Ryan stayed over for a few hours before leaving me last night. We barely spoke at all as he held me, but we didn't need to talk. I never feel as if I need to be anything I'm not when I am with him. I don't even want to think about what last night would have been like if he hadn't been there.
He told me I didn't have to go with him to his mom's house, that he would stay with me. But I really need the distraction. So, we are making the four-hour drive to Cannon Beach in Oregon to spend the next few days with his family. I'm nervous about meeting everyone. Ryan has a large family, something I have never been around. All I know is the dysfunction I grew up around with my mother and father.
"You're quiet over there," Ryan says as he drives through the tall, thick pine trees of the mountains.
"Just a little nervous."
"Don't be." He gives my knee a soft squeeze of reassurance.
On our long drive, I try not to worry too much about what they will think of me. Ryan does a good job of distracting me with conversation and listening to music. After a while, I decide to lean back and take a nap since I had a restless night of sleep.
When we pull up to the large, two-story, dark grey beach house with a driveway and street full of cars, I start wringing my hands and fingers together. He parks the jeep, steps out, and walks around to my side, opening my door.
Grabbing both of my hands, he says, "Don't be so nervous. Just relax."
I nod my head, but I worry they might think I'm weird or rude if I'm too quiet. I worry that I don't look nice enough, or maybe that I look too nice. Ryan helps me out of the car, and when I start smoothing down the pencil skirt of my black cap-sleeved dress, he starts laughing.
"Why are you laughing at me?"
"Because I've never seen you so wound up before."
He reaches in the jeep and grabs the bottle of Pahlmeyer Merlot that I bought for his mother. We start walking to the front door when I tug against his hand. Turning around, he cocks his head slightly and gives me a concerned look.
"Ryan...I don't do well around a lot of people," I hesitantly confess to him.
He places his hand on my shoulder and says, "My family will love you, but if you feel that uncomfortable, we can go. Just say the word."
"No, I want to meet them, I'm just..." I feel like I am stumbling over my words when he says, "Hey, I'm right here. No worries, okay?"
Letting out a sigh, I say, "Okay."
He takes my hand in his and starts leading me up the wet drive. When we walk in, I'm almost knocked down when two little boys dart through the foyer, chasing each other with plastic swords.
Ryan chuckles at the kids and says to me, "Come on," as he takes me through the house. The walls are filled with family photographs. It's a beautiful house, not extravagant like the one I grew up in.
Laughter echoes through the large house, and as we turn the corner into the kitchen, I see three women huddled over the counter looking at a tabloid magazine. One of them looks up as we enter the room, and a warm smile crosses her face when she sees Ryan.
Stretching out her arms and wrapping them around him, she says, "Finally, you made it. We missed you this morning."
Never letting go of my nervous hand, he embraces her with his free arm. When I start to loosen my grip to allow him his other arm, he tightens his hold on me.
After she lets go of him, she turns her attention to me, and Ryan introduces us. "Mom, this is Candace."
"I am so glad to finally meet you, dear." And just like she did with Ryan, she pulls me in for a warm hug, but I'm a little distracted by her word finally. Has Ryan mentioned me to her before a few days ago when he called to tell her he was bringing me? Before I can think about it too much, Ryan's hand leaves mine as the other two women are hugging me and introducing themselves as his aunts. Little kids start flooding into the kitchen screaming for their Uncle Ryan. His mother starts calling off the names of all the children, but I can't even focus on what she is saying because I'm overwhelmed. I look over to Ryan, and he's holding two little girls, one in each arm. One of the girls is tugging on his hair while he is pecking kisses on the other one's ear, making her squeal loudly. Seeing him like this makes me laugh at how fun and easygoing he is. Although he shows these traits around me, he has started to become more protective lately.
It's a whirlwind as I'm introduced to all of Ryan's cousins and their spouses, along with his two uncles. Everyone is talking and hugging me, and I know there is no way I will remember anyone's name aside from his mother's, which I'd already known.
All the noise and touching is beginning to overpower me, and when I look to see where Ryan is, he is engulfed in a conversation with two of his cousins while he is still holding one of the little girls.
Needing some space to regroup, I turn to his mother and quietly ask, "Excuse me, Donna. Where is the restroom?"
She directs me to one that is on the other side of the house, and I quickly make my way through the chaos. When I shut the door behind me, I walk over, sit down on the lid of the toilet, and embrace the calm. I take a few minutes to compose myself when someone knocks on the door.
I stand up to go open the door, and when I do, Ryan is standing there.
"Everything okay? When I looked up you were gone."
"Yeah, just needed a moment to myself."
"Sorry about that," he says.
"It's okay. I'm just not used to..."
Ryan runs his hands down my arms and says, "I know. Do you need a few more minutes?"
"No, I'm fine."
Holding my hand, he begins to walk me back to the kitchen where all the commotion has died down a bit. Most of the little kids are now watching a movie in the other room as a few of the guys sit on the couches, drinking and laughing about whatever they are talking about.
I turn my attention to Ryan when he hands me a glass of red wine, and I give him a smile. I appreciate that he does things like that for me without needing to ask, that he pays attention. I used to feel uneasy around him, but over the past month or so, that feeling has waned, and I have become more relaxed when we're together.
"Come with me," he says in my ear, and he leads me out of the room. We wander through the house as he shows me around. The house backs up to the beach, and the view is absolutely breathtaking. When we walk past the formal dining room, two of his cousins are sitting at the table chatting. One of the girls looks up at me and invites me to join them. I look to Ryan, and he says, "I'll just be in the other room helping my mom out."
I nod my head and walk over to sit down as he leaves the room.
Not remembering their names, I say, "I'm sorry, but with all the introductions, I can't remember your names."
"I'm Tori, and this is Jenna."
"So, you live in Seattle too?" Jenna asks.
"Yeah, I grew up there. What about you, where do you guys live?"
"We both live in Astoria, but my sister, Katie, lives in Portland," Tori says.
The three of us begin to talk and get to know each other. The two of them, along with Katie, are the daughters of Ryan's two aunts. They are all married with kids and live in Oregon. They told me that Ryan is the only one in the family that lives in Washington, that he moved there after high school to go to college and just never came back. They seem genuinely interested in me and ask a lot of questions about college and my dancing.