Ryan laughs. His laugh is beautiful, so full and contagious.
I laugh, too, illuminated by his newfound easygoingness, by his laid-back presence – something I know I desperately need to be a part of.
“Shall we have breakfast?” he asks, nodding towards the breakfast bar.
“I’ll go and get Evan.”
“Evan’s here,” a voice calls, followed by the sound of the front door slamming behind him. “So, have we talked everything out here?”
“Evan!”
“If you’re arguing for my sake, there’s no point.”
“Why can’t you go back to being five years old again?”
“If I was five, Mum, you’d have a real problem trying to explain to me what Mr Muscle is doing in our house.”
Ryan bursts out laughing and Evan follows suit – after a few moments, I join in, too. And we laugh and laugh as we sit down at the breakfast bar together. We laugh some more as Evan steals the last bit of bacon, taunting Ryan with it. And I laugh even harder when Evan tells Ryan that he found his shirt on the living room floor last night when he came home, and tells him that he’s happy to see that it’s currently being worn inside-out, making coffee explode from Ryan’s nostrils.
But inside, I’m crying from desperation; I know that this scene is just a dream, and the moment I’m forced to wake up, I’ll be left with a sea of pain.
After breakfast,Evan goes up to his room to get ready to go out with his friends. I walk Ryan to the front door.
“I have to go. We’re having a family lunch today, and I have to swing home first to have a shower.”
“Sure.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve made anything awkward for you.”
“You haven’t, don’t worry.”
“Evan’s a bright kid.”
“Yeah – too bright.”
He smiles.
“Christine…last night…”
“You don’t have to say anything, Ryan. Really.”
He nods, lowering his gaze.
“I really should…”
I open the door and he steps outside.
“See you,” he says, embarrassed.
“See you, Ryan,” I say, closing the door then closing my eyes. Of course, the waterworks have decided to make an appearance.
“Are you okay?” Evan’s voice from behind makes me jump.
“Yeah, great,” I say, drying my eyes.
“He’s not a bad guy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”
