Sullen
by M. F. LuderPart three
On Thursday night, before dinner, Sandy picks up the phone in the kitchen and dials Theresa's number.
Ryan hasn't come home for dinner in over a month, and with Seth there, Sandy wants Ryan to join them on Saturday.
The phone rings five times, seven, ten, before he sighs and hangs up.
Usually, at this time of night, there's someone at their house. He doesn't worry. They could have gone out to dinner, or they are running late from somewhere.
He will call them again after dinner. With a smile, he walks toward the fridge and hugs Kirsten from behind, kissing her neck.
"Called him?" Kirsten asks.
Sandy shakes his head. "There's no answer. I'll try again later."
Kirsten nods, turning around in Sandy's arms and kissing him.
They will call Ryan after dinner and ask him to come visit. She wants to see him, to see him and Seth, together. Talking.
She's no stranger to the way Ryan has avoided asking about Seth, or how Seth lurks around the corner, pretending not to hear their conversation.
She has noticed, and she's worried about her boys.
This rift that has come between them has to stop. Now. Before it's too late.
She nods inwardly, sighing as she leans her head against Sandy's shoulder. When Ryan comes back, she knows he'll talk with Seth, or just look at Seth, and things will be better. If they aren't, then she'll be forced to take out the Playstation so that they can solve their issues through a game.
It will only take the two of them, together, in a room, for things to feel like home once again.
She thinks about calling Ryan after dinner as she serves the containers and Seth picks at his meal.
However, after dinner, her dad calls about a site that has been having some problems. The workmen haven't been paid this week, and they are threatening not to work tomorrow, and Caleb doesn't want that.
Kirsten buries herself in work, and by the time she's done dealing with that, it's almost midnight, too late to call.
She kisses Sandy tiredly and gets into bed, deciding to call tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
The next day around eight, Seth sits on the couch, book in hand, as he reads about Tom Rogan.
He should have been able to read more than just four pages in four days, but yesterday, after reading about Eddie, Seth had decided to put down the book for a few days.
Something good has to last, he had told himself, even though he was just keeping himself sane.
There was something about Eddie's desperation, the fear that he might not come back, that had made the hair on the back of Seth's neck stand.
It's safer this way, he tells himself now, as Tom tells Bev to leave if she wants, that he won't stop her.
He hears the front door opening, and Seth know it's his parents arriving with the take out.
He doesn't pause, but keeps on reading, just a few more pages until he's done with the scene and then he'll go to dinner.
"Seth?"
"Here," he says over his shoulder, absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the pages.
Just a few more pages.
Kirsten shakes her head as she watches her son drown in a book. Not that it's anything new, but a little bit of help would be appreciated.
She places the two bags on the counter as Sandy walks into the kitchen, bag in one hand, cell phone in other.
"Anything?" She asks, her hand moving to her silk silver scarf around her neck.
Sandy shakes his head. "No."
"How many times--?"
"Eleven. Then ten more." Sandy sighs, flipping the cell phone closed before looking at his wife. "They're not answering. I don't... two days in a row? That's too much. Ryan should be back from work by now, and Theresa. At least her mom... she's always at home, isn't she?"
Kirsten nods. As far as Theresa had told her, yes, she spends most of her day at home. She works in a convenience store five blocks from their place, but she's usually at home at this time of night.
She swallows, asking the question neither of them wants to voice. "Do you think something...?" She trails off because she can't begin to fathom the idea of something happening to Ryan.
Sandy shakes his head. "No, no, I'm sure they're okay. I mean, they probably went... out, right?"
Only, Sandy's voice lacks conviction, and Kirsten understands.
They stay silent for a moment, hearing Seth flipping the pages on his book, before Kirsten speaks up.
"He called last Monday."
Sandy nods. Last Monday, not a phone call this week. That's not Ryan. For the past two months, he's been calling either once or twice a week.
"We'll go visit him tomorrow," she says, nodding to herself. "We'll go in the morning and pick them up for lunch."
Sandy nods as he walks toward Kirsten and hugs her. "I'm sure they're fine," he whispers against her ear when she lets out a soft sigh. "I know they're fine."
It takes her a moment to compose herself before nodding against Sandy's shoulder. She pulls away, kissing her husband and she smiling at him.
Ryan's fine. He has to be.
"Seth!" She says as the subject is dropped because she can't keep talking about this and not know. "Dinner."
"One minute."
"Seth." Sandy walks into the den and leans against the side of the wall. "Dinner. Now."
"One second," Seth says over his shoulder as he reads about how Beverly knew Bill.
And the plot thickens.
"Seth, you've had all morning--"
Seth nods idly before sighing. He knows he won't be able to read seven more pages with his dad hovering over his shoulder. He places the bookmark in between the pages and throws the book onto the coffee table.
Sandy stares at his son, at that snappish tone Seth seems to get whenever they try to get more than five words from one another.
His son didn't use to be like this.
His son used to love summer, and enjoy himself on things that were only his, like reading and watching TV. His son used to be happy. Even before Ryan, Seth was happy, in his own way.
With Ryan, it was like Seth had discovered something entirely new, incredible. Like a new flavor to something insipid he had tried time and time again.
Now his son is barely the shell of something he used to be.
"See?" Seth says as he shoulders past Sandy on his way to the table. "Done."
Sandy watches Seth roll his eyes at him and he sighs.
Seth takes his seat on the table. His mom gives him a small smile and he returns it half-heartily.
He doesn't say a word, fork picking green bean after green bean, stalling. He doesn't know what he's stalling for, but he's stalling anyway.
Seth gives in, ten minutes into the meal, and cuts the steak as Andrea returns to the nurse's station after taking Mr. Potter's blood pressure.
"Excuse me?"
Andrea looks up from her charts and looks the pretty brunette that has taken home in 526, dressed in a Notre dame sweat shirt that fits her comfortably.
"Yes?"
She tries to smile at Andrea, but the action falls short, and Andrea understands. She has spent the past two and a half days sitting in a hospital chair, waiting for Ms. Anderson, Emma, to wake up.
"Hmm, hi, I'm..." she trails off, taking a small breath. "I'm with Emma Anderson, in 526."
Andrea nods. "Yes, sweetie, I know. I've seen you around."
"Oh," the girl ducks her head, soft red touching her cheeks.
Andrea chuckles. "It's okay. We always know who's around."
She nods. "Oh, good. I'm Sarah. Sarah Grayson."
"Nice meeting you, I'm Andrea."
Sarah tilts her head to the side, her fingers pulling a stranded lock of hair behind her ear. "You have the day shift, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"Oh." Sarah pauses, seeming to remember what she came here for in the first place. "Oh, right. I was wondering... Emma tends to get cold during the night. Do you think you could lend me--?"
Andrea gives her a small smile, nodding. "Sure, I'll be right there."
"Thanks," Sarah says before turning around and walking back to the room that has been her home for the past three days.
Andrea writes down the request on Ms. Anderson's chart before walking to the supply closet, and retrieving a thicker blanket.
Walking back, she walks past 524, the blondish boy still asleep.
She pauses, leaning against the threshold to peer inside for a moment. Last night, around eight, Dr. Campbell declared John Doe comatose. She sighs. The boy's lapse into such a state was no surprise to them, not after the injuries he had sustained. No ID on him has been found as of yet, no way to contact his parents. She doesn't know what's worse. The boy here alone, or a couple, somewhere, going crazy with worry.
She shakes her head, hoping against hope either the boy will wake up and let them know who to call, or some sort of ID will be found. Closing the door after her, she turns around and walks down the hall to the pretty redhead who, just like the boy, refuses to open her eyes.
Saturday morning, Seth wakes up late and still sleepy. He walks downstairs, slowly, not really wanting to move.
He pours milk into a bowl and then reaches for the cereal in the top cabinet as his mom walks downstairs, in a hurry.
"Mom, what--?"
"Sandy!"
Seth blinks, confused. She seems worried, rushed, and he doesn't like either of those things. "Mom, really, what's going on?"
"Nothing," she says, but there's no conviction in her voice and Seth doesn't believe her. "We're going to Chino, visit Ryan and Theresa. Invite them to lunch."
"Oh," Seth says before shrugging, and Kirsten can see through the nonchalance he offers.
She sighs, walking toward the coffee pot to pour herself a new cup. She's getting tired of this, of Seth acting like he doesn't miss Ryan, like he didn't leave for the Pacific Ocean because Ryan left.
"He hasn't called in over a week," Kirsten adds, not certain Seth knows about it or not. "We called last night, and the night before, and no one answered."
"Mom, really, it's not like they've left. I mean, I'm sure they just--"
"Yes, yes, I know." Kirsten gives him a small smile. "I just want to make sure."
What she wants is to convince her heart, her motherly instincts, that Ryan is fine and safe. That nothing has happened, that her boy is still there.
Because a mother always knows and, right now, Kirsten feels like a part of her is missing. Not the part that left with Ryan that night after the wedding, but yet another. Half her heart doesn't beat anymore.
Something inside her tells her things are not right. No one answers that phone because, probably, there's no one there.
She fears the rightness of her intuition.
She begs to be wrong.
Sandy walks downstairs as her heart picks up its beat and her pulse seems to quicken. He has the car keys in his hand and she nods.
"We'll be back before lunch," she says, leaning forward and placing a kiss on Seth's cheek.
Her son grimaces and she smiles. As an impulse, needing to touch one of her sons, she places yet another kiss on his cheek.
"Mom!"
The objection in his voice does not go unnoticed by her but she doesn't care. Not now, not when she feels like she's going into hell's mouth, to see blackness where there should be heart, where there should be a person.
She shakes her head.
Walking to the door, Sandy places his hand on her lower back as he says his goodbyes to Seth.
She wants to do more, to say more. She wants to hug Seth and kiss him and never let him go. She fears it might be the desire to touch Ryan.
She fears it might be fear itself.
Closing the passenger door after her, she closes her eyes, telling herself she's wrong, that her fears are unfounded.
When she opens them, her vision is blurry, and it takes her a moment before she can focus on the road, Sandy's hand covering hers.
Andrea finishes changing Mrs. Banker's IV and writes down today's pulse on her chart. She smiles at Carol, who nods back before turning to her right and falling asleep.
Carol has been here for over a week, liver cancer and impending surgery making it impossible for her to go back home. Her husband comes to visit every night, her sons on the weekends.
Capping her pen and placing it in her breast pocket, Andrea makes her way down the hallway to check on Mr. Potter as a soft voice is heard through the ajar door of room 526.
"Your parents say they'll come back next week."
Andrea wants to leave, to continue on her rounds, but Sarah's voice make her stay, and maybe it's a little bit of curiosity as well. She wants to know, she needs to know, if these two girls are together.
Sarah snorts.
"At least they were civil with me this time. I think... I think your mom was nice to me, can you believe that?" She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well, after four years, I wasn't really expecting it. She kissed my cheek when she arrived, did you see that?"
Sarah's heart pauses for a moment, skipping a beat. "You would have seen it, your eyes had been open." She feels her throat closing. "Will you quit with this? I know you're there, just fucking hiding from me."
Her hand moves to her mouth and she bites down on her lip hard.
"I'm not mad. I swear I'm not mad."
She swallows.
"I was scared, not mad. When they called... that's not a call I want to receive again, you hear me? I will not tolerate it. I will not. You can't..."
She closes her eyes as they burn and her throat closes completely.
It takes her almost a minute before she can speak again.
"I wasn't mad, I swear."
She pauses, her hand tightening its grip on Emma's, and her thumb caresses the back of Emma's palm.
"I miss you. I really do."
Sarah smiles.
"It gets kinda lonely just sitting here, watching you. Not that I mind, you always look beautiful when you sleep, but this is too much. Even for you."
She runs her hand through her dark hair before sighing. "It's been five days, sweetie. Five days. No one can sleep that long."
Closing her eyes, she leans her head forward.
"I'm running out of books here. I've gone through all of your collection of Astronomy, Baudelaire and Poe. Please, don't force me to read Sartre. I don't think I could stand it."
Sarah chuckles, the sound sad coming from her lips.
"I miss your eyes. You always did have the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen." She leans forward, her free hand reaching for Emma's face to push back a lock of red hair. "Let me look at your eyes, please? I miss them." Sarah pauses for a breath. "I miss you." With a small smile, she places a soft kiss on Emma's lips. "I love you," she whispers.
Andrea takes a step back, closing the door silently to give them more privacy. She knows she shouldn't have heard that, but at least now, she knows.
She grins, walking down the hall to Mr. Potter's room as the end of The First Interlude is being read, passing the page to Chapter Four.
Seth's hand reaches for the can of coke on the coffee table, gripping it between his fingers without even looking up from his book. In the book, Ben barely gives a second glance at the headline about the psychopath, very much like Seth did about the car accident. Seth doesn't see the similarity. Instead, Seth focuses on Ben mailing the postcard for Beverly as the front door opens.
Seth pauses mid sentence and thinks about what he'll say to Ryan. He has done his best to avoid thinking about it until now, but he can't put it off for any longer. Should he talk with Ryan, greet him like nothing had happened, like the Pacific hadn't been his Chino? Would Ryan even talk with him, or barely offer him a glance?
Seth shakes his head. No, no, Ryan's not like that. He doesn't hold grudges, especially not against Seth.
He thinks maybe, if the sun and the stars align, they just might be able to get their friendship back on track. Seth might have to apologize, and Ryan will probably just lift an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders, and then everything could be--
Hearing footsteps, Seth looks up, expecting to see Ryan in his wife beater, though a little worse for the wear because of the construction work.
Seth sees none. Instead, he sees his mom hanging onto his dad's arm for dear life, as if letting go would mean she would fall. Her eyes are blood shot, her free hand shifting between clenching and unclenching at her mouth. His dad looks confused. No, not confused. Worried. And pale. Seth likes none of those things on either of his parents, and his throat becomes suddenly dry.
This scenario, this... his mom and dad like this, it can't mean anything good.
It stands for Hell.
"They weren't there," Sandy says and Seth doesn't hear him at first. "The house..." He coughs, shaking his head. "It's empty. There was no one there. It was empty."
Maybe it's because the sentence makes no sense whatsoever, or because Seth doesn't want it to make sense. It's not until his mom bursts into tears that Seth has to repeat the words in his mind to understand them.
They weren't there.
Ryan wasn't there.
Ryan...
His heart stops, then starts beating once again miraculously, because Seth feels like he has died.
Ryan's not there.
Not there, in Chino. Not where he's supposed to be.
The house is empty
He's not there.
Ryan's gone.
empty gone
Not gone somewhere else, to another place an hour from here, where Seth would need to ask for permission to use the car.
Not that gone, but, like, really gone. Gone somewhere they don't know.
Gone. Lost. Ryan's lost and Seth has never known how much it hurts to lose someone until this moment.
Seth squints, as if trying to process what his brain is telling him. This ache in his chest, the way his lungs seemed to have shut down, how it's hard for him to breathe. It feels like the day Ryan left. Like someone shred his heart and lungs, and he is only half a person. It feels like that, only a thousand times worse. Seth wonders for a moment why he's still breathing, how he's still living, when it hurts this much. It has to be impossible, to survive with a pain like this, a situation like this.
He's not strong, not like Ryan. He's not strong alone. He's strong when Ryan is with him, when he has Ryan by his side, to watch his back, to pull him through. Alone? Alone, he's just Cohen, the boy who didn't have friends, who spent his summer playing Nintendo, reading comics and sailing.
Alone, he's Cohen.
With Ryan? With Ryan he is Seth, the friendly but quiet guy, who became friends with a sort-of jock and two of the prettiest and most popular girls at the Harbor School.
Alone, his life is not really worth living.
His hand reaches for the couch because the world is tilting sideways and no one asked him for his permission. He grabs onto the armrest for dear life and now, he understands his mom's death grip.
He takes deep breaths that seem to be accompanied by acid, the way it burns his throat and lungs. It feels like the acid is peeling the skin from his throat and blood is starting to pool in his insides, bitter and tart. He takes a shaky breath not to throw up. It actually works.
His mom starts crying, sobbing. She tries to take a breath, but it turns into a sob. She turns around, leaning her head onto his dad's chest.
Kirsten fists Sandy's shirt. Her hands are shaking and she can barely hold her grip. Her fingers ache, as if she was cold, and maybe she is. She's cold, inside. She's cold all over.
The house was empty. Theresa was no where to be found, or her mother. Ryan wasn't there. Ryan wasn't there.
She shakes her head, pressing her face against Sandy's chest and it hurts. Oh, God, it hurts. The house was empty. Her boy, gone. Gone.
Sandy sighs, placing his arms around her, one hand caressing her hair. He hugs her tightly, but it does no good. Kirsten keeps crying, and Sandy feels like he'll break as well. The house looked like Ryan's old apartment. Empty. He sighs, placing a soft kiss on her head as she cries.
Seth stares at his parents hugging, and he wishes for that comfort.
Seconds tick by. They don't move.
Seth thinks maybe they can't. He thinks he can't.
The remnants inside him aren't recognizable. He isn't recognizable.
From the inside out, he's broken.