Something - Quinn Fabray

Chapter 18

Half an hour later, Shelby fired off yet another text to her son. Ryan, come on, where are you? She must have sent a dozen messages by now, and the boy still wasn't answering. She was in her car, driving around the area near the Berrys' house trying to find Ryan. So far she'd come up empty. How far could he have gotten, she wondered. She know he was on foot, he couldn't have gone very far. A few minutes later she sent another message – At least text me back so I know you're not dead.

It was getting dark, and she was getting more and more worried. She was going to kill the kid if she ever found him for causing her to stress this much. Sure, she'd hug him to death first, but then she was going to murder him. Redundant, and probably counterproductive, but she wasn't quite thinking clearly right now. She drove slowly past a small deserted playground, looking for – there. There was a lone person sitting on one of the benches. She looked more closely. Yes. Finally.

Wait, what was she supposed to do now? All her frustration had suddenly morphed into relief, but now she didn't know what to do. It came as a surprise, since she was a naturally decisive person, but when it had to do with her son, everything was different. For a moment she understood what Hiram had said, about not knowing how to be a parent. But no, she wasn't going to be like them, she'd messed up enough. Her son deserved better.

Come on, get it together. Should she go up there? He might be mad at her too. He might run again. Yes, she should go up there. But did she sneak up on him or announce her presence first? What was she supposed to say?

After dithering in her car for a while, she finally cut the engine and got out, wincing at the loud sound the car door mad when she closed it. The figure on the bench didn't react though.

Shelby hesitantly moved toward the bench. She was soon standing next to the bench her son was sitting on, but still he didn't look at her. He just sat there, arms across his chest, almost hugging himself, with a vacant look in his eyes, features set in a stony mask of neutrality. Shelby sat down, relaxing slightly when he didn't protest. She almost asked if he was okay, when his words from a past conversation came to mind. If you have to ask, then the answer is probably no.

For a time mother and son just sat there side by side, gazing straight ahead. One unsure of what to say and one not having anything to say.

Finally, when the silence was almost unbearable, Ryan spoke. "My dads used to bring me here when I was younger," he said distantly. He still didn't look at Shelby, instead seeming to see something far off. "It was usually Hiram who brought me, but sometimes Leroy did too."

Shelby didn't miss the way Ryan addressed his fathers, but she stayed quiet. Both because she wanted him to talk it out, and because she didn't know what to say to that.

"I was maybe eight the last time," Ryan continued. "I remember I was with Leroy. We spent maybe half an hour over there at the swings." He fell silent again. Then, "What happened?"

Back at the house or back when he was eight? Shelby didn't quite know what he was asking, and Ryan seemed to realize this. "Today," he corrected himself. "Why were you at the house?"

Oh. Right. "Hiram called me a few days ago. He said they wanted to talk." And talk they did. "So I said I'd meet them as soon as I got back from Colorado." Shelby couldn't figure out if she should try to get him to look at her, or if she should touch him or something.

Ryan tightened his arms around himself. "I don't understand," he said, almost plaintively. "He said... he said I wasn't their son."

Shelby sighed internally. So he didn't actually know the truth about who his dad was. "I..."

"I mean, adoptions work all the time," he continued despondently, not paying attention to her, face still perfectly set. "Well, not all the time, but I know parents can bond with kids that aren't theirs biologically, can't they?"