"That's me," a guy who looked like he was about to collapse answered. His eyes were almost closed in a wince.
"You alright?" she asked with concern.
"I've got the worst fucking headache," he answered, running his hands over his face and pulling the hood of his hoodie low.
"Withdrawal?"
He shrugged, then nodded. "Maybe. I tapered off a few days ago, but the headache keeps coming and going."
"Well, your counselor, Wilson, wants to see you upstairs to finish your intake. Tell him about it, and he'll send you to medical for some Tylenol."
He nodded and slid to the edge of his seat. "Do I go now?"
"Yeah, upstairs, first door on the left." She watched him go upstairs and glanced at her list from the morning meeting. "Just a couple of things before we get started. The ladies from the cosmetology school will be here Thursday afternoon. I have a clipboard by my door if you want to get a haircut. You have to sign up before lunch on Wednesday. They'll want an estimate of how many. It's free, but feel free to tip if you have a dollar or two. It's okay if you don't, though."
"Do they shave beards? I want this thing gone, but taking one of those cheap razors to it isn't going to work," Burt interjected, rubbing his long beard. He had been jailed for sixmonths before electing to take the judge's offer to reduce his sentence if he would agree to go to rehab. In the two weeks he had been there, he had started to brighten up some. It was fun to watch the darkness in his eyes shift to light.
Kerrie nodded. "Nothing fancy. They'll shave it all off. Same with haircuts. Nothing elaborate, but they'll trim you up or buzz it. Also, please don't hit on them. I know it's been a while since some of y'all have seen a pretty lady, but don't be that guy."
Laughs sounded around the room. The atmosphere in the basement room was melting into a relaxed, attention-drawn state. It always took a few minutes to bring them around and settle. Especially since she hadn't run morning group recently. The newbies would need to feel her out.
The red-shirt guy, whose name badge read Cade, finished and handed her back the paper and scissors.
She thanked him and handed the slips of paper back to him, motioning around the circle. "Here, take one and pass. So today, we're going to do an exercise that's a little hard for some. Truthfully, this one hit me because of something in my personal life last night. It reminded me of how scary life can be when confronted with fear. I'm not one of those counselors who hangs back and doesn't give as much as I ask you to give. What I'm going to ask you to do is write down your current greatest fear. What scares you? What makes the hairs stand on the back of your neck? What's that one thing you may try not to think of because it just terrifies the shit out of you? Write it down on the paper, but don't put your name on it. Fold it, and I'm going to come around with this bowl," she held up an old Tupperware bowl, "toss it in; I'll shake it up, then we'll pass it around again. Each person will take one. You'll read it and say if you can relate to it, and then if anyone else wants to chime in, they can. You don't have to say it's yours. You can be anonymous."
She was met with a few uncertain glances, two glares, and one wide-eyed frown.
"Are you doing it with us?" Evan asked. He was due to graduate the program in a week. He had had a rough start but mellowed out once he got the feel for the place.
"Yep, I wouldn't ask you to do something I wouldn't do." She jotted down her fear of losing her brother and folded it, tossing it in the bowl. She gave them a few more minutes before collecting them. "Who wants to go first?"
No one spoke for a moment, and then Evan raised his hand. He was Upper Sparrow's adviser. Each house had a client who was the person to start evening meetings, deliver any news needed, and serve as a go-to for new clients and staff. It gave the men a sense of responsibility and confidence. The men selected were normally the ones the membersof their group respected. Because Sparrow had both an upper and lower addition, there were two advisers. "I'll go first."
The bowl was passed over to him. He stuck a tattooed hand in, gave it a few swirls, and then plucked one out. His closely shaved head wrinkled as he read it, then turned to look at Kerrie. "I just read it out loud?"
"Yep," she answered with a nod.
Clearing his throat, his southern twanged drawl rang out into the circle. "My biggest fear is going back to jail."
No one spoke for several seconds, and Kerrie allowed it to draw out, knowing someone would break it. Finally, Cade nodded. "I get that. I've been a few times, and each time, it gets longer. Every time I think that this is my last time, I'm not going back but damned if I don't. Hearing my mom crying when I call her to tell her where I am. It sucks."
"What sucks even more is when they stop crying," Ernest, a gray-haired man with a lumpy build, chimed in from the corner.
"Or when they stop answering at all. That scared the hell out of me. I thought maybe it was just a fluke, you know? Like something had kept my ol' lady from answering, but then she just never picked up. Found out later she'd packed up the kids and left the state to go stay with her nosy ass mother. I still can't believe she left like that. I ain't seen my kids in a year," William, one of her clients who was in his late forties, answered honestly. He blinked back a few tears.
"How many times had you gone in before she had enough?"
He rubbed his head, his other hand holding a coffee mug, and blew out a breath, staring unfocused into the distance. "Honestly, I have no idea. Too many, I'm sure. I can't even blame her."
Kerrie nodded, looking back over at Evan. "Evan, how about you? Can you relate?"
Evan chewed his bottom lip as he looked at the slip of paper again, then nodded. "Yeah, I've only been twice, but it was awful. I didn't like not having control over myself, you know? All I felt like was a number. I can see why that would be someone's biggest fear. It can definitely be scary."
"Definitely," confirmed Kerrie before motioning at the bowl. "Who's next?"
The guy beside Evan took the bowl and pulled out a slip but looked at Kerrie before reading it. He was new and hadn't heard much about her yet. "Have you been to jail?"
Kerrie let out a deep laugh and looked over at Robin, who was grinning and shaking his head. They had shared some of their experiences the day before in their weekly one-on-onesession. Smiling, she nodded. "Nineteen times from age 15 to 23. I was such a frequent flyer that by the end of it, even the ladies in medical knew my birthday and full name by heart."
