The O.C. Fic: Move On (1/6)
Title: Move On
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / Hiatus (1-2)
Words: 4394
Spoilers: Season One
Disclaimer/ Schmoopy Dedication: The O.C. is property of Fox. With much gratitude to my beta, translator and friend demonic_cookie.
Note: The Spanish sections were written with the intention that if you don't know Spanish, you're in the same boat as Ryan (and indeed me), but if you do, there shouldn't be too much given away. At least that's how I hope it comes across.
Summary: Ryan's in Chino, Seth's gone travelling and Kirsten's had just about enough from both of them.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home."
L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Seth regarded the motorbike in front of him with a mixture of awe at its beauty, fear at the ultimate rebellion it represented and just a shred of stunned amazement that he could actually afford it. Selling the Summer Breeze in Tahiti had been heart-wrenching, but mostly because he knew it was the right thing to do. She belonged to a different phase of Seth's life; letting her go was his chrysalis. Now all he had to do complete his metamorphosis was get home, face the world and let the world face him. And he was planning to do it in style.
The owner looked from his once prized possession to the lanky kid next to him; beneath the five o' clock shadow, tanned skin and lean arms, there was a comic book geek just dying to get out. He knew an easy sell when he saw one.
"You wanna take her for a ride?" Tim asked, his light Australian twang ringing clear.
"Oh, do I!" burbled Seth immediately, temporarily giving up on all attempts to appear suave before remembering the promise to actually think before speaking that he'd made to himself when setting out on his travels exactly fifty days ago, "I mean, yeah, that would be cool."
"You ever ridden one of these before?" Tim inquired just sufficiently endeared by Seth's unabashed enthusiasm to be prompted into not completely fleecing the kid.
"Nope. Is that going to be a problem?"
"Only if you crash."
"Not in the plan," said Seth, stepping up to the bike and running his hand along the smooth surface.
"So, what is the plan? I mean, you can tell me to get lost, but from one wanderer to another, you don't seem the type to end up in Acapulco."
"I came for the waters," Seth said, unable to resist.
"That's Casablanca," Tim repliedimmediately, picking up on the reference.
"I was misinformed," Seth continued, with a glint in his eye.
The guy laughed, "Fair enough." He picked up two plain black crash helmets from the side of the road and tossed one of them casually to Seth, who caught it with surprising ease, "So, you going to be sticking around?"
"Nope, " Seth said again, brushing his shaggy hair out his eyes and slipping the helmet on, "I'm going home."
~~~
"Hey, I'm back," Ryan called out cheerfully as he pushed open the front door, "Anyone home?" On hearing no answer, Ryan allowed himself a small private sigh of relief. Even though he'd been living with Theresa, Eva and their lodger Jay for just under two months now, the only time he really felt as though this was his home was when everyone else was out. Although he knew his presence was welcomed in the house, not just merely tolerated, it was still strange to be living in Chino somewhere other than under his mother's roof and he couldn't help but feel as though he was intruding on somebody else's space rather than inhabiting his own. Usually when he got back from the site, Theresa had been home from work for a good hour and was helping Eva prepare dinner. Continuing where Arturo left off before he'd joined Trey on the Chino's jailbird roll of honor, Jay managed to walk through the door just in time to wash the grease stains from his hands and sit down to the table right as the food was served. He was a nice enough guy, just turned twenty-one. Straight-forward, occasionally moody, always friendly, when it came to small talk he made Ryan look like a scintillating conversationalist. Ryan liked Jay well enough, but tonight he had absolutely no energy left in him for a stilted discourse and after ten long hours surrounded by the cacophony of pneumatic drills, diggers and cement mixers, the sound of silence was the sweetest thing he had heard all day.
Twenty minutes, a shower and change of clothes later, it was sweeter still. Ryan sat on the couch, his eyes closed, basking in the quiet solitude, fully intending to get up and make a start on dinner. Maybe in five minutes. Just as he was beginning to drift off, he heard the jingle of keys on the step outside, shaking him back to earth. A moment later, the front door opened and Theresa entered the house.
"Hey," he said, stifling a yawn.
"Jesus, Ryan, you scared me," said Theresa, dropping off her bag of groceries on the counter.
"Sorry," he apologized reflexively as he stood up and went to help her unpack, "You hada good day?"
"Some fourteen year old shot his best friend by accident and I had to tell him he's going to be charged with manslaughter."
"That's terrible," said Ryan, practically feeling Theresa's stress wash over him in waves, "You okay?"
"Better than he is."
She sighed and looked over at Ryan, not failing to notice how his body language had stiffened up in just the few minutes she had been home and hating herself for it. He held out a glass of orange juice freshly poured from the new carton for her. So sweet. Making a conscious decision to relax, she accepted it with a smile, before passing Ryan a second clean glass from the sideboard for himself. She drank deeply before sighing again, this time with mere tiredness rather than frustration.
"You okay?" Ryan asked, not particularly wanting to talk about it after his long day, but prepared to if necessary.
"Yeah. Sorry, I'm good," Theresa said returning to the task at hand, "It's just hard sometimes, that's all. Draining, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," Ryan said softly. Boy did he.
"Believe me," Theresa continued, unaware of the depth of Ryan's unhappiness, "I'm grateful to Sandy for helping me get me the job, but translating for a P.D. has to be one of the most depressing jobs ever. All I do is give bad news."
Ryan's face fell at Theresa's casual mention of Sandy's name. It was ridiculous and he knew it, but even nearly two months after leaving Newport, he still spent way too much of his day wondering whether or not he had done the right thing by leaving. As Theresa reached up to the top shelf of cupboard, he couldn't help be notice her shirt rise slightly, revealing the slight swell of her belly and the other dominant matter that pervaded his thoughts daily. Ryan felt his mind beginning to spin again and he forced himself to snap out of it.
"Beats construction," he said, handing Theresa the last of the cans, "but you know my Spanish is a little-"
"- Hideous?"
"I was going to say rusty."
"Rusty? That would imply you knew some once."
"Hey, it's not that bad. Te veo luego. Le diré que llamaste. ¿Has visto mis llaves?"
"I take it back. You're bilingual, clearly, just the strong silent type."
"That's me."
"You know, you also work at the library. I hear they have books there, like on Spanish. You read them and it tells you how to say all kinds of things," she teased, semi-seductively, "Maybe you could take a look at one sometime?"
"I could do that. Maybe."
The distraction of groceries removed, Ryan and Theresa regarded one another. Standing only inches apart, the unspoken awkwardness hung heavily in the air. They shared a bed, but not the connection. Whatever natural ease had once existed between them had been fading before Ryan left Chino last summer and had not returned when he did. Now all that remained was a history. When Eva or Jay were home Theresa and Ryan could pretend otherwise, but when it was just the two of them, it was painfully obvious that they were virtual strangers, searching together futilely to rediscover one another and finding only shared disappointment at the loss of their understanding. Now in lieu of happiness they turned to brief moments of strained passion.
Moving her hand to where Ryan's rested lightly on the counter, Theresa took his in her own, stepping in closer and looking deep into his eyes, as if seeking permission or forgiveness for turning to the physical connection instead of trying harder to regain their emotional one. Sharing her sorrow, Ryan moved with her, the tenderness of their kiss belying the sad emptiness they each felt.
Inevitably, as always, Ryan was the first to break away. It wasn't that Theresa felt more for him than he did for her, if anything, it was the other way round, it was simply that he was less comfortable with pretending than she was and more tired of it. He felt like he'd pretending for the past year.
"Theresa," he began, unable to curb his natural instinct to apologize.
"Just leave it, Ryan. It doesn't matter."
They stood looking at each other for an impossibly long time, sharing a moment that was far more intimate than any kiss.
"I have to call home," Ryan said eventually. Seeing Theresa's face fall, he hastily corrected himself, "I mean, Sandy. I'm supposed to be meeting him Sunday. Weekly lunch date thing."
"Right. I forgot."
"You should come," he offered genuinely, "Change of scene."
"'Cause me back in Newport, that wouldn't be awkward."
"Hey, you know Sandy likes you."
"I'm not so sure."
"Believe me, if he didn't, you'd know."
"I don't think so Ryan," Theresa said, trying to let him down gently, "Not this time. Maybe if Seth were around-,"
"- Well, he's not," Ryan snapped. Theresa looked crestfallen, "You know what, forget it. You're right, it's probably best if it's just me."
Without another word, he picked up the telephone from the counter and walked towards their bedroom, closing the door behind him, shutting Theresa out. It was cruel and he knew it, but he was too worn to dwell on it now. His hand was shaking as he dialed. He was determined not to let his voice do the same. It was getting harder.
~~~
"Ryan, if I've learned nothing else in Newport, believe me when I say you can't come to a seafood restaurant and order a burger. It's practically a capital offence."
"Well, I was looking to step up," Ryan joked. Sandy didn't smile. "Sorry."
"Not your best," Sandy admitted. He perused the menu, noting as Ryan picked his up again and did the same, slinking down slightly in the booth as he did so. A few lousy weeks; that's all it had taken for him to slip back into passivity. Just like that, a year's worth of building self-confidence, of entertaining optimism as an option, wiped out. A waitress approached them. Determined not to let the gloomy mood completely swamp their dinner, Sandy threw down his menu theatrically and turned to her with a smile.
"Hell, screw it, when burgers are outlawed, only outlaws will have burgers. Cheeseburger, nothing on it. As nature intended."
"Rare, medium, well-done?"
"Do you do cremated?"
"We can try," the waitress answered with a smile.
"Excellent," said Sandy daftly, looking over at Ryan, "You live with Kirsten, you kind of get used to food being incinerated."
Ryan allowed the smallest of smiles to pass his lips.
"And for you, sir?"
"Uh, I'll have the same, but medium. Please."
"Sure. Can I get you guys anything else?"
"I'll have another beer, thanks. Ryan? You want a refill?"
"No, I'm good thanks," he replied reaching for his distinctly less exciting half-empty glass of coke.
"Okay. I'll be back before you know it," the waitress said before turning on her heel and departing to the kitchens. Sandy and Ryan watched her leave, enjoying the view for a moment before remembering whose company they were in.
"So," said Sandy, sitting up smartly to hide his embarrassment, "How's it going, Ryan?"
"Good," Ryan answered, with predictable stoicism.
"Well, that was enlightening."
Ryan shifted in his seat, trying not to seem too nervous. He'd met Sandy at least once a week since he moved back to Chino and with every visit it got a little more awkward, they had a little less to say to one another. When Kirsten was there too, it was easier, but work had been exceptionally busy for her of late and her free time was scarce to say the least. He felt Sandy's eyes on him, searching for information. Ryan knew his guardian expected and deserved more than one-word answers but he was afraid if he started talking he might not be able to stop and an emotional purging was a luxury he simply couldn't afford right now. But he couldn't help it; his impulse to make the man he wished were his father feel better was stronger than his fear. He decided to risk it.
"I'm good. Theresa's got another scan later this week. Going to find out whether it's a boy or girl."
"You don't want to be surprised?"
"We talked about it. But Eva's desperate to know and we'd be happy either way, so..."
"Fair enough. You thought of any names yet?"
"Not Thor," said Ryan, spotting an out to prevent the conversation getting too heavy, "Otherwise, no."
"Thor?"
"Seth's suggestion. I think it was a joke. Or at least I hope it was, or else God help his kids."
"Indeed."
"You heard from him?"
"He left another four am message; hung up before we could get to the phone again. I swear when he gets back, I'm going to kill him just for that.
"If you need someone to hold him down..." offered Ryan, actually meaning it despite of his light tone.
"I might need someone to hold me back," Sandy replied, a little too seriously.
"Just tell me when." Ryan said, attempting a second joke and smiling feebly at Sandy when it fared only slightly better than his first. As silence descended awkwardly once more, he could feel his control slipping away from him. Determined to keep his emotions in check, he opted for safe territory.
"So, is Seth okay? Did he say where he was?"
"Just that he's on his way back. Said hello."
"He's coming back?" said Ryan, his voice lifting hopefully for the first time, "That's cool. I mean, he's been gone a while. You guys must have really missed him."
"It's not just him we've missed, Ryan," Sandy said, not caring if he was embarrassing the boy sitting opposite him, who instinctively looked down, "But then I don't have to tell you that."
As Ryan tormented himself wondering if he should respond, Sandy drained the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the table. He stood up.
"Now if you'll excuse me for a minute; nature calls."
" 'Kay," said Ryan as Sandy left. He sighed, cursing himself for his verbal ineptitude. He should have said something.
When Sandy returned a few minutes later, he found Ryan taking a nonchalant swig from the fresh bottle of beer on the table. Ducking the eyebrow laden glare, Ryan set the bottle down, retreating to his coke and the enormous cheeseburger that had materialized in Sandy's absence.
"Sorry. Cow without beer just seems sort of wrong."
"I take your point," said Sandy, slipping back into the booth, and rubbing his hands in anticipation of the feast before him, "Not that you should technically you should be in a position to judge, being five, sorry, four years under the limit."
Sandy took a huge bite of his burger, looking purposefully at Ryan, who didn't miss the subtle dig about his birthday, and the fact that he'd spent in Chino.
"Sorry," he said, his head dropping slightly.
"I can keep a secret," said Sandy, knowing he was making Ryan feel uncomfortable but not feeling particularly inclined to do anything about it. See how he liked feeling shut out for a change. Ryan shrank a little more, suddenly not feeling quite so hungry. Seeing him withdraw, Sandy sighed inwardly, angry as was with the kid, he wasn't being fair and he knew it. Being the grown-up sucked.
"Besides, it's not my restaurant. More's the pity, the waitresses here are way hotter than ours were," Sandy said, simultaneously cutting Ryan some slack and embarrassing him tremendously, before adding with genuine concern, "You're not drinking at home are you?"
Ryan couldn't help but laugh a little at the very thought of it, "You've never met Eva, have you?"
"I take it that means no."
"She caught Arturo and Trey drinking once in his bedroom a few years back. I'm surprised you didn't hear the yelling in Newport."
"She sounds like a formidable lady."
"Yeah. She's been great, but believe me, you do not want to piss her off," Ryan said, cringing slightly as Sandy frowned parentally at his choice of words, "She's been really good to me. Always has."
"I'm glad. It's great. And you may not be living with us any more, but that doesn't mean we're going to stop worrying about you, Ryan, because we do. Every day."
Ryan shattered.
"I miss you guys too," he said softly, gripping his cheeseburger as if it were a security blanket, "But you know I can't- "
"- Yeah, I know," said Sandy gently, despite his frustrations, not wanting to make Ryan feel worse than he obviously already did, "Listen. Kirsten and I, we were thinking, we'd really like it if you, and Theresa too if she wanted, if you came and stayed for the weekend. It's a been a while since you've been to the house and it'd be great to catch up, you know, properly."
"I don't know, I work Saturdays, I'd have to switch shifts with someone."
"Come on, Ryan, I know the building site's shut on the weekends."
"Not on the site, I work at the central library, Friday evenings, all Saturday."
"You do?" said Sandy, wondering how long this had been going on and what other news he might have missed.
"Yeah, nothing major," said Ryan, feeling guilty for letting Sandy slip out of the loop, "I don't do any of the reading schemes or computer training, just general stuff, stacking, checking the books in and out, you know, that kind of thing. I was sure I told you."
"Nope. You see, case in point," said Sandy, authoritatively, "I miss knowing what you're getting up to. And I know Kirsten does too; things have been crazy for her at work lately, she was gutted that she couldn't make it tonight."
Ryan flinched at the mention of Kirsten's name. Every time he'd seen her since he'd left, every time he'd spoken to her, she sounded so tired, so drained, it was all he could do not pack his bags and move back to Newport. Mentioning her to Ryan was emotional blackmail and they both knew it. But Sandy also knew it was the only way he was going to get Ryan to agree to come and stay. His tone softened.
"No pressure, I promise. Just a couple of days, hanging out, no cement mixers. Come on, let someone spoil you for a change; after all, we didn't see you on your birthday."
"You didn't miss much; Atwoods and birthdays are kind of a non-event."
"Well, that's a shame 'cause as you know Cohens and birthdays are big news. And you can take the Cohen out of Newport, but you can't take the Cohen out of the Atwood, kid. We're like chewing gum, we stick to everything."
Ryan allowed himself the smallest of smiles. He shrugged, "Okay, sure. That'd be great."
"Excellent," said Sandy, beaming, "So, next weekend? I'll drive down, pick you guys up after work. And I promise not to let Kirsten incinerate anything."
"Cool. Next weekend. But no piñatas," he added, "I don't do blindfolds. Also, getting hit on the head with big stick, not as a much fun as you'd think. Just ask my brother."
"Check: no piñatas," said Sandy smiling, "But there may be colored fairy lights, if only to keep Caleb at bay."
"I can live with that," Ryan said, his smile lingering as he flicked his eyebrows in a facetious, distinctly Sandy-esque fashion.
His mission accomplished, Sandy relaxed, feeling relieved as Ryan appeared to do the same. He nodded towards the burger that Ryan still gripped in his hands as if he'd forgotten what it was actually there for.
"Don't let your cow get cold," he said lightly, before finishing his off in a final huge messy bite, "Hmm, perfection."
Ryan grinned as Sandy struggled to keep his dignity despite the juice dribbling down his chin. It was just a weekend after all, and the Cohens were still the Cohens, caring, considerate and goofy. And it wasn't like he hadn't spent plenty of time with them without Seth before, so how weird could it be? He laid his burger down on his plate and stood up.
"I'll be right back; if that disappears whilst I'm gone, the deal's off."
"Hoo, you sure know how to protect your food, kid."
"It'll take more than a few weeks in Chino to forget that you Cohens are gannets," Ryan joked.
"Now, you see, that was funny," teased Sandy. Ryan laughed and waved a hand dismissively at him as he headed to the back of the restaurant.
When he was sure Ryan was out of sight, Sandy reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell-phone and hit speed dial.
"Hey, honey," he said as Kirsten answered it, "It's me. We're on."
~~~
By the time Ryan had finally made it back to Theresa's, he was tired and more than a little cranky. As usual, he'd declined Sandy's offer of a ride home, something he regretted intently as his bus spent the best part of an hour stuck in traffic while the wreck of a truck and its load of frozen food was cleared from the freeway. By the time he'd arrived at the main station, the last local bus had already left and he'd been forced to walk the rest of the way home. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that he had to get up in just over six hours so that he'd get to work on time for eight. He just wanted to go to bed.
As he approached the house, he was surprised to see the lights still on. Jay and Theresa usually got up as early as he did and Eva generally retired early in the evening. Coming closer, he couldn't help but be relievedshe was a preternaturally heavy sleeper, as the sounds of Theresa and Jay arguing at in full swing drifted out into the night. This was all he needed; a house full of tension and battle-lines. If he'd wanted that, he'd have tracked down his mother. Still, his interest had been engaged by the sound of the normally laconic Jay going toe-to-toe with Theresa and he couldn't help but feel a morbid curiosity as he listened to the conversation unfold. Equally intrigued and agitated on stumbling upon the scene, Ryan crept as quietly as possible towards the porch in attempt to gauge whether it was safe to enter.
"I told you no, Jay, I mean it," Theresa, said angrily.
"Would you just listen to me?"
"So that you can tell me I'm an idiot again?"
"I didn't say you were an idiot," Jay said defensively, "I said you were being idiotic."
"Because that's so much better."
"I just think you should tell Ryan, so he can make up his own mind, that's all." Ryan's ears pricked up. This did not sound good.
"He wouldn't understand," Theresa said, "And he shouldn't have to."
"That is a pretentious pile of crap and you know it," snapped Jay. Ryan winced; he could practically hear Theresa's fuse blow.
"Que sabes tu, tonto idiota?" Theresa snapped as she switched to Spanish, the language she felt more comfortable offending others in. Definitely not safe to enter. "Piensas que me gusta guardar secretos con él? Me hace sentir me enferma."
"Entonces dígale, no tiene que hacer nada. Solamente salir de la trayectoria," said Jay, following the shift and ignoring the insult.
"Como si va hacer eso. Es Ryan, te acuerdas?"
"Tu no sabes eso!"
"Por favor! Tu sabes igual que yo que él me ayudaría si yo le preguntaría, pero no lo voy a meter en esto. Las cosas ya son bastante malas; no voy a arriesgar hacer las peor, entonces callate ya."
" Bien, entonces!"
"Bien." Having got her way, Theresa's voice softened. Reverting back to English, she continued, "Look, I know you're worried about us, but it's going to be fine. You just have trust me, okay?"
"Okay, fine."
Jay sighed, "I'm going to bed. You going to wait up for him?"
"Nah, he's probably just stuck on a bus somewhere again. He'll be back soon."
"Okay. You're a good friend, Jay, but trust me on this," she ventured as a peace offering.
" I do. And you are too," Jay replied, begrudgingly accepting it.
As the lights went off inside the house, Ryan sat down on the step, his thoughts whirring. His Spanish may have been rusty, but he'd understood enough of the conversation to recognize that there was trouble brewing and Theresa was trying to keep him out of it. Ryan's stomach gnawed as he considered the possibilities. Secrets were definitely being kept from him. Suddenly the prospect of a weekend at the Cohens' couldn't come soon enough. He laid his head back against the door and sighed, casting his gaze to the stars in the hope they might offer reassurance, but the insipid glow of the streetlights blocked them out. He was lost and alone and he had only himself to blame.
~~~
Over a thousand miles away, the road stretched out before Seth invitingly. The city had fallen away into darkness behind him and overhead the stars danced across the sky, dazzling him into insignificance. The wind was warm as it brushed past him, whispering on his skin and he felt completely at peace for perhaps the first time in months. And the road led on.
~~~
Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
Fandom: The O.C.
Rating / Genre: PG-13+ / Gen / Hiatus (1-2)
Words: 4394
Spoilers: Season One
Disclaimer/ Schmoopy Dedication: The O.C. is property of Fox. With much gratitude to my beta, translator and friend demonic_cookie.
Note: The Spanish sections were written with the intention that if you don't know Spanish, you're in the same boat as Ryan (and indeed me), but if you do, there shouldn't be too much given away. At least that's how I hope it comes across.
Summary: Ryan's in Chino, Seth's gone travelling and Kirsten's had just about enough from both of them.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home."
L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Seth regarded the motorbike in front of him with a mixture of awe at its beauty, fear at the ultimate rebellion it represented and just a shred of stunned amazement that he could actually afford it. Selling the Summer Breeze in Tahiti had been heart-wrenching, but mostly because he knew it was the right thing to do. She belonged to a different phase of Seth's life; letting her go was his chrysalis. Now all he had to do complete his metamorphosis was get home, face the world and let the world face him. And he was planning to do it in style.
The owner looked from his once prized possession to the lanky kid next to him; beneath the five o' clock shadow, tanned skin and lean arms, there was a comic book geek just dying to get out. He knew an easy sell when he saw one.
"You wanna take her for a ride?" Tim asked, his light Australian twang ringing clear.
"Oh, do I!" burbled Seth immediately, temporarily giving up on all attempts to appear suave before remembering the promise to actually think before speaking that he'd made to himself when setting out on his travels exactly fifty days ago, "I mean, yeah, that would be cool."
"You ever ridden one of these before?" Tim inquired just sufficiently endeared by Seth's unabashed enthusiasm to be prompted into not completely fleecing the kid.
"Nope. Is that going to be a problem?"
"Only if you crash."
"Not in the plan," said Seth, stepping up to the bike and running his hand along the smooth surface.
"So, what is the plan? I mean, you can tell me to get lost, but from one wanderer to another, you don't seem the type to end up in Acapulco."
"I came for the waters," Seth said, unable to resist.
"That's Casablanca," Tim repliedimmediately, picking up on the reference.
"I was misinformed," Seth continued, with a glint in his eye.
The guy laughed, "Fair enough." He picked up two plain black crash helmets from the side of the road and tossed one of them casually to Seth, who caught it with surprising ease, "So, you going to be sticking around?"
"Nope, " Seth said again, brushing his shaggy hair out his eyes and slipping the helmet on, "I'm going home."
~~~
"Hey, I'm back," Ryan called out cheerfully as he pushed open the front door, "Anyone home?" On hearing no answer, Ryan allowed himself a small private sigh of relief. Even though he'd been living with Theresa, Eva and their lodger Jay for just under two months now, the only time he really felt as though this was his home was when everyone else was out. Although he knew his presence was welcomed in the house, not just merely tolerated, it was still strange to be living in Chino somewhere other than under his mother's roof and he couldn't help but feel as though he was intruding on somebody else's space rather than inhabiting his own. Usually when he got back from the site, Theresa had been home from work for a good hour and was helping Eva prepare dinner. Continuing where Arturo left off before he'd joined Trey on the Chino's jailbird roll of honor, Jay managed to walk through the door just in time to wash the grease stains from his hands and sit down to the table right as the food was served. He was a nice enough guy, just turned twenty-one. Straight-forward, occasionally moody, always friendly, when it came to small talk he made Ryan look like a scintillating conversationalist. Ryan liked Jay well enough, but tonight he had absolutely no energy left in him for a stilted discourse and after ten long hours surrounded by the cacophony of pneumatic drills, diggers and cement mixers, the sound of silence was the sweetest thing he had heard all day.
Twenty minutes, a shower and change of clothes later, it was sweeter still. Ryan sat on the couch, his eyes closed, basking in the quiet solitude, fully intending to get up and make a start on dinner. Maybe in five minutes. Just as he was beginning to drift off, he heard the jingle of keys on the step outside, shaking him back to earth. A moment later, the front door opened and Theresa entered the house.
"Hey," he said, stifling a yawn.
"Jesus, Ryan, you scared me," said Theresa, dropping off her bag of groceries on the counter.
"Sorry," he apologized reflexively as he stood up and went to help her unpack, "You hada good day?"
"Some fourteen year old shot his best friend by accident and I had to tell him he's going to be charged with manslaughter."
"That's terrible," said Ryan, practically feeling Theresa's stress wash over him in waves, "You okay?"
"Better than he is."
She sighed and looked over at Ryan, not failing to notice how his body language had stiffened up in just the few minutes she had been home and hating herself for it. He held out a glass of orange juice freshly poured from the new carton for her. So sweet. Making a conscious decision to relax, she accepted it with a smile, before passing Ryan a second clean glass from the sideboard for himself. She drank deeply before sighing again, this time with mere tiredness rather than frustration.
"You okay?" Ryan asked, not particularly wanting to talk about it after his long day, but prepared to if necessary.
"Yeah. Sorry, I'm good," Theresa said returning to the task at hand, "It's just hard sometimes, that's all. Draining, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," Ryan said softly. Boy did he.
"Believe me," Theresa continued, unaware of the depth of Ryan's unhappiness, "I'm grateful to Sandy for helping me get me the job, but translating for a P.D. has to be one of the most depressing jobs ever. All I do is give bad news."
Ryan's face fell at Theresa's casual mention of Sandy's name. It was ridiculous and he knew it, but even nearly two months after leaving Newport, he still spent way too much of his day wondering whether or not he had done the right thing by leaving. As Theresa reached up to the top shelf of cupboard, he couldn't help be notice her shirt rise slightly, revealing the slight swell of her belly and the other dominant matter that pervaded his thoughts daily. Ryan felt his mind beginning to spin again and he forced himself to snap out of it.
"Beats construction," he said, handing Theresa the last of the cans, "but you know my Spanish is a little-"
"- Hideous?"
"I was going to say rusty."
"Rusty? That would imply you knew some once."
"Hey, it's not that bad. Te veo luego. Le diré que llamaste. ¿Has visto mis llaves?"
"I take it back. You're bilingual, clearly, just the strong silent type."
"That's me."
"You know, you also work at the library. I hear they have books there, like on Spanish. You read them and it tells you how to say all kinds of things," she teased, semi-seductively, "Maybe you could take a look at one sometime?"
"I could do that. Maybe."
The distraction of groceries removed, Ryan and Theresa regarded one another. Standing only inches apart, the unspoken awkwardness hung heavily in the air. They shared a bed, but not the connection. Whatever natural ease had once existed between them had been fading before Ryan left Chino last summer and had not returned when he did. Now all that remained was a history. When Eva or Jay were home Theresa and Ryan could pretend otherwise, but when it was just the two of them, it was painfully obvious that they were virtual strangers, searching together futilely to rediscover one another and finding only shared disappointment at the loss of their understanding. Now in lieu of happiness they turned to brief moments of strained passion.
Moving her hand to where Ryan's rested lightly on the counter, Theresa took his in her own, stepping in closer and looking deep into his eyes, as if seeking permission or forgiveness for turning to the physical connection instead of trying harder to regain their emotional one. Sharing her sorrow, Ryan moved with her, the tenderness of their kiss belying the sad emptiness they each felt.
Inevitably, as always, Ryan was the first to break away. It wasn't that Theresa felt more for him than he did for her, if anything, it was the other way round, it was simply that he was less comfortable with pretending than she was and more tired of it. He felt like he'd pretending for the past year.
"Theresa," he began, unable to curb his natural instinct to apologize.
"Just leave it, Ryan. It doesn't matter."
They stood looking at each other for an impossibly long time, sharing a moment that was far more intimate than any kiss.
"I have to call home," Ryan said eventually. Seeing Theresa's face fall, he hastily corrected himself, "I mean, Sandy. I'm supposed to be meeting him Sunday. Weekly lunch date thing."
"Right. I forgot."
"You should come," he offered genuinely, "Change of scene."
"'Cause me back in Newport, that wouldn't be awkward."
"Hey, you know Sandy likes you."
"I'm not so sure."
"Believe me, if he didn't, you'd know."
"I don't think so Ryan," Theresa said, trying to let him down gently, "Not this time. Maybe if Seth were around-,"
"- Well, he's not," Ryan snapped. Theresa looked crestfallen, "You know what, forget it. You're right, it's probably best if it's just me."
Without another word, he picked up the telephone from the counter and walked towards their bedroom, closing the door behind him, shutting Theresa out. It was cruel and he knew it, but he was too worn to dwell on it now. His hand was shaking as he dialed. He was determined not to let his voice do the same. It was getting harder.
~~~
"Ryan, if I've learned nothing else in Newport, believe me when I say you can't come to a seafood restaurant and order a burger. It's practically a capital offence."
"Well, I was looking to step up," Ryan joked. Sandy didn't smile. "Sorry."
"Not your best," Sandy admitted. He perused the menu, noting as Ryan picked his up again and did the same, slinking down slightly in the booth as he did so. A few lousy weeks; that's all it had taken for him to slip back into passivity. Just like that, a year's worth of building self-confidence, of entertaining optimism as an option, wiped out. A waitress approached them. Determined not to let the gloomy mood completely swamp their dinner, Sandy threw down his menu theatrically and turned to her with a smile.
"Hell, screw it, when burgers are outlawed, only outlaws will have burgers. Cheeseburger, nothing on it. As nature intended."
"Rare, medium, well-done?"
"Do you do cremated?"
"We can try," the waitress answered with a smile.
"Excellent," said Sandy daftly, looking over at Ryan, "You live with Kirsten, you kind of get used to food being incinerated."
Ryan allowed the smallest of smiles to pass his lips.
"And for you, sir?"
"Uh, I'll have the same, but medium. Please."
"Sure. Can I get you guys anything else?"
"I'll have another beer, thanks. Ryan? You want a refill?"
"No, I'm good thanks," he replied reaching for his distinctly less exciting half-empty glass of coke.
"Okay. I'll be back before you know it," the waitress said before turning on her heel and departing to the kitchens. Sandy and Ryan watched her leave, enjoying the view for a moment before remembering whose company they were in.
"So," said Sandy, sitting up smartly to hide his embarrassment, "How's it going, Ryan?"
"Good," Ryan answered, with predictable stoicism.
"Well, that was enlightening."
Ryan shifted in his seat, trying not to seem too nervous. He'd met Sandy at least once a week since he moved back to Chino and with every visit it got a little more awkward, they had a little less to say to one another. When Kirsten was there too, it was easier, but work had been exceptionally busy for her of late and her free time was scarce to say the least. He felt Sandy's eyes on him, searching for information. Ryan knew his guardian expected and deserved more than one-word answers but he was afraid if he started talking he might not be able to stop and an emotional purging was a luxury he simply couldn't afford right now. But he couldn't help it; his impulse to make the man he wished were his father feel better was stronger than his fear. He decided to risk it.
"I'm good. Theresa's got another scan later this week. Going to find out whether it's a boy or girl."
"You don't want to be surprised?"
"We talked about it. But Eva's desperate to know and we'd be happy either way, so..."
"Fair enough. You thought of any names yet?"
"Not Thor," said Ryan, spotting an out to prevent the conversation getting too heavy, "Otherwise, no."
"Thor?"
"Seth's suggestion. I think it was a joke. Or at least I hope it was, or else God help his kids."
"Indeed."
"You heard from him?"
"He left another four am message; hung up before we could get to the phone again. I swear when he gets back, I'm going to kill him just for that.
"If you need someone to hold him down..." offered Ryan, actually meaning it despite of his light tone.
"I might need someone to hold me back," Sandy replied, a little too seriously.
"Just tell me when." Ryan said, attempting a second joke and smiling feebly at Sandy when it fared only slightly better than his first. As silence descended awkwardly once more, he could feel his control slipping away from him. Determined to keep his emotions in check, he opted for safe territory.
"So, is Seth okay? Did he say where he was?"
"Just that he's on his way back. Said hello."
"He's coming back?" said Ryan, his voice lifting hopefully for the first time, "That's cool. I mean, he's been gone a while. You guys must have really missed him."
"It's not just him we've missed, Ryan," Sandy said, not caring if he was embarrassing the boy sitting opposite him, who instinctively looked down, "But then I don't have to tell you that."
As Ryan tormented himself wondering if he should respond, Sandy drained the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the table. He stood up.
"Now if you'll excuse me for a minute; nature calls."
" 'Kay," said Ryan as Sandy left. He sighed, cursing himself for his verbal ineptitude. He should have said something.
When Sandy returned a few minutes later, he found Ryan taking a nonchalant swig from the fresh bottle of beer on the table. Ducking the eyebrow laden glare, Ryan set the bottle down, retreating to his coke and the enormous cheeseburger that had materialized in Sandy's absence.
"Sorry. Cow without beer just seems sort of wrong."
"I take your point," said Sandy, slipping back into the booth, and rubbing his hands in anticipation of the feast before him, "Not that you should technically you should be in a position to judge, being five, sorry, four years under the limit."
Sandy took a huge bite of his burger, looking purposefully at Ryan, who didn't miss the subtle dig about his birthday, and the fact that he'd spent in Chino.
"Sorry," he said, his head dropping slightly.
"I can keep a secret," said Sandy, knowing he was making Ryan feel uncomfortable but not feeling particularly inclined to do anything about it. See how he liked feeling shut out for a change. Ryan shrank a little more, suddenly not feeling quite so hungry. Seeing him withdraw, Sandy sighed inwardly, angry as was with the kid, he wasn't being fair and he knew it. Being the grown-up sucked.
"Besides, it's not my restaurant. More's the pity, the waitresses here are way hotter than ours were," Sandy said, simultaneously cutting Ryan some slack and embarrassing him tremendously, before adding with genuine concern, "You're not drinking at home are you?"
Ryan couldn't help but laugh a little at the very thought of it, "You've never met Eva, have you?"
"I take it that means no."
"She caught Arturo and Trey drinking once in his bedroom a few years back. I'm surprised you didn't hear the yelling in Newport."
"She sounds like a formidable lady."
"Yeah. She's been great, but believe me, you do not want to piss her off," Ryan said, cringing slightly as Sandy frowned parentally at his choice of words, "She's been really good to me. Always has."
"I'm glad. It's great. And you may not be living with us any more, but that doesn't mean we're going to stop worrying about you, Ryan, because we do. Every day."
Ryan shattered.
"I miss you guys too," he said softly, gripping his cheeseburger as if it were a security blanket, "But you know I can't- "
"- Yeah, I know," said Sandy gently, despite his frustrations, not wanting to make Ryan feel worse than he obviously already did, "Listen. Kirsten and I, we were thinking, we'd really like it if you, and Theresa too if she wanted, if you came and stayed for the weekend. It's a been a while since you've been to the house and it'd be great to catch up, you know, properly."
"I don't know, I work Saturdays, I'd have to switch shifts with someone."
"Come on, Ryan, I know the building site's shut on the weekends."
"Not on the site, I work at the central library, Friday evenings, all Saturday."
"You do?" said Sandy, wondering how long this had been going on and what other news he might have missed.
"Yeah, nothing major," said Ryan, feeling guilty for letting Sandy slip out of the loop, "I don't do any of the reading schemes or computer training, just general stuff, stacking, checking the books in and out, you know, that kind of thing. I was sure I told you."
"Nope. You see, case in point," said Sandy, authoritatively, "I miss knowing what you're getting up to. And I know Kirsten does too; things have been crazy for her at work lately, she was gutted that she couldn't make it tonight."
Ryan flinched at the mention of Kirsten's name. Every time he'd seen her since he'd left, every time he'd spoken to her, she sounded so tired, so drained, it was all he could do not pack his bags and move back to Newport. Mentioning her to Ryan was emotional blackmail and they both knew it. But Sandy also knew it was the only way he was going to get Ryan to agree to come and stay. His tone softened.
"No pressure, I promise. Just a couple of days, hanging out, no cement mixers. Come on, let someone spoil you for a change; after all, we didn't see you on your birthday."
"You didn't miss much; Atwoods and birthdays are kind of a non-event."
"Well, that's a shame 'cause as you know Cohens and birthdays are big news. And you can take the Cohen out of Newport, but you can't take the Cohen out of the Atwood, kid. We're like chewing gum, we stick to everything."
Ryan allowed himself the smallest of smiles. He shrugged, "Okay, sure. That'd be great."
"Excellent," said Sandy, beaming, "So, next weekend? I'll drive down, pick you guys up after work. And I promise not to let Kirsten incinerate anything."
"Cool. Next weekend. But no piñatas," he added, "I don't do blindfolds. Also, getting hit on the head with big stick, not as a much fun as you'd think. Just ask my brother."
"Check: no piñatas," said Sandy smiling, "But there may be colored fairy lights, if only to keep Caleb at bay."
"I can live with that," Ryan said, his smile lingering as he flicked his eyebrows in a facetious, distinctly Sandy-esque fashion.
His mission accomplished, Sandy relaxed, feeling relieved as Ryan appeared to do the same. He nodded towards the burger that Ryan still gripped in his hands as if he'd forgotten what it was actually there for.
"Don't let your cow get cold," he said lightly, before finishing his off in a final huge messy bite, "Hmm, perfection."
Ryan grinned as Sandy struggled to keep his dignity despite the juice dribbling down his chin. It was just a weekend after all, and the Cohens were still the Cohens, caring, considerate and goofy. And it wasn't like he hadn't spent plenty of time with them without Seth before, so how weird could it be? He laid his burger down on his plate and stood up.
"I'll be right back; if that disappears whilst I'm gone, the deal's off."
"Hoo, you sure know how to protect your food, kid."
"It'll take more than a few weeks in Chino to forget that you Cohens are gannets," Ryan joked.
"Now, you see, that was funny," teased Sandy. Ryan laughed and waved a hand dismissively at him as he headed to the back of the restaurant.
When he was sure Ryan was out of sight, Sandy reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell-phone and hit speed dial.
"Hey, honey," he said as Kirsten answered it, "It's me. We're on."
~~~
By the time Ryan had finally made it back to Theresa's, he was tired and more than a little cranky. As usual, he'd declined Sandy's offer of a ride home, something he regretted intently as his bus spent the best part of an hour stuck in traffic while the wreck of a truck and its load of frozen food was cleared from the freeway. By the time he'd arrived at the main station, the last local bus had already left and he'd been forced to walk the rest of the way home. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that he had to get up in just over six hours so that he'd get to work on time for eight. He just wanted to go to bed.
As he approached the house, he was surprised to see the lights still on. Jay and Theresa usually got up as early as he did and Eva generally retired early in the evening. Coming closer, he couldn't help but be relievedshe was a preternaturally heavy sleeper, as the sounds of Theresa and Jay arguing at in full swing drifted out into the night. This was all he needed; a house full of tension and battle-lines. If he'd wanted that, he'd have tracked down his mother. Still, his interest had been engaged by the sound of the normally laconic Jay going toe-to-toe with Theresa and he couldn't help but feel a morbid curiosity as he listened to the conversation unfold. Equally intrigued and agitated on stumbling upon the scene, Ryan crept as quietly as possible towards the porch in attempt to gauge whether it was safe to enter.
"I told you no, Jay, I mean it," Theresa, said angrily.
"Would you just listen to me?"
"So that you can tell me I'm an idiot again?"
"I didn't say you were an idiot," Jay said defensively, "I said you were being idiotic."
"Because that's so much better."
"I just think you should tell Ryan, so he can make up his own mind, that's all." Ryan's ears pricked up. This did not sound good.
"He wouldn't understand," Theresa said, "And he shouldn't have to."
"That is a pretentious pile of crap and you know it," snapped Jay. Ryan winced; he could practically hear Theresa's fuse blow.
"Que sabes tu, tonto idiota?" Theresa snapped as she switched to Spanish, the language she felt more comfortable offending others in. Definitely not safe to enter. "Piensas que me gusta guardar secretos con él? Me hace sentir me enferma."
"Entonces dígale, no tiene que hacer nada. Solamente salir de la trayectoria," said Jay, following the shift and ignoring the insult.
"Como si va hacer eso. Es Ryan, te acuerdas?"
"Tu no sabes eso!"
"Por favor! Tu sabes igual que yo que él me ayudaría si yo le preguntaría, pero no lo voy a meter en esto. Las cosas ya son bastante malas; no voy a arriesgar hacer las peor, entonces callate ya."
" Bien, entonces!"
"Bien." Having got her way, Theresa's voice softened. Reverting back to English, she continued, "Look, I know you're worried about us, but it's going to be fine. You just have trust me, okay?"
"Okay, fine."
Jay sighed, "I'm going to bed. You going to wait up for him?"
"Nah, he's probably just stuck on a bus somewhere again. He'll be back soon."
"Okay. You're a good friend, Jay, but trust me on this," she ventured as a peace offering.
" I do. And you are too," Jay replied, begrudgingly accepting it.
As the lights went off inside the house, Ryan sat down on the step, his thoughts whirring. His Spanish may have been rusty, but he'd understood enough of the conversation to recognize that there was trouble brewing and Theresa was trying to keep him out of it. Ryan's stomach gnawed as he considered the possibilities. Secrets were definitely being kept from him. Suddenly the prospect of a weekend at the Cohens' couldn't come soon enough. He laid his head back against the door and sighed, casting his gaze to the stars in the hope they might offer reassurance, but the insipid glow of the streetlights blocked them out. He was lost and alone and he had only himself to blame.
~~~
Over a thousand miles away, the road stretched out before Seth invitingly. The city had fallen away into darkness behind him and overhead the stars danced across the sky, dazzling him into insignificance. The wind was warm as it brushed past him, whispering on his skin and he felt completely at peace for perhaps the first time in months. And the road led on.
~~~
Chapter Index: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.