The man I followed in raises his hand, and the woman with him gives him an encouraging pat on his knee. He introduces himself as Joe. He, too, is an alcoholic. He explains that he had been sober for several months, but then he lost his job and it went all downhill from there. It always starts with one drink, which leads to another, and then another. That’s the difference between me and these people. My life falls apart, but it’s not because of alcohol. I can stop drinking when I need to, and I have. I just have an uncanny talent for bonding myself to the absolutely most needy and self-destructive people I can find.
During the sharing session, Mindy raises her hand. I was hoping she would keep to herself this meeting, but no such luck. She’s never gone to a meeting in town before, but if she’s nervous, it doesn’t show. The idea is that we’re all supposed to be anonymous, but this is a small town and Mindy’s dad is a cop. It’s a big deal for her to be here, which is why she asked me to come with. Hiding her past from our family isn’t conducive to her recovery. I don’t know if Uncle Harry has any suspicions, but after tonight he might get tipped off.
“My name is Melinda, and I am an alcoholic. I’m also an addict, but I like this group better,” she says with a guilty smile on her face. The group welcomes her with kind words. She clears her throat, takes a deep breath, and says, “I have been clean and sober for three years, four months, and nineteen days now. On a good day, it’s easier because I have so many successful clean days behind me. On a bad day, it’s no easier than it was on the day I went to jail. I’m in a good place now and I wanted to just say it out loud that I’m glad I have my best friend back home to support me.” She leans over and wraps me in a side hug. “Holly has always been there for me, and she’s a great friend.”
I try to smile at the room, but I’m afraid it comes out as a grimace.
“Would you like to introduce yourself, Holly?” the speaker asks. I shake my head, but Mindy elbows me in my side.
“My name is Holly, and I am not an alcoholic, but I have plenty of other issues.” The attendees wait for me to continue, and when I don’t, the room is dead silent.
“Welcome, Holly. We’re glad you could join us,” the speaker says. She moves on, talking about how an alcoholic’s support system is so important to their recovery. She praises me for helping Mindy in her journey and mentions step nine: making amends, because in order to be able to truly recover, one must make amends with those they have harmed.
I reach over, grab Mindy’s hand, and give it a squeeze. I have amends to make with Mindy, and being here is part of that.
The meeting moves along more quickly than I expect it to, and soon we’re heading for my car. Mindy walked here after her shift at Universal Grounds. I had to meet her here because I spent the entire day out job hunting. I’ve been back in town a week now and jobs are pretty scarce, but I’ve been diligent in my efforts, so hopefully it pays off soon. As it is, I’m living with my parents again and ready to shoot myself in the face. Mom hasn’t been shy about wanting me to go back to school, and she’s orchestrated a conveniently-scheduled after-church celebration for my return.
I unlock the doors to my old white Jeep, and we climb in. I head for Uncle Harry and Aunt Claire’s house to drop Mindy off. We’re a block from her house when the loud rumble of Harleys become a deafening roar. Mindy covers her ears as Fort Bragg’s resident outlaw bike club rides by. There must be at least five or six of them, and a few even have women on the back of their bikes. The scene takes me back to being in high school and wondering what it’d be like to date a bad boy. That was when I thought only bad boys could be no good for you.
As the bikes fade into the darkness ahead of us, I round the corner and pull into Mindy’s driveway.
“That was brave of you,” I say.
“It was time. I’m tired of hiding who I am,” she says with a sigh. I lean over and engulf her in a tight hug before climbing out of the Jeep. “Gimme an update when you hear back from the high school. I have a good feeling about that job.”
“I will,” I say. She shuts the door and waves me off as I back out onto the street and head for my parents’ house.
Childhood memories of wanting to escape engulf me. A small, pathetic chuckle builds in my throat. It figures that I would end up back here. My parents’ house comes into view at the end of the street. The nearer I get, the less I want to be here.
My voice is quiet and soft when I whisper, “Welcome home, Holly.”
Chapter 1
I STRETCH MY legs out beneath my aging desk and eye the olive-colored rotary phone with great disdain. With a quick look down at the paper with the name GRADY, CHEYENNE in the top left corner, and the student’s personal information below, I blow out a frustrated breath. I’ll give her father one more call before I give up.