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“I’m just trying to make you laugh.”
“That’s my point.” Jake motioned to the waitress, an older woman who nodded back.
“Okay.” I settled in. “You want to know why I put up the bat signal?”
“TJ, I’m not Batman. I’m an alcoholic like you.”
“Well, you didn’t call me, I called you.”
“We help each other, TJ. It’s the truth of the fellowship. So how are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.” I paused while the waitress came over, set a mugin front of me and filled it with fresh coffee, which smelled good even though it wasn’t Dunkin’ Donuts.
“Sir, can I get you anything to eat?” she asked pleasantly.
“Cake, please. Any kind is fine, just so it’s cakey.”
“Be right back.”
Jake looked at me expectantly, since he morphs into the Sphinx when he wants me to talk. I love the guy, and I’m learning more about him. Like I know that he has nine years of sobriety and that his wife once tried to push him off a balcony, but I don’t know what he does for a living. My fantasy is that he’s a psychiatrist with a weakness for Gucci.
“I don’t know where to start,” I said, meaning it. I couldn’t tell him about the murder or embezzlement because I didn’t want to involve him.
“Were you thinking about picking up?”
“I guess so, underneath.” I tried to organize my thoughts. “I’m in over my head on a lot of fronts. I’m messing up. I know those feelings are triggers, and when I started to feel that way in the old days, I would pick up.”
“Good for you, catching it.” Jake paused. “What’s going on in the friend department? Are you making sober friends?”
“No.” I was supposed to make Sober Friends, but I missed the days when I could just make Friends.
“You need a support network, TJ.” Jake’s tone was trademark no-judgment. “You can’t isolate.”
“I’m not, I’m just trying to deal.”
“Friends help you deal, you know that. Especially after Jesse.”
I felt a twinge. His name triggered me, a term I had to admit applied too much lately. Maybe I was trigger-happy. “I know, but there’s a lot going on now. I’ve got trouble with my brother. He turned on me. Plus I screwed up my date, the first one since Carrie. I stood her up because the cat locked me out of the car.”
Jake blinked. “Pardon?”
I told him the story, editing out embezzlement and murder, and he listened as the waitress brought over a thick wedge of chocolate cake with a fork and a napkin.
“Thank you,” I told her, my mood improving.
“You were saying.”
“So I called my date to apologize and I got that feeling, that sick feeling because I hurt her.” I stopped, realizing something as I spoke. “Before, all the thoughts would have been about me. But I thought about her. That I hurt her.”
Jake nodded, looking pleased. “Good.”
“It’s a low bar.”
“Progress, not perfection.”
“The question is what todo. I’m done feeling this way. I’mdonewith this, I couldn’t be moredonewith this.” I felt my own disgust, the more I gave it voice. “I want to change this, Ihaveto change this. I’mtiredof being this guy.”
Jake shrugged. “Is there something that comes to mind, that you could do? Maybe make amends?”
