Chapter Text
Florida
Talan and Ryan leave Michael and Oliver behind at the airport in New York because Oliver has a week of press interviews and Talan wants to be at the beach.
Talan’s preference for his own bed in Florida isn’t the only factor in Michael and Ryan’s decision to split up again. Oliver is coming back home a much bigger celebrity than he’d been when they’d left. Michael and Ryan are conscious of the media circus that’s about to surround Oliver and it isn’t anything they want Talan to be a part of. Talan hasn’t signed up to be famous and Talan has already sacrificed more than his fair share for Oliver this summer.
Talan falls asleep ten minutes into the flight from New York to Florida. He’s slouched down in his seat with his head resting against Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan can hear the faint hum of the music Talan’s listening to and once he knows Talan is asleep, he carefully pulls off his headphones.
Ryan’s exhausted as well but can’t seem to fall asleep. He thinks of how tired Oliver had looked and how much work Oliver still has to do. Ryan knows that Michael’s got Oliver covered; the person he needs to worry about is Talan.
After two years of dealing with anxiety and steadily going to therapy Talan knows his triggers and he’s learned how to avoid them. Ryan cringes when he thinks of how Michael and him made it impossible for Talan to cope in Rotterdam. They’d forced Talan to face triggering situations and called him selfish when he tried to keep himself safe.
Ryan doesn’t bother to wake up Talan when the flight attendant comes by with drinks.
Ryan realizes now that by spending the past few months mindlessly taking away all the things they know Talan needs to be okay they’ve forced Talan to take a huge step backwards. Little things have added up over the past year and now Talan’s back in a place he hasn’t been in a long time. It’s difficult to think that they’ve sacrificed part of his well being for Oliver’s success.
Ryan leans his head against Talan’s for a second as he thinks of how much the past year’s hurt him. Ryan’s never had words to describe to anyone how much he loves the kid. It’s gut wrenching to realize that Talan has quietly accepted coming in second. Talan hadn’t even fought them about Rotterdam because he’d known it was important for Oliver.
Talan’s hair is too long and it falls on his face as he sleeps. Ryan watches him scrunch up his face before he moves a hand to shove it out of the way.
Ryan’s never bothered with lists unless things were extra important. He doesn’t have paper or his phone on him and moving down to reach for his bag would wake up Tal. He understands that the first thing he needs to do is to get Talan back to therapy. Ryan knows he needs to crack down on bed time and meal times. There are four more weeks of summer and they leave for Costa Rica in a week. Ryan has a week to get Talan back to semi normal before they leave for vacation, before Talan tries to disappear into Oliver’s shadow again.
The plane hits turbulence and Talan is startled awake. He jerks back and opens his eyes to stare at Ryan.
“We there?” Talan asks yawning.
“It’s been like half an hour.” Ryan explains, “No.”
“Tired of planes.” Talan complains, dropping his head forward. “I wanna be home.”
“Few more hours.” Ryan reassures, “Maybe we can go run once we’re home.”
Talan likes to run, it’s what he does to get out of his own head.
“Maybe I go run.” Talan answers, “You slow me down.”
“You’re scared I’ll be faster.”
Talan rolls his eyes and puts his head back down against Ryan’s shoulder. He messily pushes his hair off his face again.
“You need a haircut.” Ryan tells him, reaching over to hold Tal’s hair off his forehead, “How are you gonna surf in Costa Rica with that hair?”
“It’s gonna look bad ass.” Talan argues.
They tend to focus a lot on what is wrong with Talan because they want him to be okay. Moments like this remind Ryan that Talan is still Talan. That he’s still their dorky too blond child who would spend every day of his life at the beach if he could.
“How many boards can I bring with me?” Talan asks, “Cause like I think I might need five.”
“You’re not bringing five surfboards.” Ryan shoots down quickly, “Bring one.”
“You tell dad to bring just one golf club?” Talan argues back, “I can’t just have one.”
“Not five.” Ryan stays firm, “You bring five, you don’t get on the plane ‘cuz they get your seat.”
“At least three.” Talan counter offers, “Like that’s the…” He stops to search for his words, “Minimum.”
“We’ll see how much they weigh.”
“Like nothing.” Talan answers.
“We’re not packing for Costa Rica for another week.” Ryan says, “We can figure it out when-”
“Three.” Talan stays firm, “If not there’s no point.”
“Glad to hear you’re stoked.” Ryan says instead of fuelling the argument.
“Yeah I am.” Talan says easily, “I’m stoked to see the dogs.”
Ryan knows that Talan needs time to do Talan things. Talan needs to be able to go running, to spend a full day getting sunburnt at the beach, to get in trouble with Brady, to clean his turtle’s tank and to lock himself up in Michael’s office and spend hours painting.
“We’re gonna try getting you to therapy this week okay?” Ryan says carefully, “Start that again.”
“Ok.” Talan frowns.
“It’s okay that you need it.” Ryan tries to reassure, “It’s not okay your dad an me forgot.”
“Like-” Talan stops to think, “It’s okay.”
“No dude.” Ryan insists, “It’s not.”
“Dude?” Talan shakes his head, “What?”
“That we-” Ryan hesitates.
“I get it.” Talan interrupts, “Like it’s… We’re gonna go home and it won’t be like… I’m not… Don’t worry.”
Ryan thinks he might know what Talan’s referring to but chooses not to bring it up. Instead of finishing his thought, Talan takes his travel pillow from his backpack and squashes it against Ryan’s shoulder, leaning against him.
“Your dad and me thought maybe you should go back twice a-”
“Can you stop?” Talan says annoyed. “I said I’d go like don’t- It’s whatever. Stop talkin’ ‘bout it.”
Talan takes his pillow and rests it against the other side of his headrest away from Ryan. He stays there for a minute trying to fall asleep before sighing in frustration and sitting back up straight.
“I don’t like want people to know.” Talan admits, “Don’t make it a big deal. I didn’t want Brady to know and now it’s like everyone so-”
“Ok.” Ryan cuts off Talan’s tirade. “Got it.”
“Thank you.” Talan says with his voice still on edge.
Ryan gives Talan a few minutes of silence to cool down. He glances over and sees that Talan is clutching the armrest of his seat and chewing on his lips. It takes a few seconds longer for Ryan to notice that Talan’s doing breathing exercises.
“It’s just a plane ride Baby.” Ryan comforts, squeezing Tal’s shoulder, “I’m sorry come on relax.”
“Tryin’ to.” Talan answers biting back words that would for sure get him grounded because not being able to be alone or to get quiet is stressing him out way more than talking about a stupid therapy session.
Ryan can sense he’s annoying his youngest more than he’s helping so he goes quiet again. He plays with the screen in front of him, browsing through movies until he sees Talan relax back against his seat.
“You should go for a run when we get home.” Ryan re-affirms. He knows it’s probably the quickest way to get Talan to decompress.
“You’re gonna come with me?”
“Yeah.” Ryan promises even though he hates running. Despite his earlier trash talk he knows he probably can’t keep up with Talan, “If you go easy on me.”
“F’you lemme bring three surfboards.” Tal says through a yawn.
“Fine.” Ryan promises without talking to Michael about the weight restrictions of luggage, “Three.”
His promise falls on deaf ears because Talan is already back asleep. A few minutes later he’s back leaning against Ryan. As the hours go by and their destination gets closer, Talan becomes warmer and heavier but Ryan doesn’t move. By the time the flight attendant walks back guiding seats and trays back to their original position he badly needs to pee but knows he’s out of luck.
“Hey. Wake up.” Ryan moves his shoulder to nudge Talan’s head, “We’re landing.”
Talan yawns and stretches, his hands almost touching the seat in front of them. He sleepily raises his head up from Ryan’s shoulder and leans over him to peer out the window.
“Good.” Talan simply says.
“We’ll be home in like an hour.” Ryan reaches forward to pull both of their bags from under the seats in front of them, “Make sure you got everything.”
“Can we get pizza?” Talan asks, sitting back in his sleep, “Can we pick up the dogs right away? D’you think we’ll be home before dark? What’s Oliver doing?”
“We’ll get pizza.” Ryan answers the easiest questions “We’ll get the dogs once we got our stuff home.”
“Okay.” Talan nods along.
“Do you want to call your dad?” Ryan offers, “I have to tell him we landed.”
“No.” Tal says off handedly.
Talan’s relationship with Michael is something else Ryan knows he has to fix. He adds it to his mental Talan checklist and makes sure they haven’t left anything under in the seat in front of them.
“I gotta move.” Talan complains, “fu-”
Ryan raises an eyebrow.
“Sorry.” Talan backtracks, “I’m just like-” He jitters in place.
“We can run to go play ball.” Ryan suggests.
“An’ run back?” Talan laughs, “You up for it?”
Ryan feels like he needs to move himself, after a full day of plane rides he’s going stir crazy too. He sits back in his seat waiting for the plane to taxi to their gate. It’s late afternoon and while they wait for the door to open, Ryan sends Michael a text to tell him they’ve made it safe.
“They’re opening the door.” Talan clutches his backpack strap, “Let’s go!”
“There’s people in front.” Ryan motions to the four rows of other first class passengers, most of who are standing up. One businessman near the front gives Tal a dirty look and Ryan has to fight the urge to flip him off.
“They let us off the plane first in New York.” Talan points out.
“They let Oliver off the plane first.” Ryan answers, “We just went along with him.”
Talan slouches back down in his seat with his backpack still on and sighs exaggeratedly.
“Gonna be home soon baby.” Ryan tangles his fingers through Talan’s hair and rubs his head.
“Stop.” Talan ducks out from Ryan’s reach and brushes his hand through his hair to fix it back the way it was.
*
They haven’t been home in two and a half weeks. Ryan has to dig through the bottom of his bag to find his keys and Talan sits down on his suitcase to watch him do it.
“Is Miss C gonna be home?” Talan asks enquiring about their housekeeper, “D’you think she made me mac an cheese?”
“No.” Ryan breaks the news, “She’s still on vacation.”
“Oh.” Talan says clearly disappointed, “I miss her.”
“She’ll be back when school starts.” Ryan reassures, his fingers closing on his key set, “We’ll order pizza.”
The house is cool but smells musty. Their luggage stays in the front hallway while they walk into the kitchen. It’s unnaturally clean, empty and quiet but Talan still sits up on his usual kitchen stool and leans on the island counter.
“You got time to run.” Ryan suggests gently.
“Ok yeah.” Talan says, “I’m just gonna go-” He motions sideways with his hand, then straight and loops his fingers back around.
“Take your phone.” Ryan laughs, “Watch out for cars.”
“Cars gotta watch out for me.” Talan grins at Ryan before walking out of the kitchen.
Ryan doesn’t have time to call out to Talan that it isn’t how traffic works before he hears the backdoor slam shut. He has to wait a few minutes before he can see Tal set off down the street at a fast pace Ryan know he probably can’t match for more than a few minutes.
Instead, Ryan busies himself by ordering pizza and turning to face the small mountain of luggage left for abandon in the front hallway. He groans even though no one can hear him and decides that all unpacking, laundry and repacking for Costa Rica can wait until morning.
Ryan is bone tired and jet lagged but instead of going to bed he walks back into the kitchen and takes out plates and checks the fridge for drinks. Usually he’d let Talan eat in his room or by the tv but if he’s trying to get Talan back to baseline normal he knows they need to start eating together.
Once everything is sets he tries calling Michael but gets his voicemail, he looks at the clock and realizes that Oliver’s doing his first interview, he decides to call back later instead of leaving a message.
The house is way too quiet with no dogs and no kids in it and Ryan dozes off on the couch while trying to set the television to record Oliver’s first late night interview.
*
“So I’m like turning the corner.” Talan says loudly as he walks into the house.
Ryan blinks awake. Talan is in bright yellow basketball shorts but not wearing a shirt, his curls are pushed off his forehead by an American flag bandana. He has three pizza boxes and two boxes of wings precariously balanced in his left hand.
“And I see the pizza guy in our driveway just hanging out and I’m like dude he’s gonna walk out, so I book it like-” Talan moves his hand fast right in front of him, shuffling the pizza boxes around, “and I made it so you’re welcome. You don’t gotta hug me though I’m gross.”
“Why’s there so much pizza?” Ryan asks confused.
“I dunno, probs-” Talan peaks at one of the boxes for the receipt, “Like they went ‘you want the regular’ and you said yes an now we got pizza like dad and Ols were here.”
“Yeah.” Ryan rubs a hand over his face, “I did that.”
“We can do this?” Talan half-heartedly challenges.
“No.” Ryan walks up to take the boxes away from his kid, “Go shower. You’re gross.”
“I was running.” Tal says like it’s obvious, “An you said we’d shoot hoops so no point.”
“Baby.” Ryan walks into the kitchen, Talan right behind him, “I’m tired.”
“I’m not.” Talan exclaims, “You said-”
“I know.” Ryan flips open the first pizza box and closes it once he sees it’s topped with toppings only Michael and Oliver eat.
“Pineapples. Gross.” Talan pushes the box away.
“Here’s cheese.” Ryan pulls two slices from the pie and puts them on Talan’s plate, “Eat here.”
“You said shower.” Talan says while chewing his first mouthful of pizza, “Which one?”
Ryan realizes he doesn’t have the energy for this. He may not even have the energy to chew.
“Whatever Talan.”
“You mad?”
“No.” Ryan regrets his choice of words, “I’m just tired.” He apologizes.
“I’m going to eat my pizza.” Talan informs him. “Here.”
“Good.” Ryan nods.
*
With only the two of them, they barely make a dent in the food order. Ryan yawns while he puts pizza and wing boxes back into the fridge. They go to pick up the dogs at the kennel and Talan spends the ride back examining his French bulldog Hoops for signs of mistreatment and abuse. Hoops seems to be doing the same thing to Talan.
“He smells weird.” Talan complains to Ryan, holding up the dog closer to his face.
“You smell weird.” Ryan replies.
“Well yeah, you didn’t gimme time to shower. Seriously though-” Talan holds Hoops up to Ryan who is rewarded by a dog paw swiping his cheek, “HE smells weird.”
“Talan I’m driving.” Ryan points out.
“They cut his nails weird.” Talan answers instead, carefully observing his dog’s paws, “Dude was it awful?” He asks him.
Talan had found Hoops on their local animal rescue website and had instantly fallen in love. He’d presented the idea to them at dinner, showing off a handful of crumpled bills that would cover half of the adoption fee. He’d begged them to let him go first thing in the morning because the dog was for sure going to get adopted by some jerk before the end of the day.
Ryan remembers Talan’s disappointed face when they’d told him no, that they had too many dogs already.
“But none of them are mine.” Talan had argued, “Oliver has a dog.”
Still, three dogs were enough they’d told him.
Talan had come back from school the next day devastated because the little funny looking French bulldog had already been adopted. Just like he’d predicted.
“I called ‘em and they wouldn’t say who adopted him like who they know he went to someone who’s gonna love him.” He’d said disgusted to Ryan while he pushed away his after school snack.
Michael had come back home just before dinner that night looking sheepish.
“Where’s Tal?” He’d asked Ryan.
“In his room hating his life.” Ryan had pointed out, “Dude maybe we should get him a dog.”
“Okay.” Michael had held one hand up, “Keep that thought.”
“No.”
“He was crying over it.” Michael had replied looking pained, “And you know he’s gonna take care of him Ry.”
“Where is it?” Ryan had cut him off resigned that they now had a fourth dog.
“In the garage.” Michael had said relieved, “I’m gonna bring him up to him.”
Ryan had followed Michael to the garage where the dog was running circles around their junk.
“He has a lot of energy.” Michael had explained apologetically, “Kinda reminds me of Tal.”
Talan hadn’t wanted to open his door or let them in and Michael was having more and more trouble keeping the dog still and quiet.
“Talan.” Michael had put on his sternest voice, “I’m coming in.”
Ryan had to admit that getting the dog had maybe been the best idea Michael had ever had. Talan had spent the weekend carrying the dog around and patiently teaching him to sit and give high fives.
Talan loves Hoops more than anything else and Ryan knows he trusts no one else to take care of him.
“He got massages Tal.” Ryan says exasperated because the boarding cost for the dogs had been almost the same as their hotel in Rotterdam.
“He needs a bath.” Talan declares.
“Good.” Ryan yawns and flicks on the windshield wipers by accident, “You can take one together.”
It’s only eight p.m when they got home but Ryan is beat.
“I’m gonna call your dad. Then I’m going to bed.” He tells Talan, “We’ll play basketball tomorrow, I’m so-”
“Nah it’s okay.” Talan shrugs off his apology, “Tell dad I say hi. Tell Oliver Bert’s still a jerk.”
“Okay.” Ryan doesn’t push Talan, “You should go to bed too.”
“Maybe.” Talan shrugs.
“Shower before.” Ryan advises.
“Maybe.” Talan repeats.
“Night dork.” Ryan says before walking towards the stairs aware that every dog that isn’t Hoops is hot on his trail.
*
He gets into bed before dialing Michael and this time his husband answers.
“How Ols?” Ryan asks trying not to yawn, “I’d stay up and watch but I’m too tired was he good?”
“Yeah.” In the apartment in New York, Michael settles himself against a bed that’s hardly ever slept in, “He’s tired but it was good they stuck by the rules so-”
Ryan doesn’t even roll his eyes at the mention of The Rules, a set of guidelines Michael had created before Oliver had sat down for his first interview.
“He’s good?” Ryan asks again, more simply.
“He’s getting sick.” Michael answers, “But it’s just a cold, I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“S’he sleepin’?”
“Yeah he’s passed out.”
“Tal’s giving his dog a bath.”
“He’s good?” Michael picks up Ryan’s question but his sounds more cautious.
“Yeah like better than he was. We got home and-” Ryan snaps his fingers, “bam! Talan.”
“D’you call his-”
“Not yet.” Ryan admits, “Her office is closed and-”
“Maybe he doesn’t need to go.” Michael says cautiously, “If he’s good.”
“No.” Ryan is firm, “He has to go.”
Michael doesn’t press the issue. He walks out to where Oliver is sleeping on the wide living room couch and debates waking him up or letting him sleep there.
“If he’s sick you gonna get him checked out?” Ryan asks about Oliver, almost like he’s standing there next to Michael.
“It’s just a cold.” Michael rationalizes, “He gets them on planes.”
“Ok yeah.” Ryan yawns, “We’ll be there next week.”
“You shoulda stayed.” Michael says quietly, “We miss you.”
“Miss you too.” Ryan answers and for a second he’s frustrated that they’re separated again, that he’s in Florida instead of being with Oliver and Michael.
“Go to bed. Tell Tal I say goodnight.”
“Yeah.” Ryan nods, “Make sure Ols is good.”
Ryan doesn’t remember hanging up but when he wakes up an hour later, the phone is off but still in his hand. Talan is standing by the edge of the bed on Michael’s side, showered and dressed in pajamas.
“I’m not tired.” He tells Ryan.
“Awesome.” Ryan mumbles, “Go to bed.”
“Can I watch a movie?” Talan asks.
“Yes.” Ryan turns over away from Talan.
“In here?” Talan asks hopeful.
“What’s up Tal?” Ryan regretfully turns back around to look at his youngest child, “There’s five other tvs.”
“The house’s like super quiet.” Talan says looking down, “S’freaking me out.”
“You can watch a movie here.” Ryan offers the easiest solution, “Then go to bed.”
“Ok deal.” Talan climbs up on the bed and leans against the backboard on Michael’s side of the bed. He grabs the remote and turns on the television. A second later Hoops has settled himself next to him. “I pick.”
“Whatever,” Ryan yawns, “I sleep.”
New York
“Ols.”
Against his better judgment, Michael gently shakes Oliver awake.
“Go to your bed Bud.” Michael tells Oliver when he blinks awake. “We gotta be up early.”
Oliver has a five a.m. set call the next morning and Michael is already regretting half of the scheduled appearances they’d agreed to.
Oliver nods and lumbers up, taking the couch throw with him.
“Your dad says goodnight.” Michael adds, “Tal and him are gonna watch tomorrow.”
Oliver nods again.
“Are you feeling better?”
Oliver shakes his head.
“We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.” Michael offers feeling useless. He reaches to feel Oliver’s forehead but he doesn’t feel warm, “Night Bud.”
“Night dad.” Oliver calls out before heading into his bedroom and closing the door.
He sounds okay.
*
Oliver’s time on Good Morning America doesn’t go well. He’d been slow to wake up and when he had decided to get out of bed his throat had been sore and his voice shot. The makeup artist had sighed at his bleary eyes and he’d complained that it hurt to talk.
The host had been a middle aged woman who had asked about his girlfriend and other parts of his private life that had nothing to do with swimming or the Olympics. The teenage girls in the audience had been screaming too loudly. He’d spent most of the interview frowning.
Oliver is missing one of his medals because he’d forgotten to take it back from Talan in New York. While he doesn’t care about it’s whereabouts everyone else seems to and the questions and concerns over it are endless.
“I just gave it to my brother.” He explains to the Good Morning America host.
“What could your brother have done to deserve a gold medal?” She jokes, “I have a sister and I would never-”
Oliver shrugs instead of answering because talking makes his throat hurts. He reaches up to rub his ear and misses the panicked glance the host shares with the show’s producer.
It’s eight am when his GMA ordeal is over. Oliver wants to sleep but Michael brings to set medic into the green room instead.
“Dad no.” Oliver ignores the woman in the navy blue uniform carrying a red duffel bag.
“Hi!” She ignores his protest by using the most cheerful voice he’s ever heard anyone use before noon, “You’re not feeling well?”
“I’m fantastic.” Oliver croaks sarcastically.
“Ols.” Michael warns.
Oliver doesn’t apologize. He narrows his eyes at Michael before turning back to face the EMT.
“What’s your name?” She asks sitting next to Oliver on the couch.
Instead of answering her, Oliver gives Michael another pained look.
“His name’s Oliver.” Michael answers for him.
“I need him to answer my questions.” She tells Michael before refocusing on Oliver, “Oliver when did you start feeling sick?”
“Before we got on the plane.”
“Where were you flying from?” She opens her bag and pulls out a smaller case.
“I don’t like needles.” Oliver says alarmed.
“I don’t have them so we’re okay.” She reassures, she pulls out a pair of latex gloves instead “Where were you flying from.”
“Netherlands.” Oliver answers. He painfully swallows and winces when it hurts his ears.
“And your symptoms got worst? I’m just going to feel your neck alright, relax.”
She checks his breathing, his heart rate, his ears and takes his temperature before slipping the gloves off.
“He doesn’t have a fever.” She tells Michael, “It’s just a cold, get him some cough drops for his throat and a lot of fluids. If he develops a fever over 103 or he stops being able to swallow liquids bring him to the ER.”
Michael nods attentively and thanks her as she leaves.
“I’m not dying.” Oliver announces, “Happy?”
“We’re going to cancel tonight.” Michael decides.
“No.” Oliver protests, “That’s the only one I wanna do like… Pace Chosen is there.”
“Kid you’re sick.” Michael tells him, “That with the not being to breathe thing last week. I don’t feel good about-”
“You swim nine golds and tell me how you’re breathing.” Oliver calls out, “I wanna do tonight.”
“Oliver.” Michael tries to rationalize, “You’re sick. She said to rest.”
“She’s not a doctor.” Oliver points out defiantly, “Who cares what she says.”
“You don’t work if you’re sick.”
“I swam with pneumonia.” Oliver argues, “It didn’t matter then-”
“Because you lied about it!” Michael closes his eyes and counts to ten. He tries to understand for the ten thousandth time how a kid who’s biologically his could have inherited Ryan’s disregard for personal safety. “What happened the day after?”
Oliver doesn’t answer.
“You spent the night in the hospital hooked up to an IV and oxygen, you want that again?”
“I wanna do the show.” Oliver says sounding a lot more like five than seventeen. “I can get a cab and go if I wanna I don’t need you I’m not a baby.”
“You want to be treated like an adult Oliver act like one.” Michael snaps, “I’m here to take care of you. It’s my job.”
“Cancel anything else.” Oliver offers, “Not this one.”
“Bud.” Michael sighs.
“It’ll be fun.” Oliver begs, “I don’t get to like have fun.”
Oliver uses the one line he knows usually wins him arguments. He knows that his dads feel guilty about how much he trains and works and how little time he’s had to be a kid.
“You’re getting two weeks of fun.” Michael points out referring to Costa Rica, “Tonight’s work.”
“I get to meet the swimsuit model tonight.” Oliver reminds him. “And the band.”
“What are you gonna do?” Michael raises an eyebrow, “Cough on her?”
Oliver chooses not to answer.
“I’m not going to cancel.” Michael decides against his better judgment, “But if you’re not feeling any better by then it’s-”
Oliver nods eagerly and sits up straighter.
“We have time to go home.” Michael picks up Oliver’s bag, “We’ll get you Halls.”
“Coffee.” Oliver says, “And a bagel from the good place.”
“No.” Michael holds the door open for him, “I’m not standing in line and you need actual food. Protein and-”
“I wanna bagel.” Oliver whines. “I don’t care from where.”
“If only the supermodel could see you now.” Michael grabs the back of Oliver’s shirt and guides him forward.
“Her name’s Kasey.” Oliver corrects him. “I’m not gonna cough on her.”
Florida
Ryan wakes up with Bert head butting his face.
“Dude.” Ryan pushes the black lab’s head away, “I’m not your dad try that on someone else.”
It’s eleven though and Ryan figures he better let the dogs out in the backyard before one of them has an accident in the house.
The television at the other end of the room is still turned on and paused on the credits of the movie Talan had watched the night before. Talan’s glasses are on Michael’s pillow but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Alright come on.” Ryan gets out of bed and motions for the dog to follow him, “Let’s go out.”
He stops by Talan’s room on his way down the stairs; Talan is wrapped in a cocoon of blankets with his pillow over his head.
“Yo dork!” Ryan calls out, “It’s eleven. Get up.”
Talan doesn’t move or make a noise. Hoops’ head perks up when he hears the other dog and he wiggles free from under Talan’s legs to come join the pack.
“Ten minutes.” Ryan calls out. “Then I’m coming back.”
Ryan lets the dogs out and turns back into the kitchen to make coffee. He keeps an eye on the time on the microwave. Once ten minutes have gone by and the coffee is ready, Ryan lets the dogs back in and heads upstairs again.
“Baby.” He says knocking on the door. “Get up.”
“No.” Talan grumbles, “M’tired.”
“Yeah you’re jetlagged.” Ryan answers.“Get up.”
“No.” Talan says again,
“You can have coffee.” Ryan bribes, “Offer’s good for five minute. Come on.”
Ryan waits a few seconds to see if Talan moves.
“Five minutes for coffee Talan.” He repeats, “You can’t sleep all day.”
Ryan isn’t exactly sure how Talan got hooked on coffee and he’s certain that feeding into a fifteen year old’s caffeine addiction isn’t the best parenting move of all times but he still takes a ninja turtle mug from the cupboard and fills it up before putting it down beside Tal’s usual spot.
Talan lumbers downstairs in boxers with his hair still held up by the bandana. He’s wearing an old camo print comforter like a toga.
“Yeah dad.” Ryan imitates Talan when he walks into the kitchen, “I’m not jet lagged it’s fine like… I’m not tired.”
“I don’t sound like that.” Talan shakes his head at him before sitting down on one of the stools by the counter, “Like at all.”
“Sure.” Ryan laughs. He pushes the coffee cup towards Talan, “It’s yours.”
“Yes.” Talan cries out victorious. He reaches for the sugar and pours a generous amount in.
“One cup.” Ryan reminds him, “Enjoy it.”
Talan quietly drinks his coffee for a few minutes before he speaks again.
“Can you make me a grilled cheese?” Talan asks
“We got no food.” Ryan apologizes, “I can do cold pizza.”
“No.” Talan takes another sip, “I don’t want pizza.”
“Yeah.” Ryan agrees, “Finish that up, go change and we’ll go get food.”
When Talan walks back downstairs ready to go, he’s wearing a pair of worn out camo short and a t-shirt that has more holes than Ryan cares to count.
“Go put clothes that don’t make you look homeless.” Ryan demands.
“The thing’s like-” Tal hovers in the middle of the living room.
“What’s up Talan?”
“Like I grew?” Talan moves his hands apart, “So I dunno nothing I got fits, most of Ols’ stuff’s too small.”
“That why you packed nothing for Rotterdam?” Ryan begins to understand, “Baby we can afford to buy you clothes.”
“My shoes hurt too.” Talan points out, “If I wear Ols’ he’ll be mad.”
“We’ll get you shoes too.” Ryan adds, “Where d’you wanna go?”
“I dunno.” Talan shrugs, “Target?”
Oliver would have had an entirely different answer; he would have known which store, which brand, which specific items of clothing to get.
“Target?” Ryan says skeptically, “We can start there yeah.”
“They got a Starbucks.” Talan says hopefully.
“No way.” Ryan grabs his car keys from the side table and motions for Tal to head to the front door, “One cup. That’s it.”
*
Target is thankfully pretty deserted on a Wednesday morning. Ryan grabs a basket and has to fight back to habit of telling Tal to hold onto it.
“Look.” He says once they’re inside, “Make it easy. I’ll go look for food, you look for clothes. If you’re gonna wear it without complaining take it.”
“Easy.” Talan answers.
“Exactly.” Ryan looks at his watch, “Meet you back in twenty.”
Not even five minutes later, Talan meets Ryan in the cereal aisle. He’s holding one pair of cargo shorts and two t-shirts.
“I’m done.” He declares. He dumps the three items in the cart before peeking at the food Ryan’s chosen, “I want the fake chicken nuggets.”
“You’re gonna wear one pair of shorts?” Ryan asks even though he knows the logic will be lost on his youngest, “For the next three weeks you’re gonna wear one pair of shorts and two t-shirts?”
“I don’t like need more.” Talan says puzzles.
“Yeah you do.” Ryan sighs, he puts the boxes of cereal he’s holding into the cart and turns around to wheel back to the clothing department, “Did you try on those shorts?”
“No.”
“How d’you know they fit?”
“They look like they fit?” Talan answers like it’s obvious.
“You spend too much time with your dad.” Ryan reaches into the cart and flips the tag on the shorts to see the size, “Talan you’re not a 36. I’m not a 36. You’re 28 max, the other shorts were kid sizes.”
“Then trade sizes.” Once they’re at the rack, Talan looks for a smaller size and switches them out from the cart.
“No you have to try them on.” Ryan insists, “Come on.”
Talan looks like he’s been asked to run a triathlon. He grabs the shorts from Ryan and drags his feet towards the dressing room.
“Here.” Ryan hands him a pair of boardshorts and a few more t-shirts, “You’re gonna need a new rash guard too but they don’t have that here. Actually-” He takes the boardshorts out of Talan’s hands, “You’re gonna need better board shorts-”
“What’s wrong with these?”
“We’ll get you something better.” Ryan repeats. “Go try it on.”
“You’re not coming in with me.” Talan says pointedly, “Wait here.”
“No I’m gonna wait there.” Ryan points to a chair near the change rooms.
Talan sighs and rolls his eyes and flips his hair off his face dramatically.
“Faster you get it done, the faster we can go eat.” Ryan bribes, “Go.”
While he waits for Talan to get changed, Ryan looks for a video of Oliver’s Good Morning America interview. He sends a text to Michael but doesn’t get an answer back.
“Tal.” He knocks on the change room door, “Come out.”
“No.” Talan says outraged, “They fit.”
“Talan.” Ryan puts a hand on the change room door, “You come out or I come in.”
“Don’t come in!” Talan says outraged.
A second later, Ryan hears the door unlock and Talan steps out in the cargo shorts.
“They look good!” Ryan says enthusiastically, like they’re talking about a three-piece suit and not a pair of shorts that looks like every other pair already in Talan’s closet. “Do they fit okay?”
He pushes Talan’s shirt up and tugs at the waistband.
“Da-ad.” Talan says mortified, pulling his shirt back down. “Stop.”
“You feel good in it?”
“Yes."
“You’ll wear ‘em?”
“Can I get changed now?” Talan asks.
“Try the t-shirts on.” Ryan requests, “It’s not going to kill you.”
Ryan doesn’t ask Tal to show him the t-shirts and takes his word that they fit. He grabs the clothes that fit Talan and carries them back out of the fitting rooms.
“Let’s go eat.” Ryan says, “Then we’ll go get you the rest of the stuff.”
“The rest?” Talan says discouraged, “I just tried on like-”
“You need swimsuits.” Ryan knows Talan won’t be caught dead in any of the jammers and briefs Speedo still sends them, “Probably a wet suit, rash guard, shirts, pants, a suit-”
“A suit?”
“Might want to look sharp in Costa Rica Baby.” Ryan informs him, “Oh underwear.”
“What?”
“Underwear.” Ryan points to the racks of men’s underwear, “Do you have enough?”
“DAD.” Talan says through his teeth, glancing around the still deserted aisles.
“You don’t gotta be embarrassed Baby.” Ryan fights back laughter, “Boxers?”
Talan refuses to answer.
“Maybe you should get boxer briefs.” Ryan holds up a package, “They fit-”
“DAD.”
“Try ‘em out.” Ryan starts looking at the sizes on the packs, “They support-”
“Dad stop.” Talan manages two words.
“Everyone wears underwear Tal.” Ryan tosses two packs for Talan, “D’you want some boxers in case you don’t like the new ones?”
“No I’m fine.” Talan answers quickly, he watches Ryan throw another pack in, “I don’t need more!”
“Those are for your dad.” Ryan reassures.
“Don’t mix ‘em up with mine!” Talan says horrified, “Gross come on.”
“Gross.” Ryan laughs, “This seriously isn’t as bad as-”
“Yeah.” Talan says dead serious, “It is.”
Talan walks ten feet behind Ryan until they get to the cash and he blushes when the elderly cashier scans his underwear through.
“I’m ready to go back to bed.” Talan complains once they’re back out into the parking lot.
“No way.” Ryan hands Talan two bags out of the basket, “We gotta get you more clothes.”
Talan answers with a pained noise.
“We can start with the surf stuff.” Ryan says to encourage him, “After food.”
“I want a grilled cheese.” Talan demands, “And to not talk about my underwear.”
“I can do that.” Ryan promises.
New York
“Drink this.” Michael hands Oliver a paper cup, “It’ll make your throat feel better.”
“No.” Oliver shakes his head. His voice is hoarse, “swallowing my spit hurts.”
“Yeah.” Michael keeps holding out the tea, he looks at the cold medication and the empty Halls wrappers on the table by the couch. “I got nothing for that.”
“How much longer can I sleep?” Oliver asks, pulling his designer suit jacket over his head.
“An hour probably.”
“Mmkay.” Oliver mumbles.
Michael once again feels useless. He regrets his decision to not cancel. He puts the cup of tea on the coffee table and dumps the packets of honey beside it. He reaches down to feel Oliver’s forehead. He’s warmer than before.
“You have a fever.” He says alarmed, “Ols wake up.”
Oliver pushes Michael’s hand off his forehead and burrows further under his jacket.
It’s too late to pull Oliver out of this interview without major problems and Michael knows even Oliver wouldn’t be happy about the decision.
Oliver had wanted to do this interview but he is too busy sleeping in his green room to go spy on sound check or hang out in the hallway to meet anyone else. Michael had run into the band on his way back from getting tea and he’d felt old. The band hadn’t known him and he hadn’t known who they were minus the three songs Oliver always listened to on his way back from practice. Making awkward small talk with them had made him feel like a dad.
“Stop dad.” Oliver says softly, “I’ll drink the tea.”
“I’ll make sure you have some out there.” Michael reassures, “Put some honey in it. Save your voice.”
Oliver nods and winces down a few sips of the hot liquid.
“I’m going to cancel what you’re doing tomorrow.” Michael decides out loud, “Give you a day off.”
Oliver looks at him pained.
“You’re sick Ols. You shouldn’t even be here-”
“I gotta do this one!” Oliver breaks his thirty seconds long vow of silence. “Please.”
“Take more cold medication.” Michael picks up the pack from the table and flips it over to check out the symptoms it covers, “You got an hour to sleep.”
Michael has to wake Oliver up a half hour later when a frazzled looking PA frantically knocks on the door for him.
“I feel better dad.” Oliver tries to sound convincing, “My voice sounds better.”
Waiting for his turn to go on set, Oliver sits down on the floor, leans against the wall and downs pack after pack of honey.
“You haven’t been drinking anything.” Michael frets, “You only ate half a bagel.”
Oliver nods and Michael knows Oliver is only pretending to be doing better. He reaches to feel his son’s forehead again and Oliver feels warmer than before.
“Two hours you’re home in bed.” Michael comforts.
Oliver gives him a thumb up.
*
“So you’ve had a busy few weeks!” Jimmy Fallon asks Oliver, “For people who haven’t been on earth let me just sum up your accomplishments…”
Oliver smiles and looks down.
“Nine gold medals –more than anyone in a single game. But you got seven world records?”
“Something like that yeah.” Oliver laughs. “I slacked off a few times.”
“And now you’re back home and you’re being dragged all over the place. We’re happy you’re here.”
“Me too.” Oliver tries not to sound overeager.
“Because you’re sick.”
“Yeah.” Oliver admits, “I don’t usually sound like this.”
“You’ve gone through puberty you mean?”
“Yeah.” Oliver laughs.
“So you’re really not feeling well?”
“I’m okay.” Oliver smiles, “Just my voice.”
“Because your dad tried to get you out sick.”
“Yeah he did. We got in a fight.”
“You wanted to be here?”
“Yeah!” Oliver leans forward, “My brother and I watch this all the time.”
“That’s amazing man. Thank you! Now I heard that you’re starting at Harvard this fall? Is there anything you’re bad at?”
“My social life?” Oliver answers without missing a beat, “I don’t really have spare time so-”
“I’m sure we can change that for you, did you get to meet Kasey White backstage?”
“No.” Oliver looks down at his shoes, “I didn’t want to cough on her or-” Oliver’s voice gives out and he reaches for the cup of tea Michael had made sure was in front of him. He winces as he swallows.
“So how long have you been swimming?”
“Since I was a baby.” Oliver answers and his voice is stronger, “But competitively? I started when I was six. It was just for fun, there was never really any pressure to-”
“Nine gold medals. No pressure. Can we cut to that last race?”
Oliver watches himself swim for the wall and watches the cameras focus away from the pool on Talan’s face.
“How did that feel man?” Jimmy asks when the footage cuts to Oliver on the podium.
“I was really tired.” Oliver admits, “I was stoked to go home.”
“By winning that ninth medal you did something no one else has done before- You beat the record by-”
“Michael Phelps.” Oliver grins. “Yeah.”
“And you know him right? Michael and you you’re pretty close?”
“You can say that.” Oliver laughs, “We talk sometimes.”
“Well, it might be a bit of a shock.” Jimmy Fallon pauses dramatically, “but Michael Phelps is here tonight.”
“No way.” Oliver says in mock surprise, “What?”
“Yes. Please welcome twenty-two times Olympic medalist Michael Phelps.”
Michael walks on set and takes a seat on the chair next to Oliver.
“You’re his dad.”
“Yes.” Michael doesn’t even bother to joke. He pretends to mess up Oliver’s hair to see if Oliver’s fever has gotten worst. Under the set lights Oliver is burning up.
“Did you ever think to not put him in swimming to keep your records safe? To I don’t know, have him try out for baseball?”
“I played football.” Oliver chimes in.
“We taught both our kids to swim to be safe and-”
“Wait you have another kid who swims? Is he going to come out in four years and win ten gold medals?”
“No, I think Talan’s not going to-”
“He beat me once.” Oliver interrupts Michael, “He’s good he just-”
“Wait, he beat you?”
“One time.” Oliver specifies, “But yeah.”
“What are you running back home?” Jimmy Fallon turns to Michael, “Some kind of super human swimming school?”
“They’re both pretty human.” Michael jokes, “I mean I think.”
“Thanks.” Oliver shoots off.
“But you’re retired right?” Jimmy Fallon asks Oliver, “You’re done swimming?”
“For now yeah.” Oliver admits, “I did it now I wanna do other things.”
“You’re what eighteen?”
“Seventeen.” Oliver corrects
There isn’t much time left until the commercial break and Michael spends most of it focused on Oliver instead of joking back and forth with the host. Oliver is eager and a good sport but Michael notices that his answers get shorter and shorter and that he grimaces every time he swallows. Once they’ve been counted down to break he leads Oliver backstage.
“Ok I don’t feel good.” Oliver admits once it’s just the two of them and a production assistant, “Like really not.
“We have an EMT on site, I can send him to your green room.” The PA offers.
“Yes.” Michael agrees because he knows an EMT will have a thermometer. He pulls Oliver towards their green room at a brisk pace, trying to get him somewhere cool and quiet as fast as possible.
“Stop.” Oliver hangs back a step and pulls on Michael’s shirt.
“What’s wrong?”
Oliver wobbles forward and Michael catches him just in time.
“Hey.” Michael grabs Oliver by the shoulder, “Oliver!”
Michael instantly regrets where they are. Hates that he went against his better judgment and made his sick child work.
“Sorry.” Oliver doesn’t pass out, he closes his eyes and reaches up to rub both his hands against the side of his face, pressing against his ears.
“I’ll go grab the EMT.” The PA says panicked.
The EMT gets there in less than thirty seconds, so quick that Michael is still holding onto Oliver.
“We’re going to have you sit down.” The show’s paramedic instructs before he takes hold of Oliver’s elbow. “Can you tell me your name?”
“I’m okay.” Oliver pulls his elbow away.
Oliver doesn’t keep talking. He lets the paramedic guide him down to the floor and sits with his eyes closed. Michael kneels in front of him and immediately pushes Oliver’s jacket off his shoulder before loosening his tie.
“What happened before you felt like you were going to faint Oliver?” The EMT asks.
“Just hot.” Oliver answers.
“Did you hit your head anywhere?”
“No he didn’t fall.” Michael answers for Oliver, “He wasn’t feeling well this morning but we thought it was just a cold so we-”
“His lymph nodes are swollen.” The EMT says as soon as he starts to palpate Oliver’s neck.
“Can you take his temperature?” Michael requests, “We’re going to the ER I just-”
“Dad no.” Oliver shakes his head.
“You’re sick.” Michael interrupts his son’s protests, “It’s not a choice.”
“Fever’s 102.” The medic tells Michael. “He doesn’t need an ambulance but the car can take you to whichever hospital.” He reaches into his bag for an instant cold pack. He shakes it before pressing it to the back of Oliver’s neck, “He might need fluids.”
“A car. Sinai.” Michael answers briskly. He kneels next to Oliver and holds the icepack up.
“No.” Oliver whines. He grabs the backpack and brings it to his throat instead.
“Yes.” Michael affirms.
“Dad.” Oliver tries to look dead serious, “I don’t need-”
“You just passed out.”
“I didn’t.” Oliver argues.
“It’s how you’re gonna feel better today.” Michael comforts, “They can make your throat stop hurting.”
Oliver makes a frustrated noise and doesn’t move to stand up.
*
At the hospital, Michael has to explain Oliver’s symptoms four times and four times over he gets to feel like a negligent parent. Oliver refuses to talk and eyes anyone who walks into his curtained off ER examination room with distrust.
“They’re not going to start an IV.” Michael reassures him, “No needles. Promise.”
“I don’t wanna sleep here.” Oliver whispers in response.
“Let’s just see what the doctor says.”
“Call Dad.” Oliver asks.
Michael calls Ryan and Ryan keeps Oliver busy while Michael goes off to find some ice for Oliver to eat and to hunt down whichever nurse was responsible for getting the doctor.
Oliver is sleeping when he gets back to the room but Ryan is still on the line.
“How long’s he been sleeping?” Michael asks picking up the phone from beside Oliver’s head.
“Five minutes. How high was his fever?”
“It was 103 when we got here, now it’s at 100. They gave him something for it-”
“Did they run tests?” Ryan asks concerned, “He got sick super fast.”
“No.” It’s the only part of this experience that’s comforting to Michael, “They think it’s strep throat we’re waiting for a doctor.”
“That sucks, poor Gator.”
“Yeah, I cancelled the rest of his interviews.” Michael pulls the blanket that’s over Oliver down a bit, not wanting his temperature to go back up. “Thought we could leave for Costa Rica sooner-”
“Want us in New York?”
“Yeah.”
“We can catch a flight tomorrow. We just need to pack.” In Florida, Ryan looks at the suitcases still packed for Rotterdam and sighs discouraged.
Oliver stirs awake and pulls the blanket back up over him. Michael rubs his leg.
“They keeping him overnight?”
“He wants to go home.” Michael answers, “So-”
“He’s not making that decision.” Ryan warns.
“Would you have let him do that interview?” Michael asks Ryan guiltily.
“No.” Ryan answers, “I woulda brought him home.”
“I’m sorry Ry.” Michael means it. He knows this isn’t one of his stellar parenting moments. He understands that he should have made sure Oliver was safe and healthy before making sure Oliver was happy.
“It’s okay.” Ryan says without anger, “He’s gonna be good.”
“How’s Tal?” Michael asks to change the subject.
“We went clothes shopping, he’s tramotized.”
“He’s gonna miss his therapy appointments if you come here early.” Michael rubs a hand over his face, “I didn’t think-”
“He’ll be okay.” Ryan assures even though he’s not sure himself, “Tough kid, he’ll surf out his problems. We got him a new wetsuit.”
“What colour?”
“Bright orange, he looks like a parking cone. We’ll see him from the beach.”
Talking to Ryan is comforting and Michael gets lost in the conversation. He knows Ryan has to pack and get Talan to bed but he selfishly keeps him on the line until the doctor finally walks into the room.
Three hours after their arrival an ER doctor diagnoses Oliver with strep throat and writes him a prescription for antibiotics and a numbing throat spray.
*
Michael had had plans to go out that night, to go have drinks with friends he knew in New York. He forgets his plans until they’re home and he’s given Oliver his first dose of antibiotics.
“I’m sorry you can’t go out.” Oliver says.
Michael has ordered soup from the deli across the street and more bagels and really anything he thought would be soft enough for Oliver to eat without too much pain.
“Don’t worry.” Michael dismisses, “I’m just glad you got to come home. Eat your soup.”
Oliver takes three sips of a spoonful before committing to a full one.
“I’ll be good if you wanna go.” Oliver tries, “I’m just gonna sleep.”
“You come first Ols.” Michael brushes off his suggestion, “Come on eat more.”
Oliver takes another spoonful of just broth, deciding that the noodles and carrot chunks would cause far too much pain to bother with. He finishes the rest of the broth under Michael’s watchful eyes and hands him the cardboard container.
Michael takes the cup away and feels Oliver’s forehead at the same time.
“You’re still really warm.” Michael says worriedly.
“I’m cold.” Oliver complains.
Michael wishes Ryan was there because Ryan’s good at handling sick kids. Michael can’t remember what you’re suppose to do to lower a fever and it’s too late to call up Debbie in Baltimore, he doesn’t want to worry her.
“Does it still hurt a lot?” Michael asks.
Oliver nods before slumping down on the couch to lean against Michael.
“I’m sorry Bud.” Michael says powerless to make him feel better, “Want some ice cream?”
Oliver shakes his head no.
Michael flicks the television on and flips through channels until he finds a movie he knows Oliver likes. They watch in silence until Oliver’s phone beeps.
“Is that Talan?”
“No.” Oliver actually answers. He smiles at his screen and sends a message.
“Who is it?” Michael asks even if he knows the odds of Oliver answering him are slim.
“Kasey White.” Oliver whispers proudly, “Wants to know if I feel better.”
This side of Oliver reminds Michael of Ryan. He forgets for a second that Ryan has never dated models but that he had.
“How did she get your number?” Michael tries to peer at the screen to see what a nineteen year old model would be texting his seventeen-year-old dork.
“I gave it to a PA.” Oliver smirks even though his voice is so quiet Michael has to mute the volume to hear him, “To give to her.”
“That’s kind of impressive.” Michael has to admit, “She’s nineteen though Ols.”
Oliver shrugs and moves further from Michael to keep texting.
“Don’t send her pictures.” Michael warns.
Oliver makes a disgusted face at him before getting up and pointing to his bedroom.
“If you feel really bad wake me up okay?” Michael tells him, “I’ll come give you more Advil. Night Bud.”
Oliver waves goodnight with the hand that’s holding onto his phone and Michael knows he’s being ditched for a supermodel. He waits until he hears Oliver’s bedroom door close to call Ryan again.
Florida
Talan doesn’t want to go to New York early.
“No.” Talan answers when Ryan tells him the news, “I got a week here you said.”
“It changed.” Ryan tries to plead; “We’re going to Costa Rica early.”
“I wanna stay here.” Talan replies.
“We’ll go buy sneakers.” Ryan bribes, “Go for good pizza. Just you an me, come on Baby.”
“No.” Talan doesn’t change his mind, “I got like plans and you said I had to go to stupid therapy and now it’s like- No? Cause he’s sick.”
“We can go to Costa Rica sooner.” Ryan tries again, “You can surf.”
“You asked what I wanna do and I say go back home and now it don’t matter?” Talan says angrily, “Whatever. It’s fucking retarded.”
“Woah.” Ryan cautions, “I’m not swearing at you.”
“I don’t care about shoes or pizza or whatever.”
Before Ryan can reply, Talan has stormed out of the kitchen and into the backyard. Ryan waits, hoping to hear the sound of a basketball being thrown against the side of the house but he’s just met with silence.
He gives Talan space and starts packing instead. Michael and Oliver have already packed and he wheels both their suitcases to the front door before going into the garage to grab Michael’s golf clubs. On his way back upstairs, he takes the bags of clothes they’d bought for Talan and brings them to Talan’s room putting them in his already half packed suitcase.
Once Ryan’s finished packing his own suitcase and Talan isn’t back he starts to worry. It’s dark out and he doesn’t like to think of Talan running by the side of the road where drivers can’t see him.
Ryan grabs his car keys, ready to go drive looking for Talan when he loops back around the house to make sure the backdoor is locked and spots his son sitting cross legged on a pool chair.
“Dude, I was gonna go out driving lookin’ for you.” Ryan reproaches, sitting down on the chair next to Tal, “Don’t do that.”
The backyard is dark but Ryan still sees Talan shrug. He also sees the beer can between Talan’s crossed legs.
“Talan.” He sighs disappointed, “We’ve talked about this.”
“It’s not open.” Talan claims, handing the can to Ryan for proof, “I changed my mind.”
“I get you’re mad-” Ryan starts.
“I’m not mad.” Talan snaps. “It’s just not fair.”
Talan has a point. Ryan rolls the beer can against the ground with his foot thinking of what to say. His silence is long enough for Talan to start talking again.
“I like when we buy shoes and go out for pizza ‘an stuff but like you said we were stayin’ here.”
“I know.” Ryan empathizes, “We’re not going to New York, we’re going to Costa Rica and Costa Rica’s for you.” He reminds him.
“I’m not mad.” Talan repeats, “Just like things keep changing and no one asks me.”
“That’s true.” Ryan agrees, “But you get that you win right? Five more days of surfing.”
Talan nods.
“Dad an me knows it’s not fair.” Ryan threads carefully, “And we’re really sorry-”
“It’s okay.” Talan dismisses Ryan’s apology, “I get it.”
“It’ll be about you soon.” Ryan promises.
The mosquitos are awful and Ryan slaps three away from the side of his face and from Talan’s leg before he gets up and motions for Talan to head back inside.
“The beer thing though.” Ryan holds up the can once they’re in the light of the kitchen, “That stops right now. Next time I tell your dad.”
“Okay.” Talan says wide eyed, “I didn’t drink it I was just like…”
“You’re fifteen.” Ryan reminds him, “No drinking.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Talan nods in agreement, “Okay.”
“Go pack.” Ryan waves him off, “Just empty the shopping bags in your suit-”
“I need my golf clubs.” Talan cuts in, “Dad said we’d go golfing.”
“You have three surfboards.”
“Dad said.” Talan insists.
“No.” Ryan puts his foot down, “Three surfboards or the golf clubs.”
“That’s like… Way unfair.”
Talan’s decision is easy though, half an hour later his surfboards are packed in their bag and resting against the front entrance wall with his bright green suitcase. He crashes down beside Ryan on the couch holding out his phone.
“Ols is talking to Kasey White.” He announces awed, “Like the model.”
“Wanna stay up to watch his interview?” Ryan offers.
“Yeah.” Talan pats the spot next to him and Hoops jumps up. “Thanks.”
Talan is asleep against the arm of the couch five minutes into the opening monologue. His feet are on Ryan’s lap and Hoops is snoring by his chest.
Michael’s call comes just as Kasey White is being introduced.
“So that’s the chick texting our kid?” Ryan answers without saying hello.
“What?”
“That model-”
“Yeah, he got a PA to give her his number.”
“That’s baller.” Ryan says impressed, “What’s she saying to him?”
“I don’t know. He went to bed.”
“How’s he feeling? If his fever’s still high you can give him Advil an like Tylenol just switch up ever four hours. Just to make him feel better, like if he’s not eating.”
“Twenty-four hours for the antibiotics to kick in. I’ll go check on him in a few.”
“Did he eat?”
“No.” Michael decides not to count the half-cup of broth as a meal, “His throat hurts.”
“Milkshake.” Ryan suggests, “Maybe we got protein powder still.”
“I’ll ask him when I give him more Tylenol.”
“Don’t wake him up. If he wakes up give him more. Let him sleep.”
On television, Kasey White walks off stage and commercials roll. Ryan hits Talan’s foot to wake him up.
“Ols is next.” He calls out.
“Is Tal okay with coming here early?” Michael asks.
“Yeah.” Ryan chooses to not share the evening’s dramatics, “He’s stoked.”
“Is that dad?” Talan asks, “Can I bring my golf clubs?”
“Your kid wants to know if you can buy an extra seat on the plane for his golf clubs?”
“I’ll rent him golf clubs.”
“You’re getting rentals.” Ryan relays the message.
Talan makes a noise of protest and pushes a foot against Ryan’s leg. Before he can form an argument the commercial break ends and Oliver is walking to his seat.
“He looks bad.” Talan says before anyone, “Like sh-”
“That’s twice Talan.” Ryan says unimpressed, “But yeah he looks-”
“Hey.” Oliver’s voice booms across the sound system.
“You let him do this?” Ryan exclaims bewildered, “Mike…”
“I know.” Michael answers, “I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s so cool he’s there.” Talan sits up straighter, “Can I talk to Oliver?”
“He’s sleeping Baby.” Ryan replies without checking with Michael, “You can talk to him tomorrow.”
“Does he need his medal back? Cause I’m kinda sick of havin’ to worry ‘bout it.”
“Leave it there.” Michael answers through the phone, “Ry just put me on speaker.”
Ryan puts his phone down balancing it close to Talan’s foot.
“Hi dad.” Talan says.
“Hey Baby.” Michael’s voice softens, “We have good bagels waiting.”
“My new wetsuit’s orange.” Talan fills him in, “You’ll see me from like space.”
“Your dad said.” In New York Michael smiles.
“Hey!” Talan cries out when Michael walks on set, “You got to be on too, that’s cool.”
“He looks brutal Mike.” Ryan groans watching Oliver’s last few minutes.
“He should be better by tomorrow. By the time you get here. He’ll be good by the time we’re on the beach.”
Ryan says goodbye and hangs up when Oliver’s interview wraps up and Talan starts to nod off again.
“Go to bed.” Ryan tells Talan flicking his foot to wake him up, “Take your dog.”
Talan yawns and checks his phone.
“Yeah night.” He gets up and stretches, “Stoked to try on the new underwear tomorrow.” He adds sarcastically.
“Night dork.” Ryan switches the channel before turning off the television. “I’ll be up in a few.”
“I’ll know if you take out a surfboard.” Talan warns. “Don’t do it.”
“I’ll come say goodnight. Go to bed.”
Ryan watches Talan walk up the stairs before he does one more check on the luggage by the door. They don’t leave for New York until mid afternoon but with their susceptibility to missing flights he’d rather make sure they have everything.
The only thing missing from the pile is Talan’s backpack and satisfied, Ryan turns off all the lights on the main floor, locks the doors and turns on the alarm.
Talan is sitting up in bed waiting for him. Hoops is curled up at the foot of the bed but Oliver’s dog Bert has been relegated to the floor.
“He takes up too much room.” Talan explains, “He squooshes Hoops.”
“He’s gonna be yours when Ols is at Harvard.” Ryan predicts, “Maybe get used to it.”
“Ugh.” Talan rolls his eyes before patting his bed, “Up you jerk.”
Bert jumps up on the bed and Talan points to the foot of it while picking up Hoops and resting the smaller dog against his pillow.
“Is Oliver like really sick?” Talan says worriedly, “He looked really bad.”
“They gave him antibiotics, he’s gonna be okay.” Ryan reassures, “Pack you backpack when you wake up okay?”
“Yeah.” Talan points to a pile of disorganized things on top of his disorganized desk, “It’s done.”
“Sleep.” Ryan urges, “Really.”
“Really.” Talan repeats. “Good night.”