Tribulation [h.s]

09

I suck in a breath and shrug my shoulders. "I've been alright. Life's been a little crazy." Crazy is an understatement.

He nods along to my words, his eyes studying my appearance. "Staying out of trouble?"

I offer a thin-lipped smile. "As best as I can."

Richard is an older man with gentle eyes and an easy-going smile. It's only been a few months since I've last seen him, but his hair is greyer than I last remember it being. He raises a bronze chip in the air and holds it up for me to see. "To six months."

The room erupts with a round of applause, and I remain seated for most of it with my arms crossed. I don't like it here. Richard's smile never falters, though, even when the clapping stops. He genuinely looks happy for me, and maybe deep down he is.

So, sighing, I stand and walk down the aisle until I reach the podium. I grab the chip from his hand, muttering, "to six months."

"Would you like to say anything?

I look out to the room full of people and see dozens of new faces. Makes sense. I don't go to these meetings much anymore. I only come every few months to collect a chip I could care less about before leaving.

When did I become so cold? So indifferent?

I don't particularly like crowds or standing before them, but I remember that I didn't say anything on my last visit or the visit before that either. I just walked out, but I'm suddenly feeling a little cryptic and poetic even.

I walk up to the microphone, shoving my cold hands in my coat pocket, fingers playing with my new coin. "F.E.A.R." I glance over the crowd one last time before stepping down and walking down the aisle that leads to the back door.

In recovery, an addict will face the demons that they created during their times of self-medication. In recovery, addicts hear lots of corny, eye-rolling saying that are supposed to make them feel better and lessen the weight of their failures and guilt. I personally despised them, but there was this one rather blunt acronym that I rather liked.

F.E.A.R

Fuck Everything And Run.

For me, this means the second temptation kicks in, run for the hills. I'm good at running, so I guess that's why that acronym stuck with me.

"Allie!" I had just reached the bottom steps when I heard a familiar old voice calling my name. Richard quickly makes his way down to meet me. "Allie," he says again, breathing a bit heavier this time. It's colder today than it usually is for early October; so cold that when I exhale, I can see a puff of white air, and my teeth start chattering. I don't mind. I've always preferred the colder months.  "Hey, I'm worried about you. Seriously, are you okay?

"Yeah," I kick a small pebble on the sidewalk. "I'm fine. Why are you asking?"

"You just," he pauses, looking for the nicest possible response. I appreciate it, but he doesn't need to sugarcoat anything. He knows I hate that. "You look a little rough around the edges, kid."

I raise a brow. "Are you trying to ask me if I relapsed?"

He grants me a crooked smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm fine, Richard. I've just had a lot to deal with the last few months. Maggie's been struggling in school; I lost one of my jobs and just quit the other one because-"

"You lost your job?" Richard's eyes go wide. "And quit the other one? Oh, wow, that's uh a lot... A lot of stress and triggers, and-"

"Richard, I'm fine. I swear. Extremely well. I made six hundred dollars just in just tips the first night. I almost cried. I got a new job, and it pays well."