Page 60 of The Off Limits Captain
Susan sees both of us, because apparently anesthesia has not damaged her ability to be terrifying.
“How do you see my son?” Susan asks.
The room changes.
Ryan looks over.
“Mom,” he warns.
“I had heart surgery, Ryan. I didn’t lose my manners.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Susan smiles at him, then returns those sharp eyes to me.
I could dodge. I should dodge. The off-record rule with Ryan does not apply to his mother, and yet lying to Susan feels like kicking something already bruised.
“I think he is complicated,” I say. “I think people keep trying to make him serve a purpose. The team. The fans. Sometimes even the people who love him.”
Bill’s gaze drops to the floor.
Ryan goes very still.
I keep going because stopping would be worse.
“I think he knows that. I think he hates it. And I think he lets it happen anyway when he believes it protects someone else.”
Susan watches me for a long moment.
“That’s closer than most get.”
Ryan turns back to the window.
His reflection looks hollowed out.
Later, when Bill and Ryan walk down the hall to talk to the doctor, Susan catches my hand. Her skin is warm and papery, her grip weaker than the force of her attention.
“Whatever you write,” Susan says, voice thin but steady, “don’t make him smaller so people can understand him faster.”
My throat tightens.
“I won’t.”
“And don’t go the other way to make me like you.” She almost smiles. “I’d know.”
I smile. “No, ma’am.”
“Susan.”
“Susan,” I correct.
“Good girl.”
The words should annoy me.
They do not.
By afternoon, the doctor says Susan may move to a step-down room in the morning if nothing changes overnight. Bill declares it a victory. Ryan looks like a man who has been handed oxygen and does not trust the tank.
