Experimental RM Fic--Part 2
“Hey Ryan, can I borrow your car again man? I still think it’s no fair that I’m the spoiled one yet you’re the one who gets a car for graduation,” Seth asks me in a barely audible tone through a mouthful of Cappn’ Crunch.
It’s hard to fathom that in a little over a month I will be moving to Berkley and no longer eating breakfast with the Cohens on a regular basis. I used to get annoyed by Seth’s incessant babble when I first moved in with the Cohens, but now I don’t know how I will survive without it. After all, he has become my best friend-my brother even. I do, however, think I can live just fine without seeing milk and cereal dripping out of his mouth as he talks. Maybe I’ll be better off at Berkley anyways. I’ll still get to talk to him every day, but I won’t have to see the mess dripping out of his mouth during our conversations since they will be over the phone.
“Yeah, whatever. It’s cool Seth. Just please don’t get it towed again.” I smirk. I will miss Seth and Ryan time when I go off to Berkley. That much is for certain.
“Ryan man, how many times do I have to tell you? I had no choice buddy. All the other parking spots were taken. It was either leave and not meet Alan Moore-who by the way did I mention is one of my all time favorite graphic novelists? And Ryan, he signed my copy of…”
“’The Watchmen.’ Yes, Seth. I know. You remind me every 5 minutes.”
“Yeah! Exactly Ryan! So why would I go home and miss one of the greatest experiences of my eighteen years of existence when I can just park the car in a handicap spot? There is no way I was missing out on meeting one of the greatest graphic novelists ever.”
Inwardly I roll my eyes. Good thing Seth can’t see what I’m thinking. I remind him, “Because it was my car that got towed and because I mean-you’re not handicap-and because when you got out of the event, you called me at 2am, waking me up and forcing me out of the comfort of my warm bed to come pick you up in the Rover.”
“Ryan, I’m so hurt man. You’re wrong buddy! I can totally pass for being handicap.” I laugh inwardly as Seth pretends to limp across the kitchen.
“Well I guess if they count being mentally unstable as a handicap you qualify,” I quip.
Just then Sandy walks into the kitchen. His black bangs are matted to his face-wet from surfing.
“Hey Dad. Ryan’s being funny again,” Seth deadpans.
"It's the Cohen influence son. Ryan, you may not be a Cohen by blood, but the funny genes will eventually take over your genetic code," Sandy jokes.
"Yeah, I think in scientific terms it's called Cohenification," Seth adds.
I can't help but smile. I love this family. I hope that I'll always be welcome in it. I always want them to be a part of my life.
“Oh Ryan! I’ve got to get you out on a surf board. I keep trying to tell you-you have not experienced Southern California until you take a surfing lesson,” Sandy informs me.
“I’ll pass again, but thanks Sandy.”
Sandy has been trying to get me to surf for almost three years now. One would think he would have given up by now. If there is one word to describe a Cohen-I guess it’s ‘persistent.’
“So Ryan, you’ve been brooding a little bit more than usual lately. What’s wrong man? It almost seems like life is too perfect for you lately-so what is there to brood about? Not that I’m complaining. I love the Kid Chino. Classic Ryan Atwood is my favorite-wrist cuff, sweatshirt, hoodie, wife beater and all, but I mean we graduated from high school a few weeks ago and it’s not like you have to worry about crazy criminal surfer dudes, insane gun toting stalkers, probable rapist brothers, or depressed and injured, Marissa-obsessed wimps now that Volchok, Oliver, Trey, and Johnny are out of the picture. It’s like you finally have a clean slate, man. Are you worried about Berkley?”
“No Seth.”
Here we go again. Seth definitely proves my theory that Cohens are very persistent. Can’t a guy be left alone to brood silently in his pool house? I mean I’m not bothering anybody, am I?
“Hmmm… does it have to do with the fact that Marissa Cooper could possibly be making out with a lonely pirate right now on top of a large batch of spoiled cuttlefish and slimy mackerel on a little boat somewhere in Greece?”
“SETH!” Oh God-I think I just gave myself away. Sometimes I can be so stupid-stupid, stupid, stupid! I can’t believe I just let a few of my otherwise hidden emotions permeate through my façade.
“Ryan! You’re still in love with her! I knew it!”
Great. Seth thinks he can see right through me-just great.
“Seth, shut-up. We’re not even dating. She’s not even in this country. What are you even talking about?”
I’m getting irritated now. I don’t want Seth to know that every day for the past three weeks I have been waiting for a letter from her. If she’s written me, I haven’t gotten it yet. I thought she said that her departure from Newport didn’t mean a permanent “goodbye?” Why has she not yet written me? I hoped that she still loved-Oh gosh. I want her to love me. I am still in love with her.
“Ryan? Hey Ryan? Are you with us? Hey-earth to Ryan!” Sandy walks over to where I am seated across from the island kitchen. He is holding a hot cup of coffee in his right hand, which he lifts up to my nose. The strong, wonderful smell interrupts my trance. Gratefully it seems as though Sandy hasn’t heard what Seth said.
“Dad, did you know that Ryan is still in love with Marissa?” I roll my eyes at Seth. So much for Sandy not finding out.
“Ryan, is that true? Are you still in love with the beautiful Marissa Cooper?” Sandy gives me a sly grin. He enjoys messing with me. I’ll miss it though. I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave all this. Sandy is the only real father I have ever known. I love him as my own dad.
“Ryan? Geez, buddy… you’re like in space with the aliens today or something.”
Seth’s banter never gets old, nor does it ever make any sense.
“No! I mean, maybe? I mean… I don’t know. I mean, what was the question again?” Wow, now I'm the one that makes absolutely no sense. I guess that explains why I normally don't like to talk. I'm no good at it!
I begin to daydream about how a tanned and wet Marissa would look in a string bikini and a sailor hat with sudsy, foamy bubbles dripping off of her porcelain skin when Kirsten’s voice permeates through the kitchen. To my disappointment, as she approaches me, her voice snaps me out of my fantasy. She tells me, “Ryan, you have mail. The address is not shown on the envelope. Were you expecting any mail from anybody lately?”
“Yes…um, I mean no. Um… mail for me? Really?” I swallow a lump in my throat as Kirsten hands me the envelope. My hands are visibly shaking and my only hope is that she doesn’t notice. I need to get out of here and into the pool house as quickly as possible so that I can read whatever is inside.
“Thanks Kirsten,” I tell her, and then I disappear into the pool house.
**************************************************************************************
As I sit on my bed and gingerly tear open the envelope, I recall the last time I saw Marissa- a few weeks ago in the airport:
“I don’t really know how boats work, but I figured this way you have no excuse to not keep in touch with me. This way we’ll never need to say goodbye,” I tell her.
She smiles at me and then pulls me into a warm embrace and kisses my cheek lightly. She has the most beautiful smile in the world. My entire body feels as though every nerve ending has been sparked with electricity as her lips meet my skin. My stomach feels light. I think I have butterflies. I feel like a kid in a candy store. What does this all mean? I think I still love her. I wish I could tell her, but I doubt she still feels the same way about me. I’ve let her down too many times. I think I blew all chances for me to ever be romantically involved with her again, yet she just kissed my cheek. What does that mean? Oh, I wish I could tell her how I feel right now, but it just wouldn’t be right. She’s leaving and I’m staying and we are not even together. It is better I keep these feelings to myself.
“This is not goodbye,” she whispers into my ear. She pulls away from me and peers into my eyes. I see tears in hers. “This is not goodbye-I promise,” she assures me once again. I will hold onto those words for the rest of my life. I will pray every night that they are true.
She walks away towards the security check-in, and I feel like a part of me left with her.
I pull the letter out of the envelope, and sure enough-I see the floral design of the stationary I bought her, which brings a genuine smile to my face. She kept her promise. Her departure wasn’t ‘goodbye’ after all. I read the letter.
June 4, 2006
Dear Ryan,
I haven’t really written many letters before so I’m not sure exactly what to say, but I thought I’d write you since I promised you I would. Besides, I couldn’t have this lovely stationary you bought me go to waste, could I?
Neither of us are really big talkers, but hopefully this letter thing will work out because l never want to lose touch with you.
Anyways, this way you will also finally have an address to mail me letters of your own if you want to. I’m not exactly sure how the whole “getting mail” thing works on boats yet, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen by dad receiving and sending mail so this plan should work out.
You will never believe it. I am doing manual labor! I get to sweep the decks, carry boxes, scale and clean fish, cook and wash dishes, and clean furniture and appliances. You would be so proud! I’m becoming a blue collar worker just like you. ;-)
I’ve gotten a tan since being here. It’s hotter than Newport in the Summer!
I’m really enjoying spending time with my dad. I definitely think this job with him is what I needed.
I miss you, Summer, and Seth. If you see her, please tell Summer I will write her soon, and tell Seth I said “Hey.”
So how is everyone in Newport? Are you closer to being ready to start college at Berkley in the fall? You’re really smart, Ryan. You know I’ll always believe in you. If anyone deserves success, it’s you. You work harder than anyone I know.
Well I should go. There’s not much else exciting going on and I have to get ready to meet the main cook to prepare lunch for everyone on board.
Marissa
******************************************************************************
I hold the letter close to my heart and find myself ruminating over her simple words. At that moment it really hits me-I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t fight it anymore. No matter what I do to kill time, I can’t stop thinking about her. I am so deeply in love with her still, and I wish I could tell her but I can’t. I pick up my pen to write.
Just then, Seth barges into the pool house.
"Hey Ryan, I need to talk to you about Summer. Wait--Ryan? You are writing on floral designed paper man. That's so minty. Look, I know you said that Kid Chino is retired, but isn't this taking it a little too far man? I mean next thing I know you'll ditch the wife beater for a body suit," he teases.
"Seth, I'm not the one that cries during chick flicks," I retaliate.
I heave a sigh of annoyance. Seth picks the worst times to talk about Summer. I should really remember to lock the door next time.
It’s hard to fathom that in a little over a month I will be moving to Berkley and no longer eating breakfast with the Cohens on a regular basis. I used to get annoyed by Seth’s incessant babble when I first moved in with the Cohens, but now I don’t know how I will survive without it. After all, he has become my best friend-my brother even. I do, however, think I can live just fine without seeing milk and cereal dripping out of his mouth as he talks. Maybe I’ll be better off at Berkley anyways. I’ll still get to talk to him every day, but I won’t have to see the mess dripping out of his mouth during our conversations since they will be over the phone.
“Yeah, whatever. It’s cool Seth. Just please don’t get it towed again.” I smirk. I will miss Seth and Ryan time when I go off to Berkley. That much is for certain.
“Ryan man, how many times do I have to tell you? I had no choice buddy. All the other parking spots were taken. It was either leave and not meet Alan Moore-who by the way did I mention is one of my all time favorite graphic novelists? And Ryan, he signed my copy of…”
“’The Watchmen.’ Yes, Seth. I know. You remind me every 5 minutes.”
“Yeah! Exactly Ryan! So why would I go home and miss one of the greatest experiences of my eighteen years of existence when I can just park the car in a handicap spot? There is no way I was missing out on meeting one of the greatest graphic novelists ever.”
Inwardly I roll my eyes. Good thing Seth can’t see what I’m thinking. I remind him, “Because it was my car that got towed and because I mean-you’re not handicap-and because when you got out of the event, you called me at 2am, waking me up and forcing me out of the comfort of my warm bed to come pick you up in the Rover.”
“Ryan, I’m so hurt man. You’re wrong buddy! I can totally pass for being handicap.” I laugh inwardly as Seth pretends to limp across the kitchen.
“Well I guess if they count being mentally unstable as a handicap you qualify,” I quip.
Just then Sandy walks into the kitchen. His black bangs are matted to his face-wet from surfing.
“Hey Dad. Ryan’s being funny again,” Seth deadpans.
"It's the Cohen influence son. Ryan, you may not be a Cohen by blood, but the funny genes will eventually take over your genetic code," Sandy jokes.
"Yeah, I think in scientific terms it's called Cohenification," Seth adds.
I can't help but smile. I love this family. I hope that I'll always be welcome in it. I always want them to be a part of my life.
“Oh Ryan! I’ve got to get you out on a surf board. I keep trying to tell you-you have not experienced Southern California until you take a surfing lesson,” Sandy informs me.
“I’ll pass again, but thanks Sandy.”
Sandy has been trying to get me to surf for almost three years now. One would think he would have given up by now. If there is one word to describe a Cohen-I guess it’s ‘persistent.’
“So Ryan, you’ve been brooding a little bit more than usual lately. What’s wrong man? It almost seems like life is too perfect for you lately-so what is there to brood about? Not that I’m complaining. I love the Kid Chino. Classic Ryan Atwood is my favorite-wrist cuff, sweatshirt, hoodie, wife beater and all, but I mean we graduated from high school a few weeks ago and it’s not like you have to worry about crazy criminal surfer dudes, insane gun toting stalkers, probable rapist brothers, or depressed and injured, Marissa-obsessed wimps now that Volchok, Oliver, Trey, and Johnny are out of the picture. It’s like you finally have a clean slate, man. Are you worried about Berkley?”
“No Seth.”
Here we go again. Seth definitely proves my theory that Cohens are very persistent. Can’t a guy be left alone to brood silently in his pool house? I mean I’m not bothering anybody, am I?
“Hmmm… does it have to do with the fact that Marissa Cooper could possibly be making out with a lonely pirate right now on top of a large batch of spoiled cuttlefish and slimy mackerel on a little boat somewhere in Greece?”
“SETH!” Oh God-I think I just gave myself away. Sometimes I can be so stupid-stupid, stupid, stupid! I can’t believe I just let a few of my otherwise hidden emotions permeate through my façade.
“Ryan! You’re still in love with her! I knew it!”
Great. Seth thinks he can see right through me-just great.
“Seth, shut-up. We’re not even dating. She’s not even in this country. What are you even talking about?”
I’m getting irritated now. I don’t want Seth to know that every day for the past three weeks I have been waiting for a letter from her. If she’s written me, I haven’t gotten it yet. I thought she said that her departure from Newport didn’t mean a permanent “goodbye?” Why has she not yet written me? I hoped that she still loved-Oh gosh. I want her to love me. I am still in love with her.
“Ryan? Hey Ryan? Are you with us? Hey-earth to Ryan!” Sandy walks over to where I am seated across from the island kitchen. He is holding a hot cup of coffee in his right hand, which he lifts up to my nose. The strong, wonderful smell interrupts my trance. Gratefully it seems as though Sandy hasn’t heard what Seth said.
“Dad, did you know that Ryan is still in love with Marissa?” I roll my eyes at Seth. So much for Sandy not finding out.
“Ryan, is that true? Are you still in love with the beautiful Marissa Cooper?” Sandy gives me a sly grin. He enjoys messing with me. I’ll miss it though. I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave all this. Sandy is the only real father I have ever known. I love him as my own dad.
“Ryan? Geez, buddy… you’re like in space with the aliens today or something.”
Seth’s banter never gets old, nor does it ever make any sense.
“No! I mean, maybe? I mean… I don’t know. I mean, what was the question again?” Wow, now I'm the one that makes absolutely no sense. I guess that explains why I normally don't like to talk. I'm no good at it!
I begin to daydream about how a tanned and wet Marissa would look in a string bikini and a sailor hat with sudsy, foamy bubbles dripping off of her porcelain skin when Kirsten’s voice permeates through the kitchen. To my disappointment, as she approaches me, her voice snaps me out of my fantasy. She tells me, “Ryan, you have mail. The address is not shown on the envelope. Were you expecting any mail from anybody lately?”
“Yes…um, I mean no. Um… mail for me? Really?” I swallow a lump in my throat as Kirsten hands me the envelope. My hands are visibly shaking and my only hope is that she doesn’t notice. I need to get out of here and into the pool house as quickly as possible so that I can read whatever is inside.
“Thanks Kirsten,” I tell her, and then I disappear into the pool house.
**************************************************************************************
As I sit on my bed and gingerly tear open the envelope, I recall the last time I saw Marissa- a few weeks ago in the airport:
“I don’t really know how boats work, but I figured this way you have no excuse to not keep in touch with me. This way we’ll never need to say goodbye,” I tell her.
She smiles at me and then pulls me into a warm embrace and kisses my cheek lightly. She has the most beautiful smile in the world. My entire body feels as though every nerve ending has been sparked with electricity as her lips meet my skin. My stomach feels light. I think I have butterflies. I feel like a kid in a candy store. What does this all mean? I think I still love her. I wish I could tell her, but I doubt she still feels the same way about me. I’ve let her down too many times. I think I blew all chances for me to ever be romantically involved with her again, yet she just kissed my cheek. What does that mean? Oh, I wish I could tell her how I feel right now, but it just wouldn’t be right. She’s leaving and I’m staying and we are not even together. It is better I keep these feelings to myself.
“This is not goodbye,” she whispers into my ear. She pulls away from me and peers into my eyes. I see tears in hers. “This is not goodbye-I promise,” she assures me once again. I will hold onto those words for the rest of my life. I will pray every night that they are true.
She walks away towards the security check-in, and I feel like a part of me left with her.
I pull the letter out of the envelope, and sure enough-I see the floral design of the stationary I bought her, which brings a genuine smile to my face. She kept her promise. Her departure wasn’t ‘goodbye’ after all. I read the letter.
June 4, 2006
Dear Ryan,
I haven’t really written many letters before so I’m not sure exactly what to say, but I thought I’d write you since I promised you I would. Besides, I couldn’t have this lovely stationary you bought me go to waste, could I?
Neither of us are really big talkers, but hopefully this letter thing will work out because l never want to lose touch with you.
Anyways, this way you will also finally have an address to mail me letters of your own if you want to. I’m not exactly sure how the whole “getting mail” thing works on boats yet, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen by dad receiving and sending mail so this plan should work out.
You will never believe it. I am doing manual labor! I get to sweep the decks, carry boxes, scale and clean fish, cook and wash dishes, and clean furniture and appliances. You would be so proud! I’m becoming a blue collar worker just like you. ;-)
I’ve gotten a tan since being here. It’s hotter than Newport in the Summer!
I’m really enjoying spending time with my dad. I definitely think this job with him is what I needed.
I miss you, Summer, and Seth. If you see her, please tell Summer I will write her soon, and tell Seth I said “Hey.”
So how is everyone in Newport? Are you closer to being ready to start college at Berkley in the fall? You’re really smart, Ryan. You know I’ll always believe in you. If anyone deserves success, it’s you. You work harder than anyone I know.
Well I should go. There’s not much else exciting going on and I have to get ready to meet the main cook to prepare lunch for everyone on board.
Marissa
******************************************************************************
I hold the letter close to my heart and find myself ruminating over her simple words. At that moment it really hits me-I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t fight it anymore. No matter what I do to kill time, I can’t stop thinking about her. I am so deeply in love with her still, and I wish I could tell her but I can’t. I pick up my pen to write.
Just then, Seth barges into the pool house.
"Hey Ryan, I need to talk to you about Summer. Wait--Ryan? You are writing on floral designed paper man. That's so minty. Look, I know you said that Kid Chino is retired, but isn't this taking it a little too far man? I mean next thing I know you'll ditch the wife beater for a body suit," he teases.
"Seth, I'm not the one that cries during chick flicks," I retaliate.
I heave a sigh of annoyance. Seth picks the worst times to talk about Summer. I should really remember to lock the door next time.