The Art of Losing(51)

It was clear she was reciting from memory, but her tone was passionate. She believed what she was saying. Judging from the nodding around the room, so did many others. It was impossible not to be moved.

She took a deep breath. “And with that, it’s time for chips.”

A younger woman handed Elaine a plastic bag full of shiny round multi-colored coins.

“Is anyone here for a twenty-four-hour chip?” she said.

The silence was punctuated by the sounds of people shuffling in their chairs. And then beside me, Nate calmly put his coffee on the floor and stood. The applause was hesitant at first and I saw shock on several faces, but then the applause swelled. He didn’t smile but seemed buoyed by the support.

When Raf stood to get a six-month chip, I was surprised, but I couldn’t help feeling a surge of pride. I nudged him with my elbow when he sat back down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.

He just shrugged, but his cheeks were red. He couldn’t hide the embarrassed pride.

One other person got a chip, and then Elaine started the meeting in earnest. She told a quick story about her road to sobriety. She had been sober for ten years, and she still went to a meeting every day, she said. She had learned that whenever she got cocky and thought she could do it without help, some situation always presented itself to remind her that she was not in control.

Then she asked if anyone else wanted to share. No one volunteered right off the bat.

“Nate,” she said, “do you want to start?”

Nate looked chagrined, but also like he had expected this to happen. He nodded and started talking.

Nate was an alcoholic who had been sober for six years, he said. And then yesterday, he had a shitty day and he thought about drinking. And his day got shittier and he kept thinking about drinking. Until he finally found himself pulling into the liquor store parking lot and buying a pint of whiskey. And he drank it. It was that simple. He let his guard down for one moment, or a series of moments, and he regretted it, but it was too late.

Elaine praised him for coming right back to a meeting, and everyone around the room agreed. Meanwhile, I had to work to keep my mouth closed. I couldn’t believe he’d thrown away six years of sobriety for one night of drinking. But I also was impressed that he’d realized his mistake and come back.

A few more people shared, telling their stories and talking about how they were feeling and what they had learned lately. People responded to or empathized with each other’s complaints and concerns. It was encouraging to see all these people fighting to make their lives better.

But then I felt more than saw it when Elaine chose me. “Would you like to share . . . ?” Her voice trailed off purposefully.

I looked to Raf for help, but he shrugged. This was my choice.

“My name is Harley,” I said. “And I’m not an alcoholic or an addict, but I’m here to support my friend.”

A few heads turned. I worried they might object. But the faces I knew wore encouraging smiles. As did the faces of the strangers.

“Um, I hope that’s okay?” I said.

Elaine nodded, and since it was silent and everyone was looking at me, I started talking. “So, a few weeks ago, my sister and another man were nearly killed by a drunk driver,” I said, looking at my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to see the pity anyone might be feeling for me or the challenge from those who might think I was accusing them. “The drunk driver was my boyfriend. Now ex-boyfriend.”

I felt Raf drape his arm around the back of my chair. I looked at him for encouragement. He squeezed my shoulder.

“My sister was in a coma for nearly two weeks. When she woke up, she had no memory of the accident or the year leading up to it. She’s learning how to talk and walk again now.”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say when I started talking, but the silence in the room now told me that I was on the right track. And saying it out loud was bringing my anger to a boil, but at least allowing some to escape, like steam under the cracked lid of a pot.

“So thank you all for being here tonight,” I said as I finished sharing. “I know it’s not the only reason to stay sober, but if it means that someone else’s sister doesn’t end up with a scalp full of stitches and a body of broken bones because you didn’t drive drunk, it’s a pretty good one.”

The room stayed quiet for a few seconds before I heard Raf say, “Thank you for sharing, Harley.” A handful of voices echoed him.

“I think that’s a great place to end tonight,” Elaine agreed. “Let’s say the Serenity Prayer.”





Four Years Ago



“Mom, I’m taking Floyd out!” I called up the stairs as I clipped Floyd’s leash to his collar. He was a younger dog back then, and his boundless energy created a great excuse to get out of the house. Especially when I saw Raf and his friend heading down the street.

I hadn’t seen much of him since we were kids, other than a wave out the window of the back seat of the car in passing, or when I was walking Floyd. The summer before sixth grade, he started playing basketball in his driveway. At first, I would just walk the dog past and pretend not to notice him. But I noticed. Not long after, he started calling out something funny, pretending he was talking to Floyd. I had no experience with boys, so any interaction felt important and exciting.