Infinite, sometimes

31

"Baby, slow down." Ellen grabbed Spencer's knee while his foot pressed down on the accelerator and the car quickly gained speed down the residential street. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"You floor it when you're mad."
"So why do you want me to stop?"
"Okay, what's going on with you?"
"Nothing."
"Don't give me that, Spencer."
Spencer shook his head. He tightened his hands around the steering wheel and he let the car coast to a more legally acceptable speed.
"You mad at me?"
"Babe, I'm not mad."
"Ryan?"
Spencer pretended to not hear her as he glanced around to observe the car's surroundings.
"Brendon?"
Spencer slowed the car to a complete stop at a stop sign and looked left and right with an exaggerated glance.
"Ryan and Brendon?"
Spencer exhaled loudly, almost groaning. "He's not talking to me."
"What do you mean?"
"He won't talk to me."
"You guys didn't talk at all today?"
"We talked, but he just... won't talk to me."
"I don't really understand." Ellen was playing dumb by this point, but she wanted Spencer to just tell her what was bothering him.
"He's never not talked to me... or to us, has he even talked to you?"
"A little bit."
"I didn't care but I don't know... he's trusting Brendon way too much and I don't know if Brendon can handle it."
"I think he's fine."
"Who's fine?"
"Well, both of them, but Brendon can do this."
"But this is Ryan, though. He's... I don't know..."
"He's not ours, Baby."
Spencer exhaled and licked his lips, trying to erase the sensation of having words pulled out of his mouth and responded to before he had a chance to speak them. "We've been the only ones to help him."
"Until this, yeah."
"But why wouldn't he need us now?"
"He does. He's said he does."
"Then why is he ignoring us?"
"Baby, he's not ignoring us. He just has someone."
"Yeah well I don't know if that someone can do what we can do and have done for several goddamn years."
"Spencer, quit it. Look, I know we helped Ryan though a lot but if he's ready to let someone else in... Honey, he's even said... he told me that he knows we are okay with Brendon, and we wouldn't let him be around Brendon if it was going to explode in everyone's faces... Honey I remember you telling Ryan, several times, that Brendon is good. You want him to keep Brendon around and everything..."
"I do, but this isn't Brendon's place right now."
"How so?"
"Ryan's supposed to come to us."
"Why, though? We're his friends, yeah, but why should he be required to do that?"
Spencer shrugged and leaned back in his seat.
"Tell me why."
"If Brendon can't do this and anything happens to Ryan, I swear..."
"Nothing's gonna happen to Ryan."
"You don't know that."
"You don't know how upset Brendon has been over this."
"Over what?"
"Not knowing if he could do it because he cares about Ryan so much and he doesn't want anything to happen to him."
"See? He doesn't even think he can do it!"
"But he can. I told him that if he cares about Ryan, he can help. That's all it takes. I mean, what is it about us that helped him? I don't see any magic wands or special powers that Brendon doesn't have. We just care about the kid."
"It's different, though."
"Baby, how is it different? All three of us want the same result, here. We want Ryan to come out of this okay... you do know that's what Brendon wants, right?"
"Yeah but I don't know if he can do it, and I know we can."
"Alright, listen. Maybe you'll understand this."
"I already understand everything. Ryan needs us and he doesn't want us."
"He does want us. But just listen to me, would you? What if this happened to you? What if your dad just died?"
"I don't know."
"If he did, wouldn't you want me? Wouldn't you want me with you, above anything else? I only say this because I would want to be with you if it happened to me."
"I guess."
"Then why should Ryan not want Brendon with him right now?"
Spencer shrugged and looked out the window.
"And why should Brendon not want to be with him? I would want to be with you if this happened to you, Baby. Why doesn't this make sense to you?"
"It does."
"Then why are you like this?"
Spencer shook his head and turned the steering wheel sharply, signaling that he was through with the discussion even though nothing had been solved. Ellen knew that it didn't matter if they were young; they had been together for long enough that she knew what it was like to be married. She would have to try to finish their conversation whenever Spencer would be willing to talk
~~~~~~~~~~
Grace flipped the light switch and the fluorescents above quickly flickered on, even though the light from the kitchen window was more than enough. Ryan sat up with his arms and hands beneath the table and Brendon started to hover over the bowl of ice cream, hoping that, with his mouth full, nobody would notice him or expect him to talk.
"Good day today, Sweetie?"
Brendon nodded and his eyes continued to study his spoon.
Grace made her way over to Ryan and gently put her arm around him as she passed by. "And you, Ryan?"
"I'm... alright."
"Will you be staying with us this evening?"
"Yeah, I... think..." Ryan looked at Brendon.
"Yeah he is." Brendon quickly realized his mistake of speaking and he shoveled more ice cream into his mouth.
"Slow down, there. And that's fine, I can clear the guest room if you'd like."
Ryan felt his breath stop in his throat and he made a successful effort to only casually look over to Brendon.
"I don't mind if he stays in my room."
"You sure?"
"Not at all. You don't need to worry about the other room."
"It's not a bother, though."
"Mom, seriously, it's fine."
"Whatever you say." Grace slid a chair closer to the center of the table, across from the boys, and she sat directly across from Ryan. "So you and that ice cream...." She extended her arm and grabbed the rim of the bowl. "You ready to... part, there?"
Brendon obediently nodded as he sat his spoon in the bowl and allowed his mother to pull it away from him. His hands disappeared below the table and he adjusted his body, ending up with his right leg pressed against Ryan's left. Ryan leaned forward and rested his chest against the table. He folded his arms in his lap and he carefully pressed his longest fingers into Brendon's leg, leaving them there while Brendon was being stared down by his mother.
"So you covered a lot in that email, huh?"
"I guess." Brendon folded his hidden arms and his fingers quickly linked with Ryan's.
"I don't really know how school could be stressing you out so much, Sweetie."
"Sorry."
"No, talk to me. What's going on?"
"Just stuff."
"Is it school, or stuff that's going on at school?"
"Going on, I guess."
"Well, I really don't like how you've been acting around here lately."
"Sorry."
"Don't just say that, Brendon. I want to know what's going on with you."
Brendon licked his lips and squeezed Ryan's fingers to let him know that there was absolutely no truth in what he was about to say. "Mainly, it's just this girl at school. I kinda like her and she sees it differently and it's just been pissing me off."
"Hey."
"Sorry."
"Was she the one you took to the dance?"
A new excuse hit Brendon and he was quick to throw it out into the open. "No, she uh... yeah, I was, but she called me about an hour before and said she didn't wanna go."
"I see."
It was turning out to be some sort of strange guilt trip, as Brendon saw it. "Saw her there with another guy once we got there."
Grace nodded, feeling uncomfortable, and she decided to change the subject as she looked at Ryan. "Did you like having Brendon there yesterday?"
Ryan nodded and started to trace one of Brendon's fingernails with the tip of his finger. "And thanks for... letting me stay, tonight... I..."
"You're welcome here any time, Sweetie. Especially this week."
Brendon lifted his eyes away from the table. "All week?"
"Of course, as long as you're still okay, Brendon."
"You know, Mom, I'm really not as easily distracted as you like to think I am."
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry."
"You're going to tell me what you're talking about."
"Not really."
"What?"
Ryan put his left arm around Brendon's shoulders in the friendliest way he could manage, not really caring what Grace saw or heard. "Hey, calm down."
Brendon glared at Ryan and his eyes threatened to stab him in the chest.
"Just settle down, what's wrong with talking?"
"We used to talk a lot, Brendon. What's up?"
Brendon's glare quickly turned to his mother before it went to the refrigerator. "I just want out of here."
"You don't have much of a choice right now, sorry to say."
Brendon's head snapped back toward his mom, but Ryan tightened his grip on him before he had the chance to blow up. Brendon glared at her and exhaled as his eyes went back to the table.
Grace chuckled and put her hand on Ryan's arm. "You seem to be good at keeping him settled, huh?"
Ryan forced a small smile before looking back to Brendon.
"Bren..." Ryan lowered his voice enough so that Grace would know that what he was saying was technically only meant for Brendon. "Just talk. Let her know everything." Brendon made eye contact with him, and Ryan moved his mouth silently. "I'm here."
Brendon looked at his hands and he started to assault his thumb with his fingernails, starting with the inside corner of the cuticle. He wanted to try to feel what Ryan felt that made him unable to live without the habit. "I just don't like it here."
"Well, it's your home."
"Doesn't feel like it."
"Why are you so miserable here?"
Ryan didn't like the sarcastic tone in her voice, but he kept himself quiet while Brendon tried to answer. "It's a fucking prison."
"Brendon, please watch your mouth."
"Sorry."
"It's not a prison."
"Okay, you win. There are no bars and I have a key. Really don't need a key though since there's almost always someone in here whenever I need to get in."
"What do you mean?"
"I can never be alone in here."
"Brendon, you're always alone up in your room. I never see you. What do you mean you can't be alone?"
"You guys never leave me alone."
"Why yes we do. I never force you to come down and be part of the family. The invitation is always there, but I never make you."
"No, but you make me do stupid shit for you all the time."
"If you don't watch your language, Ryan is staying in the guest room because I'm already not fond of the idea of you staying up all night talking."
Brendon pretended to ignore her. "You make me do everything around here, and it makes no sense."
"Having household responsibilities makes no sense?"
"There's a difference between sweeping the floor and coming down stairs to pick something up, walk two feet with it, and sit it down somewhere when someone else could have easily done it."
"Brendon, you have responsibilities in this house. You always have."
"Seth doesn't."
"Because he wouldn't do anything even if I asked."
"So what if I don't do anything?"
"There will be consequences."
"And what about Seth?"
"Don't worry about Seth, worry about Brendon."
"Why would I even care about myself enough to worry about myself? Seth doesn't do anything but sit around and treat me like shit, but he has a car and a T.V. and a free ticket to come and go as he pleases at any hour of the day or night. Why is that, Mom? Because of his oh so stellar grades? Commitment to... what... helping kids with cancer? He doesn't even DO anything and he still gets everything!"
"Brendon, your brother is actually being punished for a long time as of this past week."
"Oh, so he has to break the goddamn law before you decide to do anything to him? So that means, what, I have to cure AIDS before you guys give me even the slightest amount of respect, or dare I say it, freedom in this place? Because that's what it looks like. He can sit and do nothing and get everything until he does something illegal, and I can give you guys whatever you want and work my ass off in school and what do I get? Oh, if I'm lucky, you might let me look at the computer once a day. And hey, if I'm really lucky, you might even let me touch it!" Brendon slid his chair back and it slammed into the wall because he forgot how close he was to it. He brushed Ryan off of him and started to leave the kitchen. "I'm getting something. I'll be back."
"You're staying right here."
"Mom. I will be back."
The next sound that was heard was Brendon's feet slamming against the stairs. Ryan suppressed a smile, proud of Brendon for standing up to his mother when he wanted to leave the room without being overly harsh with his refusal to stay. He leaned back in his chair and looked at his fingers, but Grace sighed and her voice brought his attention back up to her.
"I'm sorry you have to see him do this, Sweetie. I almost wonder if this is why he doesn't have many friends."
"He has friends, he... this is just hard for him. I'm not sure why, it's just hard, and..."
"It does seem to help, having you here. I'd normally expect him to stay upstairs with his door shut and those earphones stuck in his ears, but something tells me you're making him talk things through."
Ryan forced another smile and looked down at his fingers. He knew it would be easier to talk to Grace if he could occupy himself somehow.
"Is there anything with him or going on with him that I really should know?"
Ryan didn't hesitate to lie. "Not at all... he's really okay, just a little upset about some things..."
"Think you could do a better job of telling me?"
Ryan shook his head. "I'd rather not... I mean, I can't speak for my friends like that, you know? I'm sorry..."
"Don't worry about it, Sweetie." Grace and Ryan both looked up as if on cue as there was a loud thud coming from upstairs. "So, uh... how have you been, Hun?"
"I'm alright."
Grace nodded. "I see."
"I just... it's hard, I guess... but I've been with my friends all weekend and they're really the best..."
"Brendon's been helping you out?"
"Yeah, I've been with him the most. He's an amazing person, really."
"He's never been through anything like this, so I'm surprised he's been able to help you so much."
"Well we're really similar and I guess it just kind of works, I don't know... it's just nice knowing he's there even if he doesn't know what this is like... he knows other stuff, he..." Ryan let his voice trail off when he realized he was starting to say too much.
"What other stuff?"
"Oh I don't know, we just have a lot in common."
"Well, like what?"
"We... like to write, and... there's music..." Ryan was saved from needing to carefully choose his words when Brendon could be heard storming down the stairs.
"Well, here he is." Grace smiled as Brendon entered the kitchen again and sat a large box down on the table. "What's this, Sweetie?"
"This is what makes me happy." Brendon made eye contact with Ryan as he sat down. "One of the things, anyways."
"Well?"
Brendon lifted the lid off the box and it was filled to the top with worn notebooks. "These are from the past two years. I have them dated and put in here accordingly, and you're not going to read them."
"If I'm not going to read them, why are they in my kitchen?"
"Because I'm stupid. I don't care, nobody's reading them. I just thought I'd let you know what I do with my time."
"You write in them?"
"Yes I do."
Ryan was afraid that Brendon was going to start to get a little too defiant. "Tell her what you write."
"They're just journals. And lyrics, although I'm a talentless idiot and I couldn't finish a song if my life depended on it, and it does, so maybe I won't be here for long. I don't know."
Grace looked slightly surprised, and Ryan cringed. Ryan leaned forward again to conceal his arms underneath the table and he laid his hand on Brendon's knee.
"But this is what I do and it's all I want to do. It's the only thing I have and I don't think you really understand that."
"No, I don't, but I want to." Grace obviously sensed the seriousness of her son's situation, and she decided to let him talk. "Why is it the only thing you have?"
"I'd be shot if I said any of this out loud."
"Why is that?"
"I just would. Or not, because nobody would listen anyway."
Ryan quickly turned his head to look at Brendon. "I would."
"Yeah, and I've told you just about everything, so you already have."
"Brendon..." Grace slid the box off to the side to make room for her to put her hand on Brendon's wrist, dangerously close to lifting the sleeve of his jacket. "What is it, Sweetie? What's going on?"
Brendon closed his eyes, opening them as he exhaled. "I just want to be able to live."
"You can."
"And I want to want it, too. I don't want to have to worry about every little thing and if you guys are gonna hate me for something or if you'll hear me up there and Dad will come up and bitch about it and... I don't even know, I can't even talk. No wonder I'm more of a disappointment than my brother."
"Baby, neither of my children are disappointments. One of them has made several bad choices, and the other one has not made many at all."
"Try this, then. I don't even want to go to college."
"Well, you're going. Where you go is kind of up to you, but you're going."
"Okay. What if I go where Ryan goes?"
"Where's Ryan going?"
"What if I just take classes for journalism at a community college and Ryan and I just get some cheap apartment somewhere?"
Ryan was pleasantly surprised to see that Brendon had remembered his goals for school and that he had been secretly planning their future already.
"Well, I'd like to see you do a little more, but you have to do what you're happy with if you are going to spend the rest of your life with it, you know?"
Brendon instinctively looked at Ryan. "We're happy."
"Huh?" Grace spoke as she pushed her chair away from the table.
Brendon realized what he had just said. "We're happy with that, I mean... it's what we wanna do, and... we're happy with it..."
Grace opened up a cupboard and started to remove a couple boxes of spaghetti. "We can talk about school later, but we don't want to be paying for some big school and complicated major if it's not what you want, because it makes no sense. You'd be wasting your time and we'd be wasting our money."
Brendon smiled, causing Ryan to smile and hide his face by looking down. "You... really? Seriously?"
"Well, yeah... if you do something you don't like, I'm not stupid—I know you won't put much effort into it. You've already worked so hard, and if you did that, it would just be throwing everything away. I'm not too happy that this is all you want to do, but if you're happy with it, it's your life to make decisions for."
Ryan and Brendon looked at each other while they smiled. Ryan glanced up at Grace and made sure her back was turned to them, and he quickly reached over to grab Brendon's hand.
"Ow, shit!" Brendon jerked his hand away, causing Ryan to jump back with surprise while Brendon lifted his hand.
"What?" Grace spun around and focused on her son.
"Nothing, just... hurt my finger, and I... hit it on the table, sorry."
"Let me see."
"Nah, it's fine. Can we just talk later? I need to get started on some homework and maybe I'll be done before dinner..." Brendon shot a friendly smile to Ryan, who was still afraid because he didn't know what he had done to hurt Brendon.
"Sure, Hun. I'll call you down when it's ready."
Brendon nodded and picked up his box of notebooks.
"Hey, Brendon..."
"Yeah?"
"I'll handle the dishes tonight so you and Ryan can do stuff, alright?"
Brendon nodded because he didn't really know how to respond.
"If you guys go anywhere, I'd like you home by about nine."
Brendon looked at Ryan and gently held out the box. Ryan knew to take it, and he instantly wondered if he was qualified enough to be holding so much of Brendon's life in his arms. Brendon silently walked over to his mother and cautiously put his arms around her neck, only becoming confident when she returned the hug.
"What's this, Sweetie?"
"Love you."
"Well I love you too." Grace laughed and squeezed her son. "I didn't think you liked hugs or anything. You never seem to want anyone to touch you."
Ryan almost smiled at the huge discrepancy between what Grace thought and how Brendon really was. He didn't mind being one of the few people that knew just how much Brendon depended on being close to someone.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Your finger..." Ryan sat the box on the floor beside the bed and pulled the bottom of his shirt down to straighten it out after bending over.
"It's alright, you just hit it by accident and it hurt more than I expected."
"Let me look."
"Nah, it's fine." Brendon pulled something out of a drawer and pushed it shut quickly. "I'll take care of it."
"After I look." Ryan grabbed Brendon's wrist and pulled the unwrapped bandage out of his fingers so he could flatten Brendon's hand. "Oh God..."
"Well, you know how it is."
"You don't do this, though. Your fingers have always looked nice."
"I guess I do it now."
"No, Bren. I really don't want you to start this."
"It's easy. It just hurts, but it's easier."
"What do you mean?"
Brendon tried to pull his hand away, but Ryan kept holding on to it while he searched his pocket for something. "My mom probably would have been a little concerned if I asked her if I could borrow a cigarette to set my arm on fire."
"You know better than that."
"Yeah, but with this, I can do it anywhere and nobody will really notice and if they do, they won't care. This has to make sense to you since you do it..."
"You said you wanted me to quit."
"But you haven't."
"Well, I'm sorry I've been under a little stress in the past few days."
Brendon exhaled through his nose and looked down at his mangled thumb. "I'm sorry."
"Just let me fix this." Ryan lifted Brendon's thumb and prepared his nail clippers.
"No, shit, you're not using that."
"I have to."
"What are you cutting off?"
"This." Ryan slid the edge of the clippers underneath the piece of skin that stuck up from the corner of Brendon's thumb, and Brendon tried to pull his hand away.
"Fucking hell, no, that hurts!"
"Yeah it hurts, but you need to get the skin off before you cover it up."
"Oh my God, you can't do this..."
"Bren, since when do you hate pain?"
"Since I'm not doing it myself."
Ryan offered the nail clippers. "You wanna do it?"
"I'm not doing it."
"Fine." Ryan applied a firm pressure to Brendon's thumb as he held it steady and quickly clipped off the chunk of hanging skin. "Then I will."
"Fuck!" Brendon grabbed his own hand and threw himself down on the bed, still sitting up and leaning forward with his thumb up to his lips.
"Sorry."
"Why'd you do that?!"
"You can't cover it up with the skin just hanging there."
"Well, it's bleeding again."
"I knew it would. Get this on it." Ryan put the clippers back in his pocket and he gave Brendon the bandage. "I'll go get your bag so you can start on homework."
"No, don't."
"Why?"
"I'll do it in a little bit."
"Okay... thought you wanted to do it."
"I've wanted to see you all day."
Ryan sat down next to Brendon and Brendon handed him the crumpled wrapper of the bandage as if Ryan knew what to do with it, but Ryan simply laid it on the nightstand. "I wanted to see you, too. You have no idea how much."
Brendon nodded. "I think I do. I just want... I don't know, just this..." He put his arm around Ryan's shoulders and leaned back. They laid oddly with their heads leaning against the wall.
"You were good down there."
"You think?"
"Mostly, yeah."
"Because of you."
"Well, I tried. But your mom was really... I don't know, she's just concerned about you."
"What did she say when I was up here?"
"She wanted me to talk about you, but I wasn't going to, so she just asked about this weekend and stuff."
"She did? Shit."
"What?"
Brendon sighed and sat up, pulling Ryan with him. "When I emailed her, I asked her to not talk about... things, with you, and I guess she did."
"It's okay, though... it's your mom, I don't mind... I know she said I'm welcome here any time but I don't think she would have given me an open invitation for the week if nothing happened."
"I don't want anyone bothering you though."
Ryan exhaled and turned around sideways to face Brendon. With his face against Brendon's shoulder, he had to convince his friend that he didn't mind talking about it, even if it wasn't completely true. All Ryan wanted to do was make Brendon feel comfortable about talking to his mother because Ryan hoped that the conversation could bring about changes, as it had already seemed to do, that would make Brendon want to tolerate his life for a little while longer. He was able to make Brendon feel okay about talking to his mother; it felt like Brendon actually wanted to talk to her, but Ryan knew his biggest accomplishment before dinner was making Brendon promise that he wouldn't hurt himself, even in ways that Ryan was guilty of.
~~~~~~~~~~
"My hand's there if you need it, Bren."
"I know."
"Just leave your fingers alone, they don't deserve that."
Ryan knew there was no need for him to tell Brendon that he was there, but he liked to hear himself say it. It added just a little more feeling to something that he didn't think could be more saturated with emotion.
"If they yell, if they get mad... Brendon, just stay quiet. Don't react, because you're bigger than they are, you know."
"How am I bigger than them?"
Ryan licked his lips to keep from smiling. He simply laced his fingers together with Brendon's as they stood in the bedroom doorway, and Brendon knew. The fact that he wasn't alone made him bigger than anything that he would ever come up against.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Seth, I think you can stay here." Grace continued with her food after nodding toward the chair at the opposite end of the table from her husband.
"Uh, yeah..." Seth was halfway out of the kitchen with his heaping plate of food. "I don't think so."
"Well I do. Sit."
Brendon's head shot up and he looked at his mother. He wasn't used to seeing anyone not give in to what Seth wanted. Ryan thought it would be smart to continue looking down while eating and awkwardly pretending to be oblivious, but in his mind, he was screaming for Brendon to stay quiet and not get himself hurt. He hoped that his fingers subtly rubbing against Brendon's leg would remind him of everything they talked about.
"No, I'm not sitting here."
"Yes you are."
"Grace, let the boy go."
Ryan looked up casually when Brendon's father spoke. He quickly looked at the man, but his eyes went to Grace to await her response. Seth slumped sideways against the doorframe as if he were as sick of the arguing as Ryan was with seeing Brendon needing to live with it.
"Fine. Brendon," Grace smiled and looked at Brendon and Ryan. "You can go as well, if you want."
"No he can't."
"Why?"
"He can stay."
"Boyd, they can both go or both stay."
The tension was so thick that Ryan almost couldn't see through the accumulated anger that was filling the room. Brendon had started to eat faster, obviously so, and Ryan knew he had to overcome his newfound fear of moving. He adjusted himself in his chair so that he could lay his leg completely against Brendon's.
Boyd chewed his food and looked off to the side toward the kitchen sink as he was slightly slouched over his plate, as if giving in was going to kill him. "Seth, sit."
"No, fuck that."
"FUCKING SIT. You heard your mother."
Brendon jumped slightly and focused more intently on his food, and Ryan couldn't pay attention to what Seth was mumbling because he was too concerned with watching Brendon out of the corner of his eye. Seth threw his plate down, almost sending spaghetti flying across the table, and he flopped down into the chair around the corner from Ryan.
Seth was busy exchanging a few choice words with his father, and the three other people in the room were trying to pretend that nothing was happening. Brendon was confident with Ryan next to him. "Hey, Mom?"
"Mmm?"
"I was just thinkin'..." Brendon sat his fork down and slid his plate away a few inches before slightly raising his voice so he could talk over the arguing. "I'd like to take some sorta.... I don't know, just... guitar lessons or something..."
"Ah. That'd be a little much, don't you think?"
"I could pay for some of it, or all of it if you'd just let me go..."
"No, Honey, we could easily afford it. You're just really busy as it is. You think you could take on something else?"
"Well." Brendon wasn't sure how to go about explaining his schedule, or lack thereof, or if he even wanted to. "A lot of the stuff I was in last year, you know..."
"Yeah, what about it?" Grace shot a displeased look at her husband who was acting as immature as her oldest son, but she quickly returned her attention back to Brendon.
"Well, I sorta... quit, some of them... I just..." Saying he quit something was much easier than telling his mother that he was never a member of anything other than the student body.
"Brendon, why would you do that?"
"Mom, I just got kinda..."
"You didn't even talk to me about this."
"I knew you'd hate me for it."
"I won't hate you for anything but I'd at least like to be consulted before you make these kinds of decisions..." Another glance at her husband went largely ignored by him yet again. "I'm not sure how I feel about this, I'm a little disappointed..."
The 'D' word was one of the last words Brendon ever wanted to hear from his parents, and only a few nights before it had been followed by what he took as a command to leave the house. "I know how you feel. I said I didn't tell you because I knew you'd hate me for it because you don't want another quitter."
Ryan continued eating, but he gently moved his leg sideways and Brendon instantly returned his gesture. It was enough to tell him that Brendon was still alert and he was not ready to fall victim to his unsteady anger quite yet.
"Brendon, do NOT talk like that. What's done is done, but you need to remember how things like this can affect your getting into college."
"I don't think Southern State really cares as long as I leave high school with at least a C average."
"And you're better than that. You know I don't really want you going there but I can't tell you no about something like that."
"Could if you wanted to."
"Brendon, you need to start making some decisions on your own."
"I've been waiting to for the past four years."
"You haven't seemed to want to do anything; you just do your stuff with school and walk down by the river and lay in your room all the time."
Ryan slowly took his fork away from his mouth and his mind stopped racing. With the mention of the river, he could only focus on what was going on between Brendon and Grace.
"What... what about the river?"
"Oh, yeah, Myrtle uh... Myrtle Stein, one of the ladies that comes to the center for the senior's activities on Wednesdays; she lives over by there and she tells me that she sees you heading down by there a lot."
Brendon leaned back in his chair and forced his mouth to stay closed and not hang open. He didn't know whether to be angry over the fact that the river wasn't his anymore, or if he should be shocked that his mother knew about it and still hadn't thrown him through a wall for going there.
"But you just keep to yourself so much, and that's why I was surprised when you told me about Ryan."
"I never thought you'd let me have anyone over."
"Well, you never really asked me, Sweetie."
In all fairness, Brendon had hardly ever asked to have anyone over. If she looked into it, Grace would be surprised to know just how much a small side comment—a quick stabbing remark made in the heat of a bad mood—could affect a person like Brendon. What she had spent years thinking was Brendon's lack of friends or desire for social activity had been, in reality, Brendon's unfortunate tendency to take everything to heart and allow it to be misconstrued by his own sense of self hate. While Grace saw her son as an intellectual loner, Brendon saw himself as a prisoner who had been handed a pen, too many words to say, and nobody to hear them. There was a good chance that Grace would never even be allowed to understand the depths of the loneliness that her son had been thrown into by something as controllable as her own momentary lapse in sensitivity.
Ryan returned to his dinner and Brendon tried to do the same, but he was growing increasingly agitated by the shouting match that was taking place in the kitchen. The insults that were being tossed back and forth were getting to be too much for Brendon to ignore, even with Ryan's chair pressed against his own. His decision was made as soon as Seth's flailing arm struck a can of soda and almost sent the liquid flowing off the table and into Ryan's lap, but the mess was prevented by Ryan's quick preventative work with a napkin. Ryan accepted more napkins from Grace and she helped him soak up the soda before leaving the table to get some paper towels, and she too tried to ignore the situation, but the yelling was too much for Brendon even though not a word of it was aimed at him for once.
It seemed like slow motion when Brendon stood up, and with seemingly superhuman force, managed to lift the table enough to forcefully push it out of his way. With Grace on the other side of the kitchen, he didn't worry about hitting her. He shoved the table until it was stopped by the legs of both his father and brother. "You fucking idiots can't even sit here and have a goddamn dinner without acting like this? What the fuck?! You're not even yelling at ME and you STILL manage to make me wonder why the fuck I'm even alive. You can't even act human with Ryan here. You two fuckers don't have any fucking CLUE what he's been through... fuck, you probably don't even care because you don't even know what I have fucking been through, and even if you did you'd probably just fucking laugh at me for it. If you can't even act normal when Ryan's here, I don't want anything to do with this fucking family anymore. Do you even understand me? I fucking HATE this place!"
Grace started to chase after her son as he ran upstairs but she stopped before even leaving the kitchen, knowing that even though his tirade had not been directed at her, she would still get a door in the face. Ryan had slowly slid back from the table and he had begun to lean forward with his hands on his forehead, but Grace turned around and made her way over to him. "Ryan," She gently placed her hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Come with me, Sweetie."
Ryan didn't have much of an ability to hide his emotions very well as they walked into the living room, but he managed to stay fairly calm. After the events of the weekend, his body was barely strong enough to tolerate seeing Brendon so upset, especially after so much progress had been made with his mother.
"I'm so sorry, Sweetie. Come here." Grace was ready to force Ryan into a hug, but he was very willing. He kept his arms to himself but politely laid his head on her shoulder and he was more at ease than he thought he could be due to the dry sting of the smoke that lingered in her clothes. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"I've seen him upset before."
"And you're a good friend for standing by him."
"I didn't think it would happen again."
"Him getting upset?"
"Not like this."
"Ryan, how can I help my baby?"
"I don't know."
"I can tell he's not happy... that's the only thing I want for him, to be happy..."
"Me too."
"He seems to really like you, Ryan."
Ryan nodded against her shoulder and stood up. "I do what I can for him... I don't know what you can do, though."
"I feel like I don't even know my own son."
"You... don't, completely, but I mean... my mom doesn't know everything about me..."
"But why does he do this? How can he be so unhappy?"
Ryan's eyes threatened to help match the tears on Grace's cheeks. "He... doesn't like yelling. At all. If you.... If you want to help him, just... please, just talk to him... if anyone raises their voice, he gets... I don't know, it's like he gets scared..."
"I'll do anything to help him, Ryan. I'm so sorry they did this tonight." Grace looked toward the kitchen where her husband and older son had resumed eating in silence. "Brendon was right, though, because there was no excuse for this."
"He wasn't mad at you, with... with what he said in there... I could tell, it was just them..."
"Go be with him, Ryan. Please. Just let him know his mother's not mad at him, either. He knows I normally don't tolerate that language but I think we're all just a little... on edge, right now..." Grace quickly hugged Ryan one more time. "Are you okay, Sweetie?"
"I'm fine."
"I know you've been through a lot... you have your friends, and that's a good thing. Please, just let him know he's not in trouble or anything of the sort... just make sure he's happy."
Ryan instinctively looked down at his hands and nodded. He was glad that he had two of them, because it meant that he had more than one thing that could always fix his friend.
Ryan tapped gently on the bedroom door and he got no response. Inside, he could hear the sounds of Sigur Ros coming out of Brendon's small stereo, creating an atmosphere that made Ryan just want to open the door and experience it himself. After a second knock, a little louder than the first, Ryan let himself inside.
Brendon was laying in the middle of the floor, flat on his back with his knees bent up. Ryan took a second to observe him while he slowly walked closer. Brendon's breathing was heavy but slow and his elbows were bent; the backs of his hands laying on the floor near his head. His head was tilted to the left so he could bring it nearer to his left hand, which was lost in his hair, and he gently moved his fingers around. He didn't react to Ryan at all, but instead he just laid on the floor, seemingly lost inside himself and the music.
Ryan spoke quietly, but over the music, while he walked over to Brendon and lowered himself to the floor. "Your mom wanted me to tell you she loves you."
Brendon still didn't respond as he continued to gently pull at his hair with his left hand. Ryan sighed and slowly laid down on his back in the floor space above Brendon's head. He slid upward so that the tops of their heads were pressed together as if their minds were connected, and he looked to his left, seeing Brendon's right hand laying motionless several inches in front of his face. He closed his eyes and exhaled, lifting his left hand and placing the back of it against Brendon's right palm. Brendon's thumb and little finger gently curled around the sides of Ryan's hand, and Ryan slowly moved his head around, just enough to be felt as it moved around against Brendon's.
If Brendon didn't want to talk, Ryan didn't want to interrupt whatever might have been firing inside the boy's head. He was prepared to spend an eternity in silence on the floor because seeing Brendon so calm—so calm after finally speaking his mind, standing up for himself, and making a valid point—honestly made Ryan feel something that he had never felt before. Ryan wasn't sure how Brendon would react to being told that he was the first person he had ever admired in this way.
Ryan had his eyes closed and he was completely dissolved in the music when Brendon spoke. His voice was quiet and raspy, showing more fear than Ryan had expected. "How mad is she?"
Ryan had to wake himself up and process Brendon's words. "She... she agreed with you."
"Huh?"
"She's not mad. She agrees with you."
"How?"
"Because she knows you're right."
"Why's she being so nice to me now?"
"She finally listened to you."
"There has to be a catch."
"Don't tell yourself that."
"Why?"
Ryan pressed the back of his hand against Brendon's palm because his hand wasn't in a position to squeeze Brendon's fingers. "Because I think everything's gonna be okay for you."
"It never has been."
"There's a first for everything."
Brendon slid his hand away from Ryan's at the sound of the stairs creaking under light footsteps. He laid it on his stomach, but he kept his left hand in his hair. "She's never said she wants me to be happy."
"People can't always say what they wanna say."
When the bedroom door opened up without any sort of knock or warning, it became clear that some old habits are hard to break. Ryan looked up at Grace and she stood smiling at them, holding on to the doorknob with her cigarette partially resting against the door. "How you guys doin'?"
Ryan nodded, not wanting to speak for Brendon or obligate himself to carry on a conversation.
Grace brought her cigarette to her lips and stepped inside the room. "I just got the dishes put away and I thought I'd come see how you were."
Ryan had lost track of time and it came as a mild shock to realize that enough time had passed to be able to run the dishwasher. He knew Spencer and Ellen would have to be stopping by soon to make it before nine.
"Where's Dad." Brendon's question sounded more like a statement than anything else. He turned his head away from Grace as she sat down on the bed.
"Downstairs. He apologizes for what happened."
"Seth?"
"He left. Wouldn't listen to me when I reminded him he's supposed to stay home for the next month, but we'll deal with it when he gets back. He won't get away with just leaving like that." Grace took another drag from her cigarette, looking around Brendon's room, before she looked back down to him. "Give me that hand."
Brendon was confused and he turned his head to look at her. Her arm was extended to him and he slowly lifted his left hand off of the floor and allowed her to hold it. His right hand took over the task of his new nervous habit with his hair.
"Sweetie, what makes you happy?"
Brendon didn't hesitate to raise a finger enough for his mother to see him point above his head, toward Ryan.
Grace smiled and looked at Ryan, who seemed to be fascinated by the doorway, before looking back to her son and squeezing his hand. "It's no wonder you're so miserable, since your friends make you so happy and you've never had them around."
Brendon decided to let her go with that instead of give her the specific reasons for why he did things to himself that he would be trying to hide from her until the day he died.
"We want you to be happy, Sweetie. We're not great parents, and we're just trying so hard with you. We want you to make it, Baby. I think, somewhere, we just forgot that we can't live your life for you. You're a person and you need to be treated like one. Granted, a person that's still living under our roof and has to abide by our rules, but... Dad and I could be doing better, and we know that."
Brendon was surprised by his mother's sudden compassion, but her small amendment to his gift of freedom let him know that she was still the same person. Above him, Ryan shifted his body, and it was by no accident that his head pressed just a little harder against Brendon's when he moved.
"I'll leave you be for now." Grace laid Brendon's hand down on his stomach and she made her way to the door, adding one more thing before pulling it shut behind her. "In by nine thirty during the week, and one on weekends unless you're staying over somewhere."
Ryan waited until the footsteps had disappeared from the stairs before he decided to turn over onto his stomach, still laying above Brendon. Brendon's left hand had returned to his hair and he looked straight up at Ryan's face.
Ryan hovered over his friend, propped up by his elbows, and let his hands drop down to the sides of Brendon's face while he studied the boy's eyes. "I promise it's all getting better."
Before clutching Brendon's left hand, Ryan brushed away a few strands of hair that Brendon had pulled from his head. Their fingers were oddly laced together once Brendon's hand was free of any reminders of his earlier fear. Ryan leaned down and laid his forehead on top of Brendon's, and he was sure that the weight of his head would only let Brendon be more aware of his constant presence. Brendon didn't mind that the only thing getting between him and the music was the soft sound of Ryan's thumb exploring the outside of his right ear, and he decided that his eyes were better off closed as Ryan's hair drifted down and lightly tickled his face.