AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well done...” The session leader, a man named Tim with thick glasses, pulls a number out of the ‘share bowl.’ “Number eighteen?”
Everyone is quiet.
“Number eighteen?” he says a little louder. “Who pulled number eighteen when you walked through the door today?”
I sigh and raise my hand.
“Oh! Okay then!” He’s a little too excited. “Can you tell us why you’re here today?”
“I don’t fucking know.”
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” He furrows his brow. “Why do you think you belong here?”
“I don’t belong here,” I say dryly. “I was in an accident and I happened to be drunk when it happened. I wasn’t even driving.”
“So...You’re not an alcoholic?”
“I’m here because the court says I have to be, not because I’m a drunken idiot. So, if you could leave me out of these little heartwarming activities until my sentence is over, I would really appreciate it.”
The room is dead silent now and all the alcoholics are staring at me in shock.
Tim frowns, but he quickly collects himself. “Whenever you’re ready to share we’ll be here,” he says as he pulls another paper from the bowl. “Number seven?”
I try not to laugh for the rest of the meeting as every person tells some type of hour-long sob story. If it wasn’t for the fact that I only have twenty dollars to my name—or the fact that I’m now subject to random urine tests, I would drive to the liquor store right after this meeting so I could forget all about it.
As a three hundred pound man begins to whimper about no one loving him, I turn my attention to the only window in the room, where the leaves of a pecan tree are in full bloom. There’s a couple holding hands and walking around it, looking as carefree as can be, and I can’t help but feel that that’s where I really belong.
Out there.
When the meeting finally comes to a close, I stand with everyone and murmur the shared mantra: “I am not alone anymore and I will beat my addiction.”
The second that last word is out of my mouth, I rush to the parking lot and start my car.
Technically, the judge could’ve suspended my license until my rehab was complete, but since I never actually slid behind the wheel of my car when I was drunk that night, there was nothing that legally warranted that.
However, she did say that if I get so much as a traffic ticket during the next three months that she would happily take it away.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I knock my head against the steering wheel with each angry thought. I’m not going to last much longer in Alcoholics Anonymous. I can already feel it.
Just as I’m about to pull off, Tim steps in front of my car and motions for me to stop.
I raise my hands up, saying, “What?” and he walks over to my window.
“Emerald, correct?” he asks.
“What do you want?”
He pulls a sheet of paper out of his back pocket and unfolds it. “I think you’re forgetting about the fine details of this arrangement.”
I give him a blank stare.
“Okay...” He looks down and reads the paper. “Emerald Anderson will hereby attend state mandated rehab sessions and assist in the preparation and dismissal practices for each aforementioned meeting.”
I bite my lip and give him one of my seductive glances, hoping it’ll make him forget whatever he has to say for another day.
It doesn’t.
“You have to clean up after every session and you need to come three hours early next time to set up and help with the yard duties. This is included as a part of your community service, but it’s also your job. If you fail to do the basics, I’ll have to report you to the court. Are we clear?”
I grit my teeth. “Crystal.”
“Good.” He taps the top of my car. “I’ll let it go this time since it’s your first day, but I’ll call the judge if you’re a second late next time.”
He walks away and I speed off, immediately slowing down to the speed limit once I remember that I’m on thin ice with the law.
Heading home, I see numerous “Now Hiring” signs in the windows of Blythe’s oldest shopping center. I consider stopping and collecting applications, but I know there’s no point. I’m sure most people in town are aware of what I did last weekend and would be more interested in hearing me explain that than talking to me about employment.
Grateful that my grandparents aren’t there when I pull into the driveway, I rush up to my room and flop onto the bed.
High above, on my ceiling, are where my latest wallpaper decorations are staring back at me. There’s only room for three more rejection slips, but I have a feeling I’ll be receiving them by the end of the week...
