Secret

Chapter 17

-Chapter 17-

Ryan knocked on the door to his home a day later. My mom looked at me and we waited. We heard the metal chain lock against the wooden door. Ryan had called him earlier to make sure he was sober. The door creaked open and Ryan’s dad let us in. He was dressed nice and his hair just groomed but I didn’t let his appearance fool me. He greeted my mother and let us in. Everyone sat around the table uncertain of the near future. Ryan’s eyes were as he said, “Dad, me and Jess signed you up for counseling.”

I studied his face. His expression was hard to read. I couldn’t tell if he was content or sad or angry. He looked like the older version of Ryan, just taller and more worn. Time had done him no good and strain and drinking didn’t help. “When does it start?” he asked firm but controlled.

“Next week. Until then I’ll be with Jess.” Then there was silence. A silence so icy and uninviting that my spirit throbbed for racket. Tears broke the quiet. Not tears from Ryan but tears from his father. It always broke my heart to see men cry but for some reason I was satisfied. I hoped that every tear he shed ripped at his face and soul. I wanted him to drop every tear that had crawled down Ryan’s face. “Dad. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His voice was no longer firm and controlled but soft and unruly.

“Don’t try to make me feel bad for you ‘cause I don’t.”

“I’m not trying to do that. I want to let you know that I do care for you. I don’t mean to hurt you. I just… I just loose myself under the alcohol.”

“I’m sure. Look, Dad, I don’t want to make you miserable. I just want to help you. I’m not coming back until you get it.”

“If only your mother were here.”

“Why do you always have to bring her up?”

“If she were here none of this would be happening.”

“You sure you wouldn’t hit her too?”

“I loved her, okay?! You’re the reason she’s gone so don’t you dare tell me I’d hit her! I’d never lay a hand on her!”

Ryan was quiet. His lips were bunched up and his fists were clinched. I could tell that he was heated. “I think it’s time to leave,” my mom interrupted.

“No, it’s not.” Ryan’s words were bitter and unkind. He looked at his father. “But you’d hit me, you bastard. I always knew that you blamed me for her death.”

“I don’t.”

“You just said it!”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Screw you.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m still your father.”

“Well you don’t act like it.”

“I’m trying very hard to stay civilized with you.”

“Hit me then! I’m sure it’ll make you feel better!”

“You don’t know.”

“Know what?” Ryan was standing. My mom and I were sitting there, unsure of what to do next.

“Ryan, I think we should go now,” I said tugging at his shirt.

“Yeah. I think we should too.” He scribbled notes on a paper and handed it to his dad. “This is your appointment. Try to make it.”

He took the paper from Ryan’s hand slowly and rubbed his thumb across the words previously written as if trying to attach to Ryan. As if this was his only way of connecting with him without causing him pain. “I love you.”

Ryan’s eyes looked like green fire and what were once brown flakes were now hazel flames. Without a word he went to the car.

The ride home was silent. Only the sound of the purring engine and cars zooming by was heard. An occasional sigh from someone rang in ears. I glanced at Ryan and he seemed to pass his ache. His fury. His sorrow. I could just barely feel his pain throbbing delicately in my heart. I yearned to take it all away and longed to end his torment.