Sullen
by M. F. LuderPart fourteen
"Cohen, just the person I was looking for." Summer leans against the locker next to Seth's, looking down at her books for a moment before focusing on him. "I have today free, and tomorrow. Hmm... Saturday, not so much. I'm spending the whole day at the spa. I so need to get exfoliated."
She nods to herself, touching her cheeks knowingly. Too much beach and sun and everything have gotten her skin as dry as a peach and right now, she so needs to take a day off and pamper herself.
Retrieving the last of his books from his locker, Seth closes the lid and turns around to look at summer. "Hmm, okay, sure. Only, what in God's name are you talking about?"
"Homework? Paper due in a week?" She sighs. "AP class, remember?"
Seth frowns even deeper, tilting his head to the side.
"AP Lit, Cohen, what else?" She snorts. "The only other AP class I'm taking this year is English, with you, you idiot. Anymore and I'd kill myself. I can barely handle calc as it is."
"Oh, right," Seth turns around and starts making his way down the hallway. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"Okay, tomorrow."
"Nope."
Summer glares at him. She hates being put off. "Sunday, then."
"No, sorry, can't do."
No one blows Summer Roberts off like that -- ever. She reaches out, hand grasping Seth's arm and she stops him in mid-step. Turning around to look at him, her brown eyes are sharp and hard. Seth should be afraid of her. Very afraid.
"You're going to the hospital, aren't you?"
"Summer--"
"No, don't Summer me. You are, just like you have been for the past three weeks, huh?"
"Sum--"
"Tell me Cohen, what else have you been doing in the afternoon that isn't going to the hospital?"
"Look--"
"No, you look. I know Ryan's important to you, ok? I know." She snorts, the sound harsh in her throat. "You fucking left me to go after him so if anyone gets it, it's me. But this is too much."
"You're blowing things out of proportion, Summer."
"Am I?" She folds her arms across her chest, looking about twice as big as she is, and very much as deadly. "All you do is go and sit by his side. I know, you've told me so yourself. When was the last time you played with your Nintendo?"
"Playstation."
"Whatever." She continues like Seth hasn't interrupted. "Or gone out and bought tons of comics that only make you look dorkier than you actually are, huh?"
"Geesh, thanks for that. And to answer your question, not that I should, of course, yes, I've been reading comics." Seth answers back, indignation dripping from his tone. "I bought the New Legion last Wednesday."
"Oh, really?"
Seth turns around, continuing his way out of the school and toward the parking lot.
"Tell me, Cohen," Summer follows him, because, truth be told, she's not about to give up on the ass that used to be her boyfriend. "Did you go straight to the hospital after that? Read that story to Ryan?"
Seth chuckles humorlessly as he reaches his car. "Summer," he says, opening the driver's door of the Rover.
"No," Summer holds her ground, slamming the door closed. Seth jumps back, surprised. She grins, pleased. "Tell me."
"That's none of your business."
"It isn't, is it? I'm your friend, you jerk. The only conscious one, that is."
Seth's jaw tightens and he glares at her, hard and long, and if Summer was a different kind of girl, she would have been worried Seth might try to take a swing at her. But she's Summer, and she knows this guy better than he knows himself. Hmm, okay, maybe not better than Ryan does but that's neither here nor there.
Seth looks pissed, angrier than she has ever seen him and she's proud of that.
That's good. That. Seeing Seth doing something, feeling something, because for the past three weeks, since he told her they had found Ryan and cried on her shoulder, he has felt nothing. Zip. Nada. He's felt nothing and he's done nothing but sit by Ryan's bedside and slowly drown in his own sorrow. That's not good. Bottling things up leads to worry and worry leads to premature aging lines.
"It's like, lately, it's all Seth and Ryan time. He's in a coma, Cohen, you have to get that through that thick head of yours."
"Summer--" His tone is a little big edgy, almost threatening, if he was the kind of guy to make threats, or use that tone. That's more of a Ryan kind of tone and isn't that just weird?
"He's in a coma and you--"
"Summer--"
"-- have to move on. He's there Seth, but you're here. He doesn't need you."
"Shut up."
Summer takes no notice of his words, or how agitated he looks, how on the verge of breaking. "You have to let go. There's nothing else--"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
She gasps at his sudden outburst. Not so sudden, she realizes, because his face is red, his lips pressed tightly against one another into a thin line and that reminds her of Ryan once again. His hands are clenched at his sides and she feels like he'll break if she touches him.
Seth looks like he'll start sobbing if she so much as says another word. She feels sorry for him in that moment because, she knows, he can't let go. He doesn't know how.
"Ryan's in a coma," Summer says, her voice low, lacking the edge and strength she felt up until a moment ago. She wants to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him. She doesn't. She knows it won't do any good. "He is. You're not."
She turns around and makes her way to her BMW. A moment later she hears an engine roaring to life. When she turns around she can only see the back of the black Rover he's been given for this reason exactly. She sighs, her shoulders heavy and she gets into her car.
"--the rest of Cheryl Lamonica found seventy yards further downstream, caught in a tree that had fallen across the stream the previous winter. It was only luck that the body had not been washed into the Penobscot and then out to sea in the spring runoff. The Lamonica girl had been sixteen. She was from Derry but did not attend school; three years before she had given--"
Seth sighs softly, closing the book. He can't focus. He can't focus on what he's reading. He doesn't remember what the last couple of pages said, so it's pointless for him to keep on going. But he has to. He's been reading for the last half hour, not caring that the last thing he remembers from the story is the First Interlude, which started to scare him a little bit.
He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs that seem to tangle his already messy brain. Seth can still hear Summer's accusation in the back of his mind. He can still hear her words and there's not much he can do about that. He sighs, book closed on his lap and turns around to look at Ryan.
His eyes are closed. That's nothing new, of course, Seth has gotten used to having a very silent audience by now. More silent that he usually is, Ryan, that is. Very, very silent. Seth's used to this. He's also used to holding a conversation on his own.
"I read the articles." Seth says all of the sudden, filling the silence that has fallen onto the room.
He hasn't talked about this in the week he's known about it. He hasn't talked about it and Seth has no idea why he's doing it now.
"The articles," he repeats. "I read them. It was pretty easy, you know? Sometimes I get scared about the Internet. You can find anything."
Maybe if he hadn't found it, he wouldn't have read it, spent half the night looking for more and dreading it at the same time. He wouldn't have spent the next morning daydreaming or feeling like he was caught up in a nightmare that wouldn't stop.
That had been over a week ago and, even now, he could still remember the phrases.
LIVES ARE TAKEN ON THE INTERSTATEALREADY FIVE DEAD
FEAR AND SORROW
Forty-eight passengers in total. Seth had even been able to find a list with all the names. Ryan's was under John Doe.
Five had died at the scene. Up to the last article, about three weeks ago, twelve had died, seventeen had been in critical condition after the accident, Ryan one of them. Nineteen had been uninjured.
Seth sighs.
Twelve dead. A little girl among them. Lindsay Pine. Two-year-old girl. Her mother, as Seth was able to find out, had been admitted to this very same hospital and had been in critical condition. Seth feels for the woman who will wake up to learn her daughter had died.
Twelve dead.
Seth knows very well one of them could have been Ryan. One of them could have been Ryan and they would have never known that he had died. Seth would have never known. His heart clenches in and out.
"I know it could have been you," he says, low and heartfelt. "I know I should be grateful, and I am." He sighs. "I am. I'm glad you're here instead of..." He waves to the left almost nervously. "I'm glad. But I'm not the kind to settle." His eyes sting and he clears his throat. "You taught me that. To reach for the best. To be better, against everything... and isn't that a little corny?"
Seth chuckles through tears he refuses to shed. After a moment, he sighs, almost shaking his head.
"Summer's gotten on my case, you know? She says I'm spending too much time here. I'm not, right?" He turns and looks at Ryan expectantly. "Every afternoon is not too much time, right?"
Seth pauses, thinking about it for a moment. "We used to spend every single afternoon together last year. I don't see why this one should be any different."
He looks down at his book, and then Summer's words run through his mind once again. Seth bites down on his lower lip.
"She's asking me to give up on you."
He sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair as he does so. Seth doesn't know why he's doing this, telling him this stuff. Ryan shouldn't know. She's asking Seth something impossible to do and he's telling Ryan about this. It's like telling your friend you're considering stopping being his friend. It's stupid. But this is Ryan. Seth could always tell Ryan everything. And this, somehow, is not different.
"I can't." He swallows. "I just can't, you know? I know you, dude. I know you. You'll wake up. I know you will."
His right hand shakes, his fingers tremble and it almost looks like he's tapping the cover of the book. Almost.
"I know you," he repeats, his voice low and barely audible in the room. "You're a fighter. You survived everything: your father, your brother, your mother. You never gave up." He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving Ryan's face. "I know it sounds cliché and all that. You might even say it's not true," Seth chuckles, no humor in his voice, "but you saved me." He lets out a shuddering sigh. "Before you... before you I was nothing, dude. Before you..."
He presses his lips together, everything inside him shaking. "You saved me, dude. You... gave me something that I never had. I... I can't give up on you." His hand tightens on the book. "You wouldn't give up on me. I can't do that to you."
Seth's lower lip trembles but he gives Ryan a small smile that seems to be painful on his features, on his skin. It lasts a moment longer before his face relaxes into the ever-present pained expression that seems to have taken over a once grinning face.
He clears his throat, a weight that had been on his shoulders suddenly lifting, feather light, and he feels something letting go in his chest. An invisible hand that had been there ever since Seth arrived at the hospital unclenches its iron fist and Seth can actually breathe.
"Okay, dude, where were we?"
Seth opens the book once again, skimming the pages for where he left of.
He might not remember the first five parts of Chapter Four again, but he's read this part before, and he has a vague recollection of what Bill went through.
He leans back against the chair, one leg propped up on the opposite knee, and he looks down at the book.
"Oh, right," he says, and he starts reading.
"The State Police had found the rest of Cheryl Lamonica seventy yards farther downstream, caught in a tree that had fallen across the stream the previous winter. It was only luck that the body had not been washed into the Penobscot and then out to sea in the spring runoff."
Seth places his backpack on the floor, by the side of his seat and leans back. He stares out the window at the sunny Wednesday morning and tells himself that in only eight more hours he'll be out of school and back at the hospital. The thought makes the idea of class more bearable.
Out of the corner of his eye, Seth sees Summer walking into class, purse slung over her shoulder. She flips her hair his way and takes her seat on the other side of the room. He sighs. Apparently, Summer is still pissed at him. The teacher walks into the class. Oh, well. Whatever.
His hand isn't cold against her touch. It's warm, and that surprises Kirsten. This boy on the bed, though very much her son, doesn't seem to be the same boy she would look in the eye every morning and smile at, kiss good bye before going to work with a small peck on his cheek. Her son, she tells herself, would smile at her. Her son has the most amazing blue eyes she has ever seen, so very much like hers, they seem to share the same blood, though the logical part of her brain tells her this is not right.
Kirsten tilts her head to the side, seeing images in the back of her brain. Images she wishes she wouldn't have to look at, memories she's ashamed of, has been for months now.
There's movement behind her, and Kirsten can see Nurse Lexington moving out of the corner of her eyes. The woman doesn't say anything, only moves to one of the machines by Ryan's side, writing down numbers on her small clipboard and Kirsten suddenly feels her cheeks heating with embarrassment.
"I didn't like him at first." The words leave her lips before she knows what she's saying, and Kirsten wonders, if she could stop them, would she be able to.
Andrea looks up at her, green eyes wide, confusion plainly written in them. "Mrs. Cohen--"
"I thought he was a threat to Seth, to our family. I thought..." She chuckles, the sound sad in her throat, and she can hear tears in her voice, and the familiar aching in between her eyes, from trying hard not to cry. "I thought he could hurt us."
And she remembers the moment, the second she saw the boy walk into the pool house and all she could think, all her mind could wrap around was that this boy, this single boy, could do so much damage if given the opportunity.
"But he was a sweet kid who needed someone to love him." She takes a shaky breath, shaking her head slightly. "God, I was so stupid."
Andrea blinks, her gaze shifting from the boy to the woman sitting on the chair. She doesn't understand the words, is more confused that she was five minutes ago, and she wonders if she'll ever understand this family.
"I love him, you know?"
Andrea nods. Yes, she knows, and Mrs. Cohen probably needs this, to talk and to be listened to, and Andrea can do that.
"I loved him the moment I hugged him and welcomed him into our family. I loved him before that. I loved him the moment he went after that kid to protect me, though I could protect myself. I loved him the moment he hugged my son and tried his best to keep him safe." She pauses and Andrea can hear a faint whimper. "God, I was such an idiot. I could have done something, I shouldn't have let him leave."
Andrea takes a step forward, her fingers touching her shoulder before her hand falls onto it and squeezes. The woman looks up at Andrea, and she gives her a small smile. "You couldn't have done anything. If there is one thing I've learned, it's that there is a time for everything. His destiny, as much as one might like to change it, was this. There was nothing you, or anyone else, could have done to prevent it."
Empty words for a mourning mother, she knows, but they are words nonetheless, and at this moment, that's as much as Andrea can offer her.
Mrs. Cohen nods stiffly, her head turning around to look at her son once again. "I miss him."
"I know you do."
"I won't-- I love him."
"I know."
They fall into silence and when Andrea starts to ponder leaving the room, probably going entirely unnoticed, Mrs. Cohen shakes her head.
"He's as much my son as Seth is."
Then, Andrea frowns. She hadn't known that. So, hmm. Actually Ryan is Mr. Cohen's son? Now she's really confused.
She chuckles, the sound painful and so very sad, and then Mrs. Cohen looks over her shoulder at Andrea. "I'm confusing you, aren't I?"
"It's not my job to interfere--"
Kirsten waves it off. "I don't care about that. You..." she sighs, letting her head hang forward. "You found him, you found us. I owe you everything."
That heartfelt confession makes Andrea's chest tighten and she swallows, with difficultly, and wonders if there's an answer to that statement.
"He... He was arrested. Last year, in August. Sandy, my husband, he was a public defender back then. He got assigned to Ryan's case and when," Kirsten pauses, her forehead wrinkling against the ugly memories. God. Dawn, how could you do that to your own son? "When his mother kicked him out, Sandy brought him to our home." She doesn't feel the tears falling down her eyes until there's wetness on her cheeks and Kirsten brushes at them with the back of her hand. "I thought he'd rob us, can you believe that? Ryan'd never do that. But I thought so."
Kirsten sighs, falling silent, no more words left in her heart.
He's my son.
The thought, the knowledge of it all is more than she can convey into words, and she tightens her hold on Ryan's hand. Leaning forward on her seat, she brings Ryan's hand up to her cheek, the back of his palm against her cheekbone and her eyes, crying onto Ryan's skin.
Andrea knows the woman needs solitude to speak with her son. She says nothing, only gives Mrs. Cohen another glance before turning around and walking out of the room.
The next night, Seth closes the bathroom door after himself, making his way back to his room. He walks by his parents' bedroom and hears them talking quietly. He pauses, tilting his head and silences. He could have sworn he head his grandfather's name there. It sounds weird that they are worrying about someone that isn't Ryan. It sounds... out of place.
"This is not gonna be easy," Seth hears his dad say.
"Bribing city officials for permits? Sandy, you know he didn't do that."
Seth frowns. Actually, he's not quite so certain. But then again, his mom has always had high hopes for his grandpa.
"Honey, at this point? I really have no idea."
Seth shakes his head and continues on his way to his room. If there is more to that, if things get really complicated, he'll know.
He leaves his door ajar, the light turned off as he checks his alarm for tomorrow and pushes back the covers. He really doesn't want to go to school tomorrow, anymore than he did today, or yesterday. Or the day before. Not having Ryan there, school is almost unbearable. Now, with Summer still mad at him, it's back to square one. It's a return to form, actually, and Seth laughs dryly.
He leans on his side, eyes almost closed and tells himself not to worry. That Ryan will be okay. That everything will be okay. He doesn't sleep well that night.
The waves hit the shore with a strong sound, forceful against nothing but sand and the edge of the very ground he walks on.
Sandy lets out a long sigh, watching the waves, the blueness of the ocean. His surfboard in his right hand, stuck on the sand, and he's wearing his body suit, but nothing seems to call to him today, of all days. He hasn't touched the water for weeks. When they didn't know where Ryan was, when the boy was still missing, surfing would push everything back, letting Sandy forget about it, if only for a minute. But when they found him, he didn't think he had the privilege to forget that his son was hurt and comatose in a hospital.
However, still, he has missed the water, the freedom it gives him.
Sandy sighs, eyes glued to the water. Calling him, almost, only his ears seem to be closed to everything but his own memories.
He remembers, so long ago, around the time Julie and Caleb had gotten together, when he had came home from surfing one Saturday morning, and the boys had been sitting in the den, controllers in hand, playing. So very early, Sandy had thought back then. So very early, barely after eight, and still, it was the two of them there, not caring that they could sleep in.
And then Sandy had walked in, towel around his neck, the surfboard back in the Rover. He had been dripping on the floor and he knew Kirsten would get mad at him if she saw, but he hadn't cared. He had stood there, against the couch that the boys weren't using, preferring to sit on the floor, and looked at them.
"You know, it's not too late to teach you how to surf, Seth."
Sandy cringes as he hears his own voice in his mind, the remembrance of what he had said back then.
Seth had laughed, shaking his head. "No. No. Dad. Sorry. So very sorry. But the surfing gene so totally skipped me. Maybe my kids. Or grandchildren, but so not me."
Ryan hadn't said anything. He had ducked his head, lowering his gaze to the controllers.
Sandy hadn't pushed. He thought Ryan didn't want to learn either, that he would have spoken up. But that was wrong. He had been so very wrong. He should have known that Ryan would never ask for something for himself, not if Seth had already said no. Something in Sandy's chest tightens and cold spreads around him. Ryan had never asked for something that Seth didn't ask for before. As if... Sandy sighs. As if he's only worthy of what Seth has.
Sandy hadn't said anything back then, only shrugged and trotted to his room, to take a shower and change.
I should have pushed. The thought moves around in Sandy's dark mind. I should have pushed. I should have asked him, directly. Ryan, you wanna learn? I should have asked him, after Seth. Before Seth. I should have.
He sighs, hand on the surfboard tightening. Ryan might have wanted to learn. Seth had always been so against sports that it was easy to fall into the same patterns with Ryan. But Ryan's so different. He enjoys soccer, even signed up for the team. Seth would have died before doing that. Sandy should have known that they don't have the same interests and he should have asked Ryan about surfing.
Throat tight, he doesn't hear a voice calling him until there's a hand on his shoulder. Sandy looks over his shoulder at Erin, dark brown hair falling over her shoulder, plain white bikini, her white surfboard with the purple line on her hand.
"Hey. Sandy. I haven't seen you in ages."
Sandy swallows, shrugging as he does so. "I've been... busy." He sighs, shaking his head. "One of my boys, he's in the hospital."
"Oh. God. I'm so sorry." Erin reaches out, hand on Sandy's shoulder. "No wonder. How is he? Is he okay?"
"Not really. But he's strong. He'll be fine."
"I'm sure he will be." Erin sighs, looking over at the ocean. "You surfing today?"
It takes Sandy a moment to think about that himself. He had come here with that thought in mind, surfing and maybe forgetting about everything, if only for a moment, but there's a weight on his shoulders. It's still early, not even eight, but Kirsten must be getting ready to go to work, and Seth to school, Friday morning like any other morning during the week. But Sandy doesn't have anything until nine thirty, his first conference of the day, and then a meeting with Caleb about this whole AD thing.
"No, I don't think so." He gives her a small smile. "I gotta go. I'll see you around, okay?"
She nods, understanding edging on her face. "Yes. It's okay. My best wishes to you and the family."
Sandy sighs, nodding, before turning on his feet. The Rover is parked by the pier, not even a two minute walk. He can go home and change, not having even touched the water, and stop by the hospital for half an hour before going to the office.
Suddenly, chest tight and pain between his eyes, he misses Ryan terribly.
Seth frowns, trying to read the words but coming up short. Seth closes the book, leaning back against the chair as he looks up to see Ryan. "I'm sorry," he says. "I've taken to reading as a denial tool, haven't I?"
He runs his hand through his hair, tilting his head. He smiles at Ryan. "You know, last night was kick-off carnival?" He pauses, his chest tight. "Summer called. She wanted me to go." He shrugs. "Of course I didn't, who do you think I am? No way was I going. I think she's seeing someone, but that's not it." He wonders why he's saying these things, words pouring from him, and realizes that he doesn't care. He has to say them. "I don't think I could have gone without you, you know?"
He leans forward, placing the book on top of the nightstand. He touches the edge, not sure where he's going, not even sure what he's saying.
"The shit hit the roof last night. Literally. Grandpa got arrested." He sighs. "Dude. I don't... we were sitting there, eating dinner and then someone's knocking at the door and I'm answering and grandpa is being handcuffed. It was very much like Law and Order or some other detective show and it sucked."
Ryan's heartbeat is steady, as is his breathing. He still has a tube up his nose, thin and small, but it reminds Seth that Ryan wouldn't be able to breathe on his own.
It makes Seth's shiver.
"Dad went to the police department today. Mom went with him. It's Saturday morning, in case, well. Hmm. You didn't know. " Seth nods, idly. "That's why they didn't come today. I'm sure they'll come over later, or tomorrow."
Seth can't imagine not coming there, today, tomorrow, or any other day. He can't imagine not coming to see Ryan.
"I'm tired," he says after a moment. He scoots his chair closer to the bed, the wood squeaking against the linoleum floor.
His hand reaches out for Ryan's and he stares at the pale hand in his palm. Ryan's hand isn't cold, but it isn't as warm as it used to be. Ryan always had warm hands, warmer than Seth's.
"I'm tired," he says again, and he closes his eyes.
It takes him a minute to fall asleep and his hand tightness on Ryan's.
Part thirteen
Part fifteen
Sullen