The straight look on Kerrie's face was not what she was expecting. It wasn't pity or judgment. Kerrie was right. It was shitty. Bette found herself laughing, the sound of amusement fluttering out of her chest and into the small space. "Actually, yes, yes, it is shitty."
Kerrie motioned around the room, shooting her a cheesy grin. "And now you get to sweat it out in the basement of a rehab with me."
"Yeah, I do," she said thoughtfully, and for the first time, she realized she didn't mind being at Turtle Grove. It was a scary thought. She hadn't expected that to happen. Not wanting to explore that road anymore, she decided to change topics before her mind tried to decipher on a deeper level. She pointed to Kerrie's laptop. "Do you want help getting that old thing running?"
"Please. I'm awful with this stuff."
Around 1:25, the men started trickling back into the basement for Leadership. Bette was thankful they could shut the door and be separated from the class. It was much quieter that way, even with the box fans running.
"Kerrie?"
"Yes," she answered, not looking up. Her hulking frame dwarfed the laptop, making it look like a giant trying to use a tiny typewriter.
A soft smile graced Bette's face. "What is Leadership? I've heard people mention it, and I know it's on the schedule, but I have no idea what it is."
"Oh, I'm sorry; someone should have explained the whole schedule to you. After breakfast, the day starts with Reflection. That's where the guys will say how they're feeling and what they're grateful for and read a passage from a sobriety book. There are a few they can choose from. Then there's morning group, which I think you've attended some up on Tindle Street, right?"
Bette nodded. She had enjoyed sitting in with Clinton.
"Then there's a video where they watch from an educational series made in the 80s, and the quality certainly shows that. Then we will break for lunch, as you know. After lunch is Leadership, where someone comes in for an hour to speak to the guys. It can be another counselor or someone from outside the rehab who has had experience with addiction, whether it's something they've treated or are addicts themselves. We all talk on different topics. My topic is living long-term in sobriety. Addiction doesn't suddenly stop when you get a few years under your belt. Then they have chores, dinner, and evening group. It's lights out at 11:00 during the week and 1:00 am on Friday and Saturday. On Saturday, each counselor can send one green tag to an outside NA or AA meeting with the peers. It gives the guys graduating a chance to go to a meeting before they leave. They return to a protected environment in case it was overwhelming. On Sunday, yellow and green tags have the option to go off-campus to church as long as the counselor thinks they can handle it."
Bette blinked a few times, taking in all the information, and then nodded. "That makes sense. Thank you for explaining it. I didn't realize just how much there was to the schedule."
"Yeah, it doesn't look like a lot on paper, but when you start looking deeper; it shows how much actually goes into the program. Not to mention the weekly meetings with each client and therapeutic homework assignments. They really do a lot of self-work."
Once again, Bette was learning just how deep rehabilitation went.
She shifted her attention to Wilson's notes. At the end of each group, the clients would fill out a piece of paper detailing what they learned and how they believed it would help them in recovery. Each note had to be manually entered into the computer in the client's own words. It took time, and the program they used was older than dirt. The old-schoolgray and blue boxy windows with checkboxes and drop-down menus reminded Bette of her first computer.
They typed away for a little while, each lost in their own work. The two box fans whooshing drowned out anything being said during Leadership in the next room.
Bette's phone interrupted the comfortable silence, buzzing angrily against the tabletop. Dread filled her when she saw 'Mother' light up the screen. She clicked ignore and resumed typing, but her mother was never one to be ignored. The buzzing started again. Not wanting to interrupt Leadership by ducking out, she swiveled to put her back towards Kerrie and answered the phone in a quiet voice. "Hello?"
The screeching at the other end echoed loudly in the quiet room. "I thought I told you not to touch the thermostat!"
"Mother, not now; I'm work—"
"I told you, Beatrice!" yelled Clara.
Bette rolled her eyes. "You can stop yelling at me."
"I wish I could. I wish you didn't force me to this point. You always push every button I have with your blatant disrespect."
And now the gaslighting. "I'm hanging up now, Mother. We'll continue this when I get home."
Clara stuttered with frustration twice before she managed to end the call. Her cheeks were warm, and she ducked her head when she turned around to her computer. She avoided looking over the screen at her coworker, beyond embarrassed. Being scolded like a child was bad enough, but to have it done in front of a coworker was even worse.
Tension, thick and heavy, followed. She could see Kerrie shift stiffly out of the corner of her eye. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only minutes, Bette sighed. "That was my mom."
Kerrie gave her a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, I figured that out when you said 'mother.' She sounded pissed."
Bette cupped her chin and leaned on her elbow, smiling sadly. "Yeah, that's my mom. I'm staying with her for now, and it's going about as well as I expected it to."
A thoughtful look graced Kerrie's round, handsome face. "Have you not been able to find a place?"
Bette shook her head. "I just started working, so it would be tight for me to make the first month's rent and a deposit right now. I'm stuck for a little while longer."
"That makes sense," Kerrie observed with a slow nod.
