Hey guys,
This is my second story on here and I've tried something a little different so I hope it's readable. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
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"Ryan! Get down here, your dad is calling you!" his mom shouted from downstairs.
Ryan paused the movie he was watching and sighed. Couldn't they just leave him alone for a while? He got one day off from work and even that they couldn't let him have in peace. Sunday was supposed to be his day. Maybe that was the price of living with your parents. Putting the laptop away he shuffled downstairs to see what new emergency had come up that could not be solved without his explicit presence.
His dad was sealing up a small packet and his mom looked up as he entered the room.
"You have to deliver this to the Greene's." his mom stated flatly, pointing at the packet.
"No," replied Ryan, equally flat.
"Ryan stop being difficult, you just have to hand it over to them, nothing else."
"No."
His mother's voice started rising, just as he knew it would. "I'm not asking you to go for dinner or move in with them, it's just a delivery Ryan. For god's sake, you're twenty eight, stop behaving like a frightened six year old."
"No."
Her eyes widened, and she took a deep breath in preparation for her tirade when his dad wisely cut in,
"Ryan, just go and drop it off son. I need to head to the airport to pick up Uncle Joey or I would have done it myself," he said in a calm voice.
Ryan didn't have the heart to refuse his dad, he hardly ever asked him for much as it was. He just picked up the packet and left the room hearing his mom behind him asking his dad why he never listened to her. Maybe because she nagged him about every little thing she could find. He loved his mom but in the end she was his mom and if he took everything she said seriously he'd go mad. Half the time even she didn't know what she wanted.
He cursed as he put on his shoes, looking at the snow outside, thinking of every possible way to make the visit as short as possible. It wasn't that he didn't like the Greene's, in fact he hardly knew them, it was just that he didn't like dealing with people. More specifically, people he didn't know. Since he was young he had always been labeled as shy. He would never initiate conversation with anyone and had very few friends, always preferring to keep to himself if given the choice. He had his fun but in small doses, too much exposure caused sensory overload. People just thought he was weird.
Driving over he went through what he knew about the Greene's, which was essentially nothing, except where they lived. He had driven his dad there a couple times and they were his clients. The packet contained something they must have ordered.
Must be a ring,
he thought to himself.
His dad crafted jewelry in his spare time, a kind of hobby because he liked doing things with his hands. There was a whole workshop in their garage where he practiced his passion, sometimes late into the night. Rings were his specialty, although he also made necklaces, bangles, earrings and various other ornaments on order. They were a middle class working family and all the extra income helped.
The uneasiness in his stomach grew the closer he got to the Greene's house. He always hated this part. The awkward hellos, the uneasy smiles and the uncomfortable silences. He would just have to keep his mind blank and get it over with, much like holding your breath and swallowing your unpleasant medicine. He wished he didn't have to react like this every time he met someone new but he couldn't help it. It never got easier.
Pulling into the driveway of the rather expensive looking snow covered house, he pulled the handbrake and cut the engine. He took a deep breath as he collected himself and went through the various scenarios in his head, reciting his lines and preparing for any situation he might be placed in. He knew it was not practical as there was no way he could prepare for every eventuality but it helped him calm down and centre himself, and that was what mattered.
It took all his strength to get to the front door. He hoped he didn't have to shake hands with anyone, his palms were sweating like crazy. Wiping them on his jeans he reached up and rang the doorbell then stepped back and waited, his breath fogging up in front of him every time he exhaled. He resisted the urge to bolt. Every second seemed like an hour. Couldn't they just hurry up and take the damn thing. He heard footsteps approaching and prepared himself for the encounter.
The door swung open and a very nice looking lady stood before him, impeccably dressed in a black skirt that went to just below her knees and a white blouse underneath a black cardigan. She had an air of confidence and all round pleasant aura. He guessed this was Mrs. Greene.
"Hello," she said warily as one would a door to door salesman.
"Uhmm.... Hi...... I'm Mr. Harlow's son...." He fished in his pocket to give her the parcel.
"Oh, Of course, your dad called," she said relaxing and a smile appearing on her face, "Please, come in." She held open the door and stepped aside waving him in.
This was what he had feared. His plan had been to complete the interaction as fast as possible, preferably on the doorstep so he would avoid the niceties that went along with going into someone's home. He hated being served something to eat or drink and it only prolonged his torture.
"No, really its ok, I have the-" he tried but was cut off.
"Nonsense, come on in, it's freezing outside," she beckoned and he knew he had no choice.
The door closing behind him sounded like a death sentence to him. His mouth was dry and his heart started palpitating. This was not good, he needed to get out fast.
The nice lady led him to what he guessed was the living room. Mr. Greene was just as impressive as the Mrs. and he got up as they entered, putting aside the newspaper he'd been reading. He was over six feet tall and dressed in casual jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Mrs. Greene made the introductions,
"Arthur this is.............." she paused, realizing she hadn't got his name.
"Ryan." He supplied.
"Ah yes, Ryan, Mr. Harlow's son,"
"H....Hello Mr. Greene," Ryan stuttered as the big man only nodded and shook his hand, staring at him intently. Thankfully he had wiped off his hands in advance. The big imposing bulk of Mr. Greene was the last thing he needed, he was never comfortable around intense people.
"I was supposed to give you this," Ryan pulled out the package and handed it to Mr. Greene, hoping they would release him quickly if they got what they wanted.
"Please have a seat," Mrs. Greene urged as her husband took the packet. "What would you like to have? Some juice, coffee, tea?"
Ryan shook his head, "No, thank you, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" she persisted.
Ryan nodded and hoped she would drop it. He started fidgeting and peeling the skin off his lips with his teeth as Mr. Greene opened the packet and removed the contents to inspect them.
I knew it was a ring,
thought Ryan as the little ornament fall into Mr. Greene's massive hand.
It was a little silver ring, styled for a female, with a tear-drop shaped blue sapphire set in the middle. Ryan had to admire his father's skill, he was really good at what he did, and the ring was exceptional. Mr. Greene inspected it from every angle, put it up against the light to see through the stone then, apparently satisfied, handed it to his wife.
"It's beautiful," murmured Mrs. Greene under her breath as she put it on her index finger and held out her hand to examine it.
Hearing their approval, Ryan started to get up, assuming the deal was done. Finally he could get back to safety.
"Wait," Mr. Greene said in a deep voice, the first time he had spoken since Ryan had arrived. "We need to see if it fits."
Ryan was confused. He looked at the ring on the Mrs. Greene's finger and wondered what he was talking about. The ring had fit, even a blind man could see that.
Mrs. Greene sensed his confusion, "It's for my daughter," she said with a small smile.
Of course it was, why couldn't things ever be simple?
"Go get her," Mr. Greene told his wife.
Mrs. Greene was startled. "Are you sure? She won't-"
She was cut off, "She needs to get out of her room. I've had enough of this nonsense. Bring her here, she's not a hermit to stay locked up in her room the whole day," Mr. Greene said sternly.
"Arthur please..." Mrs. Greene glanced at Ryan.
Ryan was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. He looked everywhere in the room except at his hosts, pretending he couldn't hear anything. His legs were twitching, he kept chewing the inside of his cheek and his eyes kept darting from one object to the next. He was praying for it to end.
"Call her here," Mr. Greene ordered in a voice not to be questioned.
Mrs. Greene sighed and gave a small nod. She got up and walked over to the base of a spiral staircase on one side of the room and called out,
"Allison!"
There was no response. It was pin drop silence in the room. Ryan could hear his own heart beating like a bass drum in his ears. She waited for about a minute before calling out again,
"Allison, honey, please come down here."
Just as Ryan was thinking no one was going to respond there was the sound of a door opening somewhere upstairs and after a minute, footsteps descending the stairs. He looked away, not sure he could handle three strangers at once. He cursed his condition like he did every day, wondering why he couldn't just be normal like everyone else.
"Allison, honey, remember that ring I was telling you about? It's here and I want you to try it on and see if it fits ok?" He heard Mrs. Greene say softly to who he assumed was Allison.
There was no response and he heard them approach. Ryan still refused to look at them, instead pretending to be very interested in a big green vase sitting in the corner of the room. He'd delay the inevitable as much as he could.
"Allison, this is Ryan," Mrs. Greene introduced.
"Ryan, my daughter, Allison."
Reluctantly Ryan dragged his gaze away from the vase to look at the new addition to his torment. He was taken aback. He couldn't stop staring. Allison looked around his age, maybe a few inches shorter than his 5'11" height and incredibly beautiful. Her brown hair fell just below her shoulders in waves and even dressed in her pajamas she seemed to cut a striking figure. She was standing demurely, her hands clasped in front of her, her head cast slightly downwards, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
All this though, Ryan noticed in his peripheral vision. He couldn't stop looking into her eyes. He knew those eyes. He had seen those eyes. He remembered those eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had lost the will to live. There was no spark there, no glint or any indication of life within, much like glass orbs. They were a window into the barren wasteland that had become her soul, where nothing existed except pain and suffering. An involuntary shiver ran through him. It was hitting too close to home.
