While the attendees finished seating themselves and passed the basket around, Ernie continued. “We’ll start up here tonight, with the youngest member of our group.”
The young man rose. He looked too young to be wrestling with alcoholism. “Hello, my name is Bob,” he said, “and I am an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Bob,” the other members responded in unison.
“As most of you know, I got drunk on my twenty-first birthday and drove into a street light. They had to amputate one of my girlfriend’s legs and she has very little feeling in the other. At first I was pissed off at the court for sending me here, but after six months of sobriety, I realize how screwed up I was.” He sat down.
“Thank you, Bob,” Ernie said. He nodded to a pudgy woman in her mid-fifties. She stood.
“Hello, everybody. My name’s Irma. As you know, I am an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Irma.”
“Since we’ve got guests, I’ll spare you my whining so they might have a little extra time if they need it.”
“Thank goodness,” somebody mumbled, just as the collection plate arrived at Jean. It appeared as if most attendees had dropped in a buck or two. She reached in her purse and found her only two bills: a five spot and a one. Her financial condition was such that she couldn’t afford anything, but her psychological condition was such that her self-imposed price was everything she had. She plunked in the full six bucks.
Then, it was the turn of the fellow next to her, a middle-aged gentleman with a nice mustache. “Hello, my name is Myles,” he said. He spoke more softly than the others. “And I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Myles.”
Myles held up what looked like a large token. “I’m pleased to say I’ve finally made the six-year plateau. Just got my chip this morning.” The crowd applauded and actually cheered.
Ernie looked right at Jean. “Myles is one of our stars. He coaches anybody who needs it and helps wherever he can. He’s even pulled a couple all-nighters when some of us fell off the wagon.”
“Speak for yourself,” the Hispanic guy said.
Ernie chuckled, nodded. “Especially me,” he said. “Anyway, Myles is a good friend to us all.”
Jean smiled at the man. He had dark hair, was just a smidgen under six feet tall and seemed to be in fairly good shape. He wore no wedding ring.
Myles took his seat and it was Jean’s turn to stand. Public speaking wasn’t her strength, but Stump’s wounds lent her courage. “Hello, my name is Jean and I’m-” She paused as her mind chewed on what she was supposed to say next. She’d always avoided ascribing the “A” word to herself. Seconds passed as Jean scanned the room of understanding faces. She recalled what Ernie had said just minutes earlier about everybody having been there. A chill chased itself up her back and forced a gusher of tears to burst from her reddened eyes, “and, I’m an alcoholic,” she whimpered, and then buried her head in her hands.
Myles sprang to his feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as the chorus in the background repeated their obligatory line. “Hi, Jean.”
“You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to,” Myles reassured her.
The comforting tone in their collective voices gave Jean pause. She had to be honest for a change. No more misleading. No more half-truths, no more denial. She sniffled. “Thank you, but I’ve got to do this.” She let Myles go and addressed the others. “I’m a single mom, with a wonderful son who has forgiven my drunken behavior more times than I can count. I’ve done everything wrong, but most of all I deeply regret what I’ve done to Stump, the one person I could always count on. On top of everything else, I’ve lost my driver’s license and spent a month in jail. But today was the worst day of them all. My wonderful son got in a stupid fight because of me. Because I embarrassed us both. Again. Now I don’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive me. I’m so, so sorry for what I did to my sister and my precious son. They’re the only people I have, but I’ve disappointed them over and over again.” She shook her head visciously. ”But not anymore. Not anymore.” She buried her face in her hands and eased back into her chair. She pulled a crumpled-up hanky from her purse. “Not anymore.”
Myles scooted closer and patted her arm. “It will get better,” he whispered.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Why bother? I’m fed up with her crap.”
Aunt Gerry rolled her eyes like she always did when Stump employed colorful language. He was fed up with that too, but this wasn’t the time to fight that battle.
The previous night, after providing a tasty Stump dinner to a riverful of mosquitoes, Stump waggled his battered self over to Cousin Willie’s place. After he got cleaned up, Aunt Gerry wanted to take him to get stitches in his lip, but he refused. Refused to go home too, and school in the morning. They would just expel him anyway.
Uncle Dirk pulled into the driveway with Stump’s mom in the car. Obviously, neither of them went to work either. Stump glared at his aunt. She must have set him up.
“I apologize, Honey. I know you’re upset, but you and your mother need to talk things out.”
“No way. She’s a liar.”
“We won’t be back for a couple of hours,” Aunt Gerry said, as she patted Stump on the back. “Give her another chance.”
“Don’t matter to me none,” Stump said. “I ain’t talking to her no more.”
Outside, after a brief powwow, his aunt and uncle drove off. His mom stepped inside and sat across from him in the living room. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve changed.”
Yeah, right. He went into the bathroom and hung around for a while before she knocked. “Honey, we really need to talk.” He returned to the living room but said nothing.
“I went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting last night.”
He yawned.
“Would it help if I told you about your dad?”
No matter the topic, her explaining and excuses held no more value to him than one giant burp. He blew over to the other side of the room and out the front door. Didn’t care what she said or if she tried to follow. There was no way she could keep up. He’d go back to the ditch until school let out.
* * *
“Dude. Your lip looks like shit,” Richard said.
“It’s worse on the inside.” Stump rubbed his cheek.
“Everybody’s talking about you. Pretty damn tough considering Phillip is older and bigger.”
“Screw ‘em all. I don’t care what they think.” He ran his tongue over the swollen gash inside his mouth. Damn thing hurt. “Thanks for helping out,” he said. “I couldn’t breathe or fight anymore.”
“What about your mom? You talk to her?”
“I’m done with her, too. I threw Phillip’s phone at her.” He licked his wound again. “Thanks for getting that phone for me.”
“No sweat. Everybody will get bored with the pictures and be talking about something else in no time.”
“I may not have been able to stop everybody from forwarding those pictures but at least a few people learned there are consequences when they do shit like that.”
“Hey, my old man is out of town. Why don’t you stay over here, tonight? My mom won’t care.”
Stump shrugged. “I guess so. At least that will give Mom something to think about.”
“We could lift weights or invite Terry Devine over. I hear she’s easy. We might both get laid.”
“Naw. That wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not? You want to get laid, don’t you?”
“Not like that.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re saving yourself for your wife or something noble like that, huh?”
“Not really. It’s just that I was thinking about going to a meeting. You remember that guy at the drug store? He’s talking about motorcycles at the school in a little while.”
“Oh yeah, I remember him,” Richard said nodding his head. “He was alright.”
This time, they could walk the whole way.
They hadn’t known each other real long but Richard had already become Stump’s first best friend—other than Willie, but Willie was forced on him and probably wouldn’t be a friend at all if it weren’t for that—and not in the shallow way the girls threw around the BFF label. Richard’s friendship was real. They stuck up for each other. They went places together, like motorcycle meetings.
A bunch of older guys were already at the meeting when they arrived. The biker shook their hands. “I thought I might see you guys here.” He pointed at Stump’s lip. “A girl hit ya?”
Stump would’ve rather avoided the conversation, but Richard leaned in. “He got in a fight.”
Stump glared at Richard, then back to the biker. “Should I call you Mac or something else?”
“You guys are my friends. Call me Mac.”
“What are we going to talk about?” Richard probed.
“I had some old pictures converted into a power point presentation. I thought we’d talk about them.”
“Is Annie in there?” Stump asked.
Mac grinned. “You remember my bike’s name. I’m impressed. Actually, I’ve had several Annies over the years. Most of them indigo.”
“A rainbow color,” Stump said.
Mac smiled. “Did you know that all rainbows have the exact same colors in the exact same order?”
“Yeah. I knew it.”
“I call b.s.,” Richard said. “You didn’t know that.”
Stump rolled his eyes. “Roy G. Biv, Dude. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. Don’t you pay any attention in art class?”
“I’ll be talking about quite a few bikes,” Mac said. “Not just mine. They’re all awesome.” He pointed toward the seating area. “Let’s get started.”
As Stump and Richard slid in a row, Mac took to the front of the room. “Before we begin,” he said, “I promised I’d mention the upcoming football game. As you know, our Bulldogs need to win. I hope to see all of you there.”
Somebody behind Stump tapped him on the shoulder. “Way to go.” Stump nodded. The respect was welcome, but he’d gladly trade it for a normal family.
An hour later, after the meeting, he and Richard filed out with the others. He was glad to have had something else to think about besides his mom. “That wasn’t bad,” Richard said as they walked back to his place. “I’d like to ride the open road like that someday.”
“It seemed kinda lonely to me.”
“Lonely? That guy’s met tons of people.”
“But they were all strangers. He didn’t have any good friends.”
“Everybody is a stranger until you get to know them.”
“If you’re always leaving people behind and looking for new people, you never really have a permanent friend—like you and me.”
Richard’s lip curled up. “I see what you mean. Hey, I’ve got some Red Bull and some Viagra that I stole from my grandpa.”
Stump chuckled and smacked Richard’s arm. “Boner pills? Why’d you do that?”
“Would you rather be a Little Richard or a Big Dick?” A monster grin filled his face.
Stump shook his head. “You’re a Big Dick, alright. I know what we can do.” He reached inside his shirt and retrieved a bottle of vodka. “Get drunk.”
Chapter Forty
The sky may have been bright and clear but Jean’s spirits were dark and muddied. She lit a cigarette and sucked the first drag deep into her lungs. Having just left work she wished she hadn’t agreed to meet Myles, but there he was, out in the parking lot waiting for her just like he said he’d be.
He seemed nice enough at the AA meeting the previous night, and his offer to lend her a non-judgmental ear was comforting at the time, but now that the moment for their get-together had arrived she realized she really didn’t know anything about him and that was the same way a fair number of her previous problems had begun.
But one thing was different. Myles said he knew where they could get a great slice of pie and that was a lot safer than going to a bar. She hesitantly proceeded in his direction.
Second thoughts, third thoughts and fourth ones filled her head as she drew closer. She would have changed her mind entirely if it weren’t for Ernie Evers’s special endorsement of Myles. She sucked in another drag from her cig. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” she said as she blew it out.
“Rough day?” Myles asked while she was still ten feet away.
“Awful, but I don’t want to dump my problems on you.”
Not surprisingly Myles opened her car door. Before piling into the cab she flipped her cig onto the pavement, which was yet another reminder of Stump. He was constantly on her back about her smoking.
While Jean buckled up, Myles scooted around to the other side of the truck and climbed in. “I’m glad you came. A lot of alcoholics can never face their demons.”
“I have to do something different. Everything’s going wrong. My son won’t talk to me. I’m too distracted to help my sister with her marriage. I can’t concentrate on my work. Can’t afford to take any more days off. And I’m smoking more than ever. How’s that for starters?”
“That’s a pretty good list, alright,” he said nodding his head, “but I’m betting that a piece of pie will make you feel better.”
“Doubt it.” She turned her head toward the rider’s window. “I’m just a damn loser.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Jean, I think you might be too close to the forest to see the trees.” His tone was soft and understanding.
“Stump has never ignored me like this before.”
“Well, I don’t know exactly what prompted him to fight for you, but I’m guessing he was so upset he had to do something that matched his frustration level.”
“He must be so ashamed,” she said, holding back a fresh batch of tears.
A couple of quiet minutes passed before they reached a cute little café. After they were seated Myles ordered them each a cup of coffee and a slice of Xtra-Flakey Dutch Apple pie. That done, he examined his fork. “I know how you feel. Believe me. I’ve been there too. It’s painful for both of you, but I think he’ll forgive you if he sees progress that he can rely upon.”
She spun her head back and forth. “Not this time. He’s reached his limit.”
“It won’t be easy, but I think he’ll come around.”
“What makes you say that? You haven’t even met him.”
“Don’t need to. Didn’t you say the fight was at school?”
“Yeah? So?”
“There had to be lots of older kids around. Friends of the other guy. If Stump didn’t care about you any longer, why would he subject himself to the danger of their ganging up on him?”
Jean tilted her head.
“He still loves you. I’m sure of it. He’s just frustrated because he can’t help.” Myles sawed off a forkful of his new slice of pie. “He obviously thought you were worth fighting for. Is the feeling mutual? Do you think a son who would do all of that for his troubled mom is worth fighting for, too?”
It was just a rhetorical question, but he made a good point. She’d die for Stump if she had to.
“Then you’ve got to get everything out in the open. Be one-hundred percent honest with both yourself and with him. Show him that you understand what the problem is and that you’re beating down your demons one at a time. Show him that you’re determined to change your life forever, for both of your sakes. Once you do that, and prove it’s a long-term commitment, he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”
Myles’s clear head was exactly what she needed. “Is that what you did with your family?”
“Should have,” he said, shaking his head. “I was married to a sweet woman and I let bourbon ruin everything. I had a very bad habit of dropping by the neighborhood bar and getting wasted and buying everybody a round. I blew way too much money that I should have used to create a family. I said hurtful things. Even blamed her for my drinking. It was all my fault.”
The fa
ct that he took full responsibility for destroying his marriage made it easy to believe him. If she approached her own situation the same way, maybe Stump would believe her. “Apparently you made a nice recovery. What do you do, now? For work I mean.”
Myles chuckled. “Sorry. I guess I never really told you who I am. I’m a detective; I specialize in burglaries and fraud, and counterfeit items. I work out of L.A.”
“Forty minutes each way? That must get old.”
“Not really. It gives me time to myself.”
“Why not work in Palmdale? We must have detectives here, too.”
“Size matters,” he said. “L.A. has a lot more resources. Pays better too. Don’t get me wrong—small towns have their benefits, especially in the twilight years when we want to take it slower, but for now I like the bigger department.”
“You must have a girlfriend?”
“Not really, but just to get the other questions out of the way,” he said, grinning, “I’m thirty-seven. I moved to Palmdale six years ago to get a fresh start. I like the 49ers, and of course,” he pointed his fork at his plate, “apple pie.”
Jean smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the third degree.”
“No problem. I use the club to keep me busy in the evenings, when I’m more likely to feel temptation. I’ve never felt better.”
“I hope I can get my act together like that.”
“You’re not alone. There are twenty million alcoholics in the country; at least five million are women. The good news is you’re one of the few who found a way to do something about it.”
Myles’s comments made Jean feel like she wasn’t such a horrible person after all.
“One thing that most of the more successful members have in common is that we realized we had to face the whole truth. Confess everything. Admit we needed help. You’re in the same boat. Now you’ve got a chance to save a sinking ship. It’ll probably be tough for a while. You just have to be honest about what your problem is. Prove to your boy that you’re both worth the effort. He’ll get the message.”