Maybe some secrets are left unsaid...or are they??? (please excuse my little grammar errors)
“How can she…do…th-this?” Ryan stuttered as he struggled to get the words out of his mouth.
“Ry, I understand what you’re going through, but it’s midnight and Phoenix is waiting for me…” Brendon replied. Phoenix is his dog.
Ryan dropped his now-empty beer bottle onto the carpeted floor and continued. “Just. Go ahead, Brendon, leave me like everybody else!”
At this point, Ryan was laughing hysterically and this worried Brendon. So Brendon gently laid him onto the sofa. “Buddy, you need to rest. Just sleep, ok? I need to go. The guys and I will be here first thing tomorrow.”
Ryan idly shooed him away with his hand. Brendon grabbed his belongings and walked out the door. But then before walking to his car, he remembered something sitting on the table. So he walked back into the house, then into the living room. He lifted the case of beer off the coffee table as Ryan deeply snored. Brendon left the house—taking the beer with him. No, he wasn’t going to drink it but he definitely didn’t need a drunker Ryan.
Ryan woke up to the bright light of the sun shining through the gaps between the curtains of his living room windows. He slowly got up, groaning in the pain that came with the hangover.
He took a quick shower and a couple of Tylenols, hoping to soon relieve the pain. He lazily sat on the couch, watching The OC reruns.
Half an hour later, the door opened, letting in Brendon, Jon, and Spencer.
“Hey, man” Jon and Spencer greeted Ryan as Brendon was closing the door.
“Hi” Ryan said, not removing his eyes from the TV screen.
Brendon then walked in holding a bundle of paper as Jon and Spencer sat down on either side of Ryan.
“Got your mail” Brendon announced and dropped the handful onto Ryan’s lap.
Ryan flipped through the envelopes and stooped when he saw a letter from a “Mrs. Lisa Gale”-- his mother with a new last name. This was a letter he wanted to read in private. This was a letter he didn’t want the guys hovering over trying to read. He took the upstairs to his room without a word to any of the guys. He locked the door and revealed the handwritten message t himself.
November 18, 2006
How have you been? I’m sorry I haven’t been able to reply to your letters. It’s been crazy around here with kids and errands and other motherly things. I hope all’s going well with your band. I hear you’re on tour! Nothing Rhymes with Circus, correct? Good luck! Anyway, forgive me for taking ages to write back and PLEASE reply soon! I love you!
“…other motherly things.” Isn’t writing letters to your eldest son a motherly thing to do? Ryan asked himself. He stuffed the letter into a random drawer before lying on his bed. Just lying there, rubbing his temples with closed eyes. Life had been crashing down on him—HARD. He sighed as random memories flashed through his mind.