ryan-lowe

[ryan-lowe]

The dreams had been so incoherent… Warped memories, people, and voices sloppily strung together. The moment he’d recognize a face and try to make sense of whatever was happening, he’d slip into another. But then, there was someone yelling. They were yelling his name. 

An exhausted groan came from him first. He heard a “fucking hell,” come from his brother. Why was his brother there? Was he still dreaming? “Oh, Ryan…” His mother? 

Ryan pried his groggy, heavy eyelids open, blinking until the distorted images were clear. “Why the fuck are you guys in my bedroom?” He asked, his voice thick of sleep and hoarse from all the liquor he’d drank after Sam had fall asleep last night. One of his hands came up and rubbed his temples. His head throbbed incessantly. 

“Fucking prick,” He heard Cyrus grumble under his breath before leaving the room, firmly closing the door behind him. 

“What—“ 

“You slept through your alarm.” His mother’s voice was quiet, but steady as she explained. “S-Sam,” Her voice broke a little as she spoke her granddaughter’s name. Tears rolled down her cheeks, a steady stream, but Miriam held her composure otherwise, her shoulders square and upright. “She called me with your phone, s-said she couldn’t wake her dad up.” The air was still. Ryan felt his insides twist, and his stomach roll with nausea. He swallowed the bile that tried to rise up the back of his throat. 

“She’s only four and a half years old, Ryan,” Her voice went cold, and bit at him with deep anger. The tears that’d fallen for her son had come to a halt with the blinded rage she felt for what’d he exposed her granddaughter to. “How could you do this…” 

“I’m not falling back into it — I-I’m not. I just had a bad night — I swear—“ Ryan prattled off excuses, but his mom held up a hand, silencing him. 

“First booze… Then pills….” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze quickly shifted to his bare arms. They analyzed, looking for marks — looking for anything. 

“I’m not using — I’m not going to go there,” Ryan’s voice was low, a touch of darkness there. 

He felt acutely aware of the heaviness of his chest, and the churning of his stomach. It was pathetic how much effort it took him to sit upright without vomiting. 

Miriam took note of the bead of sweat that had formed along his brow. She knew what was coming. With poise, she rose from the bed, and smoothed out her blouse as she took a few strides away from him. With her body half-angled away, she looked back at her eldest son. 

“I’m taking Sam for at least the rest of the week,” She told him, her tone exact. This was a demand, not a question. And Ryan made no move to fight it. “Your brother will make sure there isn’t an ounce of liquor in this place. And you will take a drug test weekly until I say you’re finished.” 

Miriam inhaled sharply, attempting to calm her nerves, before she turned and made way toward the door. Just before she disappeared into the hall, Miriam stopped. She didn’t turn her body back toward him though, and remained facing away. Her hand came to grip the wooden frame, as if the words she were about to say sapped life away. 

“I love you, Ryan…” She spoke so softly now, it was almost a whisper. “If you go down this path again, I will take her from you.” Her knuckles were white from clinging to the frame. “Y-you won’t leave me any other choice.”

As she shut the door behind her, the world around Ryan began to spin. Sweat dripped down his bare chest. He barely made it to the toilet in time. The liquor and bile burned his throat as he vomited, over and over, emptying the contents of his stomach and then some. 

Ryan laid flat onto the cold tile. Stared up at the ceiling. Tears fell, one by one. 

He could hear the sound of Sam giggling and chatting grow further and further away from him, then, a door closed. 

And there was only silence. 

[ryan-lowe]

[ryan-lowe]

How many times did me and @cyrus-lowe say “slow down”

[ryan-lowe]

It felt too typical for the weather to be overcast with a light rain on the morning of her funeral, but there Ryan was, dressed in slacks and a button down with an umbrella in hand.

He glanced up, making sure the black cover properly shielded Hattie's mother who walked alongside him with her arm firmly wrapped around his for support. "Perhaps the sun will come out later," He heard Alice murmur as the two continued slowly up the path toward the entrance. 

The church seemingly loomed over them as they grew closer, the gothic, pointed-arches reaching toward the sky. Ryan had never found peace or love at any church, or with any religion. He expected nothing more today.

As the two walked through the entrance, he felt Alice's hand on his bicep start to shake. A member of the church swiftly approached from the side and took the umbrella from him. "Thank you," Ryan told the man with a curt nod.

The two continued down the hall, and his hand came over his chest, wrapping itself over Alice's wrist, steadying her. Ryan remained silent, but glanced down and offered Alice a weak smile. The smile was returned, though tears peppered her cheeks. Ryan could only hold the gaze for a moment longer. Alice had Hattie's eyes. Sam's eyes. 

Time somehow moved slowly and quickly at the same time. One moment, he was at the viewing, staring at the lifeless shell of a woman he once loved. The next moment, he was sitting on an oak pew at the ceremony next to Hattie's parents as they sobbed and clung to one another. 

Hattie's parents hadn't asked Ryan to be one of the pallbearers. It was somehow an understood truth between them, that he would be there to perform one final act of service to their daughter. Ryan stepped to his place at the front, with Hattie's father adjacent to the right. The two men faced forward, neither strong enough to look at the other. Uncles and cousins and friends took the remaining spots. 

Up until that point Ryan had shed few tears. He'd felt disconnected... Hollow. But the weight of the casket, the physical presence of death he carried -- broke him open again. Tears dropped down his face, one by one. Each step was another memory of her, good or bad -- it didn't matter. 

The men slid the casket into the hearse gently, slowly, then stepped away. 

It was done. 

Ryan watched the hearse drive away until it disappeared from his view, then remained there, still as a statue as the people around him shuffled away.

[ryan-lowe]

Suited

[ryan-lowe]

[ryan-lowe]

[ryan-lowe]

Ryan knew the number that flashed on the screen of his phone. It was a number he had memorized. But, he ignored it. Let it go to voicemail. He was with a client, anyway. He'd call them back. 

A minute passed. His phone chimed again. 

The same number. 

Why were they calling again? 

"Sorry," Ryan murmured in his usual low tone to the woman he was currently tattooing. He paused for a moment, reached over, and flipped the phone to silent. 

Thankfully, he was almost done. 

Ten minutes passed. 

"Thank you so much -- I love it!" The woman squealed with joy as she admired her new tattoo in one of the many mirrors hanging in Ryan's workspace. Ryan offered her a small smile and said "See you next time," and she nodded and left - closing the door behind her. 

Ryan peeled the black nitrile gloves from his hands and tossed them in the trash as he made his way to the counter to collect his phone. 

8 missed calls. All from Hattie's parents. 

Immediately, he called the number back.

"Ryan?" It was Hattie's father. 

"Yeah -- what is going--"

"She's gone, Ryan."

The room began to spin.

"Her roommates -- they found her sometime this morning."

Hattie's father sounded so far away.

"W-We got the news about an hour ago."

Flashes of the good memories he had of the woman he had loved so deeply began playing in his mind as he dissociated completely from the words that were being spoken to him over the phone. 

It was the summer of 2020. Hattie couldn't stay cooped up. She'd taken one of her parent's cars and had picked up Ryan from his flat. They drove around the city. They drove through farmland. They drove to the coastline. The windows were down. The music was loud. There were discarded cans of beer and half-smoked joints littering the floorboards. 

Memories like that -- ones where she was smiling, where she was laughing, kept revolving, again and again. 

Then, there were hands on his shoulders. Someone was shaking him. And yelling, "RYAN!"

Ryan blinked, and suddenly, he was back in reality.

At some point, Ryan had sunken to the floor onto his knees with the phone gripped in his hand. He didn't remember doing that. Tears continuously streamed down his face. He didn't remember when he started crying. 

The voice -- Cyrus' voice. It said his name again. "Ryan?"

Ryan looked to his brother who'd knelt down beside him. "Hattie's dead." Ryan heard himself say the words, but had no idea how he was able to form them. 

He could see the pain Cy felt for him stitch itself into his brows, but he kept silent. What was there to say, anyway? There were no words for this -- for something Ryan always knew would happen, but still had pleaded to any God who would listen for it to not happen. 

Cy finally spoke, but his voice was low. Almost a whisper. "I'll go with you -- to London.. For the funeral." 

Ryan immediately shook his head and pushed himself up off the floor, wiping away tears from his cheeks as he did. Cy stood, as well. "No. I'll go alone," Ryan replied.  Cy didn't need more death in his life. "Stay with Sam. And mum. That's where I need you to be," Ryan added. 

"Cancel the rest of my appointments today?" Ryan shot his brother a glance as he gathered his wallet and keys from the counter. Cy nodded and said, "Yeah." 

The two brothers exchanged a look of understanding, and Ryan left. 

He got in his car, and kept driving. 

[ryan-lowe]

[ryan-lowe]

[ryan-lowe]

"A pool! With a slide!" 

The three of them were in Ryan's living room. Ryan was lounging on the couch, hands tucked behind his head as he watched Lo and Sam. The pair were sitting a few feet away, playing Barbies before bed. 

"You heard the girl, Ry," Lo said, glancing over at the man with a little smirk. "She wants a pool with a slide." 

Ryan laughed and playfully rolled his eyes. "You know what, when we go looking for houses, I'll just send you two."

"Yeah, we can handle it, Daddy," Sam said with full confidence, and curt nod to match it. Sam then flashed a huge, toothy grin to Lo, then climbed into her lap. "Maybe one with a fountain or lots of flowers," She half-whispered to Lotus, not wanting Ryan to overhear their plotting. 

"A fountain???" Ryan barked out another laugh, and had another comment coming, but a knock on the door interrupted him. His brows furrowed slightly, and he glanced at his watch -- almost 8 pm. A little late for surprise guests. Ryan shot Lo a wary glance as he rose from the couch. "I got it," He quickly said, then motioned toward Sam and Lo. "You two stay here." 

After making his way across the room and to the front, he opened the door to be met with a set of light blue eyes that belonged to Sam. Ryan swallowed hard, and felt himself blink. Was he actually asleep? Was this a nightmare? He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

"Who is it, Daddy?" Sam said in a cheerful sing-song voice as she skipped toward the door. Ryan watched Hattie's gaze immediately shift to their daughter. When Sam saw Hattie standing there just outside of their front door, her head tilted to the side a little, blissfully unaware. "Hi," was all Sam said, and gave Hattie a little wave. Lo was there a second later, standing beside Sam. 

"Can you take her to bed?" Ryan was looking directly at Lo, now. His expression was guarded -- unreadable. Lo nodded and gave Ryan a small, comforting smile. Ryan saw Sam reach for Lo's hand before he stepped out onto the front porch -- closing the door behind him. 

Hattie's skin had paled. "She's beautiful," She whispered, staring off to the side now. "My parents... They show me photos of her that you send every now and then.. So I knew... I mean, I knew she was beautiful." 

"She's perfect," Ryan half-bit out. His arms crossed over his chest as he stood in front of the door. "What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even find my place?"

Hattie swallowed hard, but looked up to meet his gaze. "Meredith texted me after she saw you and whoever that woman was Friday night at the pub.. I'm assuming that was her with Sam just now.. She said you two were just visiting? And that you'd moved to LA? My parents didn't tell me any of that --"

"Because why would it matter to you where me and Sam are?" Ryan cut her off before she could continue. "London, LA, fucking Austrailia-- it doesn't matter. You aren't in our life, which is a choice you've made again, and again so -- again, Hattie, why the fuck are you here?"

Hattie stood her ground. She was always stubborn in the worst ways. "I'm clean now. For good." 

Ryan scoffed and shook his head. "No -- no, we're not doing this." He reached a hand up to rub his temples before letting it drop to his side. "We're not fucking doing this," He said, his jaw set in stone.

Ryan took in a breath, then exhaled -- trying to calm himself. After clearing his throat, he set his gaze back on her and continued. "If you were clean, your parents would've told me. That was our deal. And have I gotten a call or text from them telling me you're clean?" Ryan shook his head. "No. Nothing. So." He gave a shrug of his shoulders and jerked his head toward the road. "We're done. Go."

Hattie's eyes had filled with tears, but her expression was pure rage. "That woman isn't her mum -- I'm her mum!" 

It took everything in him to keep his expression and tone neutral. "Leave now or I'll call the police." He kept his voice quiet, and his gaze remained steady on the woman in front of him. "If you come back, I'll call the police."

Hattie glared up at him, but turned and stomped down the steps.

"If you're really clean, Hattie -- go see your parents," Ryan told her as she walked away.

"Fuck you," was all he heard from her before she climbed into a rental car, and drove off. 

Ryan watched the car until it disappeared from his view. 

Lo found him about ten minutes later in the kitchen with a glass of scotch in hand. "Asleep?" He asked her as she approached. Lo nodded and hummed, "Mhm," quietly as she slipped in front of him. Ryan set down the glass of scotch on the kitchen counter behind her, then his arms wrapped around the small of her waist, enveloping his large body around hers. 

Her delicate hands came to rest on either side of his face, and her eyes silently searched his. "I'm good," He told her, but there was something broken in the tone. Lo's thumbs gently brushed along the skin of his cheeks. Her smile was devastatingly comforting, so much so that it made Ryan's heart ache. "I'm good now," He corrected himself. "Thank you," He murmured quietly, his eyes locked on hers. The thank you was for that moment. For being there for Sam. For him. For so much.

Lo nodded in return, and a small smile formed on Ryan's lips. He gently brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "C'mon.. Let's go to bed," He said, pulling away, but taking her hand in his -- leaving the glass of scotch behind. 

[ryan-lowe]

girls be saying “I needed this” but it’s just getting pinned down

[ryan-lowe]

[ryan-lowe]

life gets good when you focus on the good

[ryan-lowe]