Swell (28 page)

I’d chosen simple jeans and a white t-shirt for this moment — a young person’s pure fashion statement, un-muddled by logos, jewelry, and other crap. I wore no makeup, and my hair was tied back with a blue rubber band from a bundle of carrots. I was ready to start over.

Everyone out front looked older, and I worried that this wasn’t the right meeting for me. If I waited a few days I would be able to find one that was. But this was only my fear trying to talk me out of going to A.A.

My legs felt held back by ropes as I took each step toward the building. The pulling on my body was so strong I almost turned around and allowed it to take me somewhere else. Even if that was just around the corner, where I could sit until it was time for my dad to get me.

If I didn’t go to this meeting, I would have to try again the next day. If that didn’t work out, there would be the day after that. Then there’d be too many days of sitting on the curb without moving forward. That simply didn’t gel with what I needed to do.

I moved through the diverse group and stepped inside the doorway. It looked like an old office, with brown and gray flecked linoleum floors and spartan white walls. Rows of folding chairs made their way from front to back, and a podium stood at attention before all of them.

Some people were already sitting in their chairs, holding cups of coffee or bottles of water. They talked amongst themselves, only glancing up to see who entered the room. I shuffled over to a side table, poured a cup of water and took a seat one row from the back.

The girls with fancy purses sat in front of me, laughing and chattering about makeup. The blond turned around and looked at me. A soft grin, coated in lipstick appeared on her face as she gave me her manicured hand.

“I’m Katie. You new?”

I shook my head. “Yes. I’m Beck… Rebecca.” Stating my proper name would take time.

The other girl, a brunette with a heart-shaped face, also gave me a smile and her pretty hand. “I’m DeAun.”

I looked at my hand after shaking both of theirs and saw the dirt that had made a home in my fingerprints. Patches of dry skin dotted my knuckles, my fingernails naked and torn at the corners.

More people came inside and found seats. Knowing that the girls in front of me were friendly helped me feel better about being there. A large older man with curly gray hair and thick glasses came to the podium and called the room to order. He began a prayer and most everyone bowed their heads, me included. I hadn’t known this was going to be a church experience.

The man finished the prayer and shot a big smile to the room. “Good evening. I’m Ted, a recovering alcoholic.” Everyone said Hi Ted, and I wanted to laugh at how synchronistic it sounded.

“We’re going to take a look at
The Big Book
. I think you’ll find that one of the most important steps…” Ted moved his hands a lot when he spoke, his eyes growing brighter as he swept through the words. He talked of being honest with ourselves and with somebody else in order to live a long, happy life in the world. This “somebody” was supposed to be a sober person who’d been through it all and could demonstrate the ability to overcome problems not unlike my own.
The step itself, although simple, hit me like a boulder between the eyes, heaving into my shoulders with understanding.

We also needed to find a sponsor. Someone who had been through the trenches like us and had overcome their problems, managing to stay sober despite the constant temptation. If I could ever find such a person, it would be at this meeting.

Ted finished his talk and suggested we give a few minutes of our time to share our stories with the members. A chill went through my body when I thought I’d get called on. I didn’t know they did that, otherwise I really would have sat on the corner instead of attending the meeting. To my surprise, Ted did not call on anyone, but allowed people to come forward on their own.

A beautiful woman with long, dark hair went first. “I’m Kerry, and I’m an alcoholic.” Her clothes were new and her body curvy and delectable. I was sure all the men liked her. But her words told another story as she recalled being a drinker since she was 15. Kerry had been in rehab five times and in the hospital many more from black-out injuries. She said her last visit was for alcohol poisoning. I had no idea there was such a thing.

A few more people shared their stories while I squirmed with doubt about whether I wanted to do the same. There was a strong urge to talk, like the entire room was my confessional and I’d better open up before the priest went home for the night. If I didn’t talk tonight, I could always talk tomorrow. That brought a little comfort, but didn’t take away the craving to speak.

I thought about Jesse, wondering what he would do if he knew I was here. He’d seemed hell-bent on my getting help in some way. His dad had died after driving drunk, and deep down my drinking hit a nerve that was strong and resilient in his soul. Suddenly, I wished he was with me, and prayed very hard to God that if He could give me the strength to tell my story, that I would tell Jesse how I really felt about him.

It was more than liking him. Even more than the friendship he offered along with silly anecdotes to brighten my lousy days. It was that Jesse showed he cared about me in the little things, like touching me with only the most tender fingers when I was broken. The way he brought me a single piece of fancy candy because the sweetest things should be savored in small steps. And how his body never asked for more than I was ready to give.

Yes, I would tell him my feelings. I would, and I vowed that I’d follow-through with it. My body began to relax as the meeting progressed, starting at my toes and rising through my torso, up to my shoulders and into my eyes. I felt like I was drifting in a dream state as the sharing session switched to the next person.

Ted pointed to the back of the room. I hadn’t bothered to turn around and look at who was behind me, for fear of violating an unspoken rule.

The male voice was low and husky, quiet and humble. It started slow and picked up steam. My ears caught the rhythm and inflection. The hairs stood up on my neck.

“My name is Jesse, and I’m a recovering alcoholic.”

Jesse? My Jesse? At my first A.A. meeting? He was an alcoholic? I froze, afraid that he’d been behind me the whole time and knew it was me. But the back of my head looked like anyone else’s, and because I was dressed down maybe he just assumed I was another newbie on the horizon of a breakthrough.

“I’ve been sober for 541 days. The last time I drank, I woke up in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. They’d found me face down in my vomit. I wasn’t breathing. They pumped my stomach and told me I was lucky to be alive.

“My dad was an alcoholic, so I had booze in the house all the time, got curious about it, and liked it a lot.

“After my mom left my dad, he died while driving drunk. I needed something to fill me.

“I spent a lot of time in treatment centers where they had A.A. meetings. It’s given me back my life, and brought some beautiful new people into my world.” He stopped there and a couple of members clapped. I wondered if he was thinking of me as one of those beautiful people.

I wanted to run to Jesse and throw my arms around his broad shoulders. He was here! He was like me. Instead, I found my arm rising above my head.

A voice came from inside me that I didn’t recognize. It was soft, subtle, and determined, and it knew that I would be revealed not just to Jesse, but also everyone in the room, including myself.

“My… my name is Rebecca, and I’m an alcoholic.” I could feel the electricity coming from behind as Jesse became aware of my presence.

“I’ve lost just about everything. I was drugged while drunk, kidnapped… and almost...” It hurt to say it, so I didn’t. Even if the room had been empty, I’d still have felt like a piece of canvas being ripped open with a hunting knife.

“My boyfriend died in a car accident after drinking. I was in the car, too. We used to spend a lot of time drinking together.

“I tried to stop after he died, but a few days ago I woke up on the golf course after a black-out.

“But it hasn’t been all bad. Because I’ve met some beautiful people, too.” I paused to take a breath, but the words stopped pouring out. I was done.

My eyes narrowed and my body cringed, as if I was waiting for the repercussion from my speech. I was sure somebody in the room was judging me, thinking I was bad, hating me for being so stupid at a young age. I allowed my sight to survey the eyes that offered understanding and hope. There wasn’t one person who didn’t clap.

It could’ve been the overwhelming feeling of relief for having said my piece. Or it was the lightheaded joy that crossed my brow and threatened to bring me to the floor if I didn’t take a breath. But when I felt his hands on my shoulders, I knew my prayers had been answered.

Jesse wrapped his arms around my body and buried his face in my shoulder. His hot tears pooled against my neck as I stroked his hair. The clapping stopped, and the sharing continued, but for me and Jesse the celebration kept going, sounding like magical church bells in the solitude of a midnight service.
He held me until the meeting ended.

My lips quivered. “I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t know at all. About you.”

He rubbed and kissed my hands. “I didn’t know if you’d ever come to one of these meetings. Talk about a small world.”

For a moment I thought about keeping my vow to God silent. There would be another time to tell Jesse how I felt. However, if I’d used that same excuse to not attend the meeting, I wouldn’t have known the truth, nor would I have started down the road to recovery. Tonight was all about telling it how it was.

I lead Jesse outside, through the cigarette smoke and smell of coffee, to the steps of the next office over.

Taking both of his hands, I faced him. His head turned to one side like a little boy, wondering what surprise he was in for. He grinned.

“We have a lot in common… more than you probably thought.”

I rolled my fingers across his palms. “I was so scared of this.”

“Of admitting you’re an alcoholic? It happens, Rebecca.”

My toes tingled and I tapped my shoes lightly on the sidewalk. “No… of admitting more than that.”

“Like what?”

I felt my control slipping, my hand squeezing his.

He squeezed my hand back and smiled. “You can tell me anything.”

I looked up into his face, my eyes brimming with tears. “Like I’m falling in love with you, Jesse. I love you.”

The warmest brown eyes I’d ever seen shined deep inside of me, erasing the darkness in my heart. Jesse sighed, picked me up by the waist, and swung me around.

“That happens, too,” he smiled.

Chapter 30

I’d waited half a year to make this journey.

I kept my hand in my pocket as I shuffled along the sidewalk. The grass on either side was greener than emeralds and well-maintained. The sun was extra-bright, and I squinted as I tried to find the exact location.

The fact that I was also looking through tears didn’t help.

They’d given me a map, but I’d never been good at following directions, let alone rules and guidelines. Ever the rebel, I still wanted to find my own way and knew I could do it.

It’d been five months since I went to my first A.A. meeting. Each day was new, with fresh challenges and frustrations that tested my patience and determination to succeed as a sober person. Without my sponsor… my friend, my love… I wouldn’t have come even this far. Jesse was my rock.

He wasn’t with me today. It had been my request to come here alone, although he insisted I borrow his car. The CD played the moment I’d started the dirty brown hatchback, and out of the speakers floated our song. It melted my heart every time I heard it. And I was amazed, that after all these months, he still knew exactly what song to play for me.

I was here for someone else I loved… and still loved. The feel, the taste, the smell of Christian was mine any time I wanted it. All I had to do was select from the many mementos I’d collected after he died. I’d stopped sleeping with the toga sheet, but never washed it before it found a home in my collection.

Even more vast than the collection were the memories stored in my head. Some of them were fuzzy, but the ones that were clear felt pressed against my brain for all eternity. Just in case I forgot any of them, I’d started a journal, writing down each recollection as it popped up.

For a time I felt guilty about my obsessive behavior because of Jesse. I questioned my actions, and thought that I should be all-or-nothing with him. Only when I found out that Jesse had his own box of memories of his dad, and when David explained the grieving process to me, did I understand that what I was doing was normal.

As I continued down the concrete path, I recalled nothing but beautiful things about Christian. Like the first time we danced after he plucked me from the crowd. Our first kiss. The times spent in each other’s sweat-moistened arms, reluctant to part ways for just one night. Yes, we’d been drunk most of the time, but in retrospect that was a big part of why I was here today. I’d learned to be my own person, wiser from the tragedy and able to go forward. From the ashes rises the Phoenix. It was just too bad that there couldn’t be two of them.