Why Some Amends Are Too Dangerous to Attempt – Don H.

Chapter 42 Sometimes you get the bearer, and sometimes... As with previous steps, Brian attacked his list with a mixture of dread and enthusiasm. He was energetic about it because it was the first time he could see that what he was doing would yield tangible benefits. He never saw the value of the prior steps until he did them, but he had advanced enough in his program to think that there was a real net benefit to be had from thoroughness in this activity. However, every time he added a name, he did so with the knowledge that he would one day have to confront the person and plead his case. That was the dreaded part. Upon completion of the first draft of his list, he knew he needed to go through it with Rob. In Step 8 discussion meetings, people had been adamant about bouncing the list off someone else. Even the most well-intentioned people leave names off their list that they felt were not important but should have been included. They might also add names to the list that should not have been there for a couple of possible reasons. There were occasions when the person undertaking Step 8 became overzealous and put someone on their list they hadn't really harmed or was completely ignorant of the harm done them. In such instances, talking the list over with their sponsor would lead to removal of the name of that person. Those cases were not the most common, but they did occur. The more likely case for removal was when dredging up the wreckage of the pass could injure someone. It even says so in Step 9. Made direct amends whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. Brian was headed down to Rob's house one evening to discuss his list. On his way, he caught a glimpse of two-ton Tony, that fat f... No, he told himself. I have to quit calling him that. Time to nip that habit in the bud. Of his two most important decisions that evening, that was the good one. The second decision was reckless, myopic, and utterly ill-advised. In other words, it was inevitable. Seeing Tony outside his house was akin to a Sasquatch sighting. You never had irrefutable evidence that he existed. The man never came out in the sunlight. There were kids on the street who were convinced he was a vampire. Brian saw Tony inexplicably wandering about his yard, seemingly searching for something. Brian became convinced, as Gord so frequently intoned, that this was not happenstance. This meeting with Tony on the very evening he was polishing off his eighth step had clearly been coordinated by God. Who was he to argue with divine intervention? He decided right then and there that God wanted him to make amends to Tony on his way down to Rob's house. Yes, he should talk to Rob first, he thought, but this was God's will. Who knows if Tony would ever step outside again when he was around to witness it? This was no coincidence. It was time for Brian Michael O'Malley to begin his journey into Step 9. Brian approached the fence around Tony's yard and cleared his throat. Tony was looking under a bush by his porch and did not respond. Brian cleared his throat again, a bit louder. Still no reaction. He decided he would need to beard the lion in his den and step through the gate, which slammed shut with a clang, promptly locking behind him. That got Tony's attention. Brian had time to take a few halting steps toward the big man before he was able to extricate himself from under the bush, where he had been peering at something. Tony bellowed. What the hell do you want? When Tony registered who it was that had violated his right to privacy, his angry glare morphed into a red-faced, squint-eyed visage of seething hatred. What the fuck do you think you're doing, O'Malley? Are you so drunk that you don't even know where you are now? It won't save you this time, shit-faced shimmy. This was the third time someone had called him that recently, but no matter, it was time to get back to the task at hand. Brian was here on a mission from God. Hi, Tony. He tried to sound open and friendly, but it came off more like nervous and jittery. You've got quite a set of seeds getting within an arm's reach, Jimmy. Am I your only match as a kidney donor? Uh, no, Tony, I'm here to talk to you. We have nothing to discuss, asshole, except maybe how I'm going to rip off one of your arms and beat you to death with a wet hand. Now look, Brian responded, while seriously reconsidering the wisdom of skipping his chat with Rob to undertaking this amends. I didn't come here to piss you off. Too late. Look, Tony, I have had some things on my mind for a while now and I want to talk to you about them. I owe you an apology for my behavior in the past. Tony took one long menacing step in Brian's direction, but he said nothing. Brian forged ahead. A few months ago, I started to attend AA meetings, and well, now I'm doing the ninth step. Tony brought both of his hands up to about waist-high, forearms parallel to the ground, elbows at his side. The fingers of each hand curled inward as if he could already feel the soft tissue of Brian's neck in his grasp. In the ninth steps, we offer amends to people we had harmed during our drinking. You know, except when to do so would injure them or others. Oh, somebody's definitely about to get injured, you fucking pencil-neck geek. Tony took another step toward Brian. He was pulsing with hatred and barely restraining himself from a lunge. But he knew his limitations and needed to get one step closer before he could spring. If Tommy, Sprocket, and Tenderloin had observed this interaction, they would no doubt have registered the striking similarities between this tango and the incident involving Rob and the hapless chicken. Given how it all went down for the chicken, they would now have put money on the odds that Brian would soon be found in a shallow grave under Tony's porch. It was about this moment in the conversation when Brian realized that Tony hadn't been really listening all that closely to him. But he was now physically close, uncomfortably physically close. Brian looked in his eyes and finally understood that Tony had no desire to hear anything he had to say. He had merely been engaging with him long enough to get within striking distance. He had closed the gap considerably while Brian was prattling on about the steps. Just as Brian's lights came on, Tony leaped at him. Brian was no martial artist, but bedwetting terror can make anyone capable of amazing feats of strength and agility. As Tony pounced on him like a howling silverback gorilla, Brian sidestepped and adroitly avoided his grasp. Tony had totally committed to his attack, executing an extinction-level faceplant into his favorite rosebush. Both the pain and the embarrassment registered simultaneously. A shot of adrenaline blasted through his circulatory system and he jumped or more like bounced to his feet while howling in rage and dripping blood and mud. About this time, Brian figured that self-will possibly had more to do with his encounter than God's will. He also reached the conclusion that Tony was not quite ready for step nine. Unfortunately, Tony had already rounded into his second attack. This was now a life-or-death situation. Brian sprinted for the gate. He hit it with maximum effort, but it did not budge. Unlike Rob, Tony knew how to build a fence that could really keep people out, or in this case, keep them in. Brian careened off the fence gate and fell to the ground, winding him with an excruciating thud. What the hell was it with fence gates, he thought. Why do they all hate me? Tony, in his rage to get at Brian, also hit the gate hard right after Brian had bounced out of the way. The force of two large men slamming into Tony's handiwork in rapid succession was just too much for the poor fence to bear. Starting at the gate, the entire front of the fence went down like a row of dominoes set up to fall in a line. Brian labored to catch his breath. He knew one thing, oxygen or no, it was time to beat feet for the exit. If Tony caught him, they would both make the 11 o'clock news. Tony was still on the ground attempting to turtle off his back to rejoin the chase. Brian wasted no time heading out into the street. He would have run, but he had hurt his ankle in the fall. Running or even walking briskly were no longer viable escape plans. He hobbled over the debilitated fence and headed down the street, still attempting to make it to Rob's house. As soon as he had time to reconsider his predicament, he opted to go off-road. That fence had collapsed with a hell of a bang. He didn't need the neighbors reporting him to the cops over yet another demolished fence. He cut between Tony's fence and the neighbor's house to get to the path that ran along the creek bed. As he approached the path, he began to relax, reasonably sure that no one had witnessed the encounter with Tony. His ankle was pounding, he reached the path and turned toward Rob's compound just as a huge beefy paw latched onto his shirt collar and pulled him back away from the path. Holy shit! Tony had a back gate. He let out a yelp and Tony growled in reply. He found himself being dragged backward caveman style into the shadows where Tony could easily beat him senseless without witnesses. As he was pulled backwards, he tried to get his feet under him, but all his weight was pulled back over Tony's hands. He was helpless and terrified. Tony nearly had him where he wanted him when luck struck a stranger. The entire collar of his shirt ripped clean off. He splattered earthward and left Tony holding nothing but the tattered cloth in his hand. Sometimes the universe hands you a gift in the hope that you will learn from your mistakes. The universe didn't have to tell him twice. Brian rolled left and immediately smashed his nose on a stump. He rolled back to see Tony staring at his empty hands. It was then he realized that Tony couldn't see him. Cripes! That's why Tony never left the house. He was blind. A powerful wave of pity washed over Brian as he observed the big man. Maybe he wasn't totally blind. Perhaps he just had lousy night vision. Either way, Tony had once been his friend, and he couldn't help but feel for him now. He had totally bludgeoned the ninth step with him, but Brian was now more convinced than ever that it had been right to make the attempt. He sure as hell wasn't going to get any points for style, though. He rose to his feet as quietly as he could while watching Tony stumble about looking for him. He slowly backed away in the direction of the path. Tony could tell he was moving. He stood perfectly still, listening intently. Brian knew that stealth was his ally this night. Too bad he had all the lithe agility of a floundering hippopotamus. He stepped backward with his bad ankle and his foot slipped heel first into a hole. He went down in a heap and twisted his foot even worse this time. Tony's head spun and he began moving toward Brian. For one panic-stricken moment, Brian's foot was caught in the hole. Tony was nearly on him by the time he wrenched it free. He clambered to his feet and attempted to flee down the path, but his ankle was either broken or badly sprained. He had to hop on his good leg without putting any more weight than necessary on the bad one. Tony was slowly closing in on him, but he had to keep stopping to discern which direction Brian was moving. This gave Brian an idea. Get off the path? He dragged himself back into the brush and headed for the creek bed. At first, Tony was confused, but then he realized which way Brian had gone, and he picked up the pace. Bad idea, Brian. Moving down the path was quieter than smashing your way through the weeds. He cut back in the direction of the path. This set up the dynamic for a classic case of out of the frying pan and into the fire. Tony was closing in on him rapidly, in a very relative sense. They were both moving at a snail's pace. Brian grabbed a tree branch for support that promptly snapped off in his hand. This alerted Tony to his whereabouts. Tony picked up the pace again. It also alarmed another denizen of the neighborhood. As Brian gimped in front of the tree whose branch he had just snapped, a familiar and very unwelcome face popped out of the hole. Head high, Popeye looked him in the eye and started bitching at Brian at the top of his lungs. The belligerent varmint screeched in his face and scared the hell out of him. Then it hunched down and prepared for a leap. A split second before Popeye lunged at him, he reached out and slapped him hard across the face. Lacking Brian's mass, the angry critter was knocked back into his hole. This allowed Brian just enough time to attempt an escape. Given his current circumstances, it was not going to be nearly enough time. Once the stunned marmot got his shit together, he was going to tear Brian a new one literally. Brian hobbled off toward the path and prayed that he had knocked the raccoon unconscious. Two steps past the stump and it became obvious such was not the case. Popeye's head popped out of his hole, and he was pissed. Brian wanted to cry. He had just tried to do the right thing. How the hell did everything go to shit so fast? But his luck held this night. He was fortunate that Popeye was none too discerning when it came to humans. He was in a blind rage, and somebody, anybody was going to pay for it. Enter Tony. Tony had been moving in the direction of the tree, and he arrived when Popeye was still recovering from the swat of doom that Brian had administered. Of course, when the one-eyed raccoon did emerge, enraged and combative, Tony jumped back in terror, but he was defenseless. Popeye leapt and landed on Tony's shoulder, biting his ear. Tony threw him to the ground and stunned him for a second. As he turned away from the raccoon and picked up on his pursuit of Brian, Popeye sunk his teeth into Tony's backside and hung there for a moment while Tony howled in pain. He jumped up and down in a circle, screaming in pain and anger, swatting at the raccoon welded to his posterior. But his arm length was no match for his circumference. Try as he might, turning and reaching, spinning like a dog chasing his tail, he couldn't get a handle on the source of his discomfort. Brian wanted none of this. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could toward Rob's house and swore never to leave the path again. He had already used up eight of his nine lives. perhaps three of them, just this evening. No need to tempt fate, he stayed away from Tony from that night forward. And Tony, perhaps due to embarrassment, made up a lie about the fence and never mentioned the incident to another living soul.