Ryder Sinclair

What happens when people assume whats going on

 

“No, I won't.”

 

It is a funny thing to start listening in the middle of a conversation or quarrel. You do not always comprehend right away that you may have missed an important figure in the whole argument. Say you wake from a nap and happen to walk into a room where your fiancée is talking in hushed tones on the phone. Perhaps you arrive just in time to hear the unmistakable words “I love you, I'll see you tonight. Right, come after eight o'clock.” Then he hangs up the phone and ignores you as he makes his way into another room. You remember you have a class that night at the local college and won't be home until about nine. Then the suspicions begin. He must be cheating on you, or planing to marry you only for your money. Everything may point to those conclusions, but the conversation could have been entirely different.

 

Maybe while you had been taking your nap his mother had called, and before you had arrived to hear anything, he said this, “Yes, the surprise party is at nine, but I need help setting up. Can you help out please? Great! Oh, I think I hear her coming! I love you, I'll see you tonight. Right, come after eight o'clock.” And maybe he wasn't ignoring you, but hiding the party list and his wide smile. Then as you make your wrongful accusations, he will be off with a completely different agenda.

But people don't always think about what could have taken place, only what they immediately make of the situation. So, when young Ryder Sinclair told his step-father “No, I won't” in a gentle, yet commanding voice, his mother (just making an appearance at that moment) immediately looked at the situation as nothing more than the disobedience of a fifteen year old boy.

 

“Ryder William Sinclair! You will not speak to your father in that manner!” Rushed a breath taken Mona Weston, formally known as Miss. Mona Sinclair only two months before. Her dark hair had fallen in her face, and as she pulled it back her blue eyes landed on the familiar angry stare of her son's.

 

“HE IS NOT MY FATHER!”yelled the adolescent, outraged that his mother could even fathom the idea of this man he loathed being his father. But, as mentioned before, Mrs. Weston had not partaken in the argument earlier, so she knew no real reason towards her son's distress. And because no real signs were shown to account for his actions, she immediately concluded disobedience.

 

“Go to your room now, and no coming out until you have a written apology.” Ryder, knowing full well that there was no way he could ever get his mother to listen to him when her mind was set, sulked off to his room. In his mind he made any preparations to get out of his current situation. And, unbeknowest to his mother, it had nothing to do with being sent away.

 

Of course while all that had taken place, a Mr. Samuel Weston stood behind his new wife, allowing her to take sudden care of the situation, and smirked to his inherited son. The boy had no real courage to stand up with, besides his fear and temper, neither of which could ever help him in any real argument or battle. He was too tongue tied to even make his case against a petite woman who barely came to his shoulders. No, deducted Weston, the boy was no good at all, and would only be kept around for his entertainment. He was too tied up with personal emotions and connections, and would do anything to not hurt the ones he loved. Even if they were hurting him. Yes, thought Weston, very weak. No matter though, Weston had planed on having an heir with his new wife and enjoying the power that came with their wed. She was just as disgusting as her rude son, having been so trustful and easy to get to after her husband's death. He almost pitied her for her ignorance, but left the thoughts alone in search of some nourishment from the cooks.

 

As for Ryder, he for sure did have a temper, yet had never found a way to get rid of it. He supposed it started after his father died two years before, but only had real trouble when his stepfather was brought into the equation. See, if Mrs. Weston had come into the room only moments before, she would have heard the cruel tone of Mr. Weston, and how he planed to kill her son.
 

It had started with a difference in opinion with the ideas of Chivalry, and how a true knight would have acted centuries before. Ryder had been researching his name in old English texts, knowing full well that his mother had come from English nobles, (unlike his father who had been supposedly French) and wished to know why his name was so uncommon. Most people he had been exposed to had names like 'John', 'Mary', or 'Benjamin'. But his name was unlike theirs. He had never met another 'Ryder', yet he had been told it had been his great grandfathers. So, driven by curiosity, Ryder had taken off for the old library his father had adored so much in their home.

 

He came to the conclusion that 'Ryder' meant 'Knight' or 'mounted warrior', while 'William' meant 'brave'. So Ryder William Sinclair found that his name altogether meant 'Brave Knight'. This filled him with a senseless joy that boys are found to have after adventures and discoveries. This fueled him to search the entire library for any books on the topic. In his findings where tales of King Aurthur, Robin Hood, Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain, and many poems, sonnets, and encyclopedias on Chivalry.

It was in this atmosphere in the library surrounded by tons of texts, that Mr. Weston found his new step-son secluded. He became immensely disgusted in seeing what his inheritance was studying, and questioned him why in the world he would study such rubbish.

 

“It's not rubbish,” spoke the calm fifteen year old. “It's sophisticated work that scholars have studied for centuries. There is nothing wrong with reading of noble deeds.”

 

“That's where you're wrong my boy, filling your head with lies of the past can corrupt you. I doubt your mother would very well like that. Those men are liars. No one acts in that way. People have always been, and will always be, selfish. Chivalry was dead even before it was thought of. Money talks, not manners.” So there it began, a man at the age of forty-three with a slight gut and thinning hair, against a boy of fifteen with no real authority except towards a few of the household servants. The conversation turned from the disagreement in Chivalry, to the real origin of Ryder's name.

 

“Your name does not mean 'knight' you silly boy. No mere boy could ever lift the helmet of a knight's armor, let alone be called one. No, your name means exactly how it sounds, 'rider'. Or better yet, 'follower'. Doesn't matter though. By this time next month your mother will be pregnant and if she shall have a girl, I shall find a way to make sure your name is changed. No male heir of mine shall be called Ryder Sinclair. No, your name will be John Weston, and you will have direct orders to do as I say. Even after I'm dead!”

 

“And what should happen if it is a boy?” Ryder's calm nature had turned sour, and he could feel the anger swim through his veins. Anger towards his father for leaving him, towards his mother for marrying this man, and towards this man who thought he could take the one thing he had left. His Identity.

 

“Well that is easy,” said Mr. Weston while standing from his arm chair and making his way towards him. Ryder had yet hit his growth spurt, and Mr. Weston was able to tower over the helpless boy. “If God gives me a precious boy to take your sorry place, than He has given orders to end your pathetic life. You can join your father in the cold ground and let the worms eat you. But do not worry boy, I will make it look like such a sudden accident. That way your stupid mother will only weep for such a short time. My pride and joy will help her realize it does not matter.

 

“I wont let you!” Ryder shouted as though his words could shoot daggers. The older man laughed to himself and began to turn away, when suddenly he grabbed Ryder's shoulder and squeezed tight. Ryder let out an unwanted whimper, which caused Weston to laugh even more at him mockingly. Then he shoved the boy back down to the floor where his beloved texts tumbled over.

 

“Next time you try to cross me boy, maybe gain a few pounds and grow some taller. That way you can at least look me straight in the eye. Until then, which will never happen, I expect you to behave.”

 

“I will not.” stated the boy as he grew his eerie calm once again, while spiting on the older mans shoes. Weston didn't take the disobedience well, and slapped the boy across the face.

 

“You will do it boy, no matter what you think you want.” With that Weston stepped back and let the boy breath deeply, keeping every muscle still to find anyway to ease his anger that seized him.

 

“No, I wont.” Ryder replied, his calm demeanor once again in place. A commanding tone came from his voice, and it stopped Weston from stepping forward and slapping him again. And a good thing too for Weston, because in that moment Mona Weston rushed in to her new husband's unneeded rescue. And of course, the rest you know.

Author's Note

Sorry if there's any spelling mistakes