Chapter 9: What Ryan Actually Wanted
She asked him that evening.
The four of them were at the kitchen table — Claire, Daniel, Ryan, Lily.
Lily had been told, gently and carefully, that Ryan was her father's son from before their family.
She had thought about it for approximately thirty seconds and then asked if that meant Ryan was her brother.
"Half-brother," Claire had said.
"That's still a brother," Lily had said, with the authority of someone who had wanted a sibling for two years.
Ryan had looked at Lily for a moment.
Then at his plate.
Then he had nodded, once, like he was accepting something he hadn't expected to be offered.
Now dinner was done and Lily was drawing at the end of the table and Claire looked at Ryan and said: "Can I ask you something?"
"Yes," he said.
"What do you want?
Not what your mum told you to do.
Not what you think you're supposed to say.
What do you actually want?"
Ryan was quiet for a moment.
He looked at Daniel.
Then back at Claire.
"I want my mum to get better," he said.
"I know.
What else?"
He thought about it.
Really thought, in the way he had, with his eyes going slightly unfocused.
"I want to go to a school where nobody knows about any of this," he said.
"I want to not have to explain." He paused.
"And I want—" He stopped.
"Go ahead," Claire said.
"I want to know what it's like to have dinner with people," he said quietly.
"Like this.
Where it's just normal.
Where nobody's upset or pretending." He glanced at Lily's drawing.
"She's drawing a cat," he said.
"She's just drawing a cat because she wants to.
That's—" He stopped again.
"I don't know.
I don't know what to call that."
"Normal," Lily said without looking up.
Ryan looked at her.
"Yeah," he said.
"That."
Daniel's hands were flat on the table.
He hadn't spoken much through dinner.
He spoke now.
"I'd like you to stay," he said.
"While your mum is recovering.
And after, if that's what you want.
If that's what she agrees to." He paused.
"I know I don't have the right to ask that.
I know I haven't earned it.
But I'm asking anyway."
Ryan looked at his father.
"Why did you stop the money?" he asked.
Daniel didn't look away.
"Because I told myself I was doing the right thing by letting go.
By not—" He stopped.
"I was wrong.
I was making a choice that affected you without thinking about you at all."
"You do that a lot," Ryan said.
"Yes," Daniel said.
"I do."
The honesty of it hung in the air.
Ryan looked down at the table.
He traced a scratch in the wood with one finger.
"My mum's going to need somewhere to go when she gets out," he said.
"She can't manage the flat alone.
Not for a while."
Claire had already thought about this.
"There's a ground-floor flat two streets over," she said.
"It came up for rent last week.
I looked at it this morning." She felt Daniel's eyes on her.
She didn't look at him.
"It would need some work.
But it's close.
Close enough for you to walk between, if that's what everyone decided."
Ryan stared at her.
"You looked at a flat for my mum," he said.
"I looked at options," Claire said.
"Nothing is decided.
But I wanted to know what was possible before we talked."
Ryan was quiet for a long moment.
"She's not going to like charity," he said.
"It's not charity," Claire said.
"It's a rental.
She'd pay her own way.
I just thought proximity might matter.
For you."
Ryan looked at her with those steady dark eyes.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked.
"You didn't do anything wrong.
You could just—" He made a small gesture.
"You could just not."
Claire thought about the right answer.
"Because you drew a house with a path leading to the door," she said.
"And I think you've been standing at the end of that path for a long time."
Ryan looked down.
His jaw moved.
Just once.
He didn't cry.
But it was a near thing.
Lily put down her pencil and slid her drawing across the table to him.
It was the cat.
Lopsided, orange, grinning.
"You can have it," she said.
"For your room."
Ryan picked it up carefully.
"Thanks," he said.
His voice was steady.
Mostly.
Claire looked at Daniel.
He was looking at his son.
And for the first time since the brick and the photograph and the name called out in this hallway, Claire saw something in her husband's face that was not guilt or fear or the careful management of a man caught in his own lie.
She saw him seeing Ryan.
Actually seeing him.
It was not enough.
Not yet.
May you like
Not close to enough.
But it was a beginning.
