"You slut!" Ryan roared into his phone. But it was too late. She had already hung up on him. That had been his ex-wife. She was getting remarried, and wanted to move interstate, taking his two sons with her. Ryan was feeling jealous, this was not his idea of an amicable divorce. He and his ex were supposed to be co-parenting in harmony, presenting a united front to their boys.
"Ha!" Ryan slammed down his phone, and picked up his can of bourbon. Before too long, he was on another bender. A pile of empty tins were soon his company. He knew he should control his heavy drinking, but the lonely nights were getting to him. Any woman he dated soon learnt of his whinging about his ex-wife. Ryan could pin his face to any female. He had no trust any more, bitter and sour.
Ryan was forty years old, the new young. By day, he was the corporate manager, a high flyer, a successful team player. On a night like this, he sat alone, turned off by the whole dating game, online or not. This night in particular, Ryan sat drinking, sulking, trying to block images of his ex with a new guy in her bed.
Finally, he grabbed his car keys, and took off. He was way over the limit of drunken driving, but he was lucky that night. He arrived at the Family Law Court in the central city district. Ryan glared at this massive court, and held up his can of spray paint. He was going to slut-shame his ex, in big bold letters.
Then Ryan heard the nearby siren of more than one police car. Were they after him? Those cop cars sounded really close, heading his way. "Run!" he told himself. Ryan panicked, and dropped his can of paint, unused. He quickly ran down the street to a side lane to a main city street. But there were more police cars. What had that witch of an ex told the cops?
Ryan stampeded along one darkened city lane after another. Everywhere he heard sirens, caught glimpses of blue flashing lights. Terrified, he was chased only by his own shadow, reflected in the empty lighting of office buildings and shops.
At last, he made it to hide in the bushes in a small park on the city's fringes. Ryan curled up, catching his breath, suddenly sober in the cold night air. He was still not game to head back to his car, not with all that grog on board, and all those police in the neighborhood.
Safe, so he chose his best option. Hiding behind a tall bush, he phoned his sensible twin, Christian, the good guy. Ryan was definitely not driving home tonight. Over half an hour later, Christian turned up. He did not comment for once, just drove Ryan home and poured him into bed, saying, "Sleep it off. Nothing bad happened. This pity party is getting too old. Chat tomorrow."
After work the next day, Ryan arrived home to find Christian waiting for him. Christian was a teacher at a church school, always sensible. "What's next?" Ryan asked his brother over coffee, instead of booze. Christian commented, "You'll never change your ex by trashing her, especially in front of your kids. You have to move on, and be a role model for your boys. Sooner or later, they' ll make some decisions on their own. Time you grow up a bit. After last night, you should be thankful for your lucky undies."
"Yeah, guess you're right," Ryan was feeling a bit old today, a bit seedy. Christian took Ryan off to his new church project. It was to be a community kitchen, serving hot meals nightly to the local have-nots in their little corner of the world. Ryan was up for most challenges. There was no reason he could not chop vegetables and make soup in a large vat. It took his mind off his own estranged dysfunction. He could always rely on Christian to have his back.
Once the shared meal was finished, Ryan and Christian sat down with a nice hot coffee, and listened to their clients, down on their luck. Ryan could hear Christian's kindness in his understanding and supportive acceptance. The food kitchen was there to stay, a statement of the larger world they all inhabited.
The days passed, Ryan stayed there. After work was now for serving others. Ryan still liked relaxing late at night with a beer, but he went home now with a different focus. He used his contacts to obtain a washing machine and dryer, so the homeless could wash their clothes. He invented a job board, finding work opportunities for these disadvantaged friends. For sure, some of them had dependency issues, but Christian showed Ryan how to listen and not judge.
Soon, the word was spreading about Christian and Ryan's food kitchen. Underprivileged folk could bring any friend they liked. Just being there made Ryan feel he, too, could be a sign of God's love and caring for other people. It was not easy, but he could be a manager by day, and head up the vegetable department at night.
Ryan was finding he could walk in faith. He arranged access visits with his sons. He had fun times, and focused on his positives, making happy memories. "Life isn't always fair, no need to get the grumps." Christian told him. Sure, Ryan was still looking for love, hoping for a chance with a woman. Maybe he would be blessed one day, like Christian was with his wife and growing family.
He shared his hopes with the good twin, Christian, early one evening, as they took some food donations to their community kitchen. Christian was never short of a word, "I believe your best is still to be. You can make your own Heaven on Earth, if you keep the faith. It can be hard, but it is worth it, Mr. Lucky Undies."
Ryan' car turned into the community kitchen driveway. More of a crowd tonight, waiting for the twins. All their best was still to be, as the word was spreading..........
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