Of all the drunken men who frequented the store, Ryan was the one who touched my heartstrings the most.
Firstly, he was the most regular – visiting us up to 3 times a week and sometimes every day.
Secondly, he was the most disruptive.
Thirdly, because one day, I saw him sober and it was more heart-breaking to witness than when he was drunk.
Ryan would always enter in style. He would have a can of beer in his hand and would begin shouting as soon as he touched the door handle.
His entrance was so abrupt that it made everybody jump. We never got used to it.
Sometimes I would drop a CD or accidentally scribble on an invoice as a reaction to the shock of his dramatic arrival. At other times, I would be on the phone and have to reassure the customer at the other end that we were not being raided at gunpoint.
It will come as no surprise to you that Ryan’s visits were another situation where we had to ring for emergency assistance.
Babies in prams, children in buggies and the elderly generation were most at risk of being startled.
Poor Ryan was ‘out of his face’ and uncontrollable.
I never heard him use profanity and he was never aggressive, but the volume of his voice, his unsteady gait and constant chatter was, nevertheless, emotionally disturbing for all who came across his path.
While mothers shielded their offspring, and others gave him the widest berth possible, Ryan would make his way to the till area and slump onto the counter. It would end up wet with beer and saliva as he struggled to talk without spitting everywhere.
Whichever member of staff was unfortunate enough to be standing by the till, they would be his target. He would look them in the eye and prattle loudly, jabbering nonsensically.
If a customer was already stood there paying for goods, it made no difference to him. They would be knocked into, with his dirty coat making contact with their arm and they would inevitably be showered with hops-infused saliva.
One day when Ryan was being dragged out of the door by two burly security guards, he looked back at me, surrendered to his fate, but desperate to continue his communication.
“Bye bye Darkie.” He said.
I laughed so much! His gesture was not one of racial malice, but an affectionate way of trying to exchange pleasantries with me before his next visit.
All my colleagues were white, so he needed to make it clear to whom he was referring.
Ryan’s face was a picture of sadness. His skin was scarlet from his drinking habit and covered in scars, bruises and scabs. Whether this was from fights, drunken falls of having to sleep on hard surfaces, I don’t know, but I suspected it was a mixture of all three.
Like I said earlier, one day he came into the shop completely sober. It was sad enough observing his demeanour when his blood was full of alcohol, but with no beer in his belly and alert to his surroundings, he was to be pitied even more.
It was at this time that I understood why he found it necessary to obliterate his mind from reality so often.
Unlike his usual entrance, he walked into the shop slowly and quietly. He slumped onto the counter and I looked into his forlorn eyes. They were sorrowful and lifeless.
For the first time ever, his words were comprehensible. He told me that his father has also been a ‘drunk’ and that he had ended his life by suicide. Ryan had been the one to find him and he was only a young boy. The memory had been etched in his mind ever since. He continued by saying that he believed he would go the same way as his dad and that it was impossible to fight against his fate.
Knowing that this could be the only time he would be sober enough to understand what I was saying, I seized the opportunity to sympathise with him, then tell him the good news about Jesus.
I never saw him clear-headed again, but I thank the Lord that I had the privilege to be able to say something to him while he was in the right state of mind.
I imagine that unless a miracle occurred, dear Ryan is no longer roaming this earth. He is one of the people I will be looking around for when I reach Heaven. I hope he had the chance to get his life right before he passed away. I really hope he made it. It will be great to hear someone come up behind me and say, “Hello Darkie!”
And yes, of all the chapters in this book that have made me cry, this is the one where my tears have flowed the most.
