Tripping Down 12 Steps Into Malibu

We Take Our Leap Of Faith

Friday.

Fridays was visitor's day.

Usually Ryan would lay back on his bed and let his father sit at the empty table in the cafeteria until the hour was up.

But not today.

Today Ryan woke up an hour earlier than he normally would. He brushed his teeth. He took a shower. He washed his hair. He blow dried it instead of running though it with a towel. He even parted it to the side the way his mother used to make him do it for church every Sunday. Ryan Ross put on a his jeans and his favorite yellow shirt. And he waited until the face of the clock flashed with the hour visiting time began.

He could feel the eyes of the other man in the room observing his improved morning routine. Ryan had long since figured out how to master the art of pretending the man wasn't even there. But after that night, after the moment they shared, Ryan realized that he didn't want to pretend Brendon wasn't there. They held each other. They cried together. They shared something more intimate than all the sex they could have had.

So he began acknowledging him. A look. A nod. A wave. A strained smile. Even a word every so often. It wasn't the ideal situation, but it was the only way to conserve this sanity. He couldn't allow himself to get close to Brendon again. But he also couldn't completely ignore what the man meant to him. How he made him feel. How he knew the man felt about him. So Brendon was back to existing. But only as his roommate.

He noticed Brendon preparing for the day as well. At a less leisure pace than Ryan. He knew what that meant. There was only one person Brendon could be expecting for visitor's day. Dallon. The tall man was back. They were back. It made Ryan's gut twist though he knew he had no right to feel jealous. He ended things between them. Did he really expect Brendon to just be lonely for the rest of his rehabilitation?

Ryan waited three minute after Brendon rushed out the door to leave. He kept his pace slow and steady to the cafeteria. He repeating a cliche chant in his head with every footstep. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. Mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen. For the step he was about to take.

His father wasn't sitting at their usual table. He was sitting as far to the right of the room as he could. He couldn't help but notice that Brendon also made a change in his table preference. He was all the way on the left side of the room. Sitting at the table pressed against the far wall. Ryan didn't allow himself to pay attention to the man sitting across from him. His father spotted him coming and smiled. Looking way happier than anyone should ever be to see Ryan.

"Hello, Ryan." He spoke as soon as his son sat down. "How are you? It's been a while." Almost three weeks.

"I'm fine."

"I'm so happy you finally decided to-"

"I'm ready to work at the firm." He blurted out before he could change his mind. You can do this. You can do this.

He wished he could have taken a picture of his father's face in that moment. "What?"

Ryan shrugged. Creating a sham of casualty. "I might as well put that expensive college education you paid for to good use, right?"

His father didn't seemed moved. "What's this about, Ryan?"

He squared his shoulders against any unsure feeling he was still having about this. Honesty was going to be his best option here. "I'm taking my leap of faith. I believe I can do this." He lifted his chin. "Don't you?"

"Of course." His father's smile still held uncertainty. But it was a smile. "I know you can. No one is as smart as my boy."

For some reason the stupidly condescending comment made him warm. "Thanks, dad."

"I just want to make sure you're not doing something just because you think you have to."

"I know I don't have to do anything."

"I know but-"

"Look-"

"I don't think you want to be a lawyer, George."

"Does that even matter?"

"Of course it does."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to be happy." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll help you pursue something you really love."

"I don't really love anything." Ryan bit out. And then lower. "Or anyone."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Ryan's father sat back in his chair. Looking at his son with all too knowing eyes. Ryan wanted to shrink away from that look the way he would when he was younger. But he didn't. it would just make him look guilty. Confirm what his dad was assuming.

"You know." He tapped the table as he spoke. "My payment was returned to the bank this month."

"Payment?"

"For Brendon's stay."

"Oh right."

"Well?" He pressed.

"He's engaged." Ryan waved his hand in a disdainful manner. "Or whatever."

"George." His father sighed.

Ryan could feel an unwanted buildup forming behind his eyes. He needed to get the hell out of this room before anyone could see him break down. Before everyone could see him break down. He slid the chair back from the table and stood. Holding onto the wooden edge with enough strength to crack his knuckles. His father stood up when he did. Confused but protective.

"I have to go." He managed between his clenched teeth.

"Wait just a-."

"I'll see you next week." He pried his hands away from the table. Rushing from the room before he could do something stupid. Like cry in the room full of people.

"Let me through." George growled at the guard blocking the door to the rest of the facility. "My son needs me. H-He's heartbroken. Sir, please." By some miracle the man stepped out the way. Opening the door to the hall where Ryan was slowing down as he neared his room. George ran for the first time in years. Ran to his son who was running from him. "George."

He spun around at the sound of the name everyone else knew better than to call him. "Dad how the hell did you get back here?" But even the venom in his voice couldn't hide the red of his eyes.

"Stop running from me, George." He reached a hand out through the space between them. An offer. An olive branch. "Let me help you."

"I'm not some kid."

"You're my kid."

"Listen-"

"Stop this shit." He snapped. And Ryan, damn him, flinched. "Stop acting like everything is okay. Stop acting like nothing bothers you. Stop acting like you don't care about anyone. You're the only one suffering from it. So stop!"

Ryan took a step towards his father. Then another. And another. Until they were standing face to face. "Everything is not okay." He whispered.

"I know that, Geroge." The younger man let his head drop onto his father's shoulder. "God, don't you think I know that?"