Frowning, Kerrie paused to look down at herself. The navy blue button-down, cuffed at the elbows, looked fine, but she looked further down and realized that she was wearing only gray boxers. She even put on her black crew socks with the pizza slices. Her naked legs stuck out. "Ah, shit."
"Kerrie," Kenny and Mabel warned in unison.
Rolling her eyes, Kerrie shook her head. "Give me a break, guys."
Mabel's eyes crinkled at the edges as she walked over and took the spatula from Kerrie. She patted her arm. "Why don't you go get yourself dressed, and I'll finish up here."
Guilt settled into Kerrie's chest at being unable to finish everything on her own this morning. Mabel was supposed to take care of Kenny when she was gone. Not while she was there. She sighed. "Thanks, Mabel."
She found her dark gray dress slacks lying on her bed where she had left them. She shook her head as she quickly stuffed her legs in and tucked the shirt in. A black leather belt and shoes accompanied it quickly. She gave herself a triple check just to be sure she got it right this time. The image reflected at her in the bathroom mirror was of a middle-aged, handsome woman knocking on 300 lbs. She had long since embraced her size and now admired her heavily built body.
She snorted, shaking her head. She appeared far more put together than she felt, but she would take it. There was no reason for others to know she was struggling. Unless they looked closely at the deepening lines around her hazel eyes or the angry red lines of her nail beds, where she chewed on them to the point they hurt. Not to mention, she was either not sleeping or sleeping too much. Last week, she had fallen asleep in her recliner after dinner and didn't wake up until midnight. Kenny had patiently waited for her to wake up to get him ready for bed. It hadn't occurred to him to wake her up.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she ran a hand through her short, graying brown hair and left the bathroom. She had to be at work soon. More people needed her.
When she returned to the kitchen, her heart warmed at the sight of Kenny content and happily eating his breakfast. She hated leaving him to go to work but was confident that Mabel would keep him safe. She was a gift.
Mabel had been busy during the brief time Kerrie was in the bathroom. She put Kerrie's breakfast in a reusable container and into her blue and white striped lunch bag, holding out a silver travel mug full of coffee. "I put a little salsa and cheese on the eggs like you both like it."
Flushing with embarrassment, Kerrie ducked her head at the older woman. "Thanks, Mabel; you really are a gem."
Kerrie bid them both goodbye and stepped out into the dewy morning of spring. She loved this time of year. The air was damp but fresh and just brisk enough to cause a chill. It wouldn't be long before cool spring mornings would turn into humid, heated Tennessee mornings, where sweat would begin forming the moment she left the house, but for now, she would enjoy it while she could.
She took a moment to allow the sun to hit her face, the warmth charging her internal batteries. She could feel a little bit of the stress from the morning routine melt away as she tilted her head from one side to the other, not the least bit surprised when a few pops sounded. A smile tugged at her lips. Maybe this day wasn't a complete loss. Maybe it was just her attitude.
Turtle Grove Rehabilitation Center was just a short 25-minute drive from Kerrie's house. Sometimes, those 25 minutes were filled with anticipation and dread before she even arrived. Sometimes, they were what she needed to decompress from the day. It was a double-edged sword. Today, she wasn't dreading it as much as usual.
It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her job—she did. Addiction counseling was a large part of who she was. She found it fulfilling, and the good outweighed the bad, but it wasn't a field for everybody, and even those who were made for it were still affected by it mentally and physically.
Kerrie parked her 1999 black Ford Ranger in her usual spot. Turtle Grove Rehabilitation was a non-profit organization funded mainly by grants and some state insurance. Most of the clients coming into the facility were low or no income. More than half were court-motivated, meaning a judge or parole officer sent them, but some were still ready to make a change. They just needed the push. However, that meant some were just there to bide their time, complete the program, and go back to using. Kerrie's branch had male-only clients. She had helped at the women's branch a few times over the years when short-staffed but never related to them as well. It was two completely different worlds, which usually surprised new counselors coming in who experienced both.
Nestled in the center of an older neighborhood, the rehab campus was divided into several buildings that were once homes and businesses the non-profit had bought and renovated over time as the company grew. There were four main buildings where treatment was held and several smaller homes where the clients would be housed for 30 to 60 days. Kerrie's building was called The Church, a repurposed old church from the late 1900s. Each building and housing unit had different names that were often informal sounds. All of the houses that the men lived in were named after birds. From the outside, the houses looked like average homes, but if one were to look closer, some odd things would pop out, like no mailboxes and people only entering the backs of the houses.
Kerrie and a counselor named Wilson were the only counselors in their building, and they effectively ran it independently from the other buildings together—though Kerrie did the majority. Wilson was close to retirement and never did more than he had to. Kerrie rarely used the word "no" when it came to helping. It was a match made in hell for equality.
Kerrie lumbered out of her truck, her feet crunching on the gravel drive, and grabbed her breakfast and coffee before heading for the front door. Casting her gaze over at Sparrow House, where The Church's clients were housed, she spotted her peer in the distance. He was walking the incline to The Church on the lush green grass that separated The Church from Sparrow. A small creek that went dry during the hottest months ran through the middle. A quaint little covered bridge for the clients and staff to use connected the two pieces of land.
She waved to him, then twisted the key into the slot of the double glass doors and pushed it open. Biting cold air hit her face immediately, and she groaned. They had forgotten to turn up the thermostat from the day before when it had been warmer. Wilson would be complaining about being cold. He was knocking on 62, set in his ways, and one thing he did not like was being cold. Kerrie was the opposite. She was always warm. The fan in her office constantly ran, even during the cold months. She was rarely cold enough to wear a jacket. Kenny used to be just like her, but after his heart attack, he complained of being cold often. The doctor said it was most likely a side effect of his medications. It worried her more than she thought it should. Something about dressing him differently than herself tugged at her heart.
Kerrie was usually the first to open The Church so clients could come for morning reflection.
The building was laid out like a typical old one-room southern church—simple, small, with wood beams and matching oak flooring. Originally, it was an open room with a fewstairs leading up to where the sermon would take place, but it had since been modified for business. At the front entrance were two small bathrooms to the left and a doorway to the right leading down to the basement. Three steps led up to the long hall that ran the length of the building, with offices on either side and a small storage area/staff bathroom at the back. By the back door was the world's oldest copier and fax machine combo, which was still struggling along, if only out of spite.
The old wooden floors creaked under Kerrie's feet as she ascended the short stairs. Wilson's office was closer to the front door, while hers was in the very back, situated in the corner. She unlocked her office, put her things on her cluttered desk, and proceeded across the hall to the back door. She knew her peer, Luke, would be waiting for her. It was the same routine most mornings. She could do it in her sleep. And sometimes she did. She couldn't count the times she'd dreamed she was at work. It was like it never entirely left her mind.
She unlocked the door, and Luke was standing on the back porch. Luke was in the Peer Program, where clients who were interested and had a recommendation from their counselor could stay an additional three months to a year working as an aide to staff. They were given housing, three meals daily, and a reduced paycheck. The Church always had one peer assigned to them, and Luke was theirs. Sometimes, clients related better to peers than counselors, so they helped bridge the gap. It also gave the peers more time to get their grip on sobriety. They were required to attend meetings and had weekly check-ins with a counselor.
"We got three new ones last night," announced Luke as he walked by her without invitation.
"Do you know whose they are?" she asked as she led the way to her office.
"According to their tags, it looks like two for you and one for Wilson."
Kerrie sat down in the chair behind her old green metal desk, which looked like something right out of the 60s. Nothing was replaced at Turtle Grove unless it was completely unusable. Grant funding and state insurance kept the place going, so they stuck to a budget. Very rarely would a client pay out of pocket, but usually, if someone could afford to pay, they would opt for a private facility. Kerrie thought of it like flying a plane. While they all had the same destination as their goal, some flew in first class while others were in economy. Kerrie was pretty simple, so she didn't mind the beat-up desk. She just wished she could get a filing cabinet that would open without almost throwing her shoulder out.
"Did any of them come straight to the house?"
Luke shook his black and faded blue hair. "No, they were all three staying at The Main. Two of them did come for the evening group last night. I couldn't get Wilson's client to leave his room, so we just left him."
