Once in a Lifetime(3)

His eyes were warm and sympathetic. The opposite, she couldn’t help but note, of the way Ben’s had been.

“We all have rough patches,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s all me. I just need to stop making the same mistakes over and over.” She took another peek into the night. The coast seemed clear. “Okay, I’m out. I’m going home to have the stiff drink I missed out on earlier at the bar.”

“What’s your name?” Pastor Mike asked.

She considered lying, but didn’t want to further tempt fate—or God, or whoever was in charge of such things. “Aubrey.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Aubrey,” he said very kindly, managing to sound gentle and in charge at the same time. “You’re in a good place here.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply before he’d gently nudged her into a meeting room where about ten people were seated in a circle.

A woman was standing, wringing her hands. “My name’s Kathy,” she said to the group, “and it’s been an hour since I last craved a drink.”

The entire group said in unison, “Hi, Kathy.”

An AA meeting, Aubrey realized, swallowing what would have been a half-hysterical laugh as Pastor Mike gestured to a few empty chairs. He sat next to her and handed her a pamphlet. One glance told her it was a list of the twelve steps to recovery.

Step one: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.



Oh, boy. Aubrey could probably get on board with the unmanageable life part, but really, what was she doing here? What would she possibly say to these people if she were asked to speak? Hi, my name is Aubrey, and I’m a bitchaholic?

Kathy began to speak about step eight, about how she was making a list of the people she’d wronged and making amends. After she finished and sat down, a man stood. Ryan, he told them. Ryan talked about something called his fearless moral inventory and how he, too, was working on step eight, making amends to the people he’d wronged.

Aubrey bit her lip. She’d never taken a fearless moral inventory, but it sounded daunting. Nor did she have a list of people she’d wronged, but if she did, it would be long. Horrifyingly long.

Ryan continued to talk with heartbreaking earnestness, and somehow, in spite of herself, she couldn’t help but soak it all in, unbearably moved by his bravery. He’d come back from a military stint overseas angry and withdrawn and had driven his family away. He’d lost his job, his home, everything, until he’d found himself homeless on the street, begging strangers for money to buy booze. He spoke of how much he regretted hurting the people in his life and how he hadn’t been able to obtain forgiveness from them. At least not yet, but he was still trying.

Aubrey found herself truly listening and marveling at his courage. She didn’t even realize that she was so transfixed until Mike gently patted her hand. “You see?” he asked quietly. “It’s never too late.”

Aubrey stared at him, wondering if that could really be true. “You don’t know for sure.”

“I do.” He said this with such conviction that she had no choice but to believe.

She thought about that as the meeting ended and she walked home to her loft above the Book & Bean. Her aunt Gwen had run the bookstore until her death last year, and her uncle—the building’s owner—hadn’t been able to bring himself to lease the space to anyone else. He was dating someone new these days, but the bookstore was still very sentimental to him.

Then, last month, Aubrey had left her job at the town hall after what she referred to as the Ted Incident. Restless, needing more from her life but not sure what, she’d signed a lease, both as an homage to her aunt Gwen—the bookstore had been a refuge for Aubrey as a troubled teen—and because she was determined to bring the bookstore back to its former glory.

The Book & Bean had been unofficially open for a week now, so it could start bringing in some desperately needed income, and in a month—after some renovations—she had plans to celebrate with a big grand opening party.



She was working on that.

And maybe she should be working on other things as well, such as her karma. That was heavy on her mind now after the AA meeting. Hearing people’s problems and how they were trying to change things up for themselves had been extremely intimate and extremely uncomfortable—and yet somehow inspiring at the same time. She wasn’t an alcoholic, but she had to admit the whole step eight thing had really intrigued her.

Could it be as easy as that, as making a list? Checking it twice? Trying to find out if she could pass on naughty and move on to nice?

Skipping the front entrance of the bookstore, she walked around to the back of the building and let herself in without turning on any lights. Inside, she headed up the narrow stairs to the loft.

Meow.

She flipped on a light and eyed Gus, an old, overweight gray cat who thought he was king of the mountain. She’d inherited him with the store. She knew nothing about cats, and in return, he acted like he knew nothing about humans, so they were even. “Hey,” she said. “How was your evening?”

Gus turned around and presented her with his back.

“You know,” she said, “I understand that some cats actually greet their people when they come home.”