Mercy: Chapter 4

Flowers never emit so sweet and strong a fragrance as before a storm…
- Jean Paul Richter

Missy never realized how few girls were in their Thursday meetings, until they decided to take one and split it according to gender, since the guys wanted to have a video game night at Micah’s. Kylie and Alex weren’t coming, so that didn’t help things, but Missy was determined to make the best of the situation no matter how many showed up.

As Missy expected, Belle was the first to arrive. Despite the fact that their little meetings had tapered off, Belle still saw Missy as a mentor and a friend. Whenever she could sneak a visit in here and there, she did.

Belle was dressed predictably, Missy noticed, with some regret. Her hair was worn loose but perfect, and she wore blue jeans and a little blazer jacket over her blouse. Missy wondered absently, if Belle had subconsciously gotten her business style in clothing from her. Sighing inwardly, she noted the signature pleasant expression on her face - the one she had learned, was a mask for the pain Belle carried in her with such a determined sort of purpose that Missy couldn’t begin to understand.

Kenzie had offered to pick up Elise, which gave Belle an opportunity to catch up with Missy, which she hadn’t had in a while. Julia had said she was going to show up, too, which was a good thing, otherwise it would have been quite a tiny event.

“What do you need help with?” Belle asked, already moving to take the coffee cups Missy was carrying. She brought them in the dining room and set them on the table. “Are we gonna have tea, or just coffee?”

“Yes, we’ll have tea,” Missy smiled, knowing how much more Belle loved hot tea than any other beverage.

Belle kept busy, organizing the cups on the table, and doing any other little thing she could see that needed doing. She wasn’t about to be a guest in somebody’s house and not help out.

“Girl, what are you doing?” Missy asked walking back out of the kitchen. “Stop makin’ my stuff look nice, and sit down with me. We got time to visit, and we’re gonna visit.” she said decidedly.

Belle grinned, walking into the living room, and getting comfortable on the couch. “So, what’s up?” she asked, looking at Missy, who had taken a chair nearby.

Missy sat back, sighing. “You know I won’t answer that. You always ask how I am when you don’t wanna say how you are,” she caught the trace of fear in Belle’s eyes, and knew she was right. “You know I’m not helpin’ you hide anymore. So why don’t you tell me what’s up?” Missy invited.

On the other side of the room, Belle was cringing. Of all the conversations she’d had with Missy over the past months, the one where Missy had decided to call Belle on it whenever she saw her not being real remained the conversation Belle most regretted. She knew it was for her own good, but being accountable made it that much harder to live as she had been. At the service of everyone else, but at her own expense.

“Will you answer later?” Belle asked, a quietness in her tone that hadn’t been there just a second before.

“Yes, I’ll answer later. But right now I want your answer.” Missy pressed, knowing if she gave Belle the option of freedom in this conversation, in seconds it would be turned, and Missy would be the focus, while Belle escaped being honest.

“I’m more honest to people when I see them,” Belle started. “But when I’m having a bad day, I try not to see ’em, so I don’t have to say anything. So I haven’t really been around much recently.”

“Yeah, I noticed. My phone doesn’t even have your name in my caller ID anywhere. That never used to happen.”

Belle shrugged. “And I still pretend to my mother. That’s been the hardest thing not to do.” she admitted.

“How come?” Missy wondered, though she suspected she already knew.

“’Cause she was so upset after the divorce. I keep feeling like I need to be happy and keep it together for her even though that’s not true. I know my mother’s a strong woman. She’s never been weak in front of me. Maybe that’s why I don’t show it to her…”

“Are you honest with the Lord?”

“No,” Belle answered softly. “So I really am lying to everybody, including God. I leave out everything that’s not good. I don’t want Him to think I’m not grateful for everything He’s given me… I don’t want Him to leave.” Without her ever-present smile, Belle looked older, wiser in life, and, most notably, she looked more grieved.

“Honey,” Missy began, coming over to sit beside Belle. She pulled her close. “’Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’ That’s what God’s Word says. Did you forget about that, or just didn’t think it applied to you?”

“Didn’t think it applied…” Belle mumbled darkly, staring at her hands.

Missy picked out some strands of Belle’s hair and started braiding them. She knew Belle had read the Bible - possibly even more than Missy herself had. That wasn’t the issue. It wasn’t scriptural. This, like most things with Belle, was a matter of the heart.

By the time she finished one braid and was onto another, Missy had prayed, and she knew where to take the conversation.

“Who loves you?” Missy asked, changing her tone from concerned to casual.

Belle turned her head, but Missy caught it, and kept her facing forward.

“Why?”

“Just tell me who loves you. Don’t think, just tell me. The first name that comes to mind.”

“You.” Belle’s voice was gentle.

Missy laughed. “That’s sweet, and I do love you. But go deeper with this one. Which person in your life loved you first?”

Belle didn’t hesitate. “My mother.”

“Did you do anything for that love?”

“No, I didn’t.” Belle admitted, knowing already where Missy was headed with the conversation. It made her uneasy for reasons she couldn’t name. Tears fell against her will, and she was glad that Missy couldn’t see her, hoping she might still buy the illusion that Belle was okay.

“Has your mother ever done anything to compromise you? Has she ever left you?” Missy probed, leaving her hair alone - letting Belle lean with her back against Missy’s chest.

Belle shook her head.

“Will she ever?” Missy asked, putting her arms around her friend.

“No…” Belle managed, though her voice going thick.

“Think of God as having the same attributes as your mother. She’s been both a mother and father to you, just like mine has been for me. I know it’s hard to believe. But God loves you like your mother does, only so much more. Just because He’s a father doesn’t mean He’ll leave you.”

The doorbell rang then, and Belle had risen and walked halfway across the room to get it, before Missy even stood up.

“Hey hot stuff,” Kenzie greeted, giving Belle a hug. “You okay?” Elise came in behind her.

Belle studied Kenzie a moment before answering. Unlike most everyone she knew, Kenzie hadn’t changed much, in appearance or demeanor. She remained the same fun-loving girl, who was perhaps slightly more introspective, and serious about things that mattered - but her essence remained unchanged. She wore lumberjack clothes, and Belle could only imagine why. Jeans, suspenders, a plaid shirt peeking out of the collar of her jacket, and most importantly man boots.

Adorning her head, however, was a crown. Belle smiled, loving the fact that Kenzie thought nothing of going out in public the way she was.

Her hair was still dyed dark - it was black rather than it’s natural blonde, and Kenzie never let her roots show. She wore dark lipstick and eyeliner.

“Just had a serious moment with Melissa.” Belle told her easily, returning the embrace and inviting Kenzie and Elise inside.

Missy watched proudly from behind. Belle hadn’t offered excuses, or apology for her tears, and she hadn’t gone away to collect herself. This was a huge step, no matter how Belle might minimize it later on.

“I call the kitchen!” Kenzie bellowed, unbuttoning her jacket to reveal a large apron, boldly inviting, ‘Kiss the Cook.’” The apron itself was frilly and old. It had vegetables pictured all over it in so much confusion that it made Belle’s head hurt just looking at it.

Without missing a beat, Belle flounced over and planted a friendly kiss on her cheek.

Kenzie couldn’t hide the look of utter shock that registered.

“What? ‘Greet one another with a holy kiss,’” Belle quoted impishly. She enjoyed nothing quite as much as she did using her Biblical knowledge as an invitation to love on somebody.

“’A time to embrace, and a time to refrain,’” Kenzie shot back, but Belle saw the smirk she was trying desperately not to show. “Missy I’m baking cookies for us, so I hope you have eggs. I brought the rest of the stuff, but eggs in my car wouldn’t survive out of my driveway.”

“I’ve got eggs, but if you mess up my kitchen, I might have to use my spatula on your behind.” Missy warned.

“I’ll clean up!” Kenzie called. “Elise, Belle, come on! You can learn from the master.” she invited obnoxiously.

Missy smiled to herself, knowing that Kenzie viewed every opportunity to perform a mundane task, as a chance to perform.

--

When Elise walked back out to the living room, she saw Julia seated on the arm of the couch, a cup of coffee in her hands.

Julia was beautiful. She was petite and blonde, and always dressed so stylishly. Her haircut was short and sassy, and her features were angular. Elise had owned a porcelain doll as a child, and whenever she looked at Julia, she was reminded of it, and all its perfection.

“Missy’s gonna flip out,” Elise giggled. Kenzie and Belle are in there messing everything up. They’re just throwing stuff in the bowl. Before it’s done, they’ll both have some kind of food poisoning or something, from the eggs.”

“Salmonella.” Julia clarified.

Her voice had an edge to it tonight, and come to think of it, she didn’t look too happy to see Elise when she walked in the room either.

“So, is Kylie finally getting a break?” Julia asked, her gray eyes narrowing. She sounded disgusted.

Elise hesitated. “She and Robby are doing something tonight.” she said, wondering why Julia’s gaze had gone so cold.

“…So she gets a break from motherhood, but never from playing house,” Julia muttered bitterly. “You know, I get that you were hurt or whatever, but why don’t you go home to your own mother with it, rather than letting someone you barely know put her life on hold for you?”

Elise’s mouth fell open, and tears filled her eyes. Why hadn’t she seen that in all that beauty there was so much hate? Why hadn’t she ever figured out that she wasn’t liked? Why was she so stupid to let her admiration of Julia get in the way of her perception?

Only then did the words make sense, and Elise clenched her teeth, feeling anger rise fast within her. She was crying but she didn’t care. “I was almost beat to death by the guy my mother loves. He beat the shit out of me, and then she kept him around, and gave me to my brother. Rob doesn’t think I know. And I didn’t put myself and my crap on Kylie. She and my brother love each other, and she offered to help.” Elise was shaking, and tried to anchor herself by holding onto a wall she was near.

“Not like she had much choice,” Julia scoffed. “A person like Kylie can’t stand to see anyone hurt. If you really knew her you’d know that.”

Elise took a step back, trying not to stumble. She didn’t want to believe she and Robby were just charity to Kylie. But that’s what Julia believed.

“I can’t go home!” Elise cried, surprised that for the first time in almost a year, she could scream.

Missy came in the living room, wearing an expression of shock on her pretty face. But Belle was right with her. And it was Belle who spoke first.

“What’s going on?” she asked, trying to keep her head. She’d never heard Elise raise her voice like that - not when she was awake anyway. Belle just assumed she didn’t do it.

“Never mind,” Elise insisted, heat rushing to her face. Here was the perfect example of everything Julia had just accused her of. Someone coming to fight her battles. Well she wasn’t going to let that happen anymore.

Belle looked from face to face, taking in Julia’s passive demeanor, and Elise’s upset. She turned, speaking lowly to Missy behind her. “I got this.”

Missy nodded, knowing that Belle could handle herself, and that too many people in one place often made a situation worse.

“What’s going on, Jule?” Belle asked, feeling distance from her almost immediately.

Without a word, Julia stood and left the room, prepared to leave the house altogether. Belle followed her outside, after making sure Elise was sitting down somewhere.

Belle caught Julia’s arm roughly once they were outside. “What did you say to her?” she demanded, praying she didn’t lose her temper further.

“I just asked her what we’ve all been wondering since day one. Why on earth she’s utilizing Kylie and not going to her own mother with her issues.”

Belle closed her eyes. Keeping composure was a losing battle. “You were there when Rob pulled you all aside! You knew the story, so why on earth would you pull it out of her, and then ask her to go back to a place where she’s not protected?”

“Quit acting like I was so out of line!” Julia snapped. “Like I’m that cruel. I just wanted Kylie to get a break. I didn’t mean that Elise should go back and get abused. Her mom wasn’t the one hitting her!”

“She didn’t stop it, either,” Belle insisted, keeping her voice low. “And you were out of line.”

With that Belle turned, reentering the house, and shutting the door forcefully behind her. Elise was a mess - but a silent one - so no one had investigated in the meantime.

Putting an arm around Elise, Belle led her into Missy’s restroom, feeling her own heart ache, and not feeling sure if she could love away this much anguish…

--

For the first couple moments, Belle just sat quietly, watching her friend hurt. She didn’t know what Elise needed - this was a tough situation, and one she hadn’t encountered before.

Sitting pressed into a corner, Elise looked broken. She was hunched down, her knees drawn up, and her arms wrapped around herself. This time, there was no urgency to her tears, just unparalleled sadness., which had depth Belle could only guess at.

Finally, Belle gathered her courage, and scooted closer to Elise, who immediately cowered from her. It was then that Belle connected somehow, that whenever Elise was in a corner, there must be some connection to feeling cornered, or like she was in a threatening situation.

“Just me,” Belle reassured quietly, still coming closer, even though Elise withdrew.

Elise grimaced. “I know that. I don’t want you by me now. You messed…everything…up. Julia thought I was weak and you just went and proved it.”

Belle was silent, not knowing how she could justify what she’d done, and at the same time make it clear that she valued Elise’s integrity.

“I’m sorry,” Belle apologized, even though she wasn’t.

Taking one of Elise’s hands, Belle confided. “I had to say something to her. For both of us.”

Elise looked at her, confusion evident on her face. “What are you talking about?”

“I was hit, too.” Belle disclosed, feeling nauseous at the memory.

“It was once. I was four years old and my father and I were out getting groceries…and I made a scene ‘cause I wanted to get a coconut, since they were on display, and I heard there was milk inside and I wanted to see. He wouldn’t get it, and we left the store.”

“Once we were home, he dragged me across the carpet by my hair…in front of my mother. He backed me against a wall, and kept hitting the wall right by my head… He told me I was a brat, and spoiled, and that he didn’t raise me to behave like such a child. He told me I was a total embarrassment and disappointment to him. That I drove him to act like that to me.”

Belle paused. “He slapped me across the face three or four times…he hit me so hard I bruised. Then, he did the same to my mother, right in front of me. Then, he left, and we never saw him again.”

“You always said it was just divorce…that that’s why it was so hard on you, because your father left,” Elise said, shocked.

“No one knows,” Belle spoke to the floor, tracing the design of the tiles with her finger.

“You never talk about it?” Elise was incredulous. “That’s half the reason I went off about it in there… Because I need to scream about it, and be mad that I was treated that way.”

“My mother and I never talk about it. Except the next year when I was nervous about starting school and that I would get beat up by big kids. That’s the only time she told me it wasn’t right for people to mistreat each other.”

Elise shook her head slightly, almost unable to believe that Belle - the first person who made her feel welcome when she was still skittish and wary of strangers - had been hit too. For Elise there was no comparison. No one occurrence of abuse was better or worse than the other. Pain was pain, and the bottom line, which Belle had made clear sometime after they met, is that no one deserved to be mistreated. Elise had been in high school, Belle presumably still a preschooler, but age didn’t matter. Though Belle was beaten the way a batterer would beat a woman at age four, and at sixteen, Elise had been brutally attacked by someone who intended to kill her. Severity didn’t matter.

Closing her eyes, Elise squeezed Belle’s hand tightly. “Thank you for speaking up for me.”

“Thank you for letting me tell you.” Belle returned - her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“You think we should go back out there?” Elise wondered, eying the closed door. “Kenzie’s cookies are probably almost baked.”

“Well, you know I’m a sucker for cookies,” Belle grinned, offering a hand, and pulling Elise to her feet.

“One more thing?” Belle asked, dropping her voice. “Can we keep this between us?”

“Yeah, it’s safe with me,” Elise assured, reaching for the knob.

“Would you hate me if I told you I miss him?” Belle asked hesitantly, staring at the floor.

In a moment, Elise had Belle wrapped in her arms, and was holding on fiercely. “No.” Elise insisted. “He was your father… I miss my father, too…”

--

Andrew could hear the noise the television and video game were making. He couldn’t think of a bigger waste of time than playing video games, and yet that’s exactly what Micah had decided the guys would do. Not that he was particularly interested in doing anything constructive either, but he had never been the type of guy to dedicate hours a day to a machine that didn’t offer anything tangible as a reward.

He had picked Josh up because he promised to. Other than that, he just sat in Micah’s kitchen, while everyone else was downstairs hollering about the latest thing to happen in the game they were playing. Sooner or later, Chris came up, too. The two of them sat across the table from one another and stared.

“This not your thing, either?” Chris wondered, sitting back slightly.

“You could say that,” Andrew answered shortly. “Just a waste of time.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Chris complained. “What’s the point of playing football on a video game when we could just go outside and tackle each other?”

“We should tackle Micah, he suggested this,” Andrew suggested sarcastically.

“We tackle Micah then we gotta tell his mama ‘bout all his internal injuries,” Chris considered, dismissing the idea.

“Not our fault the guy’s built like a third grader,” Andrew maintained, shrugging.

Chris laughed. “That’s true. So, you wanna go back down?”

“Not really,” Andrew answered indifferently. “I just brought Josh. I didn’t come ‘cause I wanted to.”

“Might be fun to yell and see if we can mess ‘em up, though.” Chris invited.

A small smile finally appeared on Andrew’s face and he followed the larger man downstairs. On his way, he was struck by the two wheelchairs at the top of the stairs. He knew Chris had carried Josh down, but Josh was an easy-going kid. He couldn’t imagine how Jared got down. Yet Andrew figured instinctively that it was better not to comment on it.

“Why can’t we play Mario Brothers?” Micah whined. “Just ‘cause I have a Playstation doesn’t mean that’s what we have to play.”

“Yeah, except most of us weren’t raised in the stone age of Nintendo,” Gabe explained.

Micah looked at Gabe incredulously. “You played Nintendo,” he protested. “You had to. You’re not that much younger than me!” he complained from the couch. His entire body fit the length of the couch comfortably. Occasionally, he threw corn chips in Gabe’s direction, and Gabe tried unsuccessfully to catch them in his mouth.

Gabe shook his head resolutely. “We didn’t have video games in the house when I was growing up.”

Josh turned momentarily from the battle he was fighting on screen against Mikhail‘s character. “What did you do all day?” he asked comically.

It wasn’t really fair to play any video game against Mikhail. But everyone liked to try at least once, to teach him how to play a certain game, or do a certain move. Right now, for instance, all Josh had succeeded in teaching Mikhail was how to wield his swords over and over again.

Everyone was pretty surprised he had shown up at all. But, true to form, he had come. Mikhail not only was a leader in the serious, but also in the fun, spontaneous things that their group ended up doing. He knew he wasn’t an equal match for anyone at video games, but it didn’t really matter.

“Are you ever gonna come out of that cave?” Josh complained. “Just accept defeat and come out like a man.” He expertly held and navigated the controller with one hand, his back against the foot of the couch. At some point, he thought he remembered Gabe throwing him a pillow for his left arm, which tended to get in the way, and ended up in strange and uncomfortable positions because he couldn’t feel it.

“You’re just prolonging your own agony,” Josh warned, making his character stay close to the entrance just in case Mikhail’s warrior inadvertently came running out of the cave. It had happened before.

“You come say hello to me,” Mikhail encouraged, his eyes sparkling.

“No way! Why would I go in that cave? Your guy’s gonna cut me to shreds.”

Mikhail nodded, a slight smile on his face. “Then I play Jared, and you’ll play nobody.”

“No. ‘Cause you’re not winning.” Josh said certainly.

Mikhail shrugged. “I just stay in here and wait.”

In the end, Josh pulled off a sneaky move, and got Mikhail’s character from behind. As expected, it was Josh against Jared for the championship. There was no prize for the winner, but self-respect was on the line.

Jared didn’t particularly care about this. He’d never been the type to play games when he could be out doing the real thing. But now it was different. And now, there was no way he was losing anything to this cocky kid.

But what Jared had in self-assurance, Josh matched with pure skill of the game. Before long, Jared was losing by a great deal, and his character was almost dead.

It wasn’t a shock when Josh won. He had picked the game after all.

In the meantime, Micah had stuck a few pizzas in to bake. By the time the machine was turned off, Micah, Gabe and Andrew took off upstairs, not able to wait another minute. It was late, after all and they were hungry.

Before he went upstairs, Mikhail had a silent conversation with Chris. They made eye contact, and Chris nodded toward the stairs, wanting to take care of his brothers on his own. And if he could help it, not draw a bunch of attention to it.

Chris was left with Jared and Josh, which was fine. Chris suspected that both of them preferred it that way, rather than being in the middle of everyone, and being carried up a flight of stairs on top of it all.

Looking at them both, Chris waited expectantly.

“He can go first,” Jared volunteered for Josh.

Chris lumbered over and scooped up Josh’s small body - effortlessly carrying him up, and settling him in his chair, which still waited at the top.

In too short a time, Chris returned. “You ready?” he asked.

Jared sighed. “Why not?”

But Chris caught the hesitance in Jared’s eyes. “No one’s gonna care. They’re all eating.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jared dismissed. “Let’s go.”

Chris did much the same with Jared as he had done with Josh minutes earlier. Even someone of Jared’s size - which was more average for his age than Josh - wasn’t a problem for Chris.

He moved quickly, and easily. Jared was impressed. The only other guy he’d ever had help from was Rob. Jared didn’t think it was possible to get the same kind of decent treatment from more than one person. He’d thought Rob was the exception. Now, though, it was becoming clearer, that here, Rob was the norm.

--

The pizza disappeared almost as fast and Micah took it out of the oven. Micah brought in a cooler of soda from outside his back door, and dispersed one to each person - though throughout the course of the night, each of them consumed at least three.

“I wonder what the girls are doing…” Gabe ventured, drinking deeply from his can of Mountain Dew.

There was a short knock on the door then, and Ryan came in.

“I got lost,” he explained, before he was even all the way inside.

“Hey Ryan!” Josh called. “You missed Playstation!”

Looking amused, Ryan walked into the kitchen, grateful for the warmth. “Any pizza left?” he asked, seeing the empty cardboard on the table.

Micah opened the freezer to check. “Sorry, dude. I’m poor, I guess. I don’t have anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Ryan answered, waving off the regret, though his stomach betrayed him. It growled loudly.

Micah turned his attention back to his fridge. Having closed the freezer, he surveyed the contents of the refrigerator itself.

“Let’s see…” he called obnoxiously. “I’ve got cottage cheese…”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Dude, Micah. You don’t offer guests cottage cheese!” Gabe complained. “You might as well have offered him bread and water.”

Ryan smiled. “It’s fine. I actually like cottage cheese,” he defended.

“You can have my pizza,” Josh offered. “I didn’t eat that piece,” he pointed out obviously.

Ryan took the paper plate. “Thanks.” He ate the slice in two bites. It was small, but it was better than being hungry. He had assumed they’d be eating here, but he hadn’t counted on getting lost.

“Anyway, Ryan you want a soda?” Micah asked, opening the cooler.

“Sure. Surprise me.”

Grinning, Micah took out a generic grape flavored soda and held it out.

“Micah! You’re the worst host ever!” Josh complained good naturedly.

He put the grape one back, and picked out a Mountain Dew. “That better?” he asked.

Ryan accepted it gratefully and drank half of it in his first gulp.

“Belle said they were just going to eat, or something,” Andrew commented.

Eyes turned toward him, questioning.

“Gabe asked what the girls were doing.” he defended.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “They probably got pizza leftover, too, we should call ‘em up.”

Micah shook his head. “Missy’s cooking for ‘em. So they’re getting home cooked stuff.”

Ryan finally joined the group of guys, pulling up a chair, and sliding the bowl of corn chips closer to him.

“So, what did I miss now?” he asked, looking at Josh. “Playstation?”

“Yeah, I beat Jared in the championship round,” he gloated.

Jared glowered at the Josh across the table. “It was a real feat considering he was the only one who knew the game…”

“Settle down, man,” Micah urged, clapping Jared on the back. “If it were original Mario Brothers on Nintendo, I would’ve beat all of you,” he cackled.

“No, I think you’d have some competition there,” Ryan objected. “I won that whole game before I was ten years old.”

“Anybody wanna watch “Braveheart?’” Gabe asked. “It’s here. I saw it in the other room.”

Andrew bristled. “Why do we have to watch something like that? We know it’s just guys here, why do we need to watch some violent movie to prove it?”

“I gotta go with Andrew on that one,” Josh said diplomatically. “I wasn’t counting on a violent movie when I came over.”

“Yeah. No, we won’t watch it,” Micah reassured, doing his best to ignore Gabe’s disappointed expression. “It’s way too long anyway. Let’s play cards or something.”

Andrew bent down to whisper in Josh’s ear. “Hey, is it okay if we just take off? They’re obviously out of stuff to do…”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Josh agreed. He was getting tired anyway, though he would never admit it to anyone.

“So, we’re gonna leave,” Andrew said, unceremoniously.

Ryan tore his attention away from his bowl of chips. “You’re leaving and I just got here?” The caffeine had kicked in by now, and he could feel his heart pumping. He couldn’t just let the two youngest leave without saying something.

“Sorry,” Josh apologized sincerely. He went around to everyone, saying goodbye, and even shaking Jared’s hand and congratulating him on a game well-played.

Mikhail made his way over to Andrew, who was standing near the door, anxious to go. For a second or two, the bigger man just stood alongside Andrew, not speaking.

“You’re not happy now.” he finally observed.

Silently, darkly, Andrew shook his head. He wished everyone would just leave him alone and not get into his business.

“There is a way for me to help?” Mikhail wondered, seriously.

Again, Andrew stayed quiet, piercing Mikhail’s concern with a hard look. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Briefly, Mikhail looked to the kitchen, and saw Josh still saying his goodbyes and visiting. He moved in front of Andrew, and enfolded him in his huge grip.

Andrew was speechless. Mikhail didn’t even know what was wrong, and he was hugging him.

Slowly, words started to pour from Mikhail. Quiet, heartfelt, and Andrew realized belatedly - foreign. And though, Andrew couldn’t understand Mikhail’s words, he knew without doubt that he was being prayed for. The name Drew was said often and with much feeling.

And Andrew just stood. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t be grateful or touched, at least not outwardly. So, he stood, and waited for the kindness to be over.

“You need anything, call me.” Mikhail instructed gently.

Startled by the shift to English, Andrew nodded, though he knew he would never follow through.