The Art of Losing(50)
I questioned whether he actually wanted me there, but tried to shake it off. If he didn’t want me to come, he wouldn’t have said yes. That was a mantra I’d had to adopt with Mike after he snapped at me for asking him one too many times if he was sure he wanted me at one of his friend’s parties. So I ignored the hollow feeling in my chest that I would normally have filled with doubt and followed Raf to the car.
When we pulled into the church parking lot, I looked at Raf, my mouth open.
“This is where the meeting is?” I said. “I went to preschool here!”
Raf laughed at my surprise.
“I never knew there were AA meetings here.”
“This church holds so many suburban secrets,” he said with a smile.
He slowed and waved to a man in his twenties, a good-looking guy with dark skin and a small frown on his full lips. He was on his way out. Raf eyed him with concern. The guy only nodded back, not stopping his determined stride. Looked like he wouldn’t be attending.
Several people were hanging out front, including Cajun, Dave, Arjun, Tina, and a few others I recognized from the party. Raf stopped to smoke a cigarette with them before going inside. Not only were they happy to see him, but they seemed happy to see me, too.
“Hey there, hustler,” Dave said with a smile.
“You liked us so much you became an alcoholic?” Cajun added, giving me a side hug that squeezed me up against his belly.
“No, I just needed to feel better about myself, so I figured I’d come hang out with you.”
That got a half-laugh, half-groan from the group. I felt a flicker of relief that they didn’t take it as an insult. Sometimes my sarcasm didn’t come across as good-natured. Audrey had gotten her feelings hurt more times than I could count.
After putting their cigarette butts into a bucket of sand, the group led the way through a basement door and into the fluorescent light of a hallway. It looked the same as it had when I went there as a toddler: like an elementary school, with children’s artwork lining the walls, the only difference being that the curriculum here was Jesus.
I followed them into one of the classrooms, where a circle of folding chairs was set up. Nearly every seat was filled, with a few people lingering by the coffee machine.
I’d been expecting something more formal, like rows of chairs lined up facing a podium and a silver carafe of coffee at the back. There were more people than I’d expected, too, some older than the people I’d met, but also a girl who looked no older than fourteen. She had the pale skin and dark circles under her eyes of a new mother. Or a drug addict. Maybe both.
When I heard Raf sigh in relief, I followed his eyes. The guy from the parking lot was back. He took the folding chair next to me, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand. A glob of non-dairy creamer floated along the top, resisting his attempts to break it up with his plastic stirrer.
“Hey, Nate,” Raf said, reaching over to me. Nate tapped his knuckles against Raf’s and silently returned to his coffee. Raf frowned, but before he could say anything else, an older woman with long silver hair in a low ponytail called the meeting to order. She held an old-fashioned plastic binder in her lap. Her fingers were stained yellow from nicotine. I wondered if there were any members of AA who weren’t heavy smokers.
“Welcome to Up the Tubes,” she rasped. “I’m Elaine, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Elaine,” everyone murmured back.
Now that was more like what I’d been expecting.
“Tonight is an Open Step meeting,” she went on. “We’re happy to have you here, especially newcomers.” She glanced down at the notebook and began to read aloud. “‘Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength, and hope with one another that they may solve their common problem and to help others recover from alcoholism. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking.
“‘There are no dues or fees for AA membership; we are self-supporting through our own contributions. AA is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization, or institution; does not wish to engage in controversy; neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve sobriety.’”
With that, she closed the notebook.
“Thanks Elaine,” several people murmured.
She peered out at the group. “We are here because we admit that we are powerless over alcohol and other substances, and that our lives have become unmanageable.
“In step two of the program, we come to believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.”
Most in the room recited these words along with Elaine. Raf was notably silent.
“We must make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to God and then make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. We must admit to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of those wrongs, and we must be entirely ready to have God remove all those defects of character. We make a list of all the persons we have harmed and become willing to make amends and then, guess what? We make direct amends to those people.”
Elaine looked around the room quickly, catching a few eyes here and there.
“We seek through prayer and meditation to improve contact with God. And having had a spiritual awakening as a direct result of these steps, we try to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles always.”