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ryanmillermu · 4 years

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Falling || Self-Para

Who: Ryan Miller When: Father’s Day (June 21, 2020) Where: Ryan & Bryce’s place Triggers: suicide, alcohol, mental health, Alzheimers, religion Summary: Ryan has struggled with Father’s Day since her dad’s diagnosis, however, this year, she finds herself unable to cope with her own emotions.

It was just before eleven in the morning and Ryan could already feel herself headed towards self destruction. Her beach day with Emery couldn’t come quickly enough. She’d started off her morning bright and early, and naturally, on Instagram. The blonde figured she’d avoid the many Father’s Day posts that way. Boy was she wrong.

Next came church. She never realized how alone she’d felt sitting amongst the rest of her congregation until today. She’d gotten to know most of the others in her ward but, they all had families. Many had even grown up within the ward. Ryan was an outsider. It became even more evident today as she glanced around the room, fathers surrounded by their children. Each held a craft in their hand that they’d put together in Sunday school. Ryan remembered doing the same when she was younger. She’d always convinced her teacher to let her make two for her dad. Her dad was special, after all. He was her daddy and her mommy. She’d quickly learned that none of her Sunday school teachers could say no to that. Today, she found herself trying to find some sort of distraction to avoid listening to the sermon that so fittingly revolved around fathers. All the while, she wondered how she’d gone from having a dad who was a father, a mother, a superhero and a best friend all at once to not remembering she even existed.

The moment services ended, Ryan was on her feet, making a beeline for the door. She offered excuses to those who tried to stop her, insisting that she was late for a school group project. No one commented on the fact that finals had taken place weeks ago.

Upon arriving home, she went through her usual routine of taking off her high heels, swapping her dress for sweatpants, tying her hair into a messy bun and, of course, stuffing her face with fresh donuts she’d picked up on her drive. The blonde climbed back into bed and pulled the blankets over herself. She reached for her phone, opening up her messages and clicking on Emery’s contact name. Ryan was about to hit send when her phone began to ring: Incoming FaceTIme from Aunt Michelle.

Ryan hesitated. She could come up with something. Church ran late. She was taking a shower. She’d left her phone in her car. But, it was Father’s Day. While she might have tried to avoid it, she knew that there would be few years left where she’d have a father to call. She was sure then that she’d be willing to do anything to hear his voice. With a small sigh, she plastered a smile on her face and accepted the call.

In a matter of seconds, her father appeared on the screen, staring blankly back at her. “Hi, Dad,” she waved at him, awaiting a response that never came. “It’s me,” Ryan added in. She heard her aunt murmur something to him in the background, eventually earning Ryan a warm hello in return. “I’m glad you called. I wanted to wish you a happy Father’s Day. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you.” She was met with more silence.

“Brianne,” he smiled back at her after a while, and Ryan’s heart sank slightly. She didn’t know too much about her mother. She knew her name was Brianne, and she knew that she’d looked just like her. Ryan always told herself that it was his disease. The confusion was what caused the common mixup. Still, a part of her wondered if maybe her dad felt like Ryan left him the same way her mother had.

“That isn’t Brianne, Derek. That’s Ryan.” “Who?” “Ryan.” “Who’s that?”

The blonde bit her lip harder, trying to keep herself composed as she spoke again. “It’s me, dad. Ryan. Your daughter,” she offered gently. “I’m away at school. I’m studying so I can be a doctor, remember? I’m going to become a pediatrician and then you and me are going to go back to Brazil like you always wanted to do and serve a mission together and set up a clinic for them.”

He was silent again, and Ryan was sure he’d never respond. And then, he said it. “Minha filha.” It meant my daughter in Portuguese--a language her father had become fluent in before serving his mission in Brazil. He’d called her that often growing up.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she confirmed with a nod and a smile--a genuine smile this time. “I’m going to come home soon. For your birthday. Maybe we’ll go to the lake and see the sunset over the mountains by the water.” Ryan suggested, hoping he might remember that as well.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Brianne.” He nodded, turning away from her.

“No, dad, not tomorrow. It’s Ryan, remember?” She corrected him, though, he already seemed distracted, no longer looking at the video camera. A few more seconds passed before her aunt appeared in the frame. “Uh, I guess I’ll go.”

“You know he gets confused. It’s still morning. Maybe we’ll try calling back later.” Her aunt tried to comfort her. Ryan knew that the time of day wouldn’t change much.

She offered a simple nod in response. “Bye, Aunt Michelle.” Ryan hit the end button on the phone before tossing it across the room. She pulled her knees up to her chest before burying her face in her knees and bursting into a fit of tears.

Ryan allowed herself her time to breakdown before pulling herself back up, as per usual, and pushing everything aside. She made her way into the kitchen, pulling out the flour and sugar. It was muscle memory by now. It was all apart of her coping mechanism. And yet, the bags somehow felt heavier. When she popped a handful of the chocolate chips in her mouth, they tasted bitter. No matter how many times she tried to remember how much butter the recipe called for, she simply couldn’t. There was no space in her head for anything but the racing thoughts.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Ryan’s gaze fell on the liquor bottles Bryce had placed on the countertop. She didn’t know what they were but, she found herself collecting them up and hurrying back into her room. Ryan sat back on her bed, placing the bottles in front of her.

Her gaze stayed on the bottles as she let her mind wander. She thought back to third grade, when the entire class worked to compose a poem for their mothers in honor of Mother’s Day. Payton Johnson had teased her for making one for her aunt, telling the other kids that Ryan’s mom didn’t want her. It’d taken over ten years but, Ryan was finally realizing Payton had been right. She reached for one of the bottle’s, unscrewing the cap, taking a large sip for Payton. The blonde coughed at the taste, making a face as it burned her throat going down. Then, she took another sip to clear her throat.

She thought back to the day her dad had sat her down. How they’d pitched a tent by the lake and watched the sun set. They’d roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire. And then he’d told her. She didn’t understand then where it would lead her but, she knew enough to know her life had changed that day. He’d held her as she cried. He’d promised her everything was going to be okay. It was the first promise he’d ever broken. Things hadn’t felt okay since. She drank to that.

And then she’d found her ex-boyfriend, and things did feel okay again. She’d found the person who held her when she cried, made her laugh when she was having a crappy day, listened to her talk for hours on end when she needed and loved her for being nothing other than herself--or so she’d thought. Then one night, he wasn’t. One night she needed him. She needed her person. After many ignored texts and calls, she’d showed up at his apartment, having been let in by one of his roommates. She waited hours before she heard the door open. And then there he was, his lips on another woman’s as the pair stumbled through the doorway in front of Ryan. She forgave him, only to have it happen again. How could she be mad at him? He’d asked her. What did she expect? He was a man. He needed things. He loved her but, she had to understand. And she did. She understood then that she simply hadn’t been enough. She drank to her ex.

It’d made her question everything she’d ever been taught. She’d been faithful. She’d saved herself. And in return, all she got was heartbreak. She had finally began to question the God that had been her safe space. The God who was to blame for her broken heart. The God who’d taken her dad from her. She drank to Him.

Here she was now. Monarch University. She’d come here to escape it all. No, she’d come here to pursue her dreams. She’d become a doctor. Just like she and her dad had always spoken about. That would be Ryan’s gift. And she would vow to use that to make a difference. Her dedication to her goal had always made her dad proud. He may not have been fully aware of it anymore but, the blonde held onto that promise to him. But her grades told a different story. The longer she held onto the promise, the harder it became to break. She drank to failed dreams and broken promises.

But then she’d found Alec. An unexpected light in what felt like a university full of darkness. He’d fallen for her. For her stupid jokes, her sugar addiction and even her decision to save herself. The happiness she’d felt with him had been happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was happiness she was unwilling to lose. She vowed to make sure she was enough for him. Ryan gave herself to him completely. In trying to be enough for him, she realized she would never be enough for her God or her church. She felt dirty. She felt unworthy. She felt unloveable. She drank to all three of those feelings.

As for her relationship with Alec itself? Well, clearly not even sex had been able to save that. She wasn’t sure anything would have been able to. She fell short again. A victim to her own naivety. Ryan had blinded herself with the lust, the need to find happiness and the desire to be wanted, she hadn’t even recognized the lies. She drank to Alec.

Then there was no one but Ryan herself. And that was the worst of it all. The one who had refused to make anything for her aunt for Mother’s Days to come in fear of Payton Johnson commenting. The one who had brushed the topic of her father’s condition off instead of admitting that she wasn’t okay. The one who had blamed herself for the breakup with her ex instead of telling herself she deserved better than a man who wouldn’t love her because she didn’t spread her legs. The one who blamed God for her problems instead of making any sort of attempt to better herself. The one who believed a twenty year old promise was worth more than her own success and happiness. The one who let her purity define her worth. The one who still loved a man who would probably never love her back. The one who didn’t have the courage to confront any of her friends after each one had forgotten her birthday. The one who didn’t even have the courage to walk into a counseling session and admit she needed help. The one who was nothing but a coward. The one who was a disappointment. The one who was better off dead.

Her head felt heavy now. She could hardly focus enough to see how much of the alcohol she’d managed to get down. Her tolerance was low, that much she knew. She’d only drank on one occasion before, and that had been an accident. However, she’d managed to get it all down quickly. She knew her body had little chance of processing so much in such a short period of time. She knew it was unlikely her body would bounce back from this.

She felt herself shiver and pulled the duvet over herself, much like a body in a morgue. She figured she’d save someone the extra step. Ryan felt her breathing slowing, wondering if it was happening already. She did her best to relax, settling back against her pillow. The blonde raised a shaky hand, deciding to take one last sip for good luck, but, before she could manage, the world went black.

#tw: suicide #tw: alcohol #tw: mental health #tw: alzheimers #tw: religion #para #falling

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