"What was your DOC?"
"My drug of choice was whiskey, but I'd take anything I could get. I was mean when I was drunk. I'd fight just about anyone, which was some of those jail visits. Read what's on your slip."
He unfolded the small piece of paper. "I fear dying alone."
"Oh," a chorus of voices let out. That one always made its way into the exercise. It was usually written down more than once. It was one that most seemed to relate to, and those who said they couldn't were usually in denial or too proud to admit it. No one wanted to be alone. Not really. To have someone who thought of you or would care if something happened to you was a natural want. Humans craved each other. Some more than others, but they still needed each other. Kerrie had been so scared last night when Kenny fell. She couldn't shake the image of him, a glass figurine shattering into a million pieces. So many pieces she couldn't glue him back together. She couldn't imagine life without him. How could she move on? How could she live without her twin? Her best friend. A literal companion since birth. The thought made her chest ache. It was like a vice around her heart. A vice that would squeeze until her heart became a pulpy, bloody mess.
Kerrie left the basement after group, feeling like a weight had left her shoulders. She was just as rejuvenated as the guys. There was something about sitting in a group of people, people who understood your own struggles, and hearing them echo your fears as their own. Letting yourself open up to hear what others say and know they also felt similar to you. Being validated by someone who didn't know you was different than people who did. There was no risk of them telling you what you wanted to hear. No worries that they would bring it back up later, because with strangers, once you left, you were unlikely to see them again. You were simply and wholly connected by a common struggle, and that was raw camaraderie.
It was also nice to do something counselor-related. She used to love hosting groups; she loved getting in the trenches of recovery with them. But there hadn't been much time for that lately, and no matter what Kerrie did, she seemed to inch further into the bog that was slowly suffocating her.
Chapter 7
The day went by faster than Kerrie expected. She had managed to keep some of the joy from running the group into the afternoon. She was still massively behind. Every time she checked, there were more audits. Kerrie had never been great at paperwork, and then they switched to digital. There were so many little tabs and boxes to check or write in. There was a group of people dedicated to going over the counselor's paperwork that caught mistakes and then would send them back to the counselor to be corrected. Too many errors would result in the state taking back the grants. The audits were supposed to be done within 48 hours, but that was laughable at this point for Kerrie. She was easily two weeks behind. The biggest problem, though, was the fast-approaching end of the month, and the corrections had to be completed for the audit manager to close out the month.
Kerrie stood from her chair, stretching her long arms up high as pops sounded from her back and shoulders, sending satisfying relief over her. She had spent the last two hours working on audits, and her brain was about to melt. She longed for the days when they just had to put their notes and a few notable things in the client's charts. Now, they needed all the information in the world and in specific spots. It was laborious and annoying. She just wanted to treat the clients, but the state needed to know in detail what their money was being spent on.
As she was ducking out of her office, she came face to face with Bette Cooper. She hadn't heard the woman come in. Feeling ashamed for her behavior, she nodded at Bette as she walked by, "Hello."
Bette held a professional smile, but her eyes held anger. "Hello."
"Uh, I'm just going to pop out for a moment, and then I'll be back. Wilson is here in his office."
"Okay."
Kerrie quickly left the building after letting Wilson know she was going to the store. She decided to walk to the convenience store just a street over. It would do her some good to move around after sitting behind a desk all day. As she strolled over, her long, thick legs were doing good work to get her there briskly. She couldn't help but feel a cloud of guilt settle over her shoulders. She really should have been nicer to Bette. Or did she like to be called Ms. Cooper? Was she a Mrs. Cooper? Either way, Kerrie had been an ass to her. Bette didn't deserve to have Kerrie's frustrations taken out on her. It was Tyler who had sprung Bette on Kerrie, and when she got to the bottom of it, it was Kerrie who had gotten herself into the pickle she was in. Bette was only trying to work. And would it be so bad if she helped out? She remembered the feeling she had when she left the basement after group. Needed, helpful, fulfilled. She was supposed to be there to help the men turn their lives around. Not be tied down by audits and chore lists.
The old country store was white-painted cement brick with promotional posters for various beers on the windows and only two gas pumps. It was the quintessential southern convenience store. They served breakfast in the mornings, hot plate specials at lunch, and to-go pizzas and hamburgers for dinner. It smelled the same: fried food, tobacco, and purple Fabuloso floor cleaner. Old men would meet up for a cup of coffee and fried bologna biscuit in the mornings. A window in the side of the building would ding whenever someone drove up for cigarette purchases.
Bells chimed as she stepped in, nodding her head at the familiar man behind the counter. "Afternoon, Don."
"Hey Kerrie, want me to make you up a sandwich?"
"No, thanks. I just want a snack and a minute away from work."
"You sure? I got that thick-cut bologna you like," he offered, knowing that she was a sucker for a fresh-cut sandwich.
She paused mid-step on the way to the drink cooler. She turned. "You got the spicy kind?"
"Yep," he nodded with a grin. He knew he had her.
She sighed, trying and failing at stifling a grin. "Fine, I'll take a spicy. Will you make Kenny up a regular one? We'll have those for dinner."
"Can do. Lettuce, tomato, onions, pickles, and mustard; hold the onions on Kenny's because he thinks onions are spicy, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
Kerrie went over to the drink cooler to grab a diet Sun Drop, a citrusy carbonated beverage similar to Mountain Dew but more caffeinated and a southern Tennessee treasure. It could take the paint off a wall. She pressed the cool bottle to her forehead briefly, letting it take the edge off her heated skin from walking over in the sun. She went over an aisle, grabbed a bag of spicy mixed nuts, and then made a beeline for the antacids because the stash in her desk was out. As she waited for the sandwiches, she looked at the time. She had been gone 15 minutes. Taking a break wasn't a big deal, but she didn't want to leave Wilson and the new woman alone for long.
Her gut twisted again. She needed to apologize to Bette. Suck it up and make amends with her. That was what she planned to do.
***
Bette watched the rude, tall drink of a masculine female walk out of the building, leaving her alone in the hall. She had waved hi to Wilson when she first came in. He was an odd old man with hardly any hair left. He didn't appear to be the talkative sort, but he hadn't been rude to her.
She tugged her purse strap higher on her shoulder as she fumbled with the new key to her office. The whole day had been spent in the portable watching training videos. She didn't think it would ever end. She was thrilled when she clicked finish on the last one and was told she could go to The Church to start setting up her office.
Pushing the white-painted door open, she found the room dark and cool. The curtains had been closed, and the sun had shifted to the other side of the building, causing little natural light to filter in. The navy blue carpet sunk some as she walked over it, and she wondered again if the flooring underneath was just as old as the building.
