GRACE
by
Lisa Striegler

When I was a teenager, I knew a guy named Murray who was crazy and drank a lot. In a way, I kind of avoided him, but he was a partying friend of my boyfriend's, so I couldn't avoid him altogether. He was the guy who usually got pretty loaded at parties. I don't remember him ever having a girlfriend.

One time, after a high school grad party, I witnessed a disturbing thing. There was a girl who had a reputation for being a fighter and a drinker. She was at the same “next-day” party I was at. She ended up in the bedroom with several guys and they spray-painted her and took turns having sex with her.

It was strange because I could hear her agreeing to it – she wasn't saying “no” she was saying “come on, who's next” yet I knew she was drunk and she was being taken advantage of. I thought she would feel ashamed when she sobered up. Nobody agreed with me. Just shut up and never mind, they said.

Later, she and a bunch of others left and I was still there with my boyfriend and a couple of other guys. We were outside and I walked back to the house. On the deck was Murray. He wasn't yippee-yi-aying anymore.

He looked at me and started a normal conversation – something I wasn't used to him doing with me. He asked me what my plans were for school and life. He said I was smart, and that I deserved more out of life. He told me not to get stuck in this life. He told me not to get stuck with my boyfriend.

In a moment of truth, sincerity, and giving, this crazy drunk guy told me to save myself from this life of duplicity and secrets: a life where we don't tell on our friends who are rapists, drug dealers, and thieves.

So I did what he told me. I left the boyfriend and the scene. And eventually I stepped out of the life altogether.

For your kind words, Murray, I'm ever grateful. I'm glad you spoke to me that day. I would never have recognized the substance – the grace - in you otherwise. I'm sorry you didn't ever leave the scene.

Until now. Rest in peace.