Mercy: Chapter 8

Let not a man guard his dignity, but let his dignity guard him.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ryan walked into Micah’s not knowing what to expect.

He was unaware of what constituted a party to these people - though he’d been to Mikhail’s recently, Ryan figured immediately that it wasn’t their typical get-together. He hadn’t seen many cars parked outside, and he knew Alex’s vehicle was nowhere to be found.

His suspicions were confirmed as he walked in the living room. Ryan saw the older contingent of the group he was a part of - and only the older part. The younger kids, and Rob and Kylie, were nowhere to be seen. Mikhail also was not there, but Ryan figured he was home with his family.

The main room in Micah’s house was fairly big, with a couple couches lining the walls. All the furniture looked modern, and the floors were wooden. He didn’t have fluorescent lights, but floor lights, that stood in the corner like an unfed habit - if you forgot it or ignored it, it was only a matter of time before the wall behind it would catch fire.

“Hey, you made it!” Micah exclaimed, coming over.

Ryan watched him - wary now, and not knowing why. “So where is everybody?”

“This is everybody,” Micah said, as though it was obvious.

Ryan surveyed the room. He saw Missy and Julia, Gabe, Chris…and that was it. Micah was in the other room somewhere. Why had he been invited? Thinking back, this seemed a lot like the “a lot smaller” version of their college small group that Belle had told him about. And if that was true, Ryan knew he had no business there.

Since he was here, though, Ryan figured he could make the best of it.

“Ladies,” he addressed Missy and Julia.

“Hey, Ryan. How are you?” Missy asked warmly.

There was a football game on, but he doubted they were interested in it. Chris was explaining something to Gabe about a play that had just happened.

“All right,” he returned. It felt funny to give so little true information.

Walking into the small kitchen, Ryan saw coffee brewing and poured himself a cup.

“You want anything else you should take it now,” Micah warned, “Otherwise it’ll be gone pretty quick.” He showed off the assortment of snacks and chips that lined the counter.

“I’m good,” Ryan dismissed, cringing inside at what an understatement that was. He wasn’t good at all.

Wearing the sweatshirt had become standard, as he never was sure when he might see Elise and didn’t in any way want to scare her. He had promptly removed it, when she proved nowhere in sight.

For Ryan, there was one habit he still couldn’t break. The more unsure he was of a situation, the more he dressed for attention. And tonight, he had on jewelry, which he hadn’t worn since before rehab. He wore a gaudy cross necklace and a chunky bracelet - the kind that he’d seen a guy in a metal band wearing. His shirt proclaimed him as the LIFE OF THE PARTY, and the red bandanna on his head made him feel powerful.

Micah rejoined them then a bottle in his hand. In one horrible moment, as if it was advertised with a neon sign instead of a little label, Ryan knew the beverage he held was alcoholic.

This wasn’t a sophisticated “no kids” party. It was an 21-and-up party.

That explained it.

“Here, man, you want one?” Micah extended the bottle to Ryan.

It was hard lemonade. And Ryan wanted it more than he’d wanted anything recently. Forget his seven months of sobriety, forget everything. He wanted it so bad he could taste it just standing there.

“It’s hard lemonade,” Gabe called, as if it hadn’t become obvious the minute Micah walked in the room. “We didn’t get beer, or anything, ’cause we wanted you to come.”

Ryan tore his eyes from the bottle long enough to send Gabe a heated look.

Was he kidding?

“So, do you want it or not?” Micah pushed.

Ryan’s gaze again settled on the bottle, knowing that this was exactly the type of beverage that attracted him to drinking as a young teenager, and even before that.

He remembered looking at his mom’s strawberry margarita when he was four, and asking her why he couldn’t have some? It wasn’t fair that she got a cool glass and the drink looked like red snow and smelled like strawberries. What was so bad about strawberries? He badgered his mom until she gave in, telling him it was a grown-up drink, but allowing him a sip anyway.

The red snow tasted good, and he never forgot it.

Ten years later, somebody was making daiquiris. Strawberry. He remembered being asked if he wanted his to be virgin. He had thought about it hard, knowing he wasn’t a virgin, and made his decision based upon that. He’d known what virgin meant, though. Who didn’t know?

From that point on, it was beer, followed by a lot of beer, followed by harder liquor, followed by drugs, and cigarettes in between; losing a childhood of domestic violence, and being alone in booze and drugs and smoke and pills.

This stretch of time was the longest he’d been clean and sober for around a decade. Still, the excuses came, and the lies rose in him, one after another.

I’ll just hold the bottle.

I’ll only take one drink.

I’ll only drink one.

I won’t have more than three.

I’ll have as much as I want, but I won’t drive.

I’ll drive, but I won’t get caught…

Then, he remembered what brought him to rehab at all. How his closest drinking buddy had driven home smashed, just like he had, so many times before. He remembered climbing in the passenger side, feeling confident, and climbing out of the car on a dark stretch of highway. He was somehow uninjured. His friend was dead.

Suddenly, the thought of drinking anything made Ryan feel ill. Temptation remained, promising that everything would be fine. It wouldn’t turn out like that for him. He’d been spared once, he’d be spared again.

Turning, Ryan bolted out the door, knowing if he remained any longer, he would give in.

He was barely out the door, when Ryan heard what was now a familiar resonating voice. Chris had followed him.

Ryan was hurrying, but Chris caught up - his long strides matching Ryan’s quick ones.

Silently, he turned, looking at Chris with such loss and intensity that for a moment, Chris forgot why he’d come.

“You gonna be all right?”

The same concentration and hurt showed in Ryan’s eyes. Without a word, he reached down into his bottomless jeans pocket, and withdrew a winter hat. He untied the bandanna and replaced it, pulling the warm, knit fabric down over his ears, and tucking the bandanna in his pocket. He never took his eyes from Chris.

“Look, man, I apologize.” Chris said, with more sincerity than Ryan had heard in days.

In a moment, Ryan’s face shifted from defeat to quiet anger. He stared. “Did you offer me alcohol?”

“No.”

“Then don’t apologize to me.” Ryan turned, then, and got in his car, leaving Chris to wonder where he would go.

--

Ryan spent the night at his sponsors’ house - afraid to be on his own after he’d been exposed to a drink for one of the first times’ post-rehab. People drank around him, that wasn’t the point. He’d severed contact with all his old friends, and ceased hanging out at the pool hall, and other places with bars. The church in the woods was the first place he’d found since he got out, and God in that place gave him peace. He never imagined the people he’d meet through that church would end up offering him a drink, only weeks after sharing with them that he was a recovering addict. He just hadn’t thought it would be an issue.

Now, he was unsure if he would even be able to go back to hang out with them at all. Most of the social things he went to were held at Micah’s. Small group was held there, and any other get-together outside of that. But if Micah was going to possibly offer him anything, Ryan just didn’t think he was going to be able to do it anymore.

Besides that, now he didn’t have any sanctuary from his old life. Reminders were everywhere, even, as it turned out, in the church he’d found.

The next day, after talking at length with his sponsor, and finding a meeting, Ryan called Rob’s. He needed to talk to somebody, and Rob seemed the least likely to go off at Ryan about over reacting, or justify what had been done.

But the voice that answered his phone sounded nothing like his. In fact, it was a woman’s voice, and Ryan was left momentarily confused.

“I--I’m sorry, I must have the wrong place,” Ryan stuttered, embarrassed.

“You lookin’ for Rob?” Kylie guessed on the other end. Plenty of people called the apartment Saturdays and assumed they’d get Rob. They all thought they had misdialed.

“Yeah, who’s this?” Ryan asked, confused.

“This is Kylie. Rob’s unavailable right now. Who am I speaking to?” she wanted to know, realizing she recognized the voice from somewhere.

“Ryan… You can just tell him that…well, I don’t know if you’ll be seeing me around.” he explained, sighing.

Stepping into the bedroom, Kylie closed the door, knowing Elise was still asleep anyway.

“What’s goin’ on?” Kylie asked, concerned now.

“I can’t come back on Thursday,” Ryan elaborated, “I don’t think I can hang out with you guys anymore.”

“Did somethin’ happen at that party last night? Kylie asked, feeling like she knew the answer already. She knew about that party. She’d been invited, and hadn’t gone because of work, and prior obligations. Even if she didn’t have commitments, Kylie doubted she would have gone.

Silence.

“Ryan. Now I know you called to talk to Rob. But I ain’t gonna bite, I promise.”

“Yeah, something happened,” Ryan admitted quietly.

He felt a strange bit of camaraderie with Kylie, and though she was someone he rarely spoke to, he knew by watching that she was a force to be reckoned with, while also incredibly gentle. It felt safe talking to her.

“I…was offered alcohol,” he confided quietly, regretfully.

Kylie closed her eyes. “Oh, dear Lord… Who offered you?”

“Micah.”

Ryan heard the rush of air as Kylie exhaled. She seemed as shocked as he had been. He wished she’d been there last night. Then, someone might have stood up for him, when he couldn’t stand up for himself.

“Did you drink?” There was no judgment in the question, but instead he recognized concern for his well-being.

“I wanted to…but I didn’t.” His voice had gone so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Good for you, baby,” Kylie said, sounding more than a little relieved.

Ryan rubbed a hand over his face, surprised and touched by her praise. “So, anyway, I just wanted to let Rob know not to look for me.”

“You thought of talkin’ to any of ‘em about what happened?”

“Last night, I just ran out, and I really don’t feel comfortable going back to a place I might be tempted.”

“Ryan, that can’t happen, though. What happened to you can’t happen. They can’t go on thinkin’ that what they’re doin’ is okay…” There was a pause, and then she continued,

“I understand about you not wanting to be tempted, and that’s why I can promise you that if you decide you wanna speak up about it I’ll stand with you, and Rob and Elise will too…and Alexandra… There’s plenty of us willing to fight for you, and keep bein’ your friend.”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, I’m gonna talk to Mikhail about this. And you better keep callin’ us. Keep in touch, until you decide what to do.” Kylie encouraged.

“Thanks so much, Kylie,” Ryan returned.

“You’re welcome. I’ll let Robby know you called.”

--

Kylie found Mikhail on Sunday, knowing it was better to address the issue sooner, rather than waiting the week and talking about it in front of everyone.

“Mikhail,” she called seeing him come in church that morning with his wife and baby girl.

Glancing Kylie’s way, he smiled broadly. “Morning,” he said happily.

She couldn’t help it, and smiled in return, knowing how happy he was all the time, and admiring that quality in him.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked, wanting to pull him aside before church started. She wasn’t planning for what she had to say to spread. She was also positive that she hadn’t seen or heard from Ryan since the day before, though Rob had called him back. He wasn’t here now, that was for sure. And she knew that he always showed up before anyone.

He nodded, noticing her serious demeanor.

Kylie glanced in the window, and saw Elise sitting with Belle in one of the pews. Belle was doing her hair, and Elise was doing her best to hold still. Kylie was glad to see they were still so close - especially since Belle hadn’t been around as much recently.

Kylie did her best to keep up with Mikhail’s long strides. “This is okay?” he asked, hoping the far wall outside the sanctuary was separate enough from people for whatever Kylie had to say.

“Yeah, this is fine,” she nodded. “I got a phone call yesterday,” she began. “From Ryan. You know Ryan?” Kylie asked, praying he hadn’t gotten as lost to Mikhail as he seemed to have gotten with the rest of them.

“Yes. Know him well.”

Relief flooded Kylie’s face. “Okay, good. Ryan was at a party Friday night at Micah’s…and he was offered alcohol.”

“But he drink too much,” Mikhail said, surprised, recalling Ryan‘s history.

Kylie looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed because of her peers. “It was really hard for him to say no. He wanted to drink.”

“But no.” Mikhail said certainly. “You’re telling me he doesn’t.”

“Right, He didn’t, but either the alcohol shouldn’t have been there, or Ryan shouldn’t have been there. ‘Cause he can’t be around it.”

“I think it would be a good idea to talk to them. To the older ones in the group. ‘Cause it wasn’t only that time that he wasn’t respected.”

“I’ll discuss with them during the service - get the older ones and talk to them. It’s not right to worry about stumble, when you should be safe.”