She nodded as she pushed the start button to get her ancient computer up and running. She was pretty sure it was just three days younger than Moses. It would take five minutes to be usable. They had offered to upgrade it to a newer-ish model, but Kerrie wasn't the most tech-savvy person, and change was hard in that area. "Alright, well, hopefully, they'll enjoy their stay. How was your evening meeting last night?"
Luke shrugged, sinking into an old wooden chair with a square, itchy red cushion. He put the tip of his vape in his mouth but stopped from taking a hit when he glanced back at her and remembered where he was. "It was okay."
Tilting her head, she raised a brown eyebrow at the young man. "Just okay?"
He sighed, pushing out his bottom lip as his dark brown eyes looked up to the ceiling. She noticed a little patch of stubble he had missed shaving. "I don't know if I want to keep going to the AA group."
Kerrie nodded, understanding what he was saying without the extra words. He wouldn't be the first young guy not to jive well with the local Alcoholics Anonymous group. Some older, outspoken members occasionally rubbed the younger crowd the wrong way. Not to mention the other peers from Turtle Grove were attending Narcotics Anonymous. She couldn't blame him. He was 72 days clean after five years of nonstop drinking. His emotions were raw and confusing, and he was feeling things he had been numbing for half a decade. He was boomeranging from happy to sad to confused and angry. One of the older guys probably said something a little too close to home. A little too real for him in his current exposed state. "And you think NA would be a better fit?"
"Do you think I'm making the wrong decision?" He asked uncertainty and vulnerability at the edges of his voice. When he first came to Turtle Grove, his face was abnormally round from the excess fluid he was carrying from prolonged alcohol use. Strawberry-colored patches graced his cheeks, and yellow hollows under his eyes looked almost comically pronounced. Now, he looked like a new and improved version. His face was more square, with a dimple in his left cheek. His skin had even cleared.
"I think maybe you should take a day or two before making the decision. Maybe make a list. Divide it into four parts: the pros and cons of attending AA and the pros and consof attending NA. Be honest about your reasoning, and then look over it the next day and see if one speaks to you more."
He turned his lip up at her. "You know I hate those lists."
She opened her desk drawer to pull out a fork from her little bin of plastic cutlery and an assortment of condiment packets. "No, you don't like how you have to use that noggin of yours to complete the list, because you actually have to think over the pros and cons, which makes you confront the hard truths and lies you tell yourself."
"You don't like lists either," he countered with a laugh.
She stabbed a bite of egg and met his gaze with a smirk. "And that's how I know you don't like lists."
They both laughed, easing them out of the serious moment. He stood, stretching up. "Okay, well, I'm going to go get the newbies and make sure they attend Reflection."
"Sounds good."
He was just at her doorway when he turned back, the boyish uncertainty back on his face. "Can I show you the list when I'm done?"
Warmly smiling, she nodded. "Yeah, of course."
"Thanks, Ms. K," he said before turning to leave. She heard his footsteps echoing through the short back hall and the opening and shutting of the back door. She was alone for the moment and closed her eyes to enjoy the silence before 20 men would be trouncing through the door in a few minutes.
Chapter 2
Beep Beep Beep
Bette Cooper's hand snaked out from the depths of her floral comforter, groping for the offending electronic intruding on her sleep. She had hit the snooze button three times already, and much to her dismay, it just kept going off. Why had she agreed to go to a job interview today? She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay in bed and pretend life wasn't as pathetic as it was. At one point in her life, she hadn't even needed an alarm. She bounced out of bed to start the day without hesitation. But now she was sleeping in her childhood home in her old room, where posters of bands she liked when she was 16 were still hanging on the walls. Walls that were bright pink, and no matter how dark the room got, it still looked like Pepto-Bismol.
She was hitting the snooze button once more when her door banged open. She rolled over, ready to give her mother a good lashing, but realized that it was Zoe, her daughter.
"Rise and shine, Sunshine! You've got an interview to go to," Zoe sang as she walked over to the only window, throwing back the curtains with gusto. A disgustingly bright amount of cheerful sunshine flooded the room, causing Bette to roll away and groan.
"Go away, Zoe," half-heartedly demanded Bette into her pillow.
"It's time to stop wallowing in your self-pity and get up. You've got to rejoin adulthood." Zoe grabbed the bottom of the comforter and tugged it down. Bette grabbed her end, and a brief tug of war ensued before she finally gave up.
"Fuck being an adult. I'm done with it."
Zoe rolled her eyes and went around the side of the bed to sit on the edge. She shifted tactics, placing her hand on Bette's shoulder. "Come on, Momma, I know it's been hard, but you need to do this. It's been months."
Bette groaned loudly once more, guilt seeping in. Her kid was being the adult, which wasn't fair to Zoe.Put on your big girl panties, Bette.
"Alright, alright, I'm getting up."
Bette was doing something she never thought she would do at 47: starting over from rock bottom. Jagged, rocky, lonely bottom. Broke, homeless, and newly single, she was at her lowest point ever. She had just about a grand left in the bank, and that was needed to pay her insurance, cell phone bill, and a few odds and ends. She wouldn't make it another month if she didn't get a job soon, and this morning, she had an interview lined up that she desperately needed but would rather walk over hot coals while being bitten repeatedly by a rabid raccoon than go to it.
Dragging her already tired body out of bed, she lumbered over to the suitcase she was living out of despite having been at her mother's for the past three months. It still didn't feel real, being at her mother's and her whole life in shambles. She had dedicated her life to her ex-wife, Shelly, Zoe, and their business. They had built the law firm up from scratch. They worked together as a team raising Zoe, but over the last five years, they seemed to have drifted apart, and then Shelly wanted out. It didn't take long for Bette to realize what had caused the sudden change. Shelly met the new, young intern and the mile-long set of legs attached to her. Bette had come home to find the same set of legs wrapped around her wife's head. Even after that, Bette was still willing to try to make things work, but Shelly would have none of it. She called Bette old and cold, and she wanted a new life. That was just the first of many things that went wrong.
Bette stepped into the vintage yellow and cream-tiled shower in the upstairs bathroom. She hoped that it would wake her up and improve her mood, and for a few blissful moments, it worked. She could pretend she was getting up for the day to casually read a book or binge-watch some comedy series—ignore the world like she had been doing for months.
