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48DieselI find Ryan in his room, his body thrown haphazardly on the mattress, crying into his pillow. This is a scene that makes every parent shudder and hopes to never see. I’ve experienced it a few times with Ryan and it never gets easier, but this time… is worse. This time my little boy has so much hurt inside of him that I have no idea how to help him. I don’t even know all of it.
I walk into the room, shutting the door gently behind me. I make my way to his bed, sitting on the edge.
“You want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, Bub?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles into his mattress.
It takes some maneuvering, but I get his head in my lap and stroke my fingers against the top of his head, sifting them through his hair. Ryan wraps his arms around my waist and burrows his head into my lap, crying harder.
“Hey, Bub. Talk to me,” I tell him gruffly, his tears ripping me up inside. This is my fault. I did this by not protecting my boy. When I get my hands on King, I swear I’m going to enjoy killing that bastard.
“Don’t want to,” he mumbles.
“I can’t fix whatever is going on if you don’t talk to me about it, Bub.”
“I was weak,” he whispers. I can barely grasp the words through his sobs, but when I do they gut me.
I pull him up in my lap, so I can see his face. It’s a splotchy mix of red and white, tears running down his face, and his nose running. I reach over to the nightstand and grab some tissues. He blows his nose loudly and I use some more to dry his tears. They’re still coming, so I just dry here and there as I talk to him.
“My boy isn’t weak. You’re one of the strongest—”
“But, I’m not! I got Rory hurt!” he yells.
“You didn’t. You—”
“But I did! The monster wanted me to call him Daddy and I wouldn’t. If I had…”
“Ryan he’s not your dad. I don’t know what he told you or tried to make you believe, but you’re my son. Mine.”
“But he said—”
“I don’t care what he said, Bub, you’re mine. I have the papers to prove it, but there’s something you need to know. Even if you weren’t mine by blood, I’d still claim you. You’re a part of me boy. I thank God every day that I have you in my life. You’re my greatest gift. You need to understand that. I’m proud you’re my son, Ryan.”
His little eyes go round as he takes what I’m saying in. They’re green like his mothers, but so different because they never held the coldness in them that hers did. Now they remind me of Rory’s. She might not be his mother by blood, but she is in every way that matters, and eventually I’ll make that clear to Ryan and to Rory.
“Maybe you were before, but not now.”
“What could ever make you think that?” I ask, drying his eyes again and letting my thumb swipe across his cheek, wishing I knew how to stop his pain.
“I’m weak. Just like that man you were talking about Dad. I’m weak,” he says rubbing the back of his hand over his face and sniffling.
“Why would you even think that, Ryan? You’re one of the strongest and bravest boys I know. You remember when we were in the truck? Do you remember how you did everything I asked and were so brave? I was so proud of you, Ryan.”
“I wasn’t brave,” he cries, hurling himself into me. I gather him up in my arms and rock him. “I was scared.”
His words come out muffled against my chest as sobs tear through his body.
“I was too, Ryan.”
“You were scared?” he asks mid hiccup.
“Terrified.”
“It’s okay to be scared?” he asks pulling away just a little to look at me. I think he probably wants to see if I’m lying. I make a vow to myself to be more careful about the words I use around my boy. He’s like a sponge, soaking everything in and I’m not always careful—especially when under stress.
“Of course it is. What matters most, is that even though you were scared, you still did what you needed to do,” I tell him, only to see his face fall again.
Fuck. What did I do now?
I barely even get time to think that question, when Ryan answers it and when he does, the bottom falls out of my world. I don’t think I am ready for this conversation.
“I didn’t. I just had to call him Dad. That’s it. If I had done that it would have all been okay.”
“Ryan—”
“But, I didn’t! And he was going to punish me. I was scared, really scared. You weren’t there and I was scared, Daddy,” he sobs, falling into me yet again. I hold him, his head resting on my arm as I cradle him close. “I was so scared.”
