It wasn't even 9:00 am, and Kerrie was already exhausted. She put her truck in park in front of The Church. The day had started in a panic, and the anxiety that had seized her when she woke late hadn't subsided. She would probably have still been in bed had Mabel not arrived, waking her up. It took both of them to get Kenny out of bed and into his easy chair. She only hoped Mabel would be able to help him get up to go to the bathroom. Kenny was never the most graceful, but after his last heart attack, his health had declined, and at times, he was unsteady on his little chicken legs. It would be impossible for small Mabel to get him off of the floor if he fell. Kerrie had a hard enough time last night. No amount of tugging worked to get Kenny out of the bathtub without hurting him, so when she called for help, they sent paramedics and the closest fire department. Everyone was so kind to Kenny and was able to get him out without much pain. Kenny seemed to take it better than Kerrie did. He never complained, but his face would grimace from the pain occasionally. He let the paramedics and nurses do what they needed to do while Kerrie was convinced of the worst. It had been a small fracture—nothing that required surgery—but it was yet another reminder that Kenny seemed to continue his descent into fragility. Kenny was not immortal, and that frightened Kerrie to the core.
When she walked into The Church, she greeted a couple of clients on their way to the basement for morning group. She inwardly crossed her fingers that Wilson would take the morning group again.
Wilson's door was open, so she knocked on the door frame before inviting herself in. She held out the sheet of paper that had his caseload on it. Every morning, Edna, The Main's office manager, printed off each counselor's caseload, even if they didn't have a newclient. It listed each client's name, pay provider, and where they were staying. She only had ten clients, while Wilson was now up to 12 with the newest addition this morning. That was the limit a counselor could carry.
He took the paper, looking down at it through his bifocals, and sighed loudly. "Another one? That's four in the last three days. Are they not giving them to anyone else?"
Kerrie shook her head, keeping her thoughts to herself. He always made it sound like the people he was there to help were inconvenient, but he really was a good counselor. She had seen him manage to reach guys no one else could. "It's that time of year. Grants are opening up, and every P.O. in the state is sending them here."
"Right, right," he replied dismissively.
Kerrie rubbed the back of her head, feeling a little awkward. "Uh, look, I know you've got a lot of paperwork, but—"
He didn't let her finish. "I'm not doing group, Kerrie. I've done it for the last three days. I have two new clients. I'm taking this morning to finish their intake and catch up."
"Right, okay, well, do you want me to send one of your new ones up?"
"Yeah, how about this Tucker guy?"
"Can do."
The ball of anxiety in Kerrie's gut grew another inch. She had really been hoping he would do group. She could use an hour and a half to catch up further. Not to mention, today was the day they needed to change chores. "Fuck," she mumbled to herself.
"Ms. K, can I get a minute?" A voice called behind her as she rushed to her office.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Dustin, a young guy who didn't think he had a problem with alcohol but had three DUIs at 22, and one of them was when he was 17. She liked him. He was smart but hadn't reconciled with his issues yet. She hoped he'd come around before leaving the program. He had a lot of potential. "Can it wait until after group?"
"Yeah, totally. I was just wondering if we could get more stuff printed for the coloring tray. There's not a lot left, and I've been coloring them and then writing home to my girlfriend on the back."
"Right, yes, I can do that. Would you mind reminding me again before you leave?"
"Yeah, I can. Are you doing group?" He asked, a hopeful look on his tanned face.
"I am. I'll be down there in a few."
"Great! I love it when you do group. It's been a while." He turned to go to the basement, leaving Kerrie's gut of anxiety to now add a dash of guilt. Maybe Tyler was right. Perhaps she was behind.
Stepping into her office, Kerrie glanced at her watch, a gift from Kenny and Mabel for her 20th year as a counselor. It had a thick leather strap, a bronzed face, and black hands that showed the time. She loved an analog watch. It was reliable and old-fashioned and made her smile. She had three minutes to get to the basement—not a long time at all.
Looking around her office, she glanced over the bookshelves, stuffed to capacity and in total chaos. Her eyes landed on a picture of her and Kenny at Easter. Both of them had dressed up, and she couldn't get over how dashing Kenny looked in his light blue polo that she had matched with him. He wore stretch pants because they were the easiest for bathroom visits, but they were clean and new, so the look wasn't completely abnormal. Sometimes, just every so often, she looked at him and wondered what life would have been like if he hadn't been born the way he was, but then she pushed those kinds of thoughts to the side. Kenny had a purpose, even if it wasn't the conventional type, but dwelling on what-ifs wouldn't do anyone any good.
She wished she had time to check in on him. The thought brought another idea to her, and she snapped her fingers. "Got it."
Grabbing what she needed and her thermos of coffee, she headed down to the basement two minutes late. The old muted blue stairs creaked under her weight. Who knew how old they were? The chatter died down when she entered the basement, and the scent of coffee hung in the air. The walls were painted mismatched colors from leftover paint someone had donated. There were two dry-erase boards and a few rooms off the open area. The low tiled ceiling was just half a foot from the top of her head.
"How are we doing, gentlemen?" She greeted them. She took the chair usually reserved for counselors or guests. The men were all sitting in the closest thing that resembled a circle for the square space with a pole halfway in the middle. Behind the group was the coffee station, an old drip coffee maker, and dozens of different kinds of coffee mugs that Mabel's church donated to them. Each guy was responsible for his cup, which he would use the whole time he was there. It was The Church's secret from the rest of campus. No other buildings had coffee outside of one cup at breakfast, but the guys at The Church would pitch in for a large can of coffee, powdered creamer, and sugar.
"Hey, Ms. K, it's been a minute."
She nodded, putting her thermos next to her on the floor. "It has. Sorry about that, guys. It's been a little busy around here. Can I get one of you to cut this paper for me?" She held up some scrap printer paper that Wilson printed wrong. They used everything they could, so there was always a stack of usable scrap paper near the printer.
"I can," a guy in a red shirt who was one of Wilson's clients stood up.
"Just cut a bunch to be like this big," she motioned with her hands after handing the paper and scissors over. "Enough to write a sentence on. Here, everyone, take a pen and pass."
"What are we going to do today?" Robin, an older man with thick locs, asked. He was one of her clients, a man who had a few repeat visits to Turtle Grove. He was good for the group. He always seemed to be able to think a little deeper than most. She loved their one-on-one sessions. He challenged her sometimes as much as she did him. He just never seemed to get sobriety to stick for long.
"A vulnerability exercise. So, it looks like we've got some new people with us. My name is Kerrie Matthews, for those who don't know. I—oh, uh, before I forget, who's Tucker?"
