Bay City Runaway

Chapter 19

(2007)

I was standing outside the church, smoking a cigarette, and once again, George showed up in his sweatshirt and jeans. I felt a surge of gratitude for him. Knowing I could call him had kept me sober for these few days. As he shook my hand, he looked me steadily in the eye with his grey-blue eyes as if he had nothing to hide. I had to look away.

"How are you coming along?" he said.

"Actually, I feel pretty good. Staying sober."

"That's great, James. A lot of guys feel good right off the bat...for a little while at least. This is not the time to let your guard down. This is a devil of a disease, something you must take one day at a time."

"To be honest, I'm not even sure I have a problem. I feel like this should be harder."

"You're really the only one who can answer that, but can I ask you something? What made you come to the meeting yesterday?"

"I'd just gotten out of the hospital--overdose--but it was an accident."

"How's your job going?"

"Well, I'm kind of between jobs?"

"And why is that?"

I was beginning to see where he was going, but I went on.

"My performance has been pretty lousy lately, but I don't see how it's related to my drinking. It's not like I was drinking during work hours."

He nodded and said, "I see. Do you sleep well?"

"Well, I did--when I was drinking. It's not going so well since I quit."

"I see," he said, nodding again. "What's the longest you've been without having a drink?"

I thought back over the years. I'd given it up for a week or two a couple of times after Laura and I had fights over it.

"Not long," I said.

"Do you ever drink more than you intended too? Don't answer that; I already know the answer. What about your family and friends? Has anyone you're close to expressed concern about your drinking? Do you sometimes get the shakes in the morning? Did the relief you used to get from alcohol get harder and harder to find?"

"Ok, ok," I said. "Maybe you have a point."

"One more question. Is there a hole in your life that you just can't seem to fill no matter how much you drink?"

The question took me off guard. I thought of all the nights feeling alone whether there was someone there or not. The suffering. The loss. The grief. I just couldn't seem to make it go away anymore. What I was running away from, wasn't that a gigantic hole in my heart?

"It's a lot to think about, I know," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. "And there's no rush. You'll have plenty of time to work this out. Right now, let's get you to a meeting," he said, opening the front door to the church.

The meeting was comprised of many of the same people. There was coffee brewed. I poured a cup for myself and sat in a plastic chair already set up in the circle. We said the Serenity Prayer and introduced ourselves. This time the chair was a woman in her mid-fifties, I surmised. Her hair was gray and feathered back into a bit of a mullet. She raised her eyebrows as she surveyed the people in the circle.

"Jess, alcoholic," she said routinely.

"Hey, Jess," said everyone in the circle.

"Today, we're going to talk about the first step. We have beginners, and it seems like a good time to get back into it. Let's begin by reading it together."