"The Air of Finality" – chapter 6
You know that lost and let down day-after-Christmas feeling? The day after a funeral is even weirder.
Notes:
I think I borrowed Ryan's fantasy day at the beach from other writers' similar vision. Hope no one minds.
Thanks to Joey for pointing me to the article on dialogue tags. "It was invaluable!" she said.
Thanks to storymom and Walter for guiding and advising throughout the course of this story.
Thanks to all reviewers whose feedback encouraged and fed me.
Wednesday and beyond.
Life goes on.
Ryan lay in bed Wednesday morning and wondered what the difference was between cliches and facts. Cliches were facts that had been repeated so often they were tired and worn and used up but still true. You couldn't argue with the stupid simplicity of a cliche. It simply was what it was.
Part of him wanted to keep lying in bed. He could stay here all day if he wanted to. It was a cinch that Sandy and Kirsten would let him do whatever he wished today since he was still 'in mourning' or whatever. But the truth was he didn't feel mournful. He didn't feel much of anything except a pervasive restlessness and lying around all day was only going to bore the hell out of him. If he got up and went to school there would be Summer and Seth and teachers and work to do and even all the other annoying Newport brats whom he had grown used to seeing every day. School was definitely better than boredom. He threw back the covers.
As he shambled toward the bathroom, he looked at his sore hand and rubbed the thumb of his left over the damaged knuckles. If anyone had noticed it yesterday, they hadn't said anything. For that he was grateful.
Ryan showered and dressed and walked to the house, crossing the patio to stand before the glass doors a moment before entering. He stopped to breathe, to look around at the balmy day, the cloudless blue sky. Something about that wide expanse of blue without a cloud to mar it and a bright buttery ball of sun hung just above the horizon made him feel depressed. He wished it was stormy and gray and that it would rain all day long.
Ryan pushed the door open and entered the kitchen. From the next room he could hear Kirsten and Sandy arguing in low, heated voices. He walked closer to hear what they were saying.
"Sandy, you were a Public Defender for almost twenty years. You must have seen hundreds of families like this."
'Families like this,' Ryan thought. It had a dirty sound.
Kirsten said, "You know the statistics and you've seen the cases. You know nothing you say is going to change the situation. And what is the point of trying to get this man to start some kind of dialogue, some relationship with Ryan now after all this time? Will it really help Ryan?"
Even though he had known they were talking about him his pulse quickened at actual mention of his name.
"I know. I know. I am fully aware that yelling at this guy, and I would end up yelling, is not going to solve anything." He sighed. "But damn it, I want to so bad. ... No. I'd like to do more than yell. I'd like to kick his selfish ass."
Kirsten's voice spoke again gently and Ryan could almost hear the moment when she put her hand on her husband's shoulder, looked into his eyes and gave him that sweet, sad smile that made your heart twist. "Sweetheart, this is Ryan's family situation to solve. His father ... not yours."
The slight emphasis on the word 'his' and the pause before 'not yours,' clued Ryan in to something he hadn't known about Sandy.
Seth erupted into the kitchen from the other door, making Ryan jump. "Hey! How're you doing this morning? Are you planning on gracing the hallowed halls of education today?"
"Yeah, I'm gracing." Ryan quickly opened the cupboard nearest him and peered inside.
"Uh, Ryan, last time I checked, man, the cereal wasn't kept with mom's vast collection of never-been-opened cookbooks."
Ryan shot him a look, closed the door and moved to the cereal cupboard where he picked out some Cap'n Crunch.
"So ... good attendance from Chino yesterday." Seth was working hard to make casual conversation. "Trey's friends. What were their names? Mike and Ricky?"
"Mm," Ryan grunted. He thought it was unlikely Mike and Ricky would have showed yesterday if Eddie and Teresa hadn't ridden their backs about it.
"And that girl, Sherry," Seth continued. "It was nice to see Eddie and Teresa again, too, with the big news about being pregnant. That's awesome."
"Yeah. Married and pregnant by seventeen. That's real awesome, Seth," Ryan said acidly. On the edge of his vision he saw Seth raise his eyebrows in surprise. Ryan knew he should apologize for snapping but instead he opened the box of cereal and grabbed a handful. He leaned his back against the edge of the counter and started eating.
Hearing the boys in the kitchen brought Sandy and Kirsten into the room as well. They looked a little embarrassed and Ryan figured they were wondering if he had overheard them. They both smiled at him and he nodded but kept on mechanically crunching cereal.
"Mrs. Martinez seems very nice," Kirsten said, filling in the conversational void. "It was very sweet of her to bring you that photo of Trey and Arturo. I have a frame that I think would be perfect for it."
Ryan shrugged and looked down at his hand in the box with the smiling captain's face on the front.
"Or we could shop for one. You could pick out something you'd like," Kirsten offered.
"Naw. That's okay." He knew he sounded rude and ungrateful. He could hear it in his voice, but he couldn't seem to straighten up, to shake his foul mood and be civilized.
"You plan on going into school today?" Sandy reiterated Seth's question in simpler terms.
Ryan paused. In that brief moment two very different scenarios of his day flashed through his head.
He could say he needed a day to himself and the Cohens would never question it. Seth would leave for school when Summer came by to pick them up. Kirsten and Sandy would leave for their offices. And for the first time all week Ryan would finally be alone.
The way he felt today, reckless, unsettled and with a slow burn of anger pulsing just beneath the surface, he would get on his bike and start riding. Cut through the air like Seth's sailboat heading into the wind and ride really hard and fast. He would stop at a liquor store, use his fake ID, buy a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey. He had enough money now he could even afford to get the good stuff, but he'd still probably just buy Jim Beam. Then he would pedal to the beach, lock up the bike and walk down to a secluded spot he had found. No one else seemed to have discovered it. In the past when he had been upset about something and gone there, he had never seen another person.
He would sit on a rock in the shade of the cliff and watch the ocean waves roll in and suck back out, pulling sand with them. He would listen to screaming gulls and watch them stitch their way across the sky in erratic swoops and dives. He would chain smoke the whole pack of Newports, bought for the irony of the name, and the cigarettes would burn his lungs like acid since he hadn't touched tobacco in over a year. And to add further injury to his aching throat, he would swallow the Beam, letting it bathe his esophagus in fire.
He would drink until he passed out then lay in the sand, sheltered by the high cliff wall until he woke again. He would clamber back up the cliff, head aching, get on his bike and ride fast for home because it would be getting late. He would head straight for the pool house and clean up, try to hide the effects of his day at the beach. Although if the Cohens saw him with red-rimmed eyes, they would just assume he had been crying and would never question him. And finally he would sit down to a late dinner with his foster family and work hard to be pleasant and polite and thoughtful and communicative, since those were the qualities they seemed to value.
That was one way he could spend his day.
"Yeah. I'll be going in," he answered Sandy. "I'm fine. Really."
At school Summer dropped Seth off in front then drove to the parking lot. This was their routine. It gave Summer and Ryan some time alone together before they started their respective days. Since their schedules didn't match at all, it was about the only time they had together until late afternoon. It was a time to cuddle and chat about inconsequential things and to make out – a lot.
This morning when Summer leaned toward him, Ryan kissed her out of habit but his heart wasn't in it. He felt prickly and untouchable and pulled away after one brief kiss. He sat back in his seat and after a moment of looking at him, Summer settled back in hers. She passed him her travel mug of coffee and he took a sip of the French vanilla roast, all the while staring straight ahead out of the windshield.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked.
"No," he answered shortly.
"Because sometimes you feel better if you air all that crap, you know?"
"If I had something to say, I'd say it," Ryan snapped.
"Ookaay." Summer fell silent. She pulled her make up bag out and started checking herself over in her compact mirror.
After another moment, Ryan handed her the mug and she took a sip before setting it in the cup holder.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"No problem," she assured him calmly. "You have every right to be in a grumpy mood."
"But I don't have any right to take it out on you."
"Ryan, how often am I a bitch? Eighty six point three percent of the time, right? How often do you put up with me? All of the time! I think I owe you." She stopped with her lipstick poised on the edge of her mouth and shot a mischievous glance over at him.
Ryan had to smile.
Summer applied the lipstick, put away the tube, snapped her purse shut and got out of the jeep. Ryan followed, hoisting both his bag and hers.
They made the long trek from the parking lot to the building where Ryan passed Summer her backpack and gave her a goodbye hug and kiss. She leaned into it, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and laying a big smooch on him.
When she pulled away she said, "By the way, Amber and I are going to Fortuna's for a leg wax after school today, so I can drop you and Seth off at home but then I gotta jet. I can come over later in the evening if you want though ... unless you're still being a little bitch." She grinned and gave him another quick kiss to take any sting out of the words. "See ya later."
"See you." Ryan watched her walk away with a flippant wave and a twitch of her hips. Summer always walked with a little wiggle in her butt, which he used to think was calculated but now realized was completely unconscious.
God, he adored her and the way she teased him and was blunt with him and always made him smile even when he was feeling like shit.
The school day went by quickly. Ryan was left pretty much alone so evidently everyone who felt they owed him sympathetic words had already said something. Either that or his 'don't fuck with me' vibe was keeping people at bay. He walked to his locker and his classes and the lunchroom with a purposeful step, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He listened attentively in classes and took notes but no teachers directed any questions at him. At lunch he nodded briefly at the table of his soccer teammates as he passed but he sat alone. In short, it was very much like his first days at Harbor when he was an unknown, slightly threatening quantity whom everyone avoided.
At home after school Seth asked him to play Mortal Kombat so Ryan obliged. He was ruthless and trounced Seth several games in a row before throwing down the controller in disgust. "Let's go do something. Don't you ever get sick of just sitting around?"
"Uh. Sure. What do you want to do?" Seth asked.
Ryan thought for a second. "Play basketball. There's that court at the park."
"Okay. But, Ryan, I don't really play basketball," Seth warned. "I mean, I can try but don't expect any serious competition."
"You asked what I wanted to do." Ryan was a little belligerent.
"Basketball it is," Seth agreed.
As coordinated as Seth was on his skateboard, that's how un-athletic he was on the basketball court. He raced up and down with enthusiasm but wasn't able to keep the ball away from Ryan. Although he had several inches on Ryan, he wasn't able to guard him or steal the ball from him either. Ryan sunk shot after shot and wished that he were playing against Luke again so he could have a real challenge.
He was playing fast and rough and humiliating Seth, he could tell, yet he couldn't seem to rein himself in. It felt too good to be running until his chest hurt and wheeling and dodging against an opponent, shouldering him aside and making the basket.
Finally Seth held his hands up in the time-out T. Then he leaned over, hands on knees, his back hunched as he gasped for air. For a second or two Ryan watched his friend's scarlet face then he turned and slowly dribbled the ball back down the court. He stood bouncing it repeatedly off the backboard while Seth regained his breath and his composure.
Ryan was embarrassed to face Seth. He knew he'd been mean and aggressive. It was like pitting yourself against a fourth grader and refusing to hold back, unfair and cruel.
"Sorry," he said, as Seth came up beside him and simply watched him dribble the ball in place then clear the net with a swoosh. "I didn't mean to...."
"What? Win?" Seth asked. "Nothing wrong with that."
"Be so rough." Ryan held the ball, turning its pitted orange surface over and over in his hands.
Seth shrugged like it didn't matter.
"I feel...." Ryan tried to explain the confusion inside him, "kind of weird today."
Seth nodded. "It's okay. It'd be weird if you didn't feel weird, you know?"
Ryan was amazed at both Seth and Summer's capacity to put up with his crappy attitude. He didn't deserve friends like them.
"You want to stop at the comic shop on the way home?" he said, offering an olive branch. "It's close by."
"It'll be closed by now." Seth checked his watch. "But we could go for a coney dog at Stan's. I'm starving. I think I'd faint if I tried to make it all the way home without sustenance."
"Sounds good," Ryan agreed.
Later that evening Ryan sat outside on one of the lounge chairs by the pool and watched the spectacular view of a storm moving in toward shore. Thunderheads were piled in ominous masses above the tossing waves of the dark sea. An occasional glimmer of lightning traced the clouds in gold. He turned his face into the wind and deeply breathed the briny sea air. It was exhilarating.
For the first time all day he allowed himself to think about his family. Trey was dead and Dad and Mom had effectively cut themselves off from Ryan in every conceivable way. He had no family.
Ryan thought about the Cohens. He appreciated everything they had done for him but even after a year of living in their home they weren't his family. He knew they wanted him to think of them that way but he just couldn't. He would always stand a little outside of their family circle. They would never really know him.
He heard someone come out of the house and in a moment Sandy settled in a lounge chair near him.
"Quite a sight." Sandy gestured at the turbulent line of clouds boiling across the horizon.
Ryan nodded.
They sat quietly for a few minutes watching the storm approach, listening to the almost continuous rumble of thunder.
"Why am I here?" Ryan's voice suddenly cut the silence. The words hung there like the simmering clouds.
Sandy paused before answering. "Theologically speaking? Because there are as many different ways to answer that as there are people in the world. God, destiny, karma; it's a complex topic."
Ryan shot him a look over his shoulder, which must have registered even in the dark because Sandy stopped teasing.
"Why am I here, in your house, living with your family?" Ryan clarified.
"I'm not sure how you mean," Sandy hedged. "You're here because ... you needed help and I ... we wanted to help you."
"Why me?" Ryan turned so he was facing him. "I mean, you must have had dozens of cases of kids with problems crossing your desk every day. You could have decided to give extra help to any one of them. Why me?"
"I...."
It was so rare for Sandy to be at a loss for words that Ryan savored the moment.
"I guess, you reminded me of myself. I knew how hard it was to be sixteen and on your own, trying to keep it together. I lived that too."
"Your mom kicked you out?"
"Well, no. I left. But still...."
"Why?"
Sandy sighed. "Long story, but basically I was a very angry kid. Pissed at my dad for leaving the family and pissed at my mom for being more dedicated to her job than to us. Taking off seemed like a good idea at the time. It was stupid."
"Turned out all right for you in the end, didn't it?"
"But it wasn't easy. I made my life a lot harder than it had to be. You, on the other hand, had no options. I wanted to give you one."
"But you must have seen hundreds of kids without parents and sent them on to group homes or someplace. What made my case any different?"
There was another long pause and Ryan appreciated it because it showed that Sandy was truly thinking about the question and not just throwing out some stock, prepackaged answer.
"You," Sandy said emphatically. "You made your case different. There was a ... a connection. I can't explain it."
He leaned forward in his chair regarding Ryan with eyes that glittered in the semi-darkness. "Because you're right, there were hundreds of other instances, other times I could've stepped in and taken a personal hand in changing the course of someone's life. It never even occurred to me before. I would never have dreamed of actually taking one of my clients home, possibly endangering my family and interrupting the flow of our lives."
He regarded Ryan solemnly and reiterated, "It was you."
"But why?" Ryan repeated. "I'm not special."
Sandy shook his head slowly. "You're wrong. There's a quality about you that...."
He broke off then tried again, his voice resonating with feeling. "You are. To Kirsten and Seth and me, you are. You're just going to have to trust me on this."
There wasn't really anything to say to that, so Ryan fell silent and turned back to face the night sky. The smell of rain was getting stronger as the breeze picked up and the storm drew closer to land.
After several minutes he finally said quietly, "Thank you."
Two and a half weeks passed before Ryan received a call from the prison telling him that his brother's possessions were cleared for release to Ryan. For the first time since the previous Thanksgiving, Ryan took a trip down to Esman Penitentiary. It reminded him of his trip with Marissa almost a year ago now. This time Sandy drove and Ryan gazed out the window at the passing landscape.
As they approached the guardhouse in front of the prison complex, Ryan's heart beat a little faster. There was something so repressive and frightening about entering a prison, as if they might decide on a whim not to let you out again. It saddened him to think of Trey breathing his last in a place like this.
The guard at his station checked Sandy's credentials against information on his clipboard and issued a parking pass before opening the gate. They parked in the visitor's area and walked toward the forbidding building.
Inside they submitted to a physical pat down and electronic scan, before they were permitted to enter a waiting room where Ryan would be presented with Trey's effects.
They waited for a good fifteen minutes in the empty room, seated in metal folding chairs at a long table. Finally the guard opened the door and a prison official in a suit entered carrying a large plastic box. He greeted Sandy and Ryan with a handshake introducing himself as Warden Jack Andrews. He told Ryan how sorry he was for his loss and placed the airtight bin on the table in front of him.
Ryan stared at it. Was he supposed to open it right now or take it home with him? He didn't have to wonder long. Sandy thanked the warden and bid him goodbye with another handshake. The warden left the room by one door and Ryan followed Sandy out the door they had come in, clutching the box against his chest.
Soon they were back outside and walking toward the car. Ryan blinked in bemusement. It had happened so quickly. He looked down. Through the top of the opaque plastic he would see shapes and colors. He had the odd sensation that when he opened the lid he would find Trey inside the box – literally.
When Ryan looked up again, they were by the car, Sandy holding the back door open so he could put the box on the back seat for the ride home. Ryan was strangely reluctant to let go of it, but he placed the box inside the car then watched Sandy shut the door.
During the ride home, he was aware of the box like a physical presence sitting in the seat behind him. He only allowed himself to glance back once to check on it.
Sandy talked to him a little, but Ryan couldn't have said later what about or how he had responded. After awhile even Sandy couldn't keep up a one-sided conversation and the rest of the drive was in silence.
At home Ryan thanked Sandy for driving him.
Sandy said, "No problem," like he always did then gave Ryan one of those fatherly pats on the shoulder.
Ryan carried the box to the pool house where he set it on the foot of his bed then sat down in his armchair and stared at it for a while. When ten minutes had passed, he had to admit the truth, that he was afraid to open it.
Finally he stood up and walked over to the bed, sat down beside the plastic bin and flipped up a corner of the lid. It made a slight popping sound. He pulled off the lid and laid it carefully on the bed before looking inside.
On the left, folded in a neat pile, was the pair of socks, the shirt and jeans Trey had been wearing the night they were arrested. Ryan's heart beat erratically as he flashed back to that night with an immediacy that involved all of his senses.
Black shape of the car. Trey's darker silhouette against it. "Come on! Get in!" The smooth handle under his fingers. Police cruiser lights flashing. Car flying as Trey floors it. Sirens wailing. "Oh, fuck!" Pulse pounding in his ears. "Please step out of the vehicle now and put your hands on top of your head." Snap. Cold metal around each wrist. Trey's eyes looking at him before they're taken away in separate cars.
Ryan lifted the small pile of clothes out of the box, put his face to the shirt to see if there was a lingering smell of Trey; cigarettes, sweat, anything. There wasn't. He set the clothes aside thinking how the fabric would never take his brother's shape again and wishing that Trey had worn these, his own clothes, in the coffin instead of the brand new suit bought with the Cohens' money.
Ryan reached back into the bin.
The pile on the right contained a couple of wrinkled Playboys, the comic Seth had sent with Ryan last Thanksgiving, a packet of letters and a paperback book called Daily Affirmations. Ryan tried to picture Trey reading the affirmations and couldn't do it. He set the book, magazines and letters down and picked up a jumble of items from the bottom of the box. A plastic Bic lighter, a set of keys with a roach clip fob, a crumpled pack containing three cigarettes, a battered box of playing cards and Trey's wallet. Ryan had bought Trey that cheap, black, fake leather wallet from Kmart for his birthday five years ago. Inside it was a driver's license, a Blockbuster card, several expired credit cards, Trey's old high school ID, a foil wrapped condom, and less than twenty dollars cash.
That was all, the sum total of Trey's possessions at time of death. There had to be more than this pathetic collection but if there was it had gone the way of all of Ryan's things, some mysterious place that only Mom knew about. Probably a dumpster.
Ryan wondered why he had thought the box so heavy while he was carrying it.
He picked up the Daily Affirmations book and thumbed through it.
"Today I will find three positive things about myself. I will identify these good qualities which I possess and then work to emphasize them in my actions throughout the day."
Ryan shook his head and continued to flip through the book. At the back there were blank pages where you were supposed to keep a journal or notes about your progress or something. Ryan found only one sentence on all the empty pages. Scrawled in Trey's nearly illegible script it said, "I will learn to dwell on the positive instead of the negative around me. I will try to have a good attitude even in the midst of shit." It was dated last October and since it was the only entry and the book still looked almost new Ryan figured his brother's attempts at self-improvement had been short lived.
He traced his finger over the blue ink and imagined Trey writing it. The earnest words, so unlike his cynical brother, made his chest ache.
He set the book down on the stack of three magazines and they slid sideways. In between the Legion and the Playboys was a pair of photographs. Ryan picked them up. The backs of the photos were rough and he turned one over to find the paper marred as if it had been stuck to a wall with tape and then carelessly ripped off.
The larger picture was a family photograph taken at Sears when the boys were eight and five and their father was still a solid presence in the picture and their mother still smiled like there was a light inside her. The hairstyles and clothes were dated and the colors of the print had faded but it was the Atwood family in all of their former glory. Ryan felt like ripping it up.
He put the studio portrait down and looked at the snapshot. It was he and Trey, grinning broadly, their arms slung around each other's shoulders. He remembered the day their mom took it.
He studied the picture for a long time then looked at the Daily Affirmations book again and reread the passage his brother had written.
"I will try to have a good attitude even in the midst of shit."
He wondered how well Trey had succeeded at that. Putting the book aside, Ryan picked up the small packet of letters rubber banded together. The band broke when he tried to slip it off the envelopes.
Several letters were from Trey's old girlfriend Sherry. Evidently she had written him even though they'd already been broken up for over a year when he was arrested. There was one letter from Arturo, a Christmas card from Mrs. Martinez, three letters from Mom and nothing from Dad or from Ryan.
He felt like shit as it dawned on him that he was as guilty as his parents of abandoning Trey. He hadn't made an effort. Not once, not a call, a letter, a birthday or Christmas card, not even a damn postcard.
Trey had called him, even if it was because he needed something from him. Trey had sent a Christmas gift, even though it was probably really Mom who did it. Ryan had done nothing but try to pretend his brother didn't exist and that everything from his past could stay in the past.
The knowledge of his failure and of his ability to be just as cold bloodedly cruel as his father, shook Ryan. He looked around at all the items spread out on his bed and wished to god he had taken one moment in the past year to call Trey and ask how he was doing.
That ache in his chest was getting worse and he felt tears prickling his eyes. 'Screw that,' he thought. He angrily brushed them away.
Then his eyes fell on that damn family portrait again; everyone grinning, everyone happy, his dad with that goofy quasi mullet going on, his mom with enough black eyeliner to put Cleopatra to shame, Ryan minus a few front teeth and Trey with his freckled face and cowlick-swirled hair - just an average little boy with his whole life ahead of him. A harsh sob escaped Ryan's mouth and he pressed his hand against it as if the gesture would hold back a second or a third.
His gut twisted in actual, physical pain and for the first time since he was a child, Ryan found himself crying. Not the kind of tears you could blink away and ignore but hard, racking, noisy sobs with big gasps for breath in between. God, he hated crying! He never did it. Ever.
Summer's voice in his head told him crisply, "Then it's long overdue, isn't it?"
Ryan gave in then. It wasn't like he had much choice anyway since his body seemed bent on cleansing itself through his tear ducts. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed, for the unrealized potential of Trey's life, for the broken promise of that happy family in the photo but mostly for his own failure as a brother. He would never have let Seth down that way. Why had he assumed that Trey didn't need him too?
When his tears finally subsided, he viciously rubbed the heels of his hands hard into his eye sockets. He could feel his nose running, sniffed deeply and ran the back of his hand under it. It came away bathed in mucus. Fuck, crying was messy. He got up and went into the bathroom to blow his nose and rinse his red face with cool water.
After that he felt better.
Ryan returned everything on his bed to the box except the two pictures. After looking at the family portrait another moment, he added it to the box and then walked over to his dresser and from the bottom drawer got out the picture of Turo and Trey and the frame Kirsten had given him. He had tossed both into the drawer with no intention of putting the picture in the frame or displaying it. Now he sat down on his bed, slid the back from the frame and inserted the picture in the pre-cut matte. It fit perfectly. He slid the back in place again and turned the picture to look at it once more; Turo and Trey, leaning against a car and acting tough for the camera. They were such a pair of assholes. Ryan smiled.
Putting the framed photo down, he picked up the one of himself and Trey again. He thought he would ask Kirsten if she wanted to help him pick out a frame. She liked to be asked to do that kind of thing. The picture of his whole family he would keep hidden away. It wasn't something he wanted to face every day.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in." Ryan looked up and Seth was framed in the doorway.
"Hey. How's it going?" Seth entered hesitantly instead of with his usual bounding stride. It made Ryan realize how distant he had been these past couple of weeks, pushing Seth away so often that now his friend didn't know where he stood.
"Okay." Ryan gestured to the foot of the bed. "Sit down."
Seth sat and looked at the open box. "Trey's stuff?"
"Yeah. There's something of yours in there." Ryan pulled the bin toward him, picked out Seth's Legion and offered it to him.
"Oh, yeah." Seth flipped the pages of the comic thoughtfully. "I wonder if he liked it."
"Looks pretty well read so I'd say so." Ryan grinned. "There's a couple of other magazines in here if you want them."
He tossed the Playboys at Seth.
"I'll add them to my collection." Seth smiled and stacked the nudie magazines under the graphic novel.
There was a moment of silence. Ryan looked down at the pictures in his lap then back up at Seth. "Look, I know I've been kind of ... out of it these past couple of weeks. I just wanted to apologize. I've been thinking about a lot of stuff." Ryan shrugged.
"Perfectly understandable," Seth said. "Honestly, man, you don't owe me an apology or an explanation or anything. Seriously."
"We're cool then?"
"Definitely cool. No problemo."
"Good." Ryan nodded. He absently picked up the unframed picture of him and Trey and tapped it against his knee.
"Can I see?" Seth asked.
"Sure." Ryan handed over the picture.
Seth studied the two brothers intently. "How old were you when this was taken?"
"Twelve, I think. It was after we moved from Fresno." He smiled, reminiscing. "That was a fun day. My mom's boyfriend, Ray, the one who's in Texas now, took us to Fun Land. We rode the Mangler like ten times in a row cause there was hardly any line and every other ride at least twice.
"My mom wasted probably fifty bucks trying to win the stupid game where you throw a ball through the clown's mouth." Ryan laughed. "She was out of control. And I remember Trey lost his wallet, which he was really pissed about, but other than that it was a perfect day. We actually got along for a change."
"You look like you were having fun." Seth looked up from the picture to Ryan's face. "It must have been nice growing up with a brother."
Ryan shrugged. "Sometimes." He gazed at the picture of Trey and Arturo in its fancy frame. "He had a hell of a punch though. You didn't want to mess with his things."
"Oh yeah?"
"I remember one time when we were little I took his remote controlled four by four out and ran it in the vacant lot. I made a ramp out of an old board propped on a rock and dug a trench on the other side for it to jump over. Ended up wrecking the truck so I tried to hide the evidence."
"What happened?"
"I didn't hide it good enough. Besides Trey already knew it was me who took it because when there's only two of you, who else, right?" He chuckled. "I denied it 'til I was blue in the face of course, but he tore through all my stuff and found it in the back of the closet. I wasn't a very creative hider."
"What'd he do?"
"Smacked the shit out of me. But mom came tearing upstairs cause he was swearing at the top of his lungs and he was the one who got in trouble. Grounded for a week for cussing and for hitting me." Ryan grinned. "I got ice cream."
"Dude, she didn't even yell at you for taking his truck and breaking it?"
"Oh yeah. She yelled too. But I still got ice cream."
"Brat," Seth said.
"I was." Ryan tapped his fingers on the glass surface of the picture of Trey and Turo.
"How about that one?" Seth said pointing at it. "Is there a story about Trey and Arturo?"
"Lots of them. But most of the time I didn't know what the hell those two were up to. I was just hanging out with Teresa by then."
"Hanging out? Is that what they call it in Chino?" Seth teased.
"Hey, she lived right next door. Who else was I going to hang out with? Most of the time I knew Teresa she was just my buddy?" He smiled again. "It was only later on that we added the benefits package."
"Girl next door, eh? Why didn't I have that arrangement with Marissa?" Seth complained.
Ryan laughed.
"Oh, thank you. I'm glad you find the idea amusing." He prompted, "So, tell me another story about Trey or about you and Trey or about anything you want to."
Ryan stopped and thought. "Well, there was this one old lady who lived down the block. She had the meanest dog you ever saw. So Trey thought it would be funny if we put ExLax in some hamburger meat and...."
Seth leaned forward avidly listening while his friend talked.
Epilogue.
Friday evening.
"Now this is your classic time travel movie," Seth proclaimed as the opening title flashed across the TV screen. "And number two's the best because Marty travels into both the future and the past. It's a lot more complicated than either of the other two. Plus all the cool hovercrafts."
"One's the best." Summer stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and then spoke through it. "Vintage 50's clothes and those great push up bras. I wonder if I could single-handedly bring crinolines and poodle skirts back into fashion?"
"I like the one where they're in the West," Ryan said.
"You shoulda been a cowboy, baybee."
"Don't sing, Seth." Summer poked him in the side to shut him up and he slapped her hand away and put a pillow between them on the couch. "That's your half. This is mine. Don't cross it. Keep your hands in your own area."
Ryan leaned back against Summer's legs and felt her rest a hand on one of his shoulders and knead it lightly. He wondered if she was just doing that to wipe the popcorn grease off her fingers because Seth had forgotten the napkins and she was too lazy to get up and get one. But it felt good so he decided he didn't care.
Doc was telling Marty and the girlfriend, Ryan could never remember her name even two seconds after they said it, about the troubles their children faced in the future, when the phone rang. Ryan looked up as Kirsten passed through the family room on her way to get it. She smiled at him and he returned the smile.
He listened to her voice answering the call and strained to hear what she was saying. He felt tense as a bowstring until he heard her laugh.
Summer ruffled her hand through his hair and he relaxed against her again, even though her knees wedged behind his shoulder blades weren't exactly comfortable. He reached his left hand over and rubbed her bare ankle, toying with the thin gold chain she wore around it. She wiggled a little at his touch and moved her leg up beside him so he could reach farther up her calf.
"As a scientist you'd think Doc would know better than to mess around with peoples' destiny," Seth said. "After all his big talk about not distubing the space time continuum he goes and drags Marty into the future with him? Dumb."
"There's no time travel, Seth," Ryan reminded.
"Watch the movie, Seth," Summer said at the same time.
"You two are no fun."
Ryan stroked his girlfriend's leg and watched the TV and thought about how suddenly things changed. In one second everything you knew could be altered forever. People were snatched out of your life or chose to walk out. You just never knew.
But sometimes things changed for the good and sometimes people came into your life or chose you, so he supposed it all evened out in the end.
The pain of missing those who had left you behind was always there deep inside, humming like a refrigerator motor that you got so used to hearing you tuned it out. He could live with that quiet hum.
"Pass the popcorn back over here, jughead," Summer said.
"Say please, Summer." Seth held the bowl out of reach.
"Nice girls finish last," she replied, poking him in the ribs and grabbing the bowl when he almost dropped it.
Ryan smiled as he listened to them bicker and watched Marty McFly head bravely into the future to change fate.
The End
Another Note: Thanks again and again and one more time everybody for reading and reviewing. This fic consumed me over the past month. I spent almost every waking moment turning it around in my mind, creating then discarding ideas, thinking constantly about how Ryan would react to things, what he would be feeling at any given moment. It was damn exhausting. Next fic definitely needs to be a comedy.
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