I close my eyes and try to remember the last time I slept. The memory hits me like a sucker punch to the gut—lying in bed with Shayna before everything went to hell. The warmth of her next to me. Feeling her legs wrapped around mine.
I was so close. So damn close to having it all.
If she just would have shown up on my doorstep a year from now when maybe I wouldn’t be right smack in the middle of figuring my own shit out. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so scared to screw things up with her and could have let her in from the beginning.
“Carter?” she says. “Carter what are you doing? Are you okay?”
I open my eyes and Shayna is standing next to me. Her face is pale and her lip trembles a little when she says, “Carter? Answer me!”
Her eyes are frantic and searching mine.
My throat feels thick. I try to swallow the guilt bubbling up.
“Carter, are you drunk?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not yet. Thinking about it though.”
“What. The. Hell?” She clips each word in total disbelief. I can’t be sure but I swear she stomps her damn foot when she says it. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be hanging out outside of a bar, Carter. What the hell are you thinking?”
“Shayna, I obviously didn’t expect you to be out here. Just go home.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Carter, I’m not leaving you here,” she slumps down beside me on the curb. “What the hell are you doing?”
I work my jaw back and forth. “It’s been a pretty shit day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong,” she says, her tone biting with sarcasm. “You’re having a bad day so you’re going to go in and drink away your sadness? How has that worked out for you in the past?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look it.”
“I didn’t go inside,” I say, feeling defensive.
“Good. And you’re not going to. Let’s go.” Shayna tugs at my arm, but I don’t budge. “Don’t be an asshole, Carter, I said lets go.”
“I said I haven’t had anything to drink. I can drive myself.”
Shayna shakes her head and laughs.
“Not a chance. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Get your ass up and let’s go.”
I finally look up at her. Her tiny frame shouldn’t be intimidating at all, but the way she is glaring at me, her hands planted firmly on her hips, I figure I should listen before she causes a scene. Plus that, I may be in a bad place right now, but the thought of making her worry makes me feel like a total dick.
“What about my Jeep?” I ask, following her to her car.
“We’ll grab it later.”
“Alright,” I say. I slide into the passenger seat of her tiny hybrid, remembering the first time I was inside her car. All I could think about back then was how badly I wanted to touch her, but legal or not, she was in high school—the timing wasn’t right. Guess that’s a reoccurring theme between her and I.
Shayna backs out of the parking place and heads toward the freeway.
“Where’re we going?” I ask.
“Meetings held at the same place tonight?” she asks.
“Meeting?” I repeat, like it wasn’t obvious.
“Yeah, I’m taking you to a meeting, Carter. What’d you think, we were going to go to Olive Garden and talk about your day over all you can eat salad and breadsticks?”
“That sounds delicious,” I mutter. The last time I ate was almost as long ago as the last time I got a decent night’s sleep.
“Don’t be an idiot. This isn’t a joke.”
It isn’t, and I know that because of the strong pull telling me there may still be a flask with booze in Shayna’s glove box. It’s an ache so strong I almost have to hold own arm down so that I don’t pop it open to find out.
“Sorry to put you out like this,” I say.
“You’re not putting me out,” she says. The panic in her voice that was there outside the bar has smoothed. “Besides, you helped me when I needed it. That’s what friends do, right?”
“Friends,” I repeat back.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I run my hand through my hair and think about where to begin, but all I really want to do is focus on how I don’t want to fucking be friends with this girl.
“Shit went down at work. I may be let go.”
“Ouch,” Shayna says, pulling off the exit toward the school the meetings are held at. “Anything you can do to fix it?”
I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t really know how to. I can put in more time, I guess. But really, I think I just sort of have to wait and see.”
“Does—did you—”
“Nah,” I say. “I wasn’t drinking at work or anything. Basically, I just should have kept better tabs on a flakey clients file than I did. It was my job to.”
“Maybe it’ll work out,” she says. She glances over at me and looks sympathetic.
“I hope so. This is the same firm I had my internship with. They really took a huge chance on me. If they let me go, I have nothing else to add to my resume. Plus, my dad is friends with the senior partner of the firm, so that gets messy.”
“Maybe your dad can put in a good word for you?”
“I don’t think so. I’d rather leave him out of all of this.”
“Gotcha. So, that’s it? Just the job stuff driving you to that shit hole of a bar?”
I purse my lips. “There’s—there are other things on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nope. Not right now.” I glance at the clock on her dash. “Besides, I’ve only got a few minutes before the meeting starts. Got to get inside if I want a good seat, you know.”
Shayna pops her door open.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She rounds the car toward me. “You’re not going in alone, Carter. I’m in this with you.”
***
Inside the building looks exactly as I expected—and not at all.
That doesn’t make sense, but the interior is one-hundred percent what I thought it would look like in my mind—a rectangle made out of folding chairs, a small card table with coffee and what are probably stale pastries. But every time I thought about AA, I’d tell myself that that scene in my mind was way too depressing to be true and I’d try to come up with something better.
It isn’t—better, that is.
“Well, see, I told you we should have hustled to the door,” Carter jokes. He’s trying to play off how totally nervous he is with having me here. “Missed the right hand corner seat, that’s the prime spot.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Easy access to the vending machine.” He points over his shoulder to a door with a pane of glass in the center, that leads to what looks like a teachers’ lounge. “Looks like they even restocked the peanut M&M’s.”
“I see how we’re clearly missing out,” I joke back. It feels a little inappropriate, but I want to do what I can to make Carter as comfortable as possible. I really do want to be there for him. As far as I know, he’s never really had anyone that has been. At least not in the way he truly needs. I’m not talking about a warm body in his bed, I’m sure he’s had more than a few of those. I swallow the prickle of jealousy that comes with the thought. I mean someone that he can let his guard down with—be the recovering alcoholic that he is and not be judged for it. Screw up at work and have someone to vent to when he gets home instead of running to a bar.
“Coffee?” he asks, pointing to the small set up in the corner.
“Nah, I’m okay.”
“Good. Don’t let their fancy creamers fool you. That shit tastes like tar.”
“Should we sit here?” I ask, stopping at the next available seat.
“Yeah, this is good.”
Carter leans in toward me, his voice tickles my ear when he says, “You know you don’t have to do this. I’m okay on my own.”
“That’s the thing,
Carter—you’re not on your own.”
The woman from the parking lot, Carter’s sponsor comes in next.
“Hey, handsome!” she says, walking over to greet him.
Carter straightens up a little when he sees her, and I can’t help but smile at that.
“Good to see you, Jane,” he says.
“And you brought a visitor?” Jane asks. She has kind eyes and smiles at me sincerely. I extend my hand to shake hers, but she grabs it and pulls me in for a hug instead. I blink hard from surprise. I’m not used to this kind of affection.
“This is Shayna,” Carter says. “She’s—”
“His friend,” I say. I don’t know why. I guess I’m trying to make it easier for him in this already stressful place.
Carter looks at me out of the corner of his eye and says, “Someone who means a lot to me.”
Jane clasps my hands in hers. “Well, it’s good to have you here, Shayna.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say. Her eyes wrinkle at the corners when she smiles, but they don’t make her look any older—only kinder.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she says, pulling me in a little closer by my hands. “Carter has never brought anyone to a meeting.” I feel myself swell with a pride that I don’t fully understand. “Thank you for being a good friend to him.”
I take a seat in the maroon padded folding chair and try to relax. It isn’t easy when you’re sitting in a room full of strangers who may be about to confess their darkest secrets. I’m an outsider. There are about thirty other people here who have no idea why I’m here, what my story is, or that I’m just a tagalong that is encroaching on their privacy. And yet, somehow, I feel comfortable enough to reach across and hold Carter’s hand as he takes the seat next to me.
I do it wordlessly. Carter doesn’t look at me that I can tell. He only strokes the top of my hand with his thumb as the speaker begins.
“I’m Randy, and I’m an alcoholic,” a man says from the small podium. I feel like I should cover my ears, like I’m not supposed to be hearing such sacred, privileged things. But the tighter Carter grips my hand, the more I relax. Because I’m here for one reason only, and that reason is holding onto me for dear life. “I’d like to welcome you to tonight’s meeting, and give a special welcome to new attendees.”
What should be an awkward hour or so instead, passes quickly. The speakers are actually quite funny, and there is way more laughter than I expected. I thought it would be a somber affair. Carter whispered to me during one of the speeches that people in AA know how to have a good time—that’s what got them in here in the first place.
And even though we’re in a crowded room, I can’t help but feel like Carter and I are sharing this intimate experience—even more so than out under the stars at the deserted camp site.
“Anyone else who would like to speak before I close the meeting?” Randy asks. He’s wearing an expensive looking dress shirt and nicely tailored pants. He reminds me of my father, which makes me realize even more that anyone could end up in need of one of these meetings. Even the people that you least expect. Normal people with good families and good jobs. Lonely people. Anyone.
“I would,” Carter says. He drops my hand for the first time since the meeting began.
“Do you want to come up, or stay seated?” Randy asks.
Carter sucks in a big breath before saying, “I’ll come up.”
I’m a little surprised that Carter opted to go up in front of everyone, rather than speak from the comfort of his seat, but he pats my leg as he stands and then walks to the podium.
He clears his throat before he begins. “Hi, my name is Carter, and…” he clears it once more and speaks the words clearly. “I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Carter,” everyone in the room replies.
“I’ve been sober now for eighty-four days. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but that’s the longest I can remember not having taken a drink since I was thirteen and I would sneak liquor from my mom’s cabinet. She was out of it so much, she never noticed. It wasn’t a lot at first, but it was always something. Even as a kid I knew that my drinking almost every day was a problem, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have any reason to stop. And I functioned just fine, so I didn’t see a problem with it until much later on. I graduated from high school, got into a good college. I got an internship that many of my friends would have killed for. I got a good job—that if you ask my boss, I did better as a drunk.
But I always had this secret.
And as my sponsor has told me before, we’re only as sick as our secrets. I had a few bad moments, of course. Waking up places I didn’t remember being, finding myself back at my apartment and not knowing how I got there—and realizing that I must have been stupid enough to have driven myself. All of these things started chipping away at what I thought was a manageable thing. But I didn’t ever have that rock bottom, epiphany moment that everyone says you’ll have when you decide it’s finally time to get help.
Until last year.
I went home to be with my family for the holidays, which we all know is stressful as hell. My sister was going through some pretty serious stuff of her own, and I wanted to be there for her like an older brother should. Which is laughable because it’s around that time that I realized how screwed up I was. She didn’t need me preaching to her. It was the first time that I knew for certain that I had a problem. Plain and simple. I couldn’t go more than a day without having a drink.
And as my sponsor has also told me, admitting it to you if the first step. But you still have to have that light bulb moment. That moment came for me on Christmas Eve last year.”
Carter pauses and wets his lips. “Last year, I met a girl.”
The room fills with “ahhh’s” and knowing chuckles. Carter locks eyes with me for a moment but looks away quickly.
“I met a girl who understood me without even realizing it. I met a girl whose presence shook me to my core. Who did all of those clichéd things like make me want to be a better man, just to have a shot with her.
My rock bottom came when I knew that I couldn’t have her. Because this secret—this addiction living in me would take her down with it. My rock bottom came when I had to say good-bye to her that night, even though I wanted to spend that night—and every night after that with her. My rock bottom came with having to speak the words, ‘we can only be friends.’
My throat goes completely dry. I grip the bottom of the metal chair for support. I can’t believe he’s doing this. I can’t believe he’s confessing this in front of everyone. I can’t believe he’s felt all of these things for me for so long. How many texts, how many calls did we exchange and he never said a word.
Both of our lives have been built around keeping secrets. And he’s tearing down that wall right now. I’ve never been so proud of anyone in my life.
“Today wasn’t a good day. Today was the closest I’ve come to taking a drink in eighty four days. But I didn’t. I went to a bar, I admit that. But I never stepped through the door. I sat on the curb outside and thought about how far I’ve come. All I’ve got to lose. Because that’s what it’s all about, right? If I take a drink, that’d be saying that that drink is more important than my job, than my relationships. And really, it just isn’t. So I sat there, thought about calling my sponsor, felt sorry for myself for a while.
It’s been a hard road. I’ve fallen off of it a few times along the way. And even though I had to head the advice from the program and not get involved with anyone serious for a while, I had to focus on what I could do—what my goals were. I had to base my recovery on myself not on someone else—I know that eventually, I want that road to lead back to that girl.”
Carter steps away from the podium and quietly makes his way back to his seat. I glance over at Jane and she’s wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I wish I was doing the same. I wish I had tears, or any clear emotion. Right now, I’m just—stunned.
Randy closes the meeting w
ith everyone joining hands and saying the serenity prayer. We’ve said it at church many times, but this time is different. This time I feel the words in me. This time I hope that God will grant me that serenity. I believe he will.
Afterward, a few people come up to pat Carter on the back, and tell them they were glad to finally hear him tell his story. I can tell by the way his shoulders tense up that he isn’t entirely comfortable.
“You ready to head out? I’m pretty tired,” I say.
Carter smiles with relief, says his goodbyes and clutches my hand once more.
This isn’t perfect.
This is real.
This… is home.
***
“I think you should tell Quinn,” Shayna says. She’s sitting cross-legged on the countertop picking at an English muffin.
“I think… no,” I say, shaking my head.
“She’d understand, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t doubt that she will, but I’m not ready to tell her.”
“Why?”
I blow out a long breath. “If you weren’t so damn beautiful, you’d piss me off with your pushiness.”
I kiss her lightly on the nose. That’s about as far as we’ve gone since the meeting two weeks ago. It’s disappointing, but I understand. Shayna doesn’t want to feel responsible for interfering with my recovery, and I don’t want to push. But I want her. Good God do I want this girl.
Immediately after the meeting where I confessed to her that she was one of the biggest reasons that I joined the program in the first place, she came home with me—and emptied every bit of alcohol in the place down the sink. It was pure torture having it here, but I kept it around for when friends came or Ben was over… and if I’m honest, I kept it just in case I fell off the deep end.
“You shouldn’t have that stuff in your house,” Shayna said. “It’s only tempting you.”
“You’re in my house, too,” I shrugged.
I was trying to be funny. Instead, Shayna took it as a sign that she should give me a little space. So she’s been crashing at Quinn’s and getting settled in town. She got a job as a hostess at the restaurant Quinn works at. She’s really pulling herself together—even if it isn’t together with me. Yet.
Risk the Fall Page 48
