~
Bookending the feast of Thai food that had been lovingly ordered for the celebration dinner, there was crab cakes for starters, with birthday cake for dessert, the latter of which was, despite Ryan’s protests, accompanied by hearty singing. The trick candles kept re-lighting themselves, which despite his initial goofy smile, Ryan didn’t find as amusing as everyone else, but he hid it well. He was helped immensely in his task when Kirsten accidentally set fire first to napkin and then to the table cloth, and he found himself creasing over with laughter as during the course of extinguishing the flames, Kirsten liberally distributed water over Ryan, Summer, the cake, and most notably Sandy's trousers in an extremely unfortunate location. After they'd finally regained their sanity and Sandy had changed his trousers to regain his dignity, Ryan was feeling more relaxed than he would have thought possible even only hours before. The nagging voice in the back of voice reminding him that this would be his last visit to Newport as a member of the Cohen family instead of a family friend had, for the time being at least, fallen silent.
Ninety minutes and far too many humiliating Playstation defeats later, Ryan walked Summer to the front door.
"So, did you have a good day?" Summer asked as Ryan helped her slip her coat on.
"Yeah, I did, actually. Not too weird. Thank you."
"I'm glad, " she said turning back to face him, "Look, I should have said this earlier, but on the beach I was too busy yelling at you and then Sandy was doing his incontinence impression and then I was so busy totally kicking your ass, that I forgot-"
"-What is Summer?" Ryan interrupted her gently.
"It's…" she stumbled, not knowing how to begin. Honesty. Stick to honesty. Refocused, she tried again, "I know that we haven’t always been friends. Mostly 'cause I've not always been nice and you're a little bit scary sometimes. But truthfully, I missed you Ryan."
"I missed you too. And about this afternoon; thanks for letting me talk at you."
"No problem," said Summer, blushing slightly under the unwavering sincerity of Ryan's gaze, "You know how I love to be in the loop."
"Seriously," Ryan said, earnestly, "Back home, everyone talks in code. I forgot how good it felt not having to second guess all the time."
Summer looked down briefly, trying to figure out the best way to say what she wanted before opting once again for the direct approach, "Chi- Ryan."
"Relax, Summer," Ryan said a half-smile playing across his lips, "I got over the Chino thing a long time ago, believe me."
"Theresa's baby," she said after a moment, "You really think she's yours, don't you?"
"Yeah," Ryan sighed, resigned to his fate, "I do."
"But if she's not; you're going still going to do the dad thing?"
"I have to. I can't-"
"-I know. And I know the others don't get that, not really. I just wanted to tell you; I do. And I think it's pretty amazing."
"Thanks, Summer," Ryan whispered, looking down his feet bashfully, "That means a lot."
"I should go," Summer said after a moment's quiet, glad that she hadn’t said the wrong thing, "Take care of yourself Ryan. I'd say don't be a stranger, but I kind of figure you're going to be, so… just promise me you'll get your ass down to an Internet café every once in a while, okay? They do have technology in Chechnya, right?
"Yeah, we have technology; I can check my mail at the library."
"Good. So no excuses, okay?"
"No excuses."
Ending their day together as they begun, Summer pulled Ryan in for a close hug. They stood locked together for a moment; their arms wrapped tight and warm around each other, as if through sustaining their embrace they could shut out the world and all its bitterness.
"Love you, Chino," Summer whispered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and breaking away.
"Love you too, Summer," Ryan replied softly, placing his hand deliberately on hers as she reached for the door handle and turned it.
Pausing momentarily, Summer turned back to Ryan and smiled, her eyes sparkling wickedly, "Thank you."
~~~
After he'd listened to Summer's car pull away, Ryan started back toward the kitchen. He made it as far as the staircase before surrendering to his whirring emotions and sat down on the bottom step in an attempt to recompose himself before rejoining Sandy and Kirsten. He hadn't missed Seth so keenly since leaving two months before, hadn't felt so out of place in the Cohen household since the trouble with Oliver. His time here was over.
"Summer gone?" said Sandy gently, permeating his thoughts.
Looking up to see his guardian smiling kindly at him, Ryan forced himself to snap out of it, "Yeah."
"Nice girl. We've missed having her around the place."
"Yeah, Summer's great," Ryan agreed, standing up, "I'll come help clear up."
"It's all done," teased Sandy, leading the way back to the kitchen, "You timed it beautifully, kid."
"Sorry," Ryan replied automatically.
"I'm kidding. Besides, it's your birthday dinner. Let somebody rally round you for a change."
"Okay," smiled Ryan, glad for the offer of a weekend off, even if the reason was tenuous at best.
"Hey, you’re back," said Kirsten, joining them in the kitchen, bringing the remainder of the birthday cake with her, "Just the person I wanted to see."
"Seriously, I don't think I could eat anything else," Ryan said, worried there were more culinary surprises to come, "It was all great, though, thank you."
"Don't worry, you're safe until breakfast," Kirsten said, carefully maneuvering the cake into a tin and sealing the lid, "I was hoping to pick your brains, actually."
"Sure. What for?"
"Seth left us a message last night, gave us a clue about where he is," said Sandy, pulling out a chair for Ryan at the table as he moved round to the answering machine, "But you know Seth, can't just come out and say something outright and we have no idea what he's talking about; we were hoping you could help us decipher."
"No problem, " said Ryan, intrigued.
"Cool, okay, listen up," Sandy replied and hit the play button. A few moments later, Seth's disembodied voice floated out into the kitchen.
"Hey, it's me. I'm about a week away, maybe two. It's beautiful here, so I don't know. I'm not sailing anymore, but don't worry I'm not hitching. Tell Ryan that the Pacific really is as blue as it has been in my dreams, he'll tell you where I am. You remember the name of the town, don't you? That’s if he's around, I don't know, whatever. Give my love to Summer, if you see her. I've gotta go. Love you guys."
There was a pause in the message as if Seth was debating whether or not to say something else and then the hollow clack of a receiver being replaced. Sandy reached over and cut the machine lady off mid swing and turned to Ryan.
"Does that mean anything to you? 'Cause it sounds familiar, but I can't place it."
"Yeah, it does," said Ryan, smiling to himself, "He's in Zihauatanejo."
"Where?" asked Sandy, confusedly.
"Zihauatanejo," repeated Ryan, his smile dropping as he saw Sandy's annoyance mounting, "It's in- "
"- Mexico," Kirsten murmured softly, shaking her head.
"What the Hell is he doing in Mexico?!" Sandy asked bluntly, "Seth and Mexico is not a good combination. And what's so special about Zihauatanejo?"
"It's in the film, The Shawshank Redemption?" Ryan said nervously, suddenly feeling as though this was a chronically bad idea, "It's where the characters disappear to."
"Unbelievable," Sandy grunted, "Seth runs away because a movie told him to. That does it; he's grounded until he's thirty."
"Sandy," said Kirsten cautiously, sensing Ryan's growing unease.
"I mean really, sailing down Baja California is one thing, but this is ridiculous. Tahiti, I'd have understood, but this?!" Sandy, continued regardless, swept up by frustration that had been months in the making, "I swear, when I get my hands on him, he's going- "
"Sandy," Kirsten snapped at him firmly as Ryan visibly flinched at Sandy's words.
Sandy looked over at her and Ryan, saw the markedly increased tension in his body language and instantly recognized his tirade, "Sorry," he said, as he tried to regain his temper, "I shouldn't have… Excuse me."
His aggravation still burning, Sandy strode from the room, leaving Kirsten and Ryan alone with their awkwardness.
"I'm sorry about Sandy, you know he didn’t mean-"
"- Yeah, I know," replied Ryan trying to brush past it.
"I can't believe he's in Mexico," Kirsten exclaimed after a moment shaking her head, "Well, at least he's back on dry land."
Ryan shrugged, not knowing exactly what to say, "It's pretty wild."
"It's stupid, that's what it is; he takes French. Which reminds me, I have something for you," Kirsten said as she headed into the den. After a moment's pause, Ryan followed lamely after her.
"You've already given me a present," said Ryan, thinking of the ridiculous amount of clothes he'd found waiting for him in the pool house, "And you didn't have to do that."
"Ryan, I told you, it's your birthday, presents come as standard," said Kirsten as she retrieved a paper shopping bag from inside the sideboard and brought it over to him.
"I picked up your books for next term; thought you might want to get ahead with your reading whilst summer's still here."
As he looked at Kirsten smiling and she held the bag out to him Ryan felt his heart grow cold and sink down through his stomach.
"Ryan, what is it?"
"Kirsten, I'm not going to go back to school next semester."
"You're what?!" Kirsten burst out in disbelief.
"Not going back to school. Not Harbor, anyways. I've re-enrolled back at my old high school."
"Why?"
"Because…" Ryan sighed wearily, hating that the evening had inevitably come to this, "Do I have to explain it to you?"
"Yes, Ryan, you do have to explain it to me," Kirsten replied, reacting sharply to his tone of voice, "This is your education, it's too important to turn your back on it."
"I'm not turning my back on it, I'm just transferring. I still want to graduate. I still am going to graduate," he clarified hastily.
"And then what?"
"I don’t know, get a job."
"And what about college?"
"What about it?"
"If you want to be an architect, I think you're kind of going to need it."
"An architect?" Ryan snorted disdainfully, "I haven't wanted to be an architect for a long time."
"Since when?"
"Since I found out you need about seven years at university and I can't even afford one."
"Ryan, if it's about the money-"
"- It's not just about the money!" Ryan burst out, feeling bad for shouting at Kirsten, but completely fed up with the Cohens' inability to understand the reality of his situation, "Sorry, but there's so much more to it than that. It's complicated."
"It doesn't have to be, Ryan. I'm not saying that going to Harbor would be the simplest option, but in the long run…" seeing Ryan's unconcealed skepticism, Kirsten trailed off and sighed angrily, "Things are undeniably hard for you now, but I just don’t understand why you are determined to make everything so much more difficult for yourself."
"Me? You want me get the bus an hour each way to Newport, just so I can go to a school I can't afford with kids who look down on me, in clothes I never bought, for an education that won’t get me anywhere, then head back home to go to work. When do I do my homework? On the bus? Or are you going to buy me a car too?"
"If it would keep you at Harbor, I would. If it means picking you up and dropping you back in Chino everyday, I'll do that too. There's nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Ryan, don’t you know that yet?"
"I know that," Ryan said truthfully, turning away from Kirsten's unwavering stare, "I just don’t understand it."
"Well, whose fault is that?" Kirsten snapped back in an uncharacteristic display of aggression, "Because at this point I don’t know what else we can do."
"Would someone like to explain to me what is going on here?"
At the sound of Sandy's voice Ryan and Kirsten stopped and turned to see him standing in the doorway of the den, looking only slightly less thunderous than Kirsten.
Before Ryan had time to think, Kirsten started first, "Ryan, apparently, is dropping out of school."
"What?!" said Sandy incredulously.
"I'm not dropping out of school. I just can't take the bus two hours everyday when I could walk to Chino Hills."
"Which is tantamount to the same thing."
"Don't be ridiculous," Ryan grunted.
"Oh, I'm being ridiculous? You’re the one sabotaging your future and I'm being ridiculous?"
"I'm not sabotaging anything. Chino Hills may be kind of rough, but you know what? So am I. I'm not this golden boy; I get in fights, I skip school, I like drinking beer, smoking pot and I bug people. The night I went out with Trey, it wasn't the first time I broke the law; it was just the first time I got caught. You've got this image of me as a foundling left on the wrong doorstep, but that's just crap and you know it."
"Hey!" said Sandy breaking in angrily for the first time, "Don’t talk to your mother that way."
"My mother?" Ryan questioned him spitefully.
Silence cut through the air like sheet lightning, all three locked in disbelief at how far they had let things spiral out of control.
"Excuse me," said Kirsten, breaking the deadlock and leaving Sandy and Ryan alone to regard each other. For the first time ever, Sandy looked at Ryan with an element of disgust in his eyes. Unable to meet Sandy's gaze, Ryan hung his head, ashamed.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly before Sandy could speak, "I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you really shouldn’t," Sandy agreed, his anger barely below the surface.
"When I left, I knew it would be hard, but… you've no idea how much I miss this, I can't even-" Ryan broke off. Even at his lowest ebb, he'd never cried in front of Sandy before and he was determined not to start now, not when he knew he had to leave, "I miss you guys, Seth, so much, just feeling like I had a home, like I belonged somewhere, God, I miss everything about here." He sighed, his downcast expression echoing the feeling in his heart, "But there's nothing I can do, I'm living in Chino now."
"You know we miss you too. But Ryan, if you don't feel you belong in Chino, why do you stay there?" Sandy asked, exasperatedly.
"Because I belong to it, I always I have. It's who I am, who I'm always going to be. That life, it owns me. And it's never going to let go. I can't marry my way out of it like Julie and I don't have the strength in me to go out there on my own like you did. I wish I did, but I just don't, not anymore and that's just something I have to deal with. And so do you."
"Do you know what?" Sandy said softly after a moment's thought, "Do what you want. You're going to anyway. You don't want to be dependent, that's great, I respect that. But you're seventeen, Ryan. So you can act like you've got not alternative, make believe as if that last year was about some kind of mission and nothing else. Pretend that you don’t need our help, as though we're crazy for offering it to you. But don’t pretend like you don’t know why."
Ryan looked up at Sandy, his insides churning with self-loathing as the true meaning of Sandy's words hit home. Before he could respond, Sandy walked past him and headed to the kitchen from where the soft sounds of Kirsten trying not to cry drifted.
~~~
Ryan left the house half an hour later, returning to the poolhouse to put his belongings together. After a few minutes hard consideration, he added the new clothes that Kirsten had thoughtfully picked out for him, in the hope that she would recognize that his behavior this evening and subsequent departure was a matter of self-preservation and not rejection. He'd managed to wriggle out of the bathroom window and slip around the back of the house, climbing into next-door's back yard before slipping down the side path, out of the way of the Cohens' watchful eyes. It had taken him half an hour to walk to the nearest bus stand, ironically located in front of Harbor, and another ninety minutes and two different buses before he was back in Chino.
The tears that he'd unconsciously been shedding sporadically since he'd left the Cohens' house had finally run dry as he walked the last few blocks towards the house that was now irrefutably his home. As he approached, he noticed the light in the living room was still on, which considering it was so late it was getting early, surprised him. He hoped Theresa wasn't throwing a party; after everything that had happened at the Cohens', Ryan didn’t think he had it in him to provide explanations for his return, let alone to be sociable. Cutting across the front lawn to the path, Ryan was relieved to hear the absence of loud music and crowds of people laughing drunkenly.
Unlocking the door, he heard Theresa's voice ring clear, fearful and panicked,
"Oh my god, Jay, quick, someone's home."
"Relax, already," Jay replied nonchalantly, "It'll be fine."
"Jay!"
Expecting to find Theresa and Jay in various stages of undress or worse, Ryan slowly pushed open the door.
"What…?" he asked in disbelief as he took in the sight before him.
The room was full of music and light. Boxes upon boxes of CDs, DVDs, cover notes and jewel cases littered every available surface in the room. And in the center, looking up at Ryan with eyes full of guilt, was Theresa.
"Please don't tell me you've done what I think you've done," he whispered, as what little remained of his world collapsed.
"I'm sorry, Ryan," she whispered back, "You weren't supposed to find out."
"I can't believe you've done this. How could you let her do this?" he asked Jay angrily, letting the door slam shut behind him as he came into the house.
"Are you kidding? This was her idea!" Jay replied, crossing the room to meet Ryan, dismissing his accusation with a laugh.
"You think this is funny?" Ryan said, dropping his bag on the floor and stepping in closer. The anger he'd felt bubbling inside him earlier in the evening had returned full force and he was itching with rage.
"Why don’t you calm down, man?"
"Calm down? You're running a piracy den out of my girlfriend's house and you're telling me to calm down?"
Jay turned to Theresa, a smirk all over his face, "Is he always this much of an ass when he gets back from Newport? The Cohens' self-righteousness rubbing off on you now?"
Ryan responded with headbutt. Jay staggered back, but didn’t fall, taking advantage of Ryan's momentary distracted glance around the room to sucker punch him. Knocked sideways by the force of Jay's blow, Ryan staggered into the kitchen table, sending a box of counterfeit DVDs clattering to the floor. He turned back just in time to see Jay moving in on him, managing to partially sidestep the tackle as the two of them crashed on to the floor, Theresa's pleads to stop ringing deafly on their ears.
The punches fell clumsily between them, the neat assembly line that Theresa and Jay had created scattering in their wake. Before long, Jay's size advantage began to overwhelm Ryan and he found himself pinned to the floor, taking in a short succession of tired but determined hits to his face. Seeing Jay raise his arm to deliver a final, decisive punch, Ryan closed his eyes in anticipation, but the strike never came. Instead, he felt Jay's weight being pulled from him and before he knew precisely what was happening, he was being flipped on to his back as a police officer shouted his name questioningly.
Ryan's world blurred around him through pain and shock as he confirmed it, bile rising in his throat as he felt the cold click of handcuffs around his wrists, heard the police officer read him his rights. Feeling as helpless as if in a nightmare, Ryan looked over at Theresa, as another officer took her hands behind her back.
"Be careful with her, she's pregnant," he heard himself say, his voice detached as if it belonged to somebody else.
"Is that correct ma'am?" the officer asked Theresa.
Nodding numbly in reply, she looked back at Ryan as the police officer behind him pulled him to his feet, "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Ryan? Please, I'm so sorry."
Too shell-shocked to reply, Ryan nodded in kind as he was led out of the house behind Jay and out to a waiting police car. Looking out of the window as Theresa and Jay were taken to a separate vehicles, the world suddenly slipped back into focus, cruel, cold and clear. This was where he belonged.
~~~
Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / Hiatus (1-2)
Words: 6495
Spoilers: Season One
Disclaimer/ The O.C. is property of Fox.
Schmoopy Dedication / Note: With much gratitude to my beta, translator and friend demonic_cookie. This chapter is a monster, in every sense except the literal. It's quite possibly two chapters in disguise. A lame excuse for taking over a month to update, but there you have it. There's nothing like watching the last five episodes of The O.C. back to back to inspire fanfic.
Summary: Ryan's in Chino, Seth's gone travelling and Kirsten's had just about enough from both of them.
~~~
"Life is a sum of all your choices."
Albert Camus
~~~
When Seth awoke, the embers of the fire had faded to ash and charred wood and Maia had gone. Groggily, he rolled over and pulled his battered sleeping bag close around him, squinting in the hazy early morning light as he brushed a few grains of sand away from his face. Looking at the now empty space next to him, Seth smiled as he saw Maia had traced a parting message in the sand, signing her name with a collection of pebbles and shells from the beach and charcoal from the fire. It was just the kind of thing he'd expected her to do; bohemian, sort of romantic and utterly pointless. A year ago when Seth had been planning his trip, before his dad had brought Ryan home with him thus extending his social life beyond plastic horses to three-dimensional people his own age, a quixotic farewell note from a enigmatic girl had been the exactly the kind of scenario he'd fantasized about. Except that the enigma would have been Summer and the note would have been next to a pile of clothes and told him that she was in the ocean and waiting for him to join her. But things were different now.
Over the last year, he'd thought that his fantasies had come true and in a way they had. But as their time together had gone on, Seth had begun to find being with Summer more and more stressful, not because he'd didn’t enjoy every second of he was in her company, but because he was so terrified of it ending, of being alone again. When Ryan had left, the cracks had been beginning to show. The thought of potentially spending another summer alone, surrounded by memories of everything he'd lost had been too hideous to contemplate. So he'd sabotaged it, leaving before the cracks had spread and shattered his world. Unlike the solitude that awaited him back home in Newport, the solitude of the past two months had been elective. Seth hoped that Summer would understand why he left, even forgive him, but truthfully, all he wanted was to be enough for her to make her happy. Whether or not that meant being her boyfriend, her friend or staying out of her life altogether would be up to her.
~~~
A few hours later, Ryan and Sandy pulled into the Cohens' driveway. Before Sandy had even switched off the engine, the front door had opened and Kirsten stepped out to greet them.
"She has spies everywhere," Sandy joked to Ryan as he pulled the keys out of the ignition.
Ryan smiled in return as he got out of the car, taking a mental deep breath as he grabbed his duffel bag and headed over to her.
"Hey," he said to Kirsten, shifting his weight between his feet awkwardly.
"Hey," Kirsten replied, before pulling him into an inevitable hug, feeling both relieved and surprised when he not only let her, but even returned it.
"You look tired," she said, letting him go and examining him at arm's length.
"I'm okay."
"You had breakfast? I got in extra bagels. A whole mix."
"Chocolate chip?"
"Of course."
"Sounds good to me," said Ryan as he followed her into the house and through to the kitchen.
As well as buying bagels, Kirsten had clearly stocked up on enough oranges to sustain California's fruit industry for a month. A pot of coffee brewed on the stove. It was all so carefully thought out to be welcoming, Ryan couldn’t help but reminded of the first time he'd arrived at the Cohens' over a year ago. There was the same inherent air of kindness and unease in the room and his insides squirmed with embarrassment.
"Wow, this looks great," he said, cursing inwardly at his bumbling.
"Well, you know how I love to cook," Kirsten teased, smiling gratefully, "I made up your bed for you, why don't you go drop off your things and I'll get us some breakfast."
"Okay," said Ryan uncertainly, before nervously adding, "Uh, where am I? Upstairs or in the poolhouse?"
Kirsten's smile faded, "The poolhouse. Unless, you'd rather be in the house, which is fine if you want to be, I just thought-" Kirsten stopped and took a logical breath, "Wherever you want to be, we want you to be."
"The poolhouse is great," he replied honestly, "It'll be nice to sleep in my old room again."
"It's still your room, Ryan. It always will be."
Not knowing how to properly respond to Kirsten's heartfelt words, Ryan looked down at his feet. "Thanks," he muttered, relieved as Sandy joined them in the kitchen, breaking the tension.
"Wow, am I starved," he said cheerily, pretending to be completely oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere pervading the kitchen.
"I'm just going to…" said Ryan, hitching a thumb towards the poolhouse, trying to blow over the moment.
"Okay," replied Kirsten softly, offering a small smile to him. She waited until he'd left before sighing quietly, "God, this is awful. He's worse than ever."
"I know," replied Sandy, echoing his wife's sigh as he came around the island and slipped his arms around her. "But we knew this wasn't going to be easy. What Ryan's going through right now, it's not just about us."
"I know," snapped Kirsten, "It's also about Seth. And Theresa. And the baby he may or not be the father of."
"Okay, so stating the obvious, I know. But trust me," Sandy said, rubbing Kirsten's arm soothingly, "Ryan needs this."
"Was he this quiet on the ride over?"
Sandy's silence spoke volumes.
"Quieter?" she asked incredulously, already knowing the answer.
"Well, you know Ryan," Sandy said defensively, "Not big on the small talk or the early mornings."
"It's just like last year all over again. Next comes the fighting, the running away and if we're really lucky, jail."
"Hey, come on. Things are not that bad, nowhere near. Ryan's a different person than he was then, he just needs a little time to loosen up a bit, that's all."
"I just want this weekend to be special," said Kirsten, turning round and resting her head on Sandy's shoulder, "For all of us."
"I know," said Sandy, breathing in the scent of her hair, seeking for reassurance even as he offered it, "Me too."
~~~
Two hours later, Ryan sat on the beach looking out at the ocean, trying fervently to remember why it was exactly that he'd given this up. The quiet, the privacy, the wide-open space; it was hard to believe sometimes that this was only an hour away from Chino and all its delights.
"Is this a private brooding session or can anyone join in?"
Ryan turned to see Summer standing behind him, the soft-toned pink lipstick that highlighted her smile perfectly matching the color of her oddly un-Summer-like floaty pink sundress and the polish on her fingers and toes.
"Hey, Summer," Ryan greeted her warmly, before standing up and pulling her into a hug, "It's good to see you."
"What's with the hugging?" teased Summer as she returned the embrace, "I thought guys from the 'hood only did lame manly back slapping."
"For you I make an exception," Ryan said as they sat down on the sand, "You look good."
"So do you."
"You sound surprised," Ryan teased amiably.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean-"
"- It's okay," Ryan reassured her.
"It's just, you look kind of burly again. You been working out or something?"
"Or something. Construction."
"Oh. Well, that's cool," said Summer lamely. Ryan raised an eyebrow at her, "Okay, so it sucks, but at least it saves on going to the gym, right?"
Ryan laughed at Summer's attempts at tact, "Right."
"So, I heard it's your birthday," she said kicking off her flip-flops and pushing her toes into the sand.
"Oh, is that what you heard?
"Uh-huh," she said, reaching inside her matching petite purse, fishing out a small, carefully wrapped gift and held it out to Ryan, "All the best people have summer birthdays."
"So I hear," said smiling as he accepted it gratefully from her, "Thanks, Summer. You know you didn’t have to."
"And deny myself a chance to shop? Oh, please. I'll have you know I single-handedly uphold the ditz with the credit card stereotype; people are counting on me."
"Glad I could be of service," Ryan grinned, peeling back the silver paper to reveal a small jewelry box. Unsure and a little apprehensive of what he might find within, Ryan cracked it open to reveal a detailed thin gold metal disc no bigger than the size of a penny on a slender chain.
"It's a Saint Christopher medal," Summer said, embarrassed, as Ryan held it up look at it more closely, "It's supposed to be for protection, or good luck or to help lost souls, I can't remember which. One of those, anyway. I know, it's dorky."
"No, it's not," Ryan said hurriedly, closing the box and leaning over to give Summer a peck on the cheek, "It's great. Thanks, Summer."
"Well, I figured since you're living in the axis of evil now you could probably do with a little extra help," she teased, pleased as Ryan put the necklace on and slipped it under his shirt.
"I live in Chino, Summer, not Chechnya," Ryan shot back, pretending to scold her, smiling to himself as he remembered Seth saying almost the exact same thing to him close to a year ago.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you're doing okay, right? You and Theresa? 'Cause you look good," she said again, as if trying to convince herself.
"Yeah, I'm good, so's Theresa. The baby's fine. It's all still kind of weird, but good."
"Well, that's good," Summer replied, debating whether or not to pursue the conversation further, despite Ryan's increasingly closed body language.
"Yeah," Ryan jumped in purposely, before she got the chance to probe deeper, "But what about you? You okay, Summer?"
"Why, are you going to save me too now?"
"Excuse me?" said Ryan defensively.
"You're like Gunga Din, Chino. Always putting others first, which normally would be a good thing, but it's like all the time. Which would be fine if you were a nun, but you're still in high school. And also a guy."
Ryan looked over at her, trying to jovially dismiss her sentiments as rambling with another skeptically raised eyebrow aimed in her direction.
"You know what I mean," Summer said levelly, ignoring him, "You keep going up the mountain, sooner or later you're going to get yourself shot."
Unable to deny the truth in her words, Ryan didn’t respond. Afraid that she had overstepped the boundaries of their fuzzily-defined friendship, Summer searched vainly for something to say and the inevitable silence of awkwardness kicked in.
"So-"
"Hey-" Ryan said simultaneously with Summer after a long moment of quiet, sharing in her nervous laughter that followed.
"You first," he said graciously, hoping she wasn't going to keep on at him.
"I, uh, was just going to say I heard from Anna."
"You did?" Ryan, said relieved at the change of direction, "How is she?"
"She's good; backpacking round Europe, "She sent me a postcard, she's been going to all these music festivals."
"Sounds like Anna," said Ryan, feeling envious.
"Yeah. I'd be jealous, but camping, excessive mud, chemical toilets and permanent tinnitus don't really do it for me."
"Nah, me neither," said Ryan, smiling at Summer's bluntness, enjoying spending time in her company once again. After the past few months of tiptoeing through conversations, her cheery candor was refreshing.
"Cohen'd probably love it," Summer said softly after a moment.
Ryan looked over at her, troubled by how sad she looked suddenly as she hugged her knees with one arm, scooping the soft sand over her toes with the other. "Probably," he agreed finally, not knowing what else to say to make her feel better.
"Kirsten said he's coming home," she continued, "I thought I was pleased, but now I'm not sure. It's going to be so weird. At least while he's away I can just be mad at him, you know? I mean, running away from home at seventeen? Who does that?"
"It wasn't about you Summer," Ryan said guiltily.
"So I've heard. But I don't think Seth left because you wouldn’t sleep with him anymore."
"No, I think he left because I treated him like he was dispensable."
"You didn't-"
"- Didn’t I?" said Ryan, cutting her short. Without even realizing it, he mirrored her position, tracing patterns in the sand he flicked over his feet, "When I was growing up, I always hung out with Trey and his friends. I never had a guy friend like Seth before, and I totally took him for granted."
"Are you kidding me? You guys were like the three musketeers or something. Except with less of you," she said sincerely, wiggling her toes deeper into the sand.
"Hmm," grunted Ryan skeptically.
"Trust me, Cohen's way to screwed up for it just to be about you leaving town. You didn’t know him before. He was always by himself, he like, never went out."
"Are you making your point or mine?"
Summer sighed and shifted sideways to face Ryan, pushing her feet out to the side, "I don't know. You're probably right; if I was Seth and the only two people I knew left, I'd probably want to skip town too."
"Yeah, not much better," Ryan sniped, more harshly than he intended.
"You know what I mean," said Summer defensively, looking directly at him and making him look down, abashed.
"Yeah," he said kindly, "I do. Me too, I guess."
"Difference is, we'd stay put."
"Yeah, well, Newport's a big place to be lonely in," Summer said, sighing. She lay back into the sand with a melodramatic grunt, "God, I am such a heinous wench."
"What?!" laughed Ryan, "Summer, you are not a wench."
"Oh really? Then what else would you call someone who spent all yesterday morning flirting with this guy in the record store in the mall and then go and have lunch with Kirsten like everything was all roses and sunshine?"
"I don't know," said Ryan, a little surprised, but empathizing with her conflicting emotions, "Lonely?"
"We swapped numbers," babbled Summer guiltily, "He's taking me to the movies this week."
"Do you like him?" asked Ryan.
Summer shrugged, her shoulders making little ripples in the sand, "I don't know. He's cute. And he's funny. Not Cohen funny. Or Danny funny, " she added hastily, "Just normal funny, like you. Only more."
"Thanks," said Ryan dryly, looking down at her with a feigned scowl.
"You're burly, you don't need to be funny," justified Summer, "Zach's just nice. I don't know!" she said covering her face with her hands and rubbing her temples, "I guess I just want things to be straightforward, you know? And as much as I love Cohen, they just never are with us."
"I think you should do whatever makes you happy. And if Seth cares about you the way he says he does, he'd want that too."
"Does Theresa make you happy?" said Summer, letting her hands drop to her sides, squinting at Ryan in the bright sunlight.
"Theresa?" he said, startled by her sudden change of tack.
"Yeah. 'Cause when I said you looked good, I was being polite. You look kind of sad."
"That's a comfort," Ryan said, not really wanting to go down this road.
"I'm being serious, Ryan. You okay?" Summer persisted.
"I'm just tired. Really, I'm fine."
" 'Cause if you're not, you could tell me and I wouldn’t say anything. I'm surprisingly discreet for somebody so shallow," she joked, hoping for both the sake of his sanity and her burgeoning curiosity that Ryan would open up her to her, "Honestly. I mean it."
"Then, honestly? I don't know," said Ryan, lying back on the sand next to Summer, "Things with me and Theresa aren't great. Truth is, I don't know what they are. In one way, she's like the best friend I ever had, the girl I grew up with, fooled around with, you know? And in another she's like this stranger."
He looked over at Summer, grateful to have someone to talk to, to listen to him.
"Ever since the baby came along, she's different, but it's not all the time. When she's talking with her mom, she's so happy, or when we're all hanging together, it's like we're thirteen again. But then most of the time, when it's only the two of us, it's just, I don't know, weird."
"Weird how?" Summer asked gently, frightened that she might inadvertently cause him to shut down when it was clear Ryan was in serious need of a friendly ear to help him organize his thoughts.
Ryan shrugged, trying to collect them before continuing, "I don't know, I just know it shouldn't be weird because it's Theresa and it's never weird with her. We went through stuff together that- well, you know, that matters. Good and bad stuff, some really bad stuff. Now… it's just like, echoes of chemistry, or something. I don't know…" He looked away, almost ashamed of his feelings, "Hollow. And lately, I get this feeling she's keeping something from me."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, just something. I overheard her talking with Jay, the guy that lodges with us, they were fighting about something, and I don't know what."
"I don't follow," said Summer.
"Spanish," explained Ryan simply, "Not my strong suit. But I got the impression they were talking about me."
"Well, have you asked her about it?"
"No. I mean, it's probably none of my business."
"Great. Boy logic," Summer snarked. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked squarely down at Ryan, "You want things to be weird between you and Theresa? A good way is to not talk to each other about what you're thinking. That's what me and Cohen did and look how well that turned out; he got the hell out of dodge and could be in a ditch somewhere, and I'm here by myself, bored, lonely and definitely not having sex. She's probably just freaked out 'cause she's down there and she knows that you could bail on her any time and head back here."
"Summer, she's having a baby, I'm not going to bail on her," said Ryan, feeling the need to shrink back into the sand to avoid her wrath.
"Well, I know that and you know that, but does she know that?" she clarified, "I mean, no offence Ryan, but you're not exactly known for your scintillating conversational skills."
Her rant over, Summer sighed and dropped back on to the sand, "Just talk to her. Before it's too late, okay?"
Ryan looked over her momentarily, the unwavering honesty of her words offering clarity to his troubled thoughts. "You're right," he said, after he'd gathered them together enough to form a coherent sentence, "I should just talk to her."
"Damn straight," Summer replied, her tone lightening once more.
"Thanks, Summer," Ryan said, reaching his hand out for hers and weaving through her little finger with his own.
"Just call me Lucy van Pelt."
"Huh?"
"Lucy, in Peanuts? She gives out advice and stuff."
"Oh, right. Okay."
"Like you don't know what I'm talking about, Snoopy," Summer teased.
"Bite me," said Ryan, lightheartedly, letting go of Summer's hand to give her the finger.
"In your dreams, Chino," Summer replied breezily, returning the gesture, before squeezing her hand around his and letting their lightly clasped hands drop to the sand contentedly, "In your dreams."
~~~
Bookending the feast of Thai food that had been lovingly ordered for the celebration dinner, there was crab cakes for starters, with birthday cake for dessert, the latter of which was, despite Ryan’s protests, accompanied by hearty singing. The trick candles kept re-lighting themselves, which despite his initial goofy smile, Ryan didn’t find as amusing as everyone else, but he hid it well. He was helped immensely in his task when Kirsten accidentally set fire first to napkin and then to the table cloth, and he found himself creasing over with laughter as during the course of extinguishing the flames, Kirsten liberally distributed water over Ryan, Summer, the cake, and most notably Sandy's trousers in an extremely unfortunate location. After they'd finally regained their sanity and Sandy had changed his trousers to regain his dignity, Ryan was feeling more relaxed than he would have thought possible even only hours before. The nagging voice in the back of voice reminding him that this would be his last visit to Newport as a member of the Cohen family instead of a family friend had, for the time being at least, fallen silent.
Ninety minutes and far too many humiliating Playstation defeats later, Ryan walked Summer to the front door.
"So, did you have a good day?" Summer asked as Ryan helped her slip her coat on.
"Yeah, I did, actually. Not too weird. Thank you."
"I'm glad, " she said turning back to face him, "Look, I should have said this earlier, but on the beach I was too busy yelling at you and then Sandy was doing his incontinence impression and then I was so busy totally kicking your ass, that I forgot-"
"-What is Summer?" Ryan interrupted her gently.
"It's…" she stumbled, not knowing how to begin. Honesty. Stick to honesty. Refocused, she tried again, "I know that we haven’t always been friends. Mostly 'cause I've not always been nice and you're a little bit scary sometimes. But truthfully, I missed you Ryan."
"I missed you too. And about this afternoon; thanks for letting me talk at you."
"No problem," said Summer, blushing slightly under the unwavering sincerity of Ryan's gaze, "You know how I love to be in the loop."
"Seriously," Ryan said, earnestly, "Back home, everyone talks in code. I forgot how good it felt not having to second guess all the time."
Summer looked down briefly, trying to figure out the best way to say what she wanted before opting once again for the direct approach, "Chi- Ryan."
"Relax, Summer," Ryan said a half-smile playing across his lips, "I got over the Chino thing a long time ago, believe me."
"Theresa's baby," she said after a moment, "You really think she's yours, don't you?"
"Yeah," Ryan sighed, resigned to his fate, "I do."
"But if she's not; you're going still going to do the dad thing?"
"I have to. I can't-"
"-I know. And I know the others don't get that, not really. I just wanted to tell you; I do. And I think it's pretty amazing."
"Thanks, Summer," Ryan whispered, looking down his feet bashfully, "That means a lot."
"I should go," Summer said after a moment's quiet, glad that she hadn’t said the wrong thing, "Take care of yourself Ryan. I'd say don't be a stranger, but I kind of figure you're going to be, so… just promise me you'll get your ass down to an Internet café every once in a while, okay? They do have technology in Chechnya, right?
"Yeah, we have technology; I can check my mail at the library."
"Good. So no excuses, okay?"
"No excuses."
Ending their day together as they begun, Summer pulled Ryan in for a close hug. They stood locked together for a moment; their arms wrapped tight and warm around each other, as if through sustaining their embrace they could shut out the world and all its bitterness.
"Love you, Chino," Summer whispered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and breaking away.
"Love you too, Summer," Ryan replied softly, placing his hand deliberately on hers as she reached for the door handle and turned it.
Pausing momentarily, Summer turned back to Ryan and smiled, her eyes sparkling wickedly, "Thank you."
~~~
After he'd listened to Summer's car pull away, Ryan started back toward the kitchen. He made it as far as the staircase before surrendering to his whirring emotions and sat down on the bottom step in an attempt to recompose himself before rejoining Sandy and Kirsten. He hadn't missed Seth so keenly since leaving two months before, hadn't felt so out of place in the Cohen household since the trouble with Oliver. His time here was over.
"Summer gone?" said Sandy gently, permeating his thoughts.
Looking up to see his guardian smiling kindly at him, Ryan forced himself to snap out of it, "Yeah."
"Nice girl. We've missed having her around the place."
"Yeah, Summer's great," Ryan agreed, standing up, "I'll come help clear up."
"It's all done," teased Sandy, leading the way back to the kitchen, "You timed it beautifully, kid."
"Sorry," Ryan replied automatically.
"I'm kidding. Besides, it's your birthday dinner. Let somebody rally round you for a change."
"Okay," smiled Ryan, glad for the offer of a weekend off, even if the reason was tenuous at best.
"Hey, you’re back," said Kirsten, joining them in the kitchen, bringing the remainder of the birthday cake with her, "Just the person I wanted to see."
"Seriously, I don't think I could eat anything else," Ryan said, worried there were more culinary surprises to come, "It was all great, though, thank you."
"Don't worry, you're safe until breakfast," Kirsten said, carefully maneuvering the cake into a tin and sealing the lid, "I was hoping to pick your brains, actually."
"Sure. What for?"
"Seth left us a message last night, gave us a clue about where he is," said Sandy, pulling out a chair for Ryan at the table as he moved round to the answering machine, "But you know Seth, can't just come out and say something outright and we have no idea what he's talking about; we were hoping you could help us decipher."
"No problem, " said Ryan, intrigued.
"Cool, okay, listen up," Sandy replied and hit the play button. A few moments later, Seth's disembodied voice floated out into the kitchen.
"Hey, it's me. I'm about a week away, maybe two. It's beautiful here, so I don't know. I'm not sailing anymore, but don't worry I'm not hitching. Tell Ryan that the Pacific really is as blue as it has been in my dreams, he'll tell you where I am. You remember the name of the town, don't you? That’s if he's around, I don't know, whatever. Give my love to Summer, if you see her. I've gotta go. Love you guys."
There was a pause in the message as if Seth was debating whether or not to say something else and then the hollow clack of a receiver being replaced. Sandy reached over and cut the machine lady off mid swing and turned to Ryan.
"Does that mean anything to you? 'Cause it sounds familiar, but I can't place it."
"Yeah, it does," said Ryan, smiling to himself, "He's in Zihauatanejo."
"Where?" asked Sandy, confusedly.
"Zihauatanejo," repeated Ryan, his smile dropping as he saw Sandy's annoyance mounting, "It's in- "
"- Mexico," Kirsten murmured softly, shaking her head.
"What the Hell is he doing in Mexico?!" Sandy asked bluntly, "Seth and Mexico is not a good combination. And what's so special about Zihauatanejo?"
"It's in the film, The Shawshank Redemption?" Ryan said nervously, suddenly feeling as though this was a chronically bad idea, "It's where the characters disappear to."
"Unbelievable," Sandy grunted, "Seth runs away because a movie told him to. That does it; he's grounded until he's thirty."
"Sandy," said Kirsten cautiously, sensing Ryan's growing unease.
"I mean really, sailing down Baja California is one thing, but this is ridiculous. Tahiti, I'd have understood, but this?!" Sandy, continued regardless, swept up by frustration that had been months in the making, "I swear, when I get my hands on him, he's going- "
"Sandy," Kirsten snapped at him firmly as Ryan visibly flinched at Sandy's words.
Sandy looked over at her and Ryan, saw the markedly increased tension in his body language and instantly recognized his tirade, "Sorry," he said, as he tried to regain his temper, "I shouldn't have… Excuse me."
His aggravation still burning, Sandy strode from the room, leaving Kirsten and Ryan alone with their awkwardness.
"I'm sorry about Sandy, you know he didn’t mean-"
"- Yeah, I know," replied Ryan trying to brush past it.
"I can't believe he's in Mexico," Kirsten exclaimed after a moment shaking her head, "Well, at least he's back on dry land."
Ryan shrugged, not knowing exactly what to say, "It's pretty wild."
"It's stupid, that's what it is; he takes French. Which reminds me, I have something for you," Kirsten said as she headed into the den. After a moment's pause, Ryan followed lamely after her.
"You've already given me a present," said Ryan, thinking of the ridiculous amount of clothes he'd found waiting for him in the pool house, "And you didn't have to do that."
"Ryan, I told you, it's your birthday, presents come as standard," said Kirsten as she retrieved a paper shopping bag from inside the sideboard and brought it over to him.
"I picked up your books for next term; thought you might want to get ahead with your reading whilst summer's still here."
As he looked at Kirsten smiling and she held the bag out to him Ryan felt his heart grow cold and sink down through his stomach.
"Ryan, what is it?"
"Kirsten, I'm not going to go back to school next semester."
"You're what?!" Kirsten burst out in disbelief.
"Not going back to school. Not Harbor, anyways. I've re-enrolled back at my old high school."
"Why?"
"Because…" Ryan sighed wearily, hating that the evening had inevitably come to this, "Do I have to explain it to you?"
"Yes, Ryan, you do have to explain it to me," Kirsten replied, reacting sharply to his tone of voice, "This is your education, it's too important to turn your back on it."
"I'm not turning my back on it, I'm just transferring. I still want to graduate. I still am going to graduate," he clarified hastily.
"And then what?"
"I don’t know, get a job."
"And what about college?"
"What about it?"
"If you want to be an architect, I think you're kind of going to need it."
"An architect?" Ryan snorted disdainfully, "I haven't wanted to be an architect for a long time."
"Since when?"
"Since I found out you need about seven years at university and I can't even afford one."
"Ryan, if it's about the money-"
"- It's not just about the money!" Ryan burst out, feeling bad for shouting at Kirsten, but completely fed up with the Cohens' inability to understand the reality of his situation, "Sorry, but there's so much more to it than that. It's complicated."
"It doesn't have to be, Ryan. I'm not saying that going to Harbor would be the simplest option, but in the long run…" seeing Ryan's unconcealed skepticism, Kirsten trailed off and sighed angrily, "Things are undeniably hard for you now, but I just don’t understand why you are determined to make everything so much more difficult for yourself."
"Me? You want me get the bus an hour each way to Newport, just so I can go to a school I can't afford with kids who look down on me, in clothes I never bought, for an education that won’t get me anywhere, then head back home to go to work. When do I do my homework? On the bus? Or are you going to buy me a car too?"
"If it would keep you at Harbor, I would. If it means picking you up and dropping you back in Chino everyday, I'll do that too. There's nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Ryan, don’t you know that yet?"
"I know that," Ryan said truthfully, turning away from Kirsten's unwavering stare, "I just don’t understand it."
"Well, whose fault is that?" Kirsten snapped back in an uncharacteristic display of aggression, "Because at this point I don’t know what else we can do."
"Would someone like to explain to me what is going on here?"
At the sound of Sandy's voice Ryan and Kirsten stopped and turned to see him standing in the doorway of the den, looking only slightly less thunderous than Kirsten.
Before Ryan had time to think, Kirsten started first, "Ryan, apparently, is dropping out of school."
"What?!" said Sandy incredulously.
"I'm not dropping out of school. I just can't take the bus two hours everyday when I could walk to Chino Hills."
"Which is tantamount to the same thing."
"Don't be ridiculous," Ryan grunted.
"Oh, I'm being ridiculous? You’re the one sabotaging your future and I'm being ridiculous?"
"I'm not sabotaging anything. Chino Hills may be kind of rough, but you know what? So am I. I'm not this golden boy; I get in fights, I skip school, I like drinking beer, smoking pot and I bug people. The night I went out with Trey, it wasn't the first time I broke the law; it was just the first time I got caught. You've got this image of me as a foundling left on the wrong doorstep, but that's just crap and you know it."
"Hey!" said Sandy breaking in angrily for the first time, "Don’t talk to your mother that way."
"My mother?" Ryan questioned him spitefully.
Silence cut through the air like sheet lightning, all three locked in disbelief at how far they had let things spiral out of control.
"Excuse me," said Kirsten, breaking the deadlock and leaving Sandy and Ryan alone to regard each other. For the first time ever, Sandy looked at Ryan with an element of disgust in his eyes. Unable to meet Sandy's gaze, Ryan hung his head, ashamed.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly before Sandy could speak, "I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you really shouldn’t," Sandy agreed, his anger barely below the surface.
"When I left, I knew it would be hard, but… you've no idea how much I miss this, I can't even-" Ryan broke off. Even at his lowest ebb, he'd never cried in front of Sandy before and he was determined not to start now, not when he knew he had to leave, "I miss you guys, Seth, so much, just feeling like I had a home, like I belonged somewhere, God, I miss everything about here." He sighed, his downcast expression echoing the feeling in his heart, "But there's nothing I can do, I'm living in Chino now."
"You know we miss you too. But Ryan, if you don't feel you belong in Chino, why do you stay there?" Sandy asked, exasperatedly.
"Because I belong to it, I always I have. It's who I am, who I'm always going to be. That life, it owns me. And it's never going to let go. I can't marry my way out of it like Julie and I don't have the strength in me to go out there on my own like you did. I wish I did, but I just don't, not anymore and that's just something I have to deal with. And so do you."
"Do you know what?" Sandy said softly after a moment's thought, "Do what you want. You're going to anyway. You don't want to be dependent, that's great, I respect that. But you're seventeen, Ryan. So you can act like you've got not alternative, make believe as if that last year was about some kind of mission and nothing else. Pretend that you don’t need our help, as though we're crazy for offering it to you. But don’t pretend like you don’t know why."
Ryan looked up at Sandy, his insides churning with self-loathing as the true meaning of Sandy's words hit home. Before he could respond, Sandy walked past him and headed to the kitchen from where the soft sounds of Kirsten trying not to cry drifted.
~~~
Ryan left the house half an hour later, returning to the poolhouse to put his belongings together. After a few minutes hard consideration, he added the new clothes that Kirsten had thoughtfully picked out for him, in the hope that she would recognize that his behavior this evening and subsequent departure was a matter of self-preservation and not rejection. He'd managed to wriggle out of the bathroom window and slip around the back of the house, climbing into next-door's back yard before slipping down the side path, out of the way of the Cohens' watchful eyes. It had taken him half an hour to walk to the nearest bus stand, ironically located in front of Harbor, and another ninety minutes and two different buses before he was back in Chino.
The tears that he'd unconsciously been shedding sporadically since he'd left the Cohens' house had finally run dry as he walked the last few blocks towards the house that was now irrefutably his home. As he approached, he noticed the light in the living room was still on, which considering it was so late it was getting early, surprised him. He hoped Theresa wasn't throwing a party; after everything that had happened at the Cohens', Ryan didn’t think he had it in him to provide explanations for his return, let alone to be sociable. Cutting across the front lawn to the path, Ryan was relieved to hear the absence of loud music and crowds of people laughing drunkenly.
Unlocking the door, he heard Theresa's voice ring clear, fearful and panicked,
"Oh my god, Jay, quick, someone's home."
"Relax, already," Jay replied nonchalantly, "It'll be fine."
"Jay!"
Expecting to find Theresa and Jay in various stages of undress or worse, Ryan slowly pushed open the door.
"What…?" he asked in disbelief as he took in the sight before him.
The room was full of music and light. Boxes upon boxes of CDs, DVDs, cover notes and jewel cases littered every available surface in the room. And in the center, looking up at Ryan with eyes full of guilt, was Theresa.
"Please don't tell me you've done what I think you've done," he whispered, as what little remained of his world collapsed.
"I'm sorry, Ryan," she whispered back, "You weren't supposed to find out."
"I can't believe you've done this. How could you let her do this?" he asked Jay angrily, letting the door slam shut behind him as he came into the house.
"Are you kidding? This was her idea!" Jay replied, crossing the room to meet Ryan, dismissing his accusation with a laugh.
"You think this is funny?" Ryan said, dropping his bag on the floor and stepping in closer. The anger he'd felt bubbling inside him earlier in the evening had returned full force and he was itching with rage.
"Why don’t you calm down, man?"
"Calm down? You're running a piracy den out of my girlfriend's house and you're telling me to calm down?"
Jay turned to Theresa, a smirk all over his face, "Is he always this much of an ass when he gets back from Newport? The Cohens' self-righteousness rubbing off on you now?"
Ryan responded with headbutt. Jay staggered back, but didn’t fall, taking advantage of Ryan's momentary distracted glance around the room to sucker punch him. Knocked sideways by the force of Jay's blow, Ryan staggered into the kitchen table, sending a box of counterfeit DVDs clattering to the floor. He turned back just in time to see Jay moving in on him, managing to partially sidestep the tackle as the two of them crashed on to the floor, Theresa's pleads to stop ringing deafly on their ears.
The punches fell clumsily between them, the neat assembly line that Theresa and Jay had created scattering in their wake. Before long, Jay's size advantage began to overwhelm Ryan and he found himself pinned to the floor, taking in a short succession of tired but determined hits to his face. Seeing Jay raise his arm to deliver a final, decisive punch, Ryan closed his eyes in anticipation, but the strike never came. Instead, he felt Jay's weight being pulled from him and before he knew precisely what was happening, he was being flipped on to his back as a police officer shouted his name questioningly.
Ryan's world blurred around him through pain and shock as he confirmed it, bile rising in his throat as he felt the cold click of handcuffs around his wrists, heard the police officer read him his rights. Feeling as helpless as if in a nightmare, Ryan looked over at Theresa, as another officer took her hands behind her back.
"Be careful with her, she's pregnant," he heard himself say, his voice detached as if it belonged to somebody else.
"Is that correct ma'am?" the officer asked Theresa.
Nodding numbly in reply, she looked back at Ryan as the police officer behind him pulled him to his feet, "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Ryan? Please, I'm so sorry."
Too shell-shocked to reply, Ryan nodded in kind as he was led out of the house behind Jay and out to a waiting police car. Looking out of the window as Theresa and Jay were taken to a separate vehicles, the world suddenly slipped back into focus, cruel, cold and clear. This was where he belonged.
~~~
Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.