"Out of Season"

Part 21

By Sister Rose

The characters of "The O.C." belong to Fox, and no infringement is intended in this fictional work.

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After a week, Ryan had finally gotten responses to all his letters to his family. His mom's letter was a heart-felt "get stuffed, you ungrateful jackass." Ryan supposed the rehab wasn't taking as well as it could have.

His dad's letter had the definite feel of "so long, sucker," which made Ryan wonder whether his dad had been in a halfway house or just conning his only working son for money.

Trey had begged Ryan to please find at least an extra 20 bucks each month for him. Said it would make a big difference. Ryan had seen Trey's swollen, beaten face on the occasions when Ryan hadn't been able to come up with money, and he knew it was true.

Joyce had paid Ryan under the table for the extra shift he had worked. He had sent Trey the money from that shift.

Arturo's mom had made Arturo write Ryan and offer him a job and a place on the couch. Ryan knew the family didn't have room for the intruder, but he was going to take the offer for a couple of weeks. He had called from Nina's to make the arrangements. So he had a new place to stay and a new place to work.

Then he gave notice at Nina's and tried to ignore the crying waitresses. He hadn't thought they liked him. It would have made him sad, if he were soft enough to get sad over people coming and going from his life.

Somehow, and he wasn't quite sure how, Ryan Atwood had started depending on Summer for advice about big and small things in his life.

He didn't think it would play well, though, if he asked her for advice on how to leave her. She would probably logically consider the problem, plan out a complete, workable strategy and then kill him.

Those contradictions made him laugh just thinking about them. And that was another thing about Summer. He had gotten accustomed to laughing when he was with her. But he was going to get over it. He had to. It was for her own good.

When he had said goodbye to her after her spring break week, she didn't know that it was the last goodbye.

She didn't know that he was protecting her the only way he could. She didn't know strawberry season was over.

Ryan had kissed Summer lightly, so softly, like kissing the edge of a flower, and he had let her go. He had watched out the window of his periwinkle room as her red convertible drive away, taking her back to the places where she should have stayed.

Ryan turned around and dug the peaches box out of the back of his closet. Time to refill the box.

Summer would get over him soon enough. She didn't need him.

And Seth didn't need Ryan either. He had Summer now for friendship and maybe more. Seth and Summer had Newport in common and all their acquaintances and their gossip and their parties and their lifestyle. They could take care of each other. They didn't need him. Ryan had been fooling himself to think they ever had.

He had put everything of Summer's back into the peaches box, including the tasseled bed cover and the slinky, silky sheets with pulled threads where the springs had poked through. The tiny refrigerator he unplugged and put by the door so she wouldn't have to carry it far. The peaches box went on top of the polished brown wicker chair. With a chintz cushion in peach and periwinkle.

Garage sale, his ass. The idea of her thinking she could fool him made him laugh and he didn't know why he got a little weepy, too.

Tomorrow would be D-Day, Discovery Day, when everyone in Newport who knew or cared about Ryan -- both of them -- would find out he had left them behind.

Ryan had written a note for Summer and put it on top of the peaches box. She would find it tomorrow. He had written a note for Seth and left it with Joyce. Seth would get it tomorrow.

All Ryan had to do was put his clothes in a box and drive away. So far, though, he hadn't done it. Was he waiting around for a big farewell scene? All leaving took was ... leaving. He had known that since he was 16.

Ryan tipped back his brown bottle and gulped beer. He didn't drink often enough to handle alcohol well, and this was his second bottle. He was getting bleary around the edges and maybe a little maudlin. He couldn't think of any other reason why he would be sitting in the dark on his bare mattress worrying about two rich kids whose trust funds could take care of them.

One more big gulp, and Ryan chastised himself for even thinking about staying.

He ran over his reasoning again.

Item the first: He was never going to be rich. Summer and Seth were.

Item the second: If he stayed in Newport, he would end up working for one of them.

Item the third: He wanted to be their friend, not their hired help. That wasn't going to happen either way. If he stayed in Newport it wouldn't, and if he went back to Chino it wouldn't.

Item the fourth: Summer didn't need Ryan for anything but sex. Seth didn't need Ryan for anything at all.

Item the fifth and final: Being in a dead-end relationship with Summer was breaking his heart.

There. It was out. He wasn't strong enough to keep on being her nasty-ass side piece. He kept feeling like a cheater, like a loser, like a gigolo. Truth to tell, Ryan could never be Summer's man. He had known that. He had told her that. Why had he allowed himself to forget it? She was beyond his reach and always had been. Maybe Summer had been willing to lower herself to be with him, and that was fine while it was a secret. Ryan now had proof, though, that it wasn't fine any more. He had to let her go.

He should find a nice Chino girl who knew about the world, one who would be satisfied that Ryan worked hard and didn't beat her. He would try to be satisfied that she kept the house clean and didn't drink. Together they could make a solid life, paying taxes, paying bills, staying out of jail.

It wasn't much of a dream, but it was Ryan's. If he could make it come true, that would be enough.

All he had to do was forget Summer. He had to, so he would. He had to forget about olive skin, peach lips and soft toes. He got off the bed, unsteadily placing the bottle on the floor, and lifted the mattress. Summer's Cosmo. The one with the model who kind of looked like Summer, if Ryan squinted his eyes a little.

Ryan sat back on the bed with the hard landing of someone who is happy to find a flat surface and not fall.

He lay back, holding the magazine in the air above him at arms' length, twisting it one way, then the other to see it in the light coming through the window. He brought the Cosmo close to his face and sniffed. The perfume samples inside weren't Summer's brand, but their overpowering fragrance made him think of her -- and made him want to sneeze.

He put the magazine on his chest and crossed his arms over it.

Beautiful Summer. Sweet, tart Summer. He was really going to miss her.

Those thoughts followed him into sleep.

He woke still clutching the Cosmo, the sun shining hotly on his closed eyes and heating up the dirty, naked mattress below him. Ryan's mouth tasted like old beer, dirty socks and infected rat corpse. His head throbbed below slimy hair pasted to an itching scalp.

Ryan looked at the magazine. He set his jaw and crossed the room, opened the peaches box and put the Cosmo inside. It was Summer's, not his. If he had wanted a picture of her, he should have asked. And he didn't need a picture. A picture would help him remember when what he needed to do was forget.

Ryan showered, mind set on forgetting. He got dressed, mind set on forgetting. Ryan dressed in his oldest ripped jeans and an undershirt that let his muscles show. He needed to look like he belonged in Chino again. The best way to avoid fights was to look as if he could win them.

He unchained his punching bag and put it in the back of the truck, recoiling as the Newport sunshine bounced off his white pickup and hammered his eyes when he opened the door.

He pulled all his clothes out and one by one folded them, paying no particular attention to the khakis and blue shirt Summer had bought him. No particular attention at all. When he had moved into this room, he had just two changes of clothes. Now he had enough that he needed to put them in a cardboard box.This one had held cans of apples. It had no memories. Except of the first time Ryan had gotten apple cobbler for Seth and topped it with ice cream and the two of them had talked, just as if they were friends, just as if it were a friendship that had a chance.

Ryan returned his mind to forgetting.

He carried his box of clothes out to his pickup then went back inside. There was nothing left that said Ryan Atwood had ever lived there. He wondered whether he was destined to go through life leaving no trace of his existence.

His eyes crossed the empty periwinkle room, seeing laughing, pouting, dancing memories of Summer everywhere, and landed on the wicker chair.

Ryan strode over purposefully and moved the peaches box to the stained, bare twill of the mattress. He picked up the chair and the periwinkle-peach cushion and carried them out, heaving them over the side into the back of his pickup.

He got behind the wheel, rolled down the window and rested his arm on the door frame. He started the pickup, not looking toward the door of the place he had never been able to call home. Ryan had never had a home and where he was going wasn't home either. He killed the ignition.

He thought for a minute about Summer and Seth, then clenched his teeth. He could stay. Summer and Seth would like it if he did. But he knew he was bad for them. He started the pickup again and did the right thing.

Ryan Atwood drove away from Newport. He didn't look back.

--30--

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AN: Yes, friends, that's really the end. And you can't say I didn't warn you how it would end, because it's there in the title, and I mentioned it again halfway through with the whole "strawberries out of season" schtick.

Let me say again how much I appreciate all your thoughts and comments. This story was written completely before I posted the first part, but I should tell you that I've been furiously rewriting and adapting and updating -- and giving you one unexpected chapter -- because of the comments you have left. I have learned so much about plotting and story structure from all of you!

I was a little surprised at how many people were interested in the Kirsten/Sandy split. I threw that in there mostly as a way to explain why Sandy hadn't been involved in Ryan's life at least as his lawyer. But so many people have commented that I'm working on another story in this weird AU that may focus a little more on the Cohens minus one. I'm slow, though, so look for it around Christmas.

Until then, thanks again for traveling with me/Rose.